Riessan Succession Crisis (IC)

[Riessany]

Caiserstadt, Riessany

The last of the black raptors of the House of Brandenburg was dying. King Augustus of Riessany had, quite literally spent nearly all his life fighting for his throne. Born the only son of Emperor Louis of Riessany, Augustus had ascended the throne at only one year old, with his mother, Empress Dowager Maria Amalia as his regent following his father’s death. An infant emperor. But toddlers are notoriously poor at ruling. After just six months on the throne he’s been overthrown by his uncle, Emperor Charles, who in turned had been overthrown by his niece Empress Augusta a mere two years later. Augusta herself would only have the throne for three more years before calamity struck and she was killed and the nation itself dissolved into a thousand tiny warring fiefs.

Over the next quarter century, no one ruled, only violence and strength held way over the fallen empire of Riessany. The many sons and daughters of emperors were slaughtered, often at each other’s hands, and only those who had left, or fled the nation survived. Among them had been little Augustus in the arms of his mother. Only for Maria Amalia to die when he was seventeen, leaving the boy who would be emperor a penniless orphan. Determined to take back what was his, Augustus returned to Riessany, or what was left of it, and joined in the slaughter, forging through bloodshed a new kingdom of his own. It took the better part of a decade, but in the end, he had forged his throne and crown.

But fate had a cruel sense of humor. Though he spent the first ten years of his reign crushing the many rebellions, stomping out the last of those who would dare challenge him, Augustus, now a King, could not escape unscathed. Scarred and broken, plagued with chronic illness and left infertile by disease, Augustus has been the last five years of his life struggling to insure it preservation, and more importantly, the preservation of his legacy. Through blood and sweat and metal, he has created a new martial kingdom. But forty-five, unmarried, childless, and dying he has no heirs of his own blood to pass it to. But he refuses to let it all turn to ash.

King Augustus, though confined to his bed, searching for those of his same bloodline for his successor. Though many records were destroyed in the intervening decades, and with most of the dynasty having met bloody ends, it is known that two, aside from Augustus, escaped such a fate. King Augustus’s aunts, Princess Marie-Louise and Princess Alexandrine had both married foreigners and had been out of the country when the empire had collapsed. Thus, while it was known that both Marie-Louise and Alexandrine were dead, there was the chance of them having living descendants, one of which could sit the Throne of Riessany.

King Augustus has sent out messages abroad in search for his long lost relatives, inviting claimants with proof of descent from one of the princesses in the last sixty years to come to his royal court so that he may select an heir and save the legacy of his kingdom.

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Rules:
1. No Godmodding
2. No Metagaming
3. Human-Only
4. 1950’s Tech
5. Must fill out a claimant application to receive invitation to Court
6. Pretender Claimants are possible
7. OP is King
8. Have fun

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OOC Thread and Sign-up

[Riessany]

Caiserstadt, Riessany

Neuzentrale Castle was the heart of Riessany. Built by King Augustus on the ruins of the old Zentralepalast, it was more fortress than it was residence. High concrete walls and towers were surrounded by a canal that had been carefully carved through the capital in order to add an extra layer of protection for the king. Not as rich or as grand as its predecessors had been, Neuzentrale Castle was awash in blacks and grays, a fitting seat for its creator.

King Augustus had thrown open its gates however for claimants to his throne. Unable to have any children of his own, the sickly monarch was searching amongst the potential descendants of his late aunts, Marie-Louise and Alexandrine. Something which greatly unnerved many in his court. The Royal Court of Riessany was small, comprised of the King’s Privy Council, eight advisors who aided the king in the say to day, along with the five ducal representatives, one from each of the dukedoms in the kingdom, and eleven other courtiers of significance.

The members of the King’s Privy Council were Roman Staudenmaier, Fietje Schellscheidt, Eugen Handke, Leonhard Rehn, Dominic Hettinger, Patrick Fleischhacker, Roman Hohmann and Til Eulenburg; eight men in their forties who had fought and worked alongside Augustus as he had painstakingly rebuilt his nation and his throne. They had been selected based on merit and ability, and were perhaps the closet the ailing monarch had to friends.

The Privy Councilors were a somber, pragmatic lot, dressed in simple black and white suits and disliking the extravagance generally conjured up when thoughts came to that of a royal court. Dominic Hettinger was the unofficial leader of the Councilors, the closest of advisors to the king, and the man most concerned about the action of his friend. With the King bedridden, Hettinger had become the first mate, steering the ship of state. But the captain was looking abroad for those with claims, claims that could be just as easily fabricated as be honest. A danger in a monarchy.

But Augustus was determined, the next monarch should have the blood of his grand sire running through their veins. Hettinger was left to lead the rest of the court in detangling the mess to find the proper heir for the King, for the throne, for the very future of the nation. The King had sent out invitations to seemingly every corner of the globe, bringing the claimants to Neuzentrale Castle so that he could see them and designate his heir. Thus Hettinger and the others held their breath in the castle as they awaited their arrival.

[Kingdom of Derita]

Cacilie was feeling overwhelmed as the castle came into view. Not because of the castle. Cacilie had lived in palatial town houses, penthouses and apartments her entire life. It was not even her connection to the Riessan royality that concerned her, she had known exactly who her mother was and had been heartbroken when she lost her parents. What she was concerned about was her cousin and his openness to designate an heir.

Obviously the most logical choice would be Cacilie, her mother had been the eldest of the sisters, and Cacilie was the only one of her siblings alive or who’d hand any children. But Cacilie had never prepared to become a Queen, and that was a daunting prospect even for her. Her car came to a stop and Cacilie stepped out of the car with her husband, Baudouin.

Baudouin was a tall with brown skin a shade or two lighter than Cacilie’s. He was bald and clean shaven, his hazel eyes darting over the castle. Baudouin did not come from royalty, or even nobility, but instead held from one of the minor tycoon families of Aukusa City, though they had relocated since to Oran. There Baudouin led Dupuy Steel, the largest manufacturing in the special administrative zone, useful to a place in the midst of a construction boom.

Cacilie and Baudouin walked arm in arm together into the castle, Cacilie wearing a silk mauve dress in the popular empire-style, with a high waist line and short sleeves, long white gloves son her hands and forearms. Her long curly brown hair pinned up by a series of bobby-pins. Teardrop diamonds that had once belonged to her mother hung from her ears. Baudouin meanwhile wore a matching oba suit with tailored shoes and golden buttons on his jacket.

[Riessany]

Hettinger greeted Cacilie and Baudouin Dupuy in the grand anteroom of the castle, its stone walls decorated with simple white wallpaper printed with small black and gold floral patterns. There was not much less in the room, King Augustus had never been on overly concerned with the decoration of his residence, official or not. Instead it was notably spartan, which was definitively Riessan.

Hettinger, a man of forty-eight years was a tall and formal figure, grim looking with the dark circles under his eyes and his black clothing. He put his hand behind his back and gave a small bow to the Dupuys.

Hettinger: “Greetings, Your Serene Grace, Mr. Dupuy, please, I’m Dominic Hettinger, senior advisor to His Majesty. Allow me to welcome you to Riessany and to Neuzentrale Castle.”

[Kingdom of Derita]

Cacilie smiled and gave Hettinger a small bobbing curtsy in greeting. Baudouin bowed his head to the man in greeting as well. Cacilie had spent only a little amount of time at the court in Gaosa, where her sons were notable fixtures at the side of Emperor Andeja IV. But Cacilie was not entirely sure on the etiquette of the Riessan Court.

“A pleasure to meet you Mr. Hettinger, it is a honor to be here.”

[Riessany]

Hettinger: “And a privilege.”

Hettinger had reviewed the various statements of the claimants to the Riessan throne. Of them, Cacilie was near the bottom. Yes, she said she was the daughter of Princess Marie-Louise, but that was part of the problem. She was a daughter. Of those he’s last checked, she was the only woman among them. And the last time a woman had held any ambition for the throne, the entire empire had collapsed into civil war. Not a great recommendation.

Hettinger: “Is the rest of your family not to join us?”

[Kingdom of Derita]

Cacilie continued to smile, though her head tilted ever so slightly at Hettinger’s words in response to her own. They had come off a bit curt, and dare she say even rude. And she wasn’t exactly sure as to why that was. Baudouin too had noticed it and he frowned at the Riessan man, annoyed by what he figured could only have been an insult.

“No,” Cacilie said, deciding to compartmentalize that feeling offense, “My children are all still enrolled at the University of Ezikwizalo. My eldest is in her senior year, and my younger two are working diligently towards their degrees.”

Cacilie may have been smoothing the truth a bit. Her eldest son, Augustin was indeed finishing his senior year on university, though she was less sure about the middle child, Louis, who seemed more interested in parties. Her youngest, her daughter Cecilie was the most academically proficient of her offspring, though her studies had been hampered somewhat by a speedy marriage and the arrival of a new granddaughter (named Gisela) for Cacilie.

[Riessany]

Hettinger nodded his head.

Hettinger: “I see, well, what a shame.”

Despite his words, it was not easy to tell if the sentiment behind them was genuine or not.

Hettinger: “Please, follow me.”

With this, Hettinger pivoted away from the Duchess and her husband and marched forward further into the castle. They passed through the man courtyard, a sparsely decorated green space with a simple lawn and high gothic walls that opened up to the sky, and then back inside through more wallpapered corridors till they reached a set of tall wooden doors with raptors carved into them. Four guards flanked the doors, Sir Mark Mummert, Sir Paulus Preissner, Sir Marian Surmann, and Sir Timon Pöpel.

Hettinger: “His Majesty’s safety is of the upmost importance.”

After all, should Augustus , though already ailing poorly, have his life’s end hastened before he was able to designate his successor, they’d have a war of succession on their hands.

[Kingdom of Derita]

Cacilie nodded her head in understanding, looking to the knights that guarded what were presumably King Augustus’ chambers. They did not need to fear an attack from her, though something told Cacilie that perhaps that wouldn’t do much to lessen any tension that they may have.

“I see,” Cacilie said. “Thank you gentlemen. My cousin is lucky to have such distinguished guardians.” She looked back to Hettinger, silently waiting for the permission they no doubt needed to enter.

[Riessany]

Hettinger left out a small huff, but otherwise the neutral facade he had been maintain remained in place. Sir Mark, who like all of the knights, was tall, muscular and well armed in his Riessan blue uniform and with a rifle in his hand gave the duchess a small polite nod. Hettinger resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he tapped on the wooden doors. There was the sharp click a lock being released and the doors swung open.

Two footmen, Hans and Heinrich,dressed in uniforms that looked as if they were straight of the 18th century waved in Hettinger and the Duchess and her husband. Inside was a Spartan antechamber with a small sitting area and a narrow grated window that looked out over another courtyard. Two more guard, Sir Adalbert Gresdorf and Sir Johan Aichler stood guard before yet another set of doors. As one footman closed the set behind the trio, the other opened the second in front of them.

Finally they entered the chambers of the King of Riessany. They were spacious enough, much like one might find in royal apartments elsewhere, though they were a far cry from the grandeur of Augustus’ forebears. There had been some who had questioned why Augustus had taken the title of king, instead of emperor like his father, and his father’s father and so forth. He had responded simply that Edward I of Riessany, founder of the dynasty, had deserved the title emperor. Yes Augustus had forged a kingdom from ashes, but he had yet to conquer an empire.

A dream that was clearly fleeting. Position on a medium sized bed made from white marble, with only a simple sheet covering him in his nightwear, and only a simple pillow to prop him up was King Augustus himself. The King of Riessany was only forty five, but looked a man much older. His skin had once been a healthy tawny color, but was not a sickly pale shade. His hair, once thick jet black was entirely gone, having fallen out. He had perhaps been handsome once, but he’d lost too much weight, and his cheeks were sunken in, his eyes bulging slightly. His eyes, a dark shade of blue were the only things left sharp and clear of him.

On his head he wore the only vestiges of royalty. A crown, forged from melted down bullet casings and ceremonial swords, a copper and iron coronet. Augustus’ eyes flicked towards Hettinger as he entered, but then darted to the two guests he had brought with him. His eyes focused on the woman.

Augustus: “Frederica?”

[Camelone]

When Ambrose set his sights on the castle, Neuzentrale if he remembered correctly, he had a good feeling about the whole endeavor he was here for as the spirit of the ruling class at least was of a martial nature. A Camelonean would find a good home among these folks, two warrior people alongside one another and the youngest son of a ducal family serving as a bridge between two great kingdoms. Though a bit more pageantry and heraldry could serve to better integrate this fortress into the kingdom but that would depend upon the culture of these people in all honesty. A land divided by the wounds of complete dynastic and imperial collapse touched the heartstrings a bit for any warm blooded Camelonean, but regardless of sentimentality he had to be prepared to adapt to all possibilities thrown his way, like he always had. All these things Ambrose mused as his driver brought the car up to the mighty fortress, things to consider as the dynastic ties are worked out and King Augustus surely chooses him to be his successor. A shame one of his tours with the gallowglass couldn't have been alongside his kinsman here, it would have made succession choices much easier.

With the car coming to a stop Ambrose O'Cudara got out and donned his hat, a wide brimmed fedora with some white feathers to indicate the primary colors of his fathers heraldry. Adjusting his shoulder cape, the coat of arms of his father's house alongside the gallowglass company he serves coat of arms emblazoned on it, he checks over the rest of his outfit making sure that it was all in order. He was wearing his gallowglass ceremonial outfit which consisted of light brown trousers and a loose brown jacket with brass buttons held in place with a red sash that has a gold line across the center, and of course a sword tucked into the sash he was expecting he would need to surrender when asked. Everything sorted and confident he was good, he pushed his glasses up and walked towards the castle.

[Kingdom of Derita]

Cacilie had to resist the urge to gasp as she caught sight of Augustus. She had known that he was unwell, but seeing him now, it was startling. Cacilie had been only a child herself when Riessany had been sent off the brink of collapse. Augustus would have been just a tiny baby to her. It was a image hard to reconcile with the man who lay before her, like a living shadow. Her horror however was spliced through with confusion as he spoke. Cacilie looked over her shoulder at Baudouin, but he was just as confused as she was.

Taking a hesitant step forward, Cacilie steeled herself, focusing on Augustus’ eyes. “Your Majesty… ?” Cacilie’s voice was soft and gentle, as if she were approaching a deer that she’s come across in the woods. “It’s me, your cousin, Cacilie.” She made her way slowly to the king’s bedside and curtsied for him.

[Riessany]

When Ambrose set his sights on the castle, Neuzentrale if he remembered correctly, he had a good feeling about the whole endeavor he was here for as the spirit of the ruling class at least was of a martial nature. A Camelonean would find a good home among these folks, two warrior people alongside one another and the youngest son of a ducal family serving as a bridge between two great kingdoms. Though a bit more pageantry and heraldry could serve to better integrate this fortress into the kingdom but that would depend upon the culture of these people in all honesty. A land divided by the wounds of complete dynastic and imperial collapse touched the heartstrings a bit for any warm blooded Camelonean, but regardless of sentimentality he had to be prepared to adapt to all possibilities thrown his way, like he always had. All these things Ambrose mused as his driver brought the car up to the mighty fortress, things to consider as the dynastic ties are worked out and King Augustus surely chooses him to be his successor. A shame one of his tours with the gallowglass couldn't have been alongside his kinsman here, it would have made succession choices much easier.

With the car coming to a stop Ambrose O'Cudara got out and donned his hat, a wide brimmed fedora with some white feathers to indicate the primary colors of his fathers heraldry. Adjusting his shoulder cape, the coat of arms of his father's house alongside the gallowglass company he serves coat of arms emblazoned on it, he checks over the rest of his outfit making sure that it was all in order. He was wearing his gallowglass ceremonial outfit which consisted of light brown trousers and a loose brown jacket with brass buttons held in place with a red sash that has a gold line across the center, and of course a sword tucked into the sash he was expecting he would need to surrender when asked. Everything sorted and confident he was good, he pushed his glasses up and walked towards the castle.

Patrick Fleischhacker watched as Lord Ambrose approached the castle. Fleischhacker was a large clean shaven man with broad shoulders and salt and paper hair. Clean shaven and always frowning, he had never been one to particularly like politics, and while he fiercely supported the monarchy, he was, like Hettinger, most unease by Augustus’ intentions of designating an heir. Male preference primogeniture, Fleischhacker felt, should have been the clear cut decision on finding the rightful heir. The dynastic troubles, as far as Fleischhacker was concerned had all started when emperor after emperor failed to produce male heirs, kicking the throne down collateral lines and leaving overlooked daughters angry and ambitious.

Fleischhacker however set that aside for the moment Ashe focused on Lord Ambrose. If he was to believe, there was a good chance that he was just the candidate that most fit with Fleischhacker‘s vision. Most agreed that Marie-Louise had been the elder of the two wayward sisters— though there was at least one story of the reverse being true. It was an interesting idea, but with so many long lost cousins claiming descendent from the two princesses, Fleischhacker was not confident that all would be so easily convinced by the senior flow of blood. Fleischhacker Bowed slightly to Lord Ambrose.

Fleischhacker: “My lord, Lord Ambrose O’Cudara I presumed. I am Patrick Fleischhacker, a member of the Privy Council of His Majesty. Allow me to welcome you to Neuzentrale Castle. If you would, follow me?”

---

Cacilie had to resist the urge to gasp as she caught sight of Augustus. She had known that he was unwell, but seeing him now, it was startling. Cacilie had been only a child herself when Riessany had been sent off the brink of collapse. Augustus would have been just a tiny baby to her. It was a image hard to reconcile with the man who lay before her, like a living shadow. Her horror however was spliced through with confusion as he spoke. Cacilie looked over her shoulder at Baudouin, but he was just as confused as she was.

Taking a hesitant step forward, Cacilie steeled herself, focusing on Augustus’ eyes. “Your Majesty… ?” Cacilie’s voice was soft and gentle, as if she were approaching a deer that she’s come across in the woods. “It’s me, your cousin, Cacilie.” She made her way slowly to the king’s bedside and curtsied for him.

Augustus blinked and refocused as he looked at the woman before him, a twinge of sadness in his eyes.

Augustus: “Of course. I’m sorry. It’s just. You look so much like my sister Frederica. But she died many years ago.”

Augustus, while he had been the only son of his father, had been his youngest child, and the only child of his second wife. With his first wife, Augustus’ father had had three daughters, Frederica, Christina and Augusta, all proud dynastic names. Augustus recalled the eldest, Frederica’s curly brown hair and darker skin tone coming from her mother who’d died, as opposed to the blond pale mother of Augustus. Of course all of Augustus’ sisters had died before any of them could reach their twentieth birthday.

Augustus: “Cacilie you say?”

[Kingdom of Derita]

Cacilie winced slightly at the comment. Frederica would have been Cacilie’s double cousin, their mother and father respectively having been sister and brother. It was nice to think that they looked so much alike, and it made sense, one set of siblings with another. But it was more startling that Augustus seemed so… off. She hadn’t expected this. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but no, it hadn’t been this. She knelt at Augustus’ bedside.

“That’s right. My mother was your father’s younger sister. Though I’m afraid fate has seen to keep us apart for many decades. It is still me. Though I admit you are very different from the baby I remember.” Cacilie tried for a sense of light humor towards the end.

[Galimencia]

Neuzentrale, Caiserstadt, Riessany

A black Rolls Royce stopped in front of the Neuzentrale castle. The car contained a small flag of the United Kingdom of Galimencia attached to it, which was fluttering proudly. The chauffer came out of the car first, and held open the back door. Out came a handsome young man wearing a three piece suit and a top hat, with military service medals attached on the right side of his outer suit. This man is Prince William, the Viscount Durham and a member of the Galimencian Royal Family. As luck would have it, he is also a member of the Riessan Royal family on his mother's side and that is precisely the reason why he is here today, to be nominate himself as the one and only worthy heir to the throne of Kingdom of Riessany.

He came out of the car and straightened his suit. Following him, came out a beautiful lady, who was wearing a long white gown and a diamond necklace. She was Camilla Anderson, but more popularly known as Princess Camilla or Lady Durham, Prince William's loving wife. Their children were not here since Prince William did not wanted their children to ruin such a vital occasion as this. Camilla looked around the place and whispered to her husband: "Oh, it's a nice place darling." But there came no reply. William was lost in thoughts. This very place reminded him of his late mother. He was barely 7 years old, when his father divorced his mother and banished her from Galimencia. Since then, he had met his mother on very occasions before she passed away. In spite of not knowing the entire circumstances, William has theorised that neither his father nor his mother actually cared for him. As a result, in spite of being a member of the Royal Family, he was never close to his father, nor to his stepmother and his step-siblings. The first ever person who, he feels, truly loved him was Camilla.

William was brought back to senses by a gentle nudge from his wife; "William, are you alright?" "Oh yes." William replied. "I was just observing the place darling."
"Yeah, it's a nice place. I really like it." Camilla said, before adding "Now, what are we suppose to do here? How long are we supposed to stand here?"
William shrugged "Untill probably someone notices us, I presume. Let's wait for someone to approach us."
Saying this, both of them stood there, waiting for an interaction.

[Giorades]

Neuzentrale Castle, Caiserstadt, Riessany

Alexander watched in wide eyed awe as the taxi cab pulled up to Neuzentrale Castle, starting up at the impressive structure. Alexander’s father had had money, at least enough to not sniff at, but that was nothing compared to living in an honest to god castle. That was some real royalty lifestyle stuff right there. A long way from a simple gated community in the suburbs of the city.

Alexander opened the cab door and stepped out, closing it as he continued staring up at the high walls of the castle. It looks rather imposing. Not exactly like the kind of place that invited king lost cousins to come in and maybe take over the place. And yet, it seemed that that was precisely what Alexander’s good ol’cousin once removed, or something like that, had gone and done.

Alexander let out a sharp whistle as he looked at the castle, just noticing the people who had arrived ahead of him at the front gates. He felt a tad of embarrassment. Damn. Was he late? He looked over the others ahead. He was definitely underdressed for this. Alexander Daugaard was handsome young man, his nickname had been ‘Pretty Boy’ back home, with bright green eyes, dirty blond hair and two small beauty marks.

Alexander was tall, standing at an even six feet high, and his body was a temple of well toned muscle that he had devoted worked on sculpting. Alexander wore shiny black loader, high orange socks, high waisted slacks, a leather belt, a white leather wristwatch, a simple white t-shirt and a orange and white short-sleeve polo shirt. He looked more like a model out of a clothing store catalog than a candidate for King of Riessany.

He tried to not let that deter him however. He pulled a container of toothpicks out his pockets plucked one out and placed it between his teeth. He returned the container and stuffed his hands back into his pockets, rocking back and forth till someone from the Castle came and got him.

[Camelone]

Patrick Fleischhacker watched as Lord Ambrose approached the castle. Fleischhacker was a large clean shaven man with broad shoulders and salt and paper hair. Clean shaven and always frowning, he had never been one to particularly like politics, and while he fiercely supported the monarchy, he was, like Hettinger, most unease by Augustus’ intentions of designating an heir. Male preference primogeniture, Fleischhacker felt, should have been the clear cut decision on finding the rightful heir. The dynastic troubles, as far as Fleischhacker was concerned had all started when emperor after emperor failed to produce male heirs, kicking the throne down collateral lines and leaving overlooked daughters angry and ambitious.

Fleischhacker however set that aside for the moment Ashe focused on Lord Ambrose. If he was to believe, there was a good chance that he was just the candidate that most fit with Fleischhacker‘s vision. Most agreed that Marie-Louise had been the elder of the two wayward sisters— though there was at least one story of the reverse being true. It was an interesting idea, but with so many long lost cousins claiming descendent from the two princesses, Fleischhacker was not confident that all would be so easily convinced by the senior flow of blood. Fleischhacker Bowed slightly to Lord Ambrose.

Fleischhacker: “My lord, Lord Ambrose O’Cudara I presumed. I am Patrick Fleischhacker, a member of the Privy Council of His Majesty. Allow me to welcome you to Neuzentrale Castle. If you would, follow me?”

Seeing the man approach and introduce himself, Patrick Fleischhacker was it, Ambrose smiled and nodded to his request and began to follow the man though catching the others approaching out of the corner of his eye. He certainly wanted to meet his far flung kinsman, King Augustus, soon but if what he believed was correct these teasa around him could also be of the same lineage, and thus unknown kinsman to himself. Perhaps it would be best to talk with them as well, if Sir Fleischhacker would permit of course as he would not wish to abuse the hospitality of his hosts.

"My good sir Fleischhacker, or would the proper title be lord, you are indeed correct about my identity and of course I will follow my hosts but I do believe some other claimants have arrived. What is the exact plan for meeting our kinsman, and would you prefer it one by one or as a group sir?" He inquired, trying his best to speak the Riessany language properly but his Celtic accent was still heavily present, only so much he could do with his knowledge of languages. Polite and formal, as he had been trained to do with his aristocratic upbringing until he can figure out the proper etiquette, personality's, and expectations of the people around him.

"Oh yes, by the way I have the documentation of my grandmothers marriage, Princess Marie-Louise, to my grandfather, Duke Iobhar O'Cudara. Where should I submit it for examination?"

[Riessany]

Cacilie winced slightly at the comment. Frederica would have been Cacilie’s double cousin, their mother and father respectively having been sister and brother. It was nice to think that they looked so much alike, and it made sense, one set of siblings with another. But it was more startling that Augustus seemed so… off. She hadn’t expected this. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but no, it hadn’t been this. She knelt at Augustus’ bedside.

“That’s right. My mother was your father’s younger sister. Though I’m afraid fate has seen to keep us apart for many decades. It is still me. Though I admit you are very different from the baby I remember.” Cacilie tried for a sense of light humor towards the end.

Augustus let out a weak laugh at Cacilie’s joke, though it rapidly descended into a fit of coughing. The King coughed into his fist, splattered droplets of blood staining his knuckles. Instantly, Heinrich the footman was rushing forward, handkerchief in hand. He went over to the monarch, handed him the cloth as Augustus rose out the rest of the fit. When he could finally breath agains, he scowled as he looked at the ruined square.

Augustus: “Forgive me. I have what the doctors call compounding illnesses. Different diseases, each racing to see which will kill me first.”

King Augustus smiled weakly, but was interrupted with more coughing. »

---

Patrick Fleischhacker watched as Lord Ambrose approached the castle. Fleischhacker was a large clean shaven man with broad shoulders and salt and paper hair. Clean shaven and always frowning, he had never been one to particularly like politics, and while he fiercely supported the monarchy, he was, like Hettinger, most unease by Augustus’ intentions of designating an heir. Male preference primogeniture, Fleischhacker felt, should have been the clear cut decision on finding the rightful heir. The dynastic troubles, as far as Fleischhacker was concerned had all started when emperor after emperor failed to produce male heirs, kicking the throne down collateral lines and leaving overlooked daughters angry and ambitious.

Fleischhacker however set that aside for the moment Ashe focused on Lord Ambrose. If he was to believe, there was a good chance that he was just the candidate that most fit with Fleischhacker‘s vision. Most agreed that Marie-Louise had been the elder of the two wayward sisters— though there was at least one story of the reverse being true. It was an interesting idea, but with so many long lost cousins claiming descendent from the two princesses, Fleischhacker was not confident that all would be so easily convinced by the senior flow of blood. Fleischhacker Bowed slightly to Lord Ambrose.

Fleischhacker: “My lord, Lord Ambrose O’Cudara I presumed. I am Patrick Fleischhacker, a member of the Privy Council of His Majesty. Allow me to welcome you to Neuzentrale Castle. If you would, follow me?”

Seeing the man approach and introduce himself, Patrick Fleischhacker was it, Ambrose smiled and nodded to his request and began to follow the man though catching the others approaching out of the corner of his eye. He certainly wanted to meet his far flung kinsman, King Augustus, soon but if what he believed was correct these teasa around him could also be of the same lineage, and thus unknown kinsman to himself. Perhaps it would be best to talk with them as well, if Sir Fleischhacker would permit of course as he would not wish to abuse the hospitality of his hosts.

"My good sir Fleischhacker, or would the proper title be lord, you are indeed correct about my identity and of course I will follow my hosts but I do believe some other claimants have arrived. What is the exact plan for meeting our kinsman, and would you prefer it one by one or as a group sir?" He inquired, trying his best to speak the Riessany language properly but his Celtic accent was still heavily present, only so much he could do with his knowledge of languages. Polite and formal, as he had been trained to do with his aristocratic upbringing until he can figure out the proper etiquette, personality's, and expectations of the people around him.

"Oh yes, by the way I have the documentation of my grandmothers marriage, Princess Marie-Louise, to my grandfather, Duke Iobhar O'Cudara. Where should I submit it for examination?"

Fleischhacker halted, turning as he saw more if the prospective claimants arriving. He had not expected them to all show up at once. A part of him was concerned by that fact. There was no actual plan. Augustus might have some plan, but if so, he hasn’t seen fit to share it with the rest of them. Each of these people were vying for a throne, asserting that they had the best suitability to wear the crown for one reason or another. How might they respond to one another. Fleischhacker listened to Lord Ambrose while he carried out his own internal dialogue of the issue. In the end he decided that bring them all together would be pertinent, if only to see how they acted.

Fleischhacker: “Mr. Fleischhacker is fine, my lord. I see no reason why you shouldn’t all come as a group. It would be more efficient that way.”

Fleischhacker looked to the other parties that had arrived one after the other. The couple were clearly Prince William and his wife, while the other young man was presumably Mr. Daugaard, descendants of the Princess Alexandrine. From the stories Fleischhacker had heard of the late Princess, he had no issue in believing that she had been… prolific in her production of heirs by different men. Of all the daughters of Auguste of Gante, King Augustus’ notorious grandmother, Alexandrine was said to resemble her mother the most, in both appearance and temperament.

That did not incline Fleischhacker to particularly like her son or grandson. But Prince William was a prince of a foreign state in his own right, thus making him the highest ranking of the claimants. He approached and bowed.

Fleischhacker: “Your Highnesses, Mr. Daugaard. I am Patrick Fleischhacker, member of His Majesty’s Privy Council. Please allow me to welcome you to Riessany, as well as to introduce you to Lord Ambrose.”

He gestured to the lord. He spoke to the foursome of people.

Fleischhacker: “Documents or the like, verifying your lines of descent will be reviewed by His Majesty’s Privy Councillors. If you wish to wish to hand them over to me, you may do so now.”

[Giorades]

Alexander rocked again on the balls of his feet as he listened to the Riessan man, Fleischhacker. Jesus, what a name that was. Alexander wasn’t sure he could even twist his tongue about to be able to pronounce it. Alexander wondered if Fleischhacker didn’t mind being called Patrick. Maybe Pat, it was much easier to say, several times over.

“Nice to meet you,” Alexander said with a tip of his head, pulling the toothpick from between his teeth and rolling betwix his thumb and forefinger, looking at the other fancifully dressed people. His cousin and his uncle and aunt if they were to be believed. “Alexander Daugaard, but my friends call me Alex.”

[Great Hyruke]

Caiserstadt, Riessany

Prince Loris stepped out of the sleek silver luxury car that had carried him from Hyrea to Caiserstadt, stretching his legs as he looked to Neuzentrale Castle. Prince Loris was a handsome older man, with the tell-tell blue eyes and blond hair of the House of Pearson. In fact Loris himself was a distant relation of King Augustus, Loris' grandmother and Augustus' father had been half-siblings through their shared mother, Auguste of Gante. That of course gave Loris no claim to the Riessan throne. But that didn't make him any less interested in the future of the Riessan succession. The proper heir to Augustus, or perhaps of more pressing concern, the wrong heir would be of great interest to Loris' business and his wife's political ambitions, the Duchess of Hyrea. Thus Loris was less concerned about who was the rightful heir to the dying king, and which was the most suitable for the crown, and if he could convince Augustus of that truth.

[Kingdom of Derita]

Cacilie gave her cousin a weak smile. "Oh, you poor thing." She looked around, looking to the footman that had handed Augustus the handkerchief, to her own husband, and even to Hettinger, wondering what, if there was anything, that she could do to help him. She hadn't realized how ill he was, though it seemed that the monarch had selected well into dark gallows humor. Still, seeing him cough as he did, she wished that he wouldn't try laughing anymore.

"What can I do? Is there anything I can do? Please tell me."

[Riessany]

Cacilie gave her cousin a weak smile. "Oh, you poor thing." She looked around, looking to the footman that had handed Augustus the handkerchief, to her own husband, and even to Hettinger, wondering what, if there was anything, that she could do to help him. She hadn't realized how ill he was, though it seemed that the monarch had selected well into dark gallows humor. Still, seeing him cough as he did, she wished that he wouldn't try laughing anymore.

"What can I do? Is there anything I can do? Please tell me."

Augustus went silent. His broken smile fading as he looked to Hettinger, his eyes communications something between the two men. Augustus them turned to Cacilie, taking her hand into his own. Augustus had often considered the issue of the succession for quite some time, piecing together the family tree of the descendants of his two aunts in the search for his successor. Augustus was not entirely confident in all of the claims, but he did believe Cacilie’s to be the most concrete, as she was the eldest of the claimants, the only one older than Augustus himself. Which was why he had come to one unavoidable conclusion.

Augustus: “There is one thing you can do, Cacilie. I believe you to be the most senior and closest in proximity of my heirs. You are the only daughter of the eldest daughter of our dear grandfather. But. You are a woman. Which is why, dear Cacilie, I ask you to step aside.”

[Kingdom of Derita]

Cacilie froze, feeling as if she had just been slapped across the face. She hadn't expected that. Not from Augustus. Baudouin's jaw physically dropped, stunned by both the sheer bluntness of the statement, and even more so by its reasoning. Cacilie's hand went limp in King Augustus' grip, as she resisted the urge to physically recoil from him once more, this time for more decisive reasons.

"What?" The word came out sharp and shocked and hurt before Cacilie could properly modulate it. She shook her head. "You can't be serious. I am supposed to step aside because I am a woman? Surely you know that to be ridiculous."

[Riessany]

Cacilie froze, feeling as if she had just been slapped across the face. She hadn't expected that. Not from Augustus. Baudouin's jaw physically dropped, stunned by both the sheer bluntness of the statement, and even more so by its reasoning. Cacilie's hand went limp in King Augustus' grip, as she resisted the urge to physically recoil from him once more, this time for more decisive reasons.

"What?" The word came out sharp and shocked and hurt before Cacilie could properly modulate it. She shook her head. "You can't be serious. I am supposed to step aside because I am a woman? Surely you know that to be ridiculous."

Augustus shook his head.

Augustus: “I am sorry Cacilie, but it is not ridiculous. Riessany has always been a place of tradition. And traditionally we are lead by men. Our monarchs are men, our generals are men. And more so, there are many who do not trust a woman to sit the throne or wear the crown. Particularly not a foreign woman. Augusta tried to it the throne, and the nation collapsed. If I gave the throne to you, your first act as Queen would have to be to fight to preserve your own position, and I will have no more war in Riessany.”

[Camelone]

Fleischhacker halted, turning as he saw more if the prospective claimants arriving. He had not expected them to all show up at once. A part of him was concerned by that fact. There was no actual plan. Augustus might have some plan, but if so, he hasn’t seen fit to share it with the rest of them. Each of these people were vying for a throne, asserting that they had the best suitability to wear the crown for one reason or another. How might they respond to one another. Fleischhacker listened to Lord Ambrose while he carried out his own internal dialogue of the issue. In the end he decided that bring them all together would be pertinent, if only to see how they acted.

Fleischhacker: “Mr. Fleischhacker is fine, my lord. I see no reason why you shouldn’t all come as a group. It would be more efficient that way.”

Fleischhacker looked to the other parties that had arrived one after the other. The couple were clearly Prince William and his wife, while the other young man was presumably Mr. Daugaard, descendants of the Princess Alexandrine. From the stories Fleischhacker had heard of the late Princess, he had no issue in believing that she had been… prolific in her production of heirs by different men. Of all the daughters of Auguste of Gante, King Augustus’ notorious grandmother, Alexandrine was said to resemble her mother the most, in both appearance and temperament.

That did not incline Fleischhacker to particularly like her son or grandson. But Prince William was a prince of a foreign state in his own right, thus making him the highest ranking of the claimants. He approached and bowed.

Fleischhacker: “Your Highnesses, Mr. Daugaard. I am Patrick Fleischhacker, member of His Majesty’s Privy Council. Please allow me to welcome you to Riessany, as well as to introduce you to Lord Ambrose.”

He gestured to the lord. He spoke to the foursome of people.

Fleischhacker: “Documents or the like, verifying your lines of descent will be reviewed by His Majesty’s Privy Councillors. If you wish to wish to hand them over to me, you may do so now.”

"Ah sounds excellent Mr. Fleischhacker, in regards to your plan as well as the documents. I shall hand over the documents at a more convenient point though if they are not needed for entrance." Ambrose said addressing Fleischhacker prepared to follow the man to meet the gathered claimants distant kinsman.

Turning to the gathered group with a mirthful laugh and a clapping of his hands he removed his hat and bowed "I am Ard Lord Ambrose O'Cudara son of Duke Dufach O'Cudara of the High Kingdom of Camelone, and it is a pleasure to see distant kinsmen who I have never seen before today." Straightening himself out he continued "Please after this, no matter how the ruling of succession goes, feel free to visit your kinsmen in Camelone at some point."

With that said he stuck his arm out towards Alex to give him a handshake "A pleasure to meet you Alexander, as I have already said my name is Ambrose." Today would be a good day regardless how it turned out political Ambrose thought seeing those gathered around.