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Post by Retrograde on Dec 13, 2017 19:39:30 GMT
The seas around the port of Imrena were especially calm that day. The sun shone brightly, and a warm wind blew. It was especially welcome since spring storms had rocked the Saint Lupin in its journey from Rjillund to the sea and added an entire two days onto the trip, making it into an entire fortnite. The ship's captain, a weathered Osais man by the name of Raol, had done everything he could to keep the women of the royal family placated in the face of such a setback. They had stopped at Aladeen to drop off Arno and his brother Giaume, but had been bid to take back the young Fernanda, Sabelle and Arno's mother Margarethe back to the homeland in case the worst happened. There was a faint anxiety amongst the crew, for even though the king had been left with a contingent of troops, there were fears that the other nations would descend upon him like wolves. Thankfully, saner heads had been there to chastise such nonsensical beliefs.
As the ship came into port, a great contingent of soldiers stood waiting for the return of the royal family, lead by Marielle Tenderheart, Grand Marshal of the Army of Routaille. The men here were the King's Regiment of Foot, specifically dedicated as the honour guard of Arno and his family. Wearing their dress uniforms, they were resplended in their deep green and gold doublets and pants, their breastplates gilded with the Sun of Routaille. Marielle's own uniform had additional flourishes, marked with a morion adorned with a great green plume, along with a ivory-coloured cloak. She was generally uncomfortable wearing it, preferring her standard battle-uniform, but she knew she'd get a tongue-lashing from the Queen Mother if she slummed it.
As the ship got ready to dock, Marielle called out her orders. "Make way for the Royal Family!" she called, her voice echoing throughout the port. Each of the King's Regiment turned and marched to make a gap for the Royal Family to enter. "PRESENT ARMS!" she cried, freeing her ceremonial sword from her hip and holding it in the air. The men did the same, freeing blades and pointing them at the sky.
As the gangplank was laid, Marielle broke from the ranks to walk to the front of it, ready for Margarethe to exit onto the dock. She dropped to one knee, holding her sword in in both hands by the blade, hilt pointed towards the Queen Mother so that she might take it, and as ceremony dictated, inspect it and then return it to the Grand Marshal. The crowds of soldiers and those citizens who had come to observe watched in silence, the ceremony making everyone giddy. Marielle kept her head down, looking at the ground so as not to meet the Queen Mother's eyes until she was told to rise. It was all very ostentatious, and not something Marielle did often, but ceremony built a sense of duty and belonging in the military that was hard to deny.
Sabelle walked in behind Margarethe with Fernanda on her hip. She waited for her mother to go and complete the ceremony with Grand Marshal Tenderheart. She felt especially nervous with all these eyes on them. For some reason, it was even worse when she was even Routaille than it was when she was within Rjillund. Perhaps it was the general unease that had come with the ride over from Rjillund that made things worse, but her heart was pumping in her chest and she felt vaguely queasy. Meanwhile, Fernanda was grinning ear to ear. She had been raise on such grand ceremonies, and it always tickled her to see them performed for her again. It reminded her that she was the princess.
The whole of Imrena waited with bated breath, ready for things to continue.
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Post by Fyremage on Dec 14, 2017 17:54:05 GMT
As the gangplank was lowered and fastened to the hold of the ship and the dock, Margerethe Cassian-Merov seemingly floated down the ramp and along the dock with her procession in tow. She was adorned with her tiara as was expected of the Queen Mother, along with a light red gown with golden fringe. She looked and smiled at her subjects, giving the occasional wave as she passed them. When she eventually arrived in front of Marielle, she regarded the young woman with a serious expression. She took the hilt of the sword offered to her, and held it up as she inspected the blade and hilt. After a moment's pause she restored the ceremonial weapon to its owner and extended her hand to indicate for Marielle and her company to rise.
"Thank you for the warm reception, Lady Marielle." Was all Margerethe was to say at this time. She was not being unfriendly, but she was not the one to violate ceremony to be sure. She was a royal, through and through, and as she stood there before her guards, she was the picture of what it meant to be royalty.
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Post by Retrograde on Dec 14, 2017 18:11:48 GMT
Marielle rose to her feet, and placed her sword back into its scabbard. She then turned to the King's Regiment, and cried. "REPLACE ARMS!" Rapidly, the King's Regiment replaced their swords into their scabbards. Now, they were ready to move alongside the Royal Family and their commander. Waiting for a moment, Marielle then looked to the Queen Mother, ready to speak. "We have the Imrena apartments prepared. You'll have a chance to rest up on solid ground for the night, then we can ferry you over to the mainland and begin the trek back to Pyracle and the palace."
Sabelle and Fernanda walked in across the gangplank, both relieved to finally be free of the ship. There was a claustrophobia to sea travel that was hard to handle, so the return to actual solid ground that didn't rock with the slightest bit of wind was a welcome relief. Sabelle smiled shyly at Marielle - the two were friendly and Sabelle had become comfortable with her. Fernanda was beaming at Marielle.
"You look really pretty like that," Fernanda said to Marielle, admiring her uniform.
Marielle, for her part, returned with a big grin. "Why thank you, your majesty," she said. Then, she stopped, and a look of surprise crossed her face. "Oh! I almost forgot! I have something for you." She produced a small baggy filled with little white balls. "Cream balls, from my favourite shop. Don't eat them all at once or her majesty is going to be real cross with both of us, okay?"
Fernanda giggled, nodding as she took the bag from the Grand Marshal. Then, Marielle turned back to Margarethe. "I have a fresh change of clothes and a hot meal prepared for all of you back at the apartments. We're ready to move as soon as you all are."
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Post by Fyremage on Dec 15, 2017 19:33:00 GMT
"Your Majesty." Margie said only loud enough for Marielle to hear. It may have been easy to overlook for someone who wasn't paying attention or wasn't familiar with courtly niceties. The correction was subtle but clearly stated for Marielle. 'Don't forget to render me what i'm due.' Sure, Margie could easily have been seen as a relic of the old form of government Routaille had been under. Of course, Margie did actually like Marielle. She was a kind and dutiful person, who throughout the years Margie had gotten to know her had demonstrated that she was committed to helping Arno lead this newfound government known as the Commonwealth of Routaille.
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Post by Retrograde on Dec 15, 2017 21:56:34 GMT
Marielle blinked for a moment, and then briefly an expression of embarassment crossed her face. Regaining her composure quickly, she inclined her head respectfully to the Queen Mother.
"Yes, of course,” she said. "I apologize, your majesty."
Once the Royal Family were ready, Marielle lead the King's Regiment in a march down the streets of Imrena. The city was undeniably one of the most beautiful in Trevast. Great white buildings were marked with colourful banners and frescoes which detailed idyllic life, the flag of the Commonwealth flying freely from flagpoles that extended from the tops of those same buildings. The streets beneath them were neatly paved with interlocking red stone. The smell of the sea was strong, and the sky was a perfect blue to match with the warm weather of the day.
She lead them all to the royal apartments, which had once been the manse of the Grand Duchesse of the Honey Islands for whenever she visited the city of Imrena. Following her flight to the continent, however, it lapsed to the Merov dynasty, where it was used for similar purposes. It was a tall, wide building that stood five storeys tall, surrounded by a great courtyard. The walls were made of expertly cut marble and detailed with little artistic flourishes of coloured paints to make it all the more appealing to the eye. The roof was patterned crimson tile work, freshly replaced after a round of repairs. Out front was a great fountain flanked by topiaries in the shape of birds of prey.
Marielle stopped, and looked to the King's Regiment. "Dismissed, to the guard's quarters." Then, she raised a finger. "Except for you, Mr. Brightsail, you are to remain by my side."
Emre Brightsail was her batman, only recently entering her service. She had been working hard on getting him prepared for the role he was assigned to, and even harder to make sure he did not do anything to anger the Queen Mother. Always be polite, remember to keep your wits about you, don't stare at her bottom, the standard sort of thing. He was only a teenager so Marielle knew there would be growing pains at first.
She turned to Margarethe once more. "Your majesty, I would like to introduce my batman, Mr. Emre Brightsail. Naturally, as he is my servant and I am yours, he would certainly be most happy to please you in any way he can,"
She turned and looked at the young man expectantly. " Isn't that right, Mr. Brightsail?
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Post by Asinity on Dec 17, 2017 5:41:36 GMT
"Y-yes ma'am," the dark-haired Tlem cracked, "It is an honor to serve you, Your Majesty."
At a quick glance, Emre was no more than an inch taller than Marielle, but very visibly in the middle of puberty. The boy of fifteen summers had sprouted an evident prominence on his neck below his chin, and was in the process of growing into his limbs. His short-cropped, curly, dark chocolate hair and distinguished jawline easily marked Emre as a Tlem, as well as his olive-toned skin and green eyes. Emre seemed to fit into his uniform fairly well, though he appeared slightly unused to its crispness.
The boy bowed as he greeted the Queen Mother, and didn't rise until he was bid to do so. At a time like this, it was all he could do to simply maintain an emotionless countenance, let alone commit such a folly as embarrassing himself or Marielle. Though his mother, Anaese, had told him that serving as the batman to the Grand Marshal was beyond the highest thing he could have hoped for, Emre was a fifteen year-old boy with few ambitions beyond having fun and kissing a girl. He of course did his fair share of work around his mother's docks, but this was far beyond that level of "official". The slightest mistake would be noticed by everyone around him, and Emre had no idea how he would handle himself if he made such a mistake.
Emre kept his arms close to his sides as he awaited leave to stand up straight.
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Post by Fyremage on Dec 18, 2017 15:41:08 GMT
"Indeed." Margerethe said in response to Marielle and Emre who stood before her. Her eyes inspected the young man who was practically dripping with nerves, with Margie nodding her head to indicate to the young man to stand up straight. She couldn't quite place it, but the boy did in some way remind her of Arno at that age. Awkward, but eager to please and impress. She noticed a small wrinkle on Emre's lapel, which led her to approach him and to grasp the lapel and straighten it accordingly, in a rather matronly fashion. After smoothing the wrinkle, she withdrew her hands and maintained her regal posture, finally opting to speak to the boy directly. "Tell me, Mr. Brightsail - have you served as anyone else's batman before?"
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Post by Asinity on Dec 20, 2017 4:07:11 GMT
Upon being so close to Margerethe, Emre's posture stiffened like a wooden board, and he remained completely still while the woman fixed his lapel. When she finished and stepped back to compose her self, the teen's eyes were a bit wider and his eyebrows were raised in surprise. He looked down at his corrected wardrobe and silently cursed himself for having missed something. Marielle had told him of course that the Queen Mother would find something wrong with him regardless of how well he put himself together, but even with that reassurance he still was upset at himself.
When the elder woman asked about his previous employment, Emre blinked.
"I...no, Your Majesty," he replied as confidently as an embarrassed male teenager could. "I've just worked for my mother's ship...ship-making company. Brightsail Ships."
He hoped that the Queen Mother had heard the name before, but by how busy his mom was, he imagined her business was fairly notable. Practically everyone in Imrena knew who he was, but part of that was just Tlem culture. Maybe she'd at least recognize that he had some kind of work experience, even if it was working on the docks.
"I help with the paperwork and look after the shop when she's busy," he added after a short moment of thought.
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Post by Retrograde on Dec 21, 2017 19:11:48 GMT
Marielle nodded with approval to the boy's answer. "His mother is Anaese Brightsail, your majesty. She is a very prominent member of the Shipmaker's Guild and active in politics. We had met for oysters and after some talking, decided to offer her son a job."
She did feel a sense of pride in the boy already. He seemed to have made a good first impression in his introduction and though she could tell he was nervous he was holding his own. Still, she felt a need to pull his bottom out of the fire. She wasn't much older than him when she first met Margarethe and she remembered how terrifying it was for her.
Her thoughts were interrupted as a shadow loomed over Margarethe. A powerfully built man, standing a few inches over six feet, wrapped his arms around the Queen Mother, pulling her into him. He was dressed richly, but had a fine layer of scruff on his face that suggested a casualness to him. He grinned broadly at Marielle, his eyes sparkling as he rested his chin on Margarethe's head.
"So you're the one who has been keeping my wife and girls hostage, Mari," Albare said, his voice pleasant and familiar. "I was wondering if they'd been waylaid or something."
Marielle smiled at him. "Hello, Al."
Albare smirked, and then picked Margie up, holding her in a bridal carry. "Hey, hon, bet you weren't expecting to see me."
Sabelle's eyes went wide, and she rushed over to her father's side. "DADDY!" She still carried Fernanda, so she wasn't able to embrace him but she did lean over and give him a peck on the cheek.
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Post by Fyremage on Dec 22, 2017 16:43:46 GMT
"I see." Margie began. She was not one to begrudge another from trying to improve their station, and the boy seemed as good as any young man would be to fulfill the role Marielle asked of him. "Well I pray you do your mother proud." Margerethe gave the young boy a nod of semi-approval, and just when she was about to address Marielle, two muscular arms wrapped around her torso, and on reflex Margie's elbow lashed out and struck whomever it was that assaulted her in the belly. It seemed her reaction had little to no effect however, as she was soon turned about and held in who she now identified as her husband's arms. "PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!" Margie near-shouted, her tone made of hard ice as her cheeks shown a rose-red out of a mixture of elation at seeing her husband, and genuine outrage at his antics.
"PUT ME DOWN NOW ALBARE, WE ARE IN PUBLIC!"
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Post by Asinity on Dec 24, 2017 15:04:19 GMT
When the large man named "Al" picked up the Queen Mother in his arms, Emre completely tensed for a short moment until he realized that the man wasn't trying to kidnap her. He did his best to stifle a laugh that threatened to escape him; the last thing he wanted was to further embarrass the notably impatient and analytical woman. To distract himself, he glanced over at Marielle and searched her face for some kind of expression to mirror his smirk.
Then he watched Sabelle carry Fernanda over to the large man, who was apparently the older girl's father. He thought it was a little weird she still called him "Daddy", but then again girls seemed to always be more childish with their parents. At least that's what the other boys said. Emre wasn't completely sure how old she even was, but she was definitely pretty. She and Marielle both. In fact, the Tlem teenager seemed to be momentarily surrounded by beautiful women. The dark-haired Tlem inhaled and exhaled slowly at this realization, then busied himself with looking over his uniform to make sure everything else was in place.
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Post by Retrograde on Dec 24, 2017 16:42:39 GMT
Albare smirked at his wife's demands, and began to sway with her in his arms, drawing his face close to her. "Yes, we are in public, aren't we?" He said. "What will they say? Oh nooo, the Queen Mother and Father love each other! The scandal!" He gently kissed her on the forehead, before placing her down and looking to the others. "You know, she tells me she loves me carrying he like that and then she gets mad at me for doing it." He laughed.
Sabelle gently slugged her father in the arm. "Stop antagonizing mommy, you're gonna make her real mad."
Albare looked back at his daughter and wrinkled his nose. "Oh no," he said. "I've been called out. Alright, alright, I've had my fun."
Marielle looked to Emre fixing up his uniform, and gently put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. She then moved her hand to the flat of his back and began to gently guide him towards the apartments. She figured he could use the help.
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Post by Fyremage on Dec 27, 2017 15:12:12 GMT
Upon being returned to her feet, Margerethe ran her hands down her dress several times as if smoothing out the wrinkles, checked the tiara still resting upon her head, and turned to fix Albare with a frosty glare that looked to be capable of easily freezing the blood in his veins. She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and back behind her ear as she recomposed herself. She thought of slapping him then and there, but such a proposition would (while yes feel very good) be ill conceived considering the amount of people present.
Instead, she wordlessly walked off in the direction of the apartments, her servants in tow as she proceeded with a grace indicative of great anger but well practiced poise. As she passed Marielle she gave her no further heed, obviously intent to get behind closed doors so that she may fully vent her frustrations: and if her husband was foolish enough to follow her, to do so even more fully.
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Post by Retrograde on Dec 27, 2017 16:13:07 GMT
Albare watched his wife go, eyes focused low on her body, before he turned to look at his daughter, who shook her head at him. Then, he looked over at Marielle. "So, uh, think I should go after her?" He enjoyed getting Margarethe riled up, but she seemed especially mad this time, which bewildered Albare a bit. It hadn't been the first time he was publicly affectionate with her, but it seemed this particular instance irked her especially.
Marielle raised an eyebrow at him. "You know, she did just get off a fairly long boat ride," she said. "I think she's mostly mad you did it in front of someone she was just meeting, though."
Albare looked over at Emre. "Oh, yeah. Hey kid," he said, before mouthing 'women are crazy'. Marielle clearly caught it because she rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and going to head towards the apartments. "You all stay here while I go talk with her majesty. No following - I can't exactly arrest the Queen Mother if she decides she wants to murder you." With that, she marched into the apartments after Margarethe, hoping to catch her. Once she was finally caught up, she called out for her gently. "Your majesty, are you alright? Can I do anything to please you?"
For what it was worth, Marielle admired Margie. She had always been a dutiful mother and while they didn't get along at first, given Marielle's ethnic background and history as a girl who worked within the Low Theatre, their relationship seemed to have become at least fairly respectful between the two. She knew that Arno loved her incredibly deeply, and she returned that love. Indeed, she was a little jealous for her own mother had passed when she was a young girl and she often missed having someone to be close with her like Margarethe was with her own children. Although perhaps she could do without the slapping. There was a little too much of that. Thankfully Margarethe had never attempted that with her. Woman was violent.
--
Albare had pulled Sabelle into his arm, while Fernanda wandered the courtyard freely. He grinned down at Emre despite the fact that his wife was absolutely livid with him. He analyzed the boy, looking at his breastplate and uniform and making his own guesses about Emre.
"So," he said. "You're her new batman, right?" He leaned in and whispered. "By the way, super obvious you're eye-f@@@ing her." He then leaned back and smirked at Emre.
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Post by Asinity on Dec 27, 2017 22:11:24 GMT
The Tlem batman could clearly see how upset the Queen Mother had been as she stormed off to the apartments, and wasn't too certain how to react when Albare greeted him. The man was fairly disarming from the start, which put Emre in an awkward place. He wasn't able to spout off the appropriate greeting for one such as Albare before Marielle started speaking with the king's father, and barely managed a confused, nervous smile at him. After the Grand Marshal followed after Margarethe and left Emre alone with what remained of the Routaille retinue, the teenage boy turned to face Albare.
"Yeah - I mean yes, I am," the dark-skinned Tlem started, before the man leaned in.
Emre blushed enough that he needed to look away and hide his face. Am I really that obvious? UGH she probably knows too! Why am I liiiike this!
The teen looked at the ground as he lost the ability to hold Albare's gaze. Gradually, he glanced back up at the large man with a worried expression contorting his face.
"I-I'm sorry, Your...Your Majesty," he managed. "I didn't mean to look like I was doing...that."
They were beyond introductions at this point, Emre thought, so he didn't even attempt to mention his name. At this point it was probably a good idea to remain nameless as long as possible, or so he figured. Maybe he'll forget me and I won't do that again. Hopefully. He'd rather not word spread that the son of Anaese Brightsail fancied one of the most powerful women in Routaille. Somehow the dark-skinned teen doubted that would grant him favor.
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