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Post by Retrograde on Sept 16, 2017 19:31:00 GMT
Geron patted the soil closed, grinning to himself. He had finally done it - the garden was now replanted and when fall came he would be rewarded with a bounty of fresh vegetables. The only problem was that he was now stiff over. It seemed even doing something as simple as yardwork was starting to be a pain for him. He sighed, standing slowly and wiping his dirty, calloused hands on his white shirt as he did so. He thought about how he was only 10 years younger than his father was when he had passed away. He rolled the shoulders, causing his back to crackle and pop which did a lot to relieve the tension. He took a look around his yard, appreciating his handiwork and trying not to think about how, now that he was 52, he was old. He took a look down at his admittedly prodigious gut, and wondered where it had come from. Why was it all priests seemed to get fat?
He poured himself a glass of rosewater from the pitcher his wife had so kindly placed out for him, savouring the mild sweetness of it. Then he had a second glass, just to ease off any residual parching in his throat. Had to be sure, and all.
"Patriarch?" came a voice, belonging to one of Geron's many assistants.
Geron turned to look at the man. Compared to Geron's massive stature, the man looked positively tiny. The man seemed to be getting old too, given the grey in his hair and the wrinkles around his eyes. Well, I guess I can take comfort in that it happens to everyone, at least, he thought to himself. Then, he chastised himself for his self-pity. It was highly improper for a man of Artis to mope about something as silly as this.
"Yes?" he said expectantly. He tried not to sound gruff, but it came out as gruff anyway. He got the feeling that the people he worked with were sometimes intimidated by him. They'd been listening to far too many of the rumours about him being some sort of taskmaster. Geron thought of himself as a fairly easy person to work with so long as people were competent.
"Your daughter's here to see you. She's been waiting for a little bit. Apparently you said you'd meet her?"
Geron paused, and tilted his head in confusion. "...I'm meeting her on Tuesday, though."
The messenger looked a little uncomfortable. "It, uhm, well Patriarch, it IS Tuesday."
Geron stopped, and considered, thinking over the past few days. His already rosy cheeks got a little redder, and rubbed his temple. "Right, of course. Alright, I'll go meet her. In the grand hall?" he asked, getting a nod in response. Internally, he groaned. He was going to meet with her while he was all sweaty and grimy. He had hoped to be able to change but if he had already made her wait then there was no time to waste.
He hurried to the grand hall, trying not to make it look like he had been running. That would be a little embarrassing. He walked into the hall, and smiled upon seeing his daughter. "Ellie, sweetpea!" He called jovially. "Sorry I got sidetracked. Was tending the garden." As though it wasn't obvious by how much dirt his hands and shirt were peppered with.
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Post by Asinity on Sept 17, 2017 4:00:14 GMT
Upon hearing her name, the second-born daughter of Geron Baux was shaken from her thoughts. While she had been waiting for a servant to fetch her father, Ellione had unintentionally lost herself in thought while gazing upon the various crowds gathered in the Great Hall. Truth be told, she had been looking in the direction of a somewhat burly young blacksmith, and had embarrassingly made eye contact with him just as Geron had called out her name. Slightly flustered, but happy for the distraction from having being caught staring, the blonde-haired woman offered her father a smile as he greeted her.
"I was wondering where you were," she admitted, and reached out to embrace the large man. "The garden, hm? What's mother doing?"
The sight of her father's large, dirt-covered hands made Ellione smirk. He was always the type of person to do things himself, either because he knew he could do it better, or because he simply enjoyed physical exertion. Whether it was one, the other, or some mixture of both, she couldn't be sure. But Ellione was used to his forward approach, and in a way, she had grown up to be much the same.
When the Revolution began and her father was released from the Routaille prisons, Ellione felt she had no other choice than to take up arms and join the rebellion against the tyrannical Odo II. Though much to her father's dismay at her joining the fight on the front lines, there was little he could do to stop her. She remembered vividly the conversation in which he had vehemently protested her donning armor and mace, yet also the look on his face when his second-born daughter had told him it was his very words that had driven her to fight. And here they were, years later, able to speak like none of that had ever happened.
Yet the world did not forget, nor did it accept the circumstances with which peace was reached. Ellione heard the murmurs from the mouths of foreigners. She'd locked up a few herself, as a matter of fact. Save for the distant merchant princes in Luska, most of Trevast refused to recognize the new government of Routaille, and some even plotted against it. As the Grand Constable of the Sheriffs of Routaille, it was her responsibility to make certain that Commonwealth law was adhered to from coast to coast. Ellione in particular was not the most lenient of her office, but she viewed corruption like a Priest of Artis. Though the current rumblings in the other nations of Trevast were far outside the woman's jurisdiction, they worried her greatly. Which is why she had called this meeting with her father.
"Thanks for meeting me, I didn't know if you were busy today but I just..." she started, and realized how young she sounded. "I wanted to talk to you."
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Post by Retrograde on Sept 17, 2017 15:38:58 GMT
Geron held Ellione close for a moment. She was a grown woman and had been one for quite a while now but he could not help but remember the litle girl she used to be. A part of him missed the days where he would pick her up and swing her onto his shoulders while they were talking walks. But another part was more proud of the woman she had become. They had their disagreements, certainly, but secretly Geron had bragged about his second daughter many times to his friends.
"Your nephew gave her and I a chest cold. I got over it but your mother's still napping off what's left of it. Lanine is taking care of her though.
Geron loved his grandchildren very much, but they tended to carry sickness about them like little plague rats. His own children were the exact same way when they were small. He remembered how rapidly the flu passed through their house when his oldest got it and how he spent so much time juggling between kids.
But I am never too busy for you," he chided. What is it you wanted to talk about?"
From her expression, he knew it had to be fairly serious. Perhaps something grim was on the horizon? He hoped not. Things seemed to have finally calmed down in the Commonwealth and he was hoping the people - and more selfishly, himself - could have a break from the madness of the world for a while.
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Post by Asinity on Sept 17, 2017 17:04:32 GMT
Ellione pursed her lips at the mention of sickness, but hearing that Lanine was helping take care of her mother set the blonde-haired woman at ease. She was glad that her youngest sibling would be there to look after their mother, but part of her wondered where her older sister was. The first-born of Geron's children, Ramona-Marie had been like a second mother to all of her siblings. If there was anyone who Ellione truly looked up to, it was her older sister. She had everything. Aside from her motherly attributes, she was beautiful, and had a good husband with whom she had already bore children with. On the surface, the Grand Constable genuinely loved playing aunt to her older sister's children, but deep in her heart she wished that they were her own. The thought gave Ellione a small spell of jealousy but she shook it off quickly, though a feeling of guilt remained. Artis would provide, she told herself.
With a small smile, she nodded toward her father.
"Just something that's been on my mind," she replied, trying to make light of the situation so her father wouldn't worry too much. Geron was very prone to worry, especially with his daughters, she found. "Do you mind if we walk to the garden?"
The two of them set off, with the sound of Ellione's plated boots setting a rhythm that echoed throughout the Great Hall. The sun was fairly bright out today, though a few clouds threw patches of shade on top of the capital city of Pyracle. A breeze picked up as the two of them made their way into the open air, and stirred tendrils of her shoulder-length blonde hair.
"I've been hearing a lot of murmurs, father," Ellione began, as she kept a leisurely pace. "I'm worried about what awaits Arno in Rjillund. I know it's just a tourney, but the Cassians are the most vocal against our new government, and Arno hasn't been out of Routaille since he joined the Revolution. Do you think he'll be ok?"
She looked toward her father as the two of them walked, and searched his face for an answer.
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Post by Retrograde on Sept 17, 2017 18:02:47 GMT
Geron looked to Ellione, shrugging. "I certainly don't mind, but you're going to have to watch your step. I just planted everything." Geron had always been very particular about his garden, and always had been. It had been something he learned during times of food shortages where being able to grow your own food was essential. It had prevented the family from going hungry more than once, especially when finances were tight.
He walked with his daughter, keeping her close. She could easily protect herself, he realized, but there was an instinct there to keep her safe. He had it for all his daughters. He knew it was silly, they were big girls now, but the idea that someone might try to hurt him by attacking them was always in his mind. Odo II had certainly suggested it. He remembered when one of the guards arresting him got too handsy with Ramona-Marie. He was willing to go peacefully at that point... He remembered what happened next through a fog, as though he were completely detached. By the time he came to, out of the 5 guards arresting him, only 2 were in tact. What happened to the three incapacitated guards had entered into legend, and it wasn't something he liked to think about. Still, the rumour of the man with his elbow bending the wrong way had stuck with him.
"Mn," Geron grunted thoughtfully. "Arno has the benefit of Ferrus being his uncle. I'm hoping that's going to be enough to keep the Cassians from calling on their hounds. I know what you mean though. I've been trying to tell him to wait longer, to give it a little more time, but he's been... insistent. I can only give the man advice, I can't make him take it. Still, Arno's smart. I don't think he'd do this unless he was confident he was going to be safe."
He grunted.
"It's his mother I really don't trust. That and his little brother. Boy is going to get some Rjillund girl pregnant and we're going to have to deal with that, mark my words. Damned fool can't help himself around women."
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Post by Asinity on Sept 19, 2017 19:35:45 GMT
The blonde-haired daughter nodded her understanding, as the two of them made their way to the garden. Like usual, her father seemed to be one step ahead of her; he already had spoken with Arno, for one, but he also pointed to two more pressing issues. One, namely, that Ellione could full well vouch for from her own experiences. It was indeed a joyous day at the Assembly when Margarethe Cassian had only a few words to say, even if they were covered in venom. The thought made Ellione's lip curl.
"Maragarthe, yes," she replied, in a tone that spoke volumes of her spiteful opinion. "Thank Artis I've got a few weeks without her at the 'Royalist' helm."
A moment passed as the Grand Constable chewed the word over.
"Crownsmen, sorry," Ellione corrected herself. "I don't know what I would do if you and Marielle weren't there. She grinds my temper like a grain mill."
The woman sighed, but kept walking. They were nearing the gardens, and Ellione was looking forward to taking a seat for a few moments, at least. She could hardly settle as it was, being the head of the sheriffs in Routaille, but with the added stress of King Arno being gone, her sense of duty redoubled. Some of those who she employed had told the blonde-haired woman that this was an opportunity for relaxation, but she firmly held the opposing perspective. With the king gone the roaches would come up from the floorboards of the Assembly, and scuttle into the sunlight without fear of being squashed by a tailored leather Merov boot. Now it would have to be her own reinforced steel that would oppose them. Her resolve tightened.
"How long do you think they'll be gone?" Ellione asked, curiously. "I imagine Arno will want to attend to a few things while he's there, huh?"
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Post by Retrograde on Sept 20, 2017 16:50:48 GMT
" Realistically he is probably going to be gone for at least a month, just based on travel times alone. It is entirely possible he will be gone longer than that. For now, his father will act as Regent, and, might I add, hates the job."
Geron grinned at that. He had no ill will towards Albare, although the man was woefully lazy. Albare had complained at the notion of being involved in anything resembling politics, but he was the best choice by far for Regent. The man had experience and he was the King's father. Not to mention, Albare was incredibly well-liked amongst the people of Routaille. Still, Geron couldn't help but find it amusing that the layabout now found himself in what Geron imagined was his personal Hell.
He wandered forward, bringing them to the garden. The smell of freshly turned soil filled the air and there was a sense of peace about the place. The groundskeeper's house Geron had claimed as his own sat beside, a two story building with a shingled roof. He found even that a little grandiose for his taste, but it was the most humble accomodation the palace had, so he made due. Rallie seemed to like it at least.
" Speaking of Marielle, she's gone to Imrena. Says it is to check on defences but if I know her, she's using it as a vacation. She can't help herself when she goes home. She is the damned High Marshal of the nation and she is still acting like a frisky teenager."
Geron grumbled. He and Marielle had always had something of a rocky friendship, if it could be called that. The woman was a libertine, throwing herself at pretty boys and more scandalously, pretty girls. It was highly unseemly. Yet he couldn't deny her devotion to the Commonwealth and her tactical mind. He thought, perhaps, that if she were to get herself a firm husband perhaps he could straighten her out. Then again, he saw a lot of Rallie in her. Perhaps she would be the one in charge in a marriage.
He was broken from his thoughts as a voice called to him from the house.
"PAPA! LUNCH IS R... ELLIE?!"
Lanine, Heron's youngest, raced from the house, skirt hitched up in her hands and her corn silk hair fluttering behind her. She gave her big sister no time to respond as she practically threw herself at Ellione, wrapping her arms tightly around her.
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Post by Asinity on Sept 24, 2017 15:48:50 GMT
Before Ellione had time to respond to her father, her youngest sister had rushed out from the door to the family house and nearly tackled the Grand Constable. The blonde-haired soldier laughed with genuine mirth at her sister's energy, and wrapped her own arms around the girl's shoulders.
"Hey Lani!" Ellione chuckled. "I should have told you I was coming by."
The older woman's hands gently grasped her sister's forearms near the elbow, and she leaned back to get a better look at her. She couldn't believe how beautiful her little sister was becoming. It seemed like only a year or two ago she was following Ellione around and asking every question that came to her mind. Lanine had always looked up to her older sister, ever since Ellione could remember, and it had created a fairly strong bond between both of them. The blonde-haired woman just hoped that she was at least setting a good example for her little sister.
"How've you been? What've you been up to?" the Grand Constable asked her sister, the former conversation with her father momentarily forgotten.
It wasn't often that Ellione was able to come and visit her family like this, considering her office, so when she had a mind to visit them, the sheriffs of Routaille had an understanding that they might be on their own for the better part of the day. They could handle themselves of course, though the blonde-haired woman knew she would probably be a bit busier the next day. The thought didn't bother her too much, for she truly felt a responsibility to Routaille, and to upholding the new law on the island. She had joined the Revolution, after all, and if her father had taught his second-born anything that stuck with her through the years, it was that if you started something, you finished it. Ellione had helped to bring equal representation to her people, and it was only right that she accept the position of Grand Constable in order to help maintain it.
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Post by Retrograde on Oct 22, 2017 20:53:26 GMT
Lanine grinned at her older sister. "I am good," she said. "Just been doing what I always do. Clean up, do the cooking, study. Oh! And Leraul the Chef is starting a cooking school! And he accepts girls! He said he would be willing to teach me if I am serious about it."
Geron huffed. "Leraul is a pompous weasel who thinks far too highly of himself just because he used to make dinner for nobles."
"PAPA!" Lanine chided. "He is a very nice man. You would get along with him if you actually spoke to him, you know. He likes a lot of the same things you do."
Then, she turned and clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "ANYWAY, I have made lunch." She wagged her finger at Ellione. "You are staying for it. No ducking out like normal. We are going to eat like a family."
Geron scratched his chin, looking thoroughly chided. "And what did you make?"
"Goat sausages with crumbly cheese in a spicy tomato sauce. Now come on, before it gets cold."
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