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Post by Lord Newbury on Dec 5, 2017 15:21:12 GMT
Valdez Succession Crisis - Conference of Aladeen
The City was unusually silent, the bustling free state of Aladeen - normally so hectic with the hubbub of commerce and trade, fallen still as if in anticipation of the events to come. City Guard lined the Streets, somewhat in awe of the assembled men and women gathered from the Kingdoms of Trevast, and spectators and attendees of the coming conference. It was to take place in the open air assembly concourse, a large circular meeting area now with a simple circle of chairs for each party in attendance - protected by a complex web of those who would be attending. Naturally, to ensure the peace, each party was permitted to bring no more than ten vessels, and two-hundred men (guards or otherwise) with only them, and a second entering the meeting area itself.
Standing inside the conference area, just shy of one-hundred men from the city-watch lined the outer wall, facing inward to the circle of chairs as protection - not that it would be needed. In his own chair, the Conference Chairman, a member of the Cities Ruling Council, sat, pouring over a brief of the crisis. He sighed as he read its contents -
The King of Valdez, Ferdinand du Valdez IV has passed away, leaving his seven-year-old son to take the throne. However, by Valdez Law he can be crowned whenever he wishes, but must first have the oaths of loyalty of his Grand Dukes. These Dukes are allowed to withhold their Oaths until the King turns sixteen, and thus is, in the eyes of the Law, a Man. Furthermore, it is custom for the King to have a Regent should he be underaged, but this Regent must be selected from the Privy Council.
Currently, Prince Juan Carlos du Valdez, the late-Kings Brother, has declared himself Regent, and the Dukes refuse to swear their oaths to him. This is not aided by the fact he has refused to allow the Grand Patriarch to bless the Regency, and his political views are somewhat Liberal in nature. Furthermore, to compound the issue, the late-Kings wife, and current Kings mother, is the Daughter of the King of Luska, and has not been seen outside of the Eternal City (The Valdez Capitol and Seat) since the Regency began.
He closed the parchment, and rubbed his temples. It was going to be a long day.
OOC - This thread is open to the representatives of Kingdoms, and involved parties in the Valdez Succession Crisis. Spin-off threads from this main one are encouraged. There will be a posting order, established on a first come first serves basis, and please remember to post promptly. The 'Chairman' of the Conference may be controlled by any admin. |
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Post by Fyremage on Dec 5, 2017 19:25:50 GMT
 Several ships bearing the black and golden standards of House Cassian pulled into harbor at the free city of Aladeen. Roughly an hour later, a procession of knights marched in a column behind two men on horseback. The first who rode on the left side of the procession was a tall, regal looking man of obvious highborn stock. Platinum blonde hair was brushed back in a well trained and neat array, with a purposeful glint in his hazel eyes and a jaw seemingly forged of iron. Trion Cassian indeed was a specimen to behold, and a worthy successor to his aging father. As was to be expected of a crown prince of his age and capability, he was sent in his father's stead to represent Rjillund and her interests at this conference. And he certainly was dressed for the part, as he wore a charcoal grey doublet with links of chainmail present underneath at the sleeves, a gold half-cloak which was draped over his left side, and a sash that stretched from his exposed right shoulder down to his left hip, with the pin of his royal station clearly visible at the top at his shoulder. He carried a sword which remained sheathed at his side, but was otherwise unarmed as the knights accompanying him were more than enough to serve as protectors. In fact, upon closer inspection these knights were indeed unique from the ones likely seen during the war between Alendron and Rjillund. Their armor was charcoal grey with red fringe visible from the underlay between the plates of armor, with their headpieces fashioned in the shape of a falcon's head. These were the Cassian's bodyguards - knights sworn under the direct service of the crown, and judging from their bearing and the manner in which they marched in step, these men were elite and highly regimented. Only a fool would challenge them and their charge. Riding at the same pace and alongside Trion was a bald, stark man with a serious expression seemingly engraved on his face. He bore the sash of a Margraf of Rjillund, wearing half-plate covered by a tabbard bearing the sigil of his house. The Margraf of Rji-Fluss was a natural companion for Trion on this mission. While Trion was no stranger to the ins and outs of politics, Emannual Varos was a cautious and shrewd man who would undoubtedly aid the crown prince unreservedly during these talks. The procession rode through the streets, with Trion eventually turning to his companion and breaking the silence. "Thank you for accompanying me, my Lord Varos." |
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Post by Retrograde on Dec 6, 2017 3:47:48 GMT
The morning had started pleasant enough for Belsary, Protector of Aladeen. He had woken with a beautiful young thing in his arms and miraculously, nothing hurt for once. Yet it was soured by the reminder that he would soon be dealing with yet another crisis that would potentially shake Trevast to her core. It was becoming far too frequent an occurrence, and as always he knew it would lead to an influx of nobles scurrying to his shores to take up refuge and then probably never leave, adding to the rat's nest of lies and deception that their kind was ever so fond of perpetrating. Still, he had his duties to fulfill and despite his general contempt for those around him he had no intention of not doing them. He got dressed in his best finery, adding tinges of black to suggest morning for the late king, although he did not really have strong feelings on the man.
He watched the Cassian procession from the Grey Tower, which oversaw all of the great city. He grimaced. Such theatricality. Not everything needed to have so much fanfare. Then again, he suspected that the royalty of all the kingdoms might wither up and didn't get a chance to throw a parade every time they so much as used the privy. They were attention hungry, the lot of them and he realized with great pity that none of them realized how absolutely pathetic it all was.
He folded his hands behind his back, and turned to his advisors. "Are the preparations ready? I don't want any of them to throw a fit because the wine wasn't chilled to the exact degree," he said. His seneschal, one Mr. Owdry, smirked at him. "As always you are a ray of sunshine, Protector. Yes, everything is prepared."
The Protector nodded, and began to head down to the central chamber. An ancient policy had stated that the Protector was not to meet with any monarch from the continent. Instead, they were to come and meet him. A perk from the unique position of the Protector within Trevast. He had seen past kings get rankled by it, surprised that anyone could ever expect them to go through what they put their courtiers all the time. It tickled him.
He took his seat in the Protector's chair, pleased to see a small piece of cheese and some dark bread left for him. He did not have especially expensive tastes, and could please himself dining on common fare. It showed in his appearance. He was a tall, thin man. Almost painfully slender, even. His arms and legs were long, ending in long digits that gave him an almost spider-like appearance when combined with the pointed features of his face and his sunken eyes. The hair on the top of his head had long ago retreated from his scalp, and now the only hair on his head were his eyebrows and his snow-white beard. His age was becoming clear. Belsary was now in his 70s, and he could not hide it any longer. Still, he strode and moved with purpose and still had a dominating energy about him that could not be ignored.
---
Arno fidgeted with his signet ring. He silently wondered when things on Trevast would finally calm down. He walked with his procession, if it could be called that. He was flanked by his brother, Giaume, whom he had insisted come with him while he sent the rest of his family home to Routaille. He could not risk Fernanda being caught up in whatever politics happened next, and he knew that his mother was best suited to taking care of the little girl right now. Sabelle was simply not suited to all of this. The poor girl had been weeping uncontrollably when he had seen her last. Silently, he hoped the letter he had sent home to Routaille would reach there soon.
His eyes remained fixed on the Grey Tower where they would meet. How many meetings there had actually gone well? Not many, as far as he could remember. There were always complications. Kingly pride didn't allow much for compromise.
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Post by Asinity on Dec 6, 2017 4:17:48 GMT
The amount of ships docked at Aladeen reminded Koschei of Zarasai, in some ways. The cities were alike in ways that all crowded ports often are, but they were also a world away from each other. The King of Luska was no King here, only a man with a handful of ships and two-hundred knights behind him. There was no familiar native tongue, nor the smell of Luskan wood, or wine. If not for the sable and green of the knights who escorted him, or the Boyar Arturas Cosella at his side, the King would have felt very alone on this island nation.
Together, King and Boyar made their way toward the conference area. They had both dismounted from their horses only moments ago, and were flanked on either side by four of the most well-known of the Knights Zaras; the highest office a warrior of Luska could hope to ascend to. The knights would, of course, only follow their charges as long as they were allowed, before they would be forced to keep watch from a distance. When such a time came, they crisply saluted Koschei and Arturas, before taking their positions.
The King of House Vyre was dressed in black linen with emerald green accents, and wore plate armor made solely to fit his unique form. Koschei seemed comfortable as he walked, with his longsword buckled around his waist and a sable cape draped over his shoulders.
As the two walked into the conference area, Koschei glanced over at his slightly taller vassal.
"I hope you're ready for a fight," the king warned. "I have a feeling tempers are going to flare quickly."
The black-haired man nodded toward a few nobles who were already in the conference area, then moved to his designated position.
"Above all else, we must make certain that we will not suffer my aunt to remain walled within the Eternal City," Koschei continued. "Other than that, we'll have to see what happens. How is your mind, my friend?"
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Post by Jason on Dec 6, 2017 4:26:51 GMT
Mirun X, Queen of Queens, and Queen of Izhen as she will go by as she arrives in Aladeen and promptly smells the filth and cringes. "Well," she turns to her friend and advisor Fatimah, "You certainly can smell the city." Which prompted a snort by her vizier as she quickly gets Mirun's palanquin set up and the docking ramp lowered. Mirun climbs in and is lifted off the ground by dedicated servants and carried through the town to the Grey Tower. Flanked by very scary Badland Warriors she recruited during a pacification campaign 2 years ago. She enjoys their enthusiasm in killing her enemies and rewards them with gold and land for their families. She feels that incentivising her guards is a good policy.
Fatimah who was mounted aside her palanquin leans her head in and whispers, "Your Divine Radiance, I beg your pardon but there is a party in front of us what do you wish to do? They seem to be carrying a standard which is a radiant sun."
Mirun sighs, "We can't just run them over, why not have a chat with them, see where they come from for I do not recall a Trevastine kingdom with that flag. It would be for the best if we speak to them."
With that they approach the party and prepare to speak to them.
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Post by Lord Newbury on Dec 6, 2017 8:11:42 GMT
Margraf Emmanual Varos
The Principality of Rji-Fluss
Far to fancy, thought the Commander to himself, as he looked up at the Cities fine towers and buildings from the saddle of his horse. It was clear to him that this Cities best defence was its location, not its wall - not that any viable equipment could be brought to bear against them, such was their positioning. Shaking his head to himself, he straightened his sword belt and did a quick once-over of his armour. He had come in half-plate, his sigils of office, a sash with a falcon-headed pin and three feathers at its pinnacle, a command baton clutched in his hand - a permanent scowl affixed his face.
"Thank you for accompanying me, my Lord Varos."
he perked up at the statement from Prince Trion and smiled sternly "It seemed rather urgent my Prince." he began, keeping his disappointment with being drawn away from his duties on the Border hidden, barely "However this seems like a suitably delicate place for the Galathions and their ilk to meet us," he laughed to himself at his own lacklustre attempt at humour "...and with the Valdez issue opening up, no doubt they'll be champing to open a few dress shops outside their allotted turf no?"
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Post by Lord Newbury on Dec 7, 2017 11:40:44 GMT
Hedraeth Carraigh
Grand Duke of Castille, Lord of Ard Caedywn and Warden of the North "My Lord," Hedreath turned as his second approach "...the other attendees are on their way." the man, Sir Carden Muur, Baron of Deavon fell silent. He had served as the second to the Duke for just shy of five years, much to the pride of his father, the similarly named Count of Deavon himself. He was himself part of the Order fo Deavon the Knights who shared the name of his home-county and was here today to witness the events for history's sake, as well as to act as commander of the two-hundred strong Dukes Own Regiment of Foot who had accompanied them. He was a trained Knight, well versed in both the field and at court, with a proud looking sword at his hip. Hedreath turned and thanked his second "Perhaps we can get started soon," he began placing his coronet on his head. "...I really have little patience for the pomp that goes with such gatherings." he remarked, Carden nodding in agreement. Hedreath was adorned in his finery for the days occasion, a chainmail surcoat, topped with a leather jerkin, with purple sleeves and his chain of office about his neck. Atop his head rested his Grand Ducal Coronet, the Chain he held showing him as Warden of the North - not that the title meant much since the crisis had begun. "Well, announce me, and let's to our positions?" he instructed moving to his own seat in the Conference room. Carden stepped forwards and cleared his throat once the other attendees had arrived in the hall "Grand-Protector, your Majesties, Lords, Ladies and Sirs - I announce the Lord Hedreath of House Carraigh, Grand Duke of Castille, also of such lands is he known, Duke of Caedwyn and of Mursalli, Lord of Ard Caedywn, Patron of the Order of San Marten and Knight of the Eternal Flame." the man finished, and took a step behind the seat is Lord, who when indicated sat down. Leaning back, his voice but a whisper he said to Carden "Good job," he kept his voice a whisper "Let us hope to be out of here soon."It was his intention to see the rough desires of each Kingdom gathered here, and each Duchy or state also - and from that to do his best to see what the overall feel of the Valdez crisis was.
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Post by TheCalmOne on Dec 7, 2017 16:40:09 GMT
Unlike many of the other participants in the conference, the Duke of Aquitania arrived without pomp, ceremony, and with a minimal entourage. Such things were, in his opinion, simply a waste of his most precious resources; time and money.
Thus, the Duke, accompanied only by a few guards and his chief military advisor, the Dederyn, the Count of Morningdale, quietly made their way into the conference room and took a seat. As he did so, he surveyed the room and made contact with the Duke of Castille, Hedraeth Carraigh. Upon doing so, he smiled slightly and nodded his acknowledgement. The alliance between the two duchies was recent, and although Elric was certain that the major kingdoms knew of it already - discretion was still a good practice.
He then turned to Dederyn,
"I'll need you to brief me on the worst case scenario when we return to Aquitania."
The man in question nodded,
"Of course."
Elric knew he didn't have very many cards to play with. His military, although professional and well trained, would not last very long against any of the major powers that were going to be present at the conference, and although he had much wealth, even money wouldn't curb the tide of war if all parties are intent on destruction. Thus, he would be here to observe, test the atmosphere, but otherwise remain silent. He would not be revealing any of his intentions publicly today.
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Post by Jason on Dec 7, 2017 16:53:19 GMT
Aladeen, a stupid invention that her house inflicted on the world. Most free cities are, if weren’t for that pesky treaty defending their neutrality King Alexandre would have certainly took this waste of a space. Aelin could personally care less about the stupid Valdez and their vassals pouncing around pretending to be kings. But, the precedent as her uncle cautioned her is incredibly dangerous. Vassals overthrowing their liege or their rightful regent can cause significant issues.
As Aelin and her retinue of 200 mounted Winged Hussars approach the sacred meeting ground all she seemed to care about was getting this over with and returning to civilisation. She’s had enough war for a lifetime and knows deep down that if war is decided upon that Alendron will be shoved into a support role. Let them squabble, my ambitions are grander. It is time that we spread into other markets and trade with civilisations all across the new world and learn and share our knowledge with others. Let the backwards fundementalists and Rjillish conservatives wallow in ignorance. Alendron will do what she does best and profit.
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Post by Zoilus on Dec 7, 2017 17:59:24 GMT
Duke Iudicael IV Cadeyrn rode beside his queen, troubled. Despite the proclamations and intentions of the Privy Council, Aelin had kept herself isolated while they had sailed over to this blasted city, keeping her own counsel. Still, if she had a better plan, Iudicael would welcome it, and if she didn't...well, he had to be here for a reason, right? Opportunity had to come in a place like this, a meeting like this.
Turning to more distracting thoughts, Iudicael realized he'd never been so far from home before, not really. The war had taken all over western Alendron and southern Rjillund, but the chance for a real tour of the world had been denied to him by the hostilities so long ago. Mother even had it all scheduled, didn't she? If things had gone according to plan, Aladeen would've been his...third stop? Right on the way to a very different Routaille too, where Mother had said he'd find a bride if Artis was smiling. Ha! Iudicael doubted she could have ever imagined all this, and in a way, was glad she never had to.
Iudicael looked ahead. They were nearing their destination at the heart of the city, and Aelin was looking more determined than ever. Now or never then.
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Post by Lord Newbury on Dec 8, 2017 19:12:45 GMT
Count Eduardo Odo III
Commander of the Eternal Guard
At the head of his detachment of Valdezian Guard some two-hundred to be exact, Count Odo III made no bones about halting for the ceremony and made instead directly for the meeting room upon arrival at which he was announced. His head hurt, and he thirsted for wine, and to be back in the Eternal City as soon as possible. Today could see the change the Kingdom of Valdez needed, or it could see its destruction - everything was up in the air. Eduardo had his instructions, to - at best - see the Dukes swear fealty to their Regent, and the Horse Lords returned, but he was not a fool.
In his eyes the best they could hope for would be the return of some of the Ducal Lands, and the Horse Lords, who would tow the line when asked thanks to the regent's marriage into one of their families years past. The rest of the Ducal lands would most likely need to be allowed to simply break away from Valdez, and if that happened - it would be better for the Eternal City if they did not fall under the sway of other nations, instead serving as puppet states or buffers for the City itself.
Despite what was happening, Valdez was a Kingdom, and could command a sizable army, with fortress stocked to last years under a siege. Nobody would dare to march on the Eternal City itself, and that would give him time to look and see what could be done to expand the borders of Valdez South, so as to ensure they reclaimed lands lost in the crisis. He dropped into his seat, and poured himself a goblet of wine, it was going to be a long day...
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Post by Jason on Dec 8, 2017 19:13:44 GMT
Mirun makes her way to the Iron tower, by Mirun, it’s more the poor Palanquin bearers who are struggling up the hill. She can’t keep a grin off her face. Oh they are going to have a heart-attack when she tells them what they are doing. Yet, she also feels slightly bad that she inflicted Shanvi on their enemies. She’s a genius strategist, but she also has a sadistic streak that sometimes even turns her stomach at times. Let’s hope the fools learn after the first few attempts not to try it with Shanvi.
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Post by Grim on Dec 9, 2017 23:01:37 GMT
Arturas did not feel the same longing for home that his Liege did. He had grown up knowing what it was to be a Cosella in the past. Working with whoever would hire them, learning that all the lands had their fair share of problems but their far share of things that made them great. However at this exact place he could feel that was not the case. While most of the guards around them from the various kingdoms seemed to be relaxed it was far from it. It was going to be a tense debate, but hopefully a peaceful one with not actual wars starting. He had been taught by his father that with War there is profit, but also peace brings profit. He was hoping that it stayed peaceful so it could. Much like his liege he was in a set of very fine full plate armor, with thin black accents his underneath a lighter black linen coat. His small sword and longsword at hip.
Arturas strode along as he listened to his king speak about how he had to be ready for a fight but more than anything they had to make sure the Aunt was returned home safely. Hopefully the Regent would make sure that was the case. "My sword are is always ready but I am hopeful there will be no bloodshed for any of this."
To the Kings next question he smiled wryly, "My mind is as focused as ever, though I can say this is going to be an experience."
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Post by Fyremage on Dec 12, 2017 1:36:20 GMT
Eventually the Cassian procession found itself at the location of the conference. The Rjillish guardsmen proceeded as far as permitted, filing off to the side to stand at attention while the crown prince and Lord Varos proceeded in to take their place. Just prior to taking their seats, Trion espied the Vyre delegation, and wandered over to them with a casual gait. He offer Koschei a stately bow of respect, along with a disarming smile. "It is a pleasure as always to see you again your Majesty. It is indeed a shame that the opportunity for us to visit at length was cut short by this dreadful business."
He rested his right hand atop the hilt of his sword and added: "If I may be candid, Rjillund stands with you regarding the situation of your lady Aunt. Our two nations should stick together in such a time of uncertainty..."
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Post by Retrograde on Dec 13, 2017 16:46:35 GMT
Arno stood there for a moment and looked to his brother, who simply shrugged. They proceeded to the Iron Tower, heading inside to find the hall. He stopped, looking around at the other faces and finding himself his seat. "Keep your wits about you, brother..."
--
Belsary sighed, eyes narrowed. He slumped in the Protector's chair that overlooked all the others, his Blackfeather guards standing at every entrance and exit and ready to defend the peace of the city.
"Well, once everyone's seated, we can begin..." he said, his voice echoing over the hall. "Unless we like wasting time."
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