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Help[Games] Re: Saphirdufeu's Royal Congrats - Round 6
in reply to a message by saphirdufeu
House of Fairfax
DH: King Richard Christopher Samuel [d.]
DW: Dowager Queen Beatrice Edith Sybillia [55]
DD: Matilda Anne Christine, Countess of Richmond [36]
-DH: George Nicolas, Earl of Arundel [d.]
--DD: Helen Susanna Euphemia [18]
---DFiancé: Conrad Teodoric Restault, Count of Blois [18]
--DS: Henry Fabian Richard, Earl of Arundel [16]
-DH: Antony Peregrin Mercier, Earl of Richmond [37]
--DS: Benedict Philip [12]
DS: King Henry Valerian Ambrose [35]
-DW: Queen Louise Charlotte, Duchess of Aquitaine [32]
--DS: Prince Jehan Leopold Walter [d.]
DS: Prince Rufus Joscelin Ives [32]
-DW: Princess Dorothea Cateline Rennes, Countess of Anjou [30]
--DD: Cecily Honora [8]
--DD: Marion Sabeline [7]
--DS: Adrian Valentine [5]
--DS: Amaury Noel [4]
--DD: Mary Eulalia [2]
The people had reached a consensus, or something approaching it at any rate, by virtue of countless tavern conversations, barracks gossip, and idle chatter between washerwomen: King Henry, whatever else he may have been, was bloody decent at the whole kinging business. Sure, he very seldom threw balls, rather forgot to keep his throne room well-decorated, and talking to him still gave you the feeling that you were trying to dance a rondel on quicksand, but he was really pretty good at the kinging thing. The kingdom enjoyed a period of, if not quite prosperity, then at least stability. Hal kept the ship sailing with a steady hand on the rudder, despite whatever winds might blow. He did pass a law banning jesters and fools from performing pantomime, but that was mostly accepted with a shrug as the entertainers simply turned added words to their routines, and as far as absolute monarchs went, the people generally considered this an acceptable character quirk.
Slightly more concerning was the fact that Hal and Louise still hadn't produced an heir to the throne. There was much speculation in the rowdier, drunker parts of town about this. Some said it was a punishment for their sins. Others insisted a heir had been born, albeit horribly disfigured and therefore locked in a room somewhere in the castle, where he was kept like a wild animal. Some even went so far as to say they had traded their fertility off to faeries, in return for a peaceful reign, though most people drew the line at suggesting that Hal may have had some royal bastards hidden elsewhere; it was hard enough to imagine one woman successfully enduring him, they opined over their half-emptied flagons.
In the end, the absence of a child to call his heir didn't faze Hal in the slightest. Rufus, always ready to assist his brother, had suggested they train his eldest son, Adrian, for the prospect of kingship, and Hal readily agreed. It was a sensible plan, given the all-too-real chance that the crown may pass to the boy at some point in the future. Young Adrian didn't seem to mind the arrangements, being only just five and a half (he was very keen on the half part) and yet to fully grasp the implications behind Uncle Hal's tours of the castle and endless trove of interesting maps, but he enjoyed the attention nonetheless. Rufus himself wasn't worried about his lineage; his troop of children had slowly but steadily increased, and if Adrian were to be Hal's heir, there would still be Amaury to take over Anjou, and little Mary to be her sisters' latest favourite. Though he did privately wonder if his dearest Dorie wasn't going to stop manifesting children already; she seemed to be producing enough to cover for him and Hal altogether.
Matilda and Antony had their own problems to sort out. To wit: the engagement of Matilda's eldest daughter. Helen, who'd inherited her mother's soulful eyes, her father's strong jawline, and her grandmother's melodious voice, was in no shortage of suitors. Her beauty was almost as legendary as her acute bashfulness was. She was known to avoid appearing in front of crowds, preferring to hide behind veils, stained glass windows, and, one memorable time, a gaggle of maids and one rather puzzled gardener. To her frustration, the basest rules of human nature meant this only made her prospective suitors even more desperate to see her in person. Thankfully, Matilda managed to introduce one of the more suitable suitors to her in a quiet little spot where they could discuss books and astronomy without interruption, and after a few days Helen admitted Conrad was sort of growing on her. Relieved, Matilda and Antony made the requisite arrangements with Conrad's family, and the betrothal was made official.
Hal and Louise, in their own private moments, would have shocked the kingdom naysayers by the simple fact that there indeed was a woman who could tolerate the king's unreadable, stern face. Their marriage had ever been political, and there was no true romance blossoming between them over the years, no spark of electricity when they touched hands (save, perhaps, if they were to be wearing woolen hosen and had spent some time prior running around on the castle's rugs, though the mind boggles as to any reason they might have wished to do this). Still, they remained friends, trusting each other and enjoying their partner's assured loyalty. If it was a cool marriage, then at least it wasn't a sinking one.
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
DH: King Richard Christopher Samuel [d.]
DW: Dowager Queen Beatrice Edith Sybillia [55]
DD: Matilda Anne Christine, Countess of Richmond [36]
-DH: George Nicolas, Earl of Arundel [d.]
--DD: Helen Susanna Euphemia [18]
---DFiancé: Conrad Teodoric Restault, Count of Blois [18]
--DS: Henry Fabian Richard, Earl of Arundel [16]
-DH: Antony Peregrin Mercier, Earl of Richmond [37]
--DS: Benedict Philip [12]
DS: King Henry Valerian Ambrose [35]
-DW: Queen Louise Charlotte, Duchess of Aquitaine [32]
--DS: Prince Jehan Leopold Walter [d.]
DS: Prince Rufus Joscelin Ives [32]
-DW: Princess Dorothea Cateline Rennes, Countess of Anjou [30]
--DD: Cecily Honora [8]
--DD: Marion Sabeline [7]
--DS: Adrian Valentine [5]
--DS: Amaury Noel [4]
--DD: Mary Eulalia [2]
The people had reached a consensus, or something approaching it at any rate, by virtue of countless tavern conversations, barracks gossip, and idle chatter between washerwomen: King Henry, whatever else he may have been, was bloody decent at the whole kinging business. Sure, he very seldom threw balls, rather forgot to keep his throne room well-decorated, and talking to him still gave you the feeling that you were trying to dance a rondel on quicksand, but he was really pretty good at the kinging thing. The kingdom enjoyed a period of, if not quite prosperity, then at least stability. Hal kept the ship sailing with a steady hand on the rudder, despite whatever winds might blow. He did pass a law banning jesters and fools from performing pantomime, but that was mostly accepted with a shrug as the entertainers simply turned added words to their routines, and as far as absolute monarchs went, the people generally considered this an acceptable character quirk.
Slightly more concerning was the fact that Hal and Louise still hadn't produced an heir to the throne. There was much speculation in the rowdier, drunker parts of town about this. Some said it was a punishment for their sins. Others insisted a heir had been born, albeit horribly disfigured and therefore locked in a room somewhere in the castle, where he was kept like a wild animal. Some even went so far as to say they had traded their fertility off to faeries, in return for a peaceful reign, though most people drew the line at suggesting that Hal may have had some royal bastards hidden elsewhere; it was hard enough to imagine one woman successfully enduring him, they opined over their half-emptied flagons.
In the end, the absence of a child to call his heir didn't faze Hal in the slightest. Rufus, always ready to assist his brother, had suggested they train his eldest son, Adrian, for the prospect of kingship, and Hal readily agreed. It was a sensible plan, given the all-too-real chance that the crown may pass to the boy at some point in the future. Young Adrian didn't seem to mind the arrangements, being only just five and a half (he was very keen on the half part) and yet to fully grasp the implications behind Uncle Hal's tours of the castle and endless trove of interesting maps, but he enjoyed the attention nonetheless. Rufus himself wasn't worried about his lineage; his troop of children had slowly but steadily increased, and if Adrian were to be Hal's heir, there would still be Amaury to take over Anjou, and little Mary to be her sisters' latest favourite. Though he did privately wonder if his dearest Dorie wasn't going to stop manifesting children already; she seemed to be producing enough to cover for him and Hal altogether.
Matilda and Antony had their own problems to sort out. To wit: the engagement of Matilda's eldest daughter. Helen, who'd inherited her mother's soulful eyes, her father's strong jawline, and her grandmother's melodious voice, was in no shortage of suitors. Her beauty was almost as legendary as her acute bashfulness was. She was known to avoid appearing in front of crowds, preferring to hide behind veils, stained glass windows, and, one memorable time, a gaggle of maids and one rather puzzled gardener. To her frustration, the basest rules of human nature meant this only made her prospective suitors even more desperate to see her in person. Thankfully, Matilda managed to introduce one of the more suitable suitors to her in a quiet little spot where they could discuss books and astronomy without interruption, and after a few days Helen admitted Conrad was sort of growing on her. Relieved, Matilda and Antony made the requisite arrangements with Conrad's family, and the betrothal was made official.
Hal and Louise, in their own private moments, would have shocked the kingdom naysayers by the simple fact that there indeed was a woman who could tolerate the king's unreadable, stern face. Their marriage had ever been political, and there was no true romance blossoming between them over the years, no spark of electricity when they touched hands (save, perhaps, if they were to be wearing woolen hosen and had spent some time prior running around on the castle's rugs, though the mind boggles as to any reason they might have wished to do this). Still, they remained friends, trusting each other and enjoying their partner's assured loyalty. If it was a cool marriage, then at least it wasn't a sinking one.
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
This message was edited 7/21/2018, 8:55 AM
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