[Medieval] A Wedding to Remember

[Avery]

June 15, 1318
Jisam, Talvace

Treasured Kythian Ally,

    You are cordially invited to the blessed nuptials between Oliver Rafael, of the esteemed House Alaric, Crown Prince to the nine provinces of the Exalted Kingdom of Courdon, son of King Rafael of House Alaric and Queen Rhiannon of the Kingdom of Mzia; and Lady Zaria, of the House Duval, daughter of Lord Rodin of House Duval and Lady Nadya of the Kingdom of Mzia. The ceremony shall take place on October 15th in this, the thirteen-hundred and eighteenth year of our lords Carricon, at Jisam Castle in Talvace Province, Courdon. Your presence would be most kindly received, as the illustrious kingdoms of Courdon and Kyth strive toward a harmonious and blessed future as most treasured allies. 

Warmest Regards,
Prince Oliver Rafael, House Alaric
Lady Zaria, House Duval

Staring down at the stack of invitations before him on the desk, Prince Oliver of Courdon scowled. It was his father's idea to invite all the well to do in Kyth to he and Zaria's upcoming wedding, and like most of Rafe's ideas, Oliver was decidedly unamused. Kyth! The vile place! Not declaring war on them was one thing, but inviting their king and higher nobles to his wedding? Marrying Zaria was bad enough without having to entertain the merry idiots of the north. 

He'd spent the last several weeks at Jisam Castle, as his father and Rodin Duval worked out the last details of he and Zaria's betrothal now that Zaria had come of age. Ostensibly, Oliver was also supposed to be getting to know his future bride, but in reality he had little interest in this. If it were up to him, he wouldn't be marrying her at all. She was pretty enough, but had few other redeeming qualities in his opinion. She had a temper to match a venomous snake's, a wit that sometimes exceeded his own (much to his chagrin), and perhaps worst of all, she was Rodin's daughter. Oliver had never liked Rodin Duval-- had never understood what his grandfather, Malik, saw in the sneering lord of Talvace province. 

"Son, if you would please sign the invitations," Rafe said, as he worried over the stack of parchment-- eight pieces in all: one to each great Kythian lord, and then another to King Galateo himself. 

"I still think it's a mistake," Oliver muttered, nevertheless snatching a quill from atop the desk. As he went about slashing his name onto each invitation, he glared sidelong at Zaria, who stood across the room and seemed just as enthused about the wedding. Her father stood nearby, sweating through his ornate clothes. Oliver wasn't sure if Rodin always dressed over the top like this, or if he was merely putting on a show for the King. In any case, he looked like a fool. Dress silks in June was a recipe for disaster. Particularly in Talvace, blood miserable province this was. Far from the forest that butted up against Rakine and brought some relief from the heat, Talvace was dry and miserably hot. No matter how many slaves you had fan you. (There were presently three in the office.)

Rafe ignored his son's remark, instead turning toward Zaria once Oliver was done signing (with such violence that he'd torn straight through the parchment destined for House Jade). "Lady Zaria, if you could sign as well," he said, beckoning her over.

"Careful giving her a quill, Papa," Oliver grumbled. "She might stab you with it."

Rafe smiled vacantly. "Very funny."

"It wasn't a joke." At least, not entirely. Oliver huffed and crossed his arms. Gods, what kind of wedding would this be-- he and Zaria, Rodin Duval, his horrid king of a father, and Kythians on the invite list? 

A horrid one, he decided. That was for sure...

SPOILER: Click to show

Well! It's the wedding of the 1300s: the joyous union between Zaria (Rodin Duval's daughter) and Oliver (Rafe's son). And you-- yes you are cordially invited! That is, if you have a character who has an excuse to show up. The first couple posts will be Elcie and I RP'ing in the time leading up to the wedding... but then it'll be time for the guests to arrive. And who knows who will show up!? =o Will King Galateo (Lizica) grace Courdon in his first diplomatic journey south? If so, will he bring along his trust advisor, Ambrose (Celestial)? What of House Stallion-- will Alain show up, or send someone else in his stead? And might House Jade send Joffery (PFA), with his wife Hope (Lizzie), down to Courdon to try on their diplomatic chops... or will Everett come instead? Why, maybe they'll even bring along Leif (Tiger) for protection... just in case. Don't wanna get too far into Courdon without a mage to protect you, after all. Only time will tell who shows up! But don't lose the invitation, this wedding is sure to be... *sunglasses*... bloody amazing.<sup>1

1</sup>You needn't be tagged here to have a character show up. As long as you can think of a reason they'd be there, you're more than welcome to join in on the fun. :3 On the same stroke, that you're tagged doesn't mean you need to participate in this RP. In Courdon people might not have freedom of choice, but this is Murica the NTWF (and not of the NTWF Games variety!), so it's totally up to you!

[Elcie]

As Oliver and his equally reluctant betrothed finished signing the parchments, Rodin Duval gave Rafe a bright, false smile and clapped him on the shoulder. "What a wonderful occasion, to see the bonds of friendship between our Houses passed down to the next generation," he said. "Your father would have been so pleased, Rafe."

Bonds of friendship, my foot. Duval didn't believe that for a moment, of course. He'd already seen the way Oliver and Zaria had despised each other as soon as they laid eyes on each other, and it was well known in Jisam that Duval's heir Rylan did not get on well with his sister who would one day be queen. But that didn't matter. Rafe was weak and simple-minded, but his son was another story, and Duval wanted to ensure that his House would continue to be close in the king's confidence even after the fool's reign ended.

Zaria was glowering. She wasn't happy, and Duval knew he was about to endure about as much wailing and whining and protesting as there'd been when her betrothal was first announced. His youngest daughter was used to getting her way. But she'd get used to the idea. This marriage would make her the most powerful woman in Courdon. The Queen might not have had any official power, but Duval had complete faith in his daughter's force of will to get what she wanted. At the very least, it would give Rylan strong ties to the throne which were desperately needed. Gods knew he couldn't trust the boy to forge such a powerful alliance for himself. But Rodin Duval would not allow the power and influence of House Duval to end with him.

Signing the last of the invitations to the Kythian delegation, Zaria sighed loudly and slouched over to her father's side. He put an arm around her shoulders. "Don't look so sour, my dear," he said. "You'll have the most powerful man in Courdon for your husband. You deserve the honor." He hesitated, knowing how Zaria could be when she was unhappy. "You will behave in a way that honors our House, I trust," he said in an undertone. "We can't be showing any division in front of the lords from the North, of course."

"Of course, Father," Zaria said, her tone bright and brittle as she beamed up at him. "I wouldn't dream of embarrassing you, and of course I will give my dear husband all the respect he deserves."

Sweetly she kissed her father on the cheek and then stalked off, shooting Oliver a charming, furious smile as she passed him. Duval sighed, folding his arms. Pushing around Rafe was one thing, but introducing such strong, stubborn personalities as his daughter's to the mix...

Maybe this wouldn't be as easy as he thought.

[Avery]

[October 11, 1318
Jisam, Talvace, Courdon]

King Rafe of Courdon stood in the highest keep of Jisam Castle, gazing out the window with butterflies flapping frantically through his gut. The first party from Kyth was due any hour now, and Rafe was nervous, to say the least. This was the first time any Kythian noble envoy had dared head into his kingdom since the Bloody Coronation, the Rafe was determined that everything go perfectly. 

The boy pacing at Rafe's side seemed less committed to this idea-- and equally as blase about the wedding itself. Rafe and Oliver had headed back to Rakine after finishing the courtship arrangements back in June, and the king had only arrived back to Jisam a few days ago himself. But Oliver he'd sent ahead in mid-September, so that he could get to know Zaria a bit better before they tied the knot. Rafe had thought more time together would brighten Oliver's mood about the nuptials. 

If anything, however, it had only served to further sour the crown prince's demeanor. "Lord Rodin's right, you know," he huffed-- not a statement he'd uttered often, for usually he loathed Rodin Duval's ideas with just as much contempt as he loathed Rafe. "Inviting Kythians is only going to end poorly, Papa."

"That it shall not," Rafe rebutted with about as much firmness as he could muster. "After all, we are all going to be models of diplomacy and decorum, yes? Now, let's go find Rodin to make sure everything is prepared for our Northern guests, yes?"

Without waiting for Oliver's response, Rafe started down the winding steps and marched toward Rodin's office; Oliver trailed him with a scowl. At the office, Rafe knocked politely, which just caused Oliver to roll his eyes.

"Since when does a king knock, Papa?" he muttered.

"It's called being polite."

"Well, sorry, but I'm reserving all my politeness for your Kythians-- I've only got so much, you know." And with that, the crown prince shoved open the door... and promptly swore under his breath when in the office, he and Rafe found not just Rodin, but also Zaria.

His bride looked... well, as she always looked: pinch-faced and a little bit mad. And not just angry mad, but off-your-rocker mad.

"Rodin," Rafe greeted. "I just wanted to ensure that all the preparations have been taken care of for our Northern guests?" At Zaria, he smiled warmly. "My lady. Are you just as excited for the big day as is Oliver here?"

SPOILER: Click to show

Oh boy, the guests are arriving! =D Now's the time to talk about how excited your Kythian character was to receive that oh so diplomatic invitation and then have them arrive to Jisam IN STYLE! \o/

[PFA]

"Now remember, Joffery, the wedding will be taking place in Courdon. As such, it is of utmost importance that you be on your best behavior, and not do anything they would see as mockery or contempt," Lord Everett explained carefully, as his son was preparing for the trip south. "There is enough political tension between our countries as it is, and I'm counting on you not to exacerbate it in any way. Understand?"

"Don't worry, father," Joffery replied confidently, patting down his hair. "I promise I will be on my absolute best behavior."

"I mean it, Joffery," Everett insisted. "I expect no foolishness from you. Don't try to make a scene, and for Woo's sake, promise me that you will not sing to them."

Joffery blinked. "Not even a traditional Courdonian song?"

"Especially not a traditional Courdonian song." Everett groaned inwardly, massaging his temples. There were plenty of escaped slaves from Courdon who came to Corvus, as the Lord of House Jade was well aware of, and they brought plenty of 'traditional Courdonian songs' along with them. If Joffery tried to sing one of those at Courdonian royalty, it would cause a political nightmare. "You need to promise me, Joffery."

Joffery sighed, sounding a little disappointed. "Alright, I promise."

"Joffery, I mean it."

"I promise I will not sing any songs at Prince Oliver's wedding," Joffery repeated with extra confidence. "You have my word."

"Thank you." Everett managed to relax a little. "May Lord 'Woo grant you safe travels. I'll be praying for your welfare."

Joffery smiled. "Thank you, father."

After exchanging some quick farewells, Lord Everett went on his way, allowing Joffery to finish his preparations. It was a bold choice, sending Joffery and his wife to the wedding in his stead. But Joffery had been maturing well, ever since he settled down with Hope. He was finally coming into his own, and Everett was sure his son would be able to handle the responsibility.

He hoped.

On his way back to his chambers, he passed Lady Hope, who was making some final preparations for the trip. Hope Crane, daughter of the late King Starmey, and niece to the King of Kyth himself. She was a responsible young woman, and had done well in tempering her husband's impulsive nature. Sending the two of them to represent House Jade to the people of Courdon would, with any luck, be taken as a symbol of peace, and would ease the tension between them. Especially after the Bloody Coronation, any opportunity to dissuade Courdon from declaring war on them was an opportunity the Lord of Embers was willing to take.

He halted, turning to Hope before continuing on his way. Before she left, he thought to leave his daughter-in-law with some parting words.

"A word, if I may?" he asked, getting her attention. "Hope, I need you to promise me that you will not let Joffery sing."

SPOILER: Click to show

Everett pulls out all the stops to make sure Joffery doesn't ruin the wedding, enlisting Hope's (Lizzie) aid in the matter.

[Celestial]

Several months ago, Destrier, Bern

When the parchment finally found its final destination in the hands of the Grand Duke of Bern, it struck him as unusual for several reasons. First was the feeling at the back of his mind which he had come to associate with things he wanted to address right away. Second was the fact that it was a large letter written in fine parchment, completely unlike the short correspondences the homing doves usually delivered from most corners of Kyth. But those two reasons paled in comparison compared to the third one; the seals. One he did not recognise at all. The second one, however, took him a moment to place: it was the seal of House Alaric, the ruling House of Courdon.

With that realisation, the letter suddenly leapt from a mild curiosity to something he had to read immediately. Alain wasted no further time as he picked up an ornate letter opener from his desk and cut the seals with a practiced hand, opening up the envelope.

He did not even finish the first sentence before a grin broke out all over his face. By the time he got to the middle, he barely contained his amusement. And when he had finally read the last word, Alain could not help himself any longer. He burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

When he had recovered enough to simply reduce his amusement to a mere smile, Alain placed the wedding invitation in front of him and looked over it once again, steepling his hands in front of him. Well, this was an interesting diplomatic move indeed. Admittedly, it was one he could have dismissed it with an easy flick of his wrist towards the fireplace. But that would have been an unwise move, and certainly not one the Grand Duke wanted to consider. Such an unusual invitation from their southern neighbours could not simply be ignored.

After a few minutes pondering the situation, Alain stood up and went out into the corridor, catching the eye of a passing servant.

“Your Grace?” the man bowed his head to him. “Is there something you need?”

“There is someone,” Alain replied. “Please find Isabelle and have her come to my office as soon as possible.”

The servant nodded and hurried off to go do the task assigned to him. While he waited, Alain put the invitation to the side and worked on his more normal tasks. Life did not stop just because Courdon suddenly decided they wanted to be friends.

After a short time, there was a knock on the door and a young woman stepped in, confidently approaching his desk and standing opposite him. Her hair was tightly tied up in a braid that encircled her head like a crown, keeping it out of her face and letting him meet her eyes. She bowed her head slightly to Alain before she returned his gaze.

“You wanted to see me, father? Has something come up?” she asked in a calm, measured tone.

“Something very unusual,” Alain smirked and picked up the wedding invitation, handing it to her. “Take a look at this.”

Isabelle took the letter from him and began reading. Unlike her father, however she did not burst into laughter. Instead, confusion appeared in her eyes, spilling out a little on to her face. She took a few moments to consider the contents before looking back up at Alain.

“This is a joke,” she remarked dryly.

“No, it is very serious,” Alain chuckled. “The Courdonians have decided to invite House Stallion to the wedding of the Crown Prince.”

“You don’t think this is a trap, do you, father?” Isabelle asked, handing the parchment back to him. “After all, the Courdonians dared to attack us at the coronation three years ago. It is possible they might try to do the same, slaughter the Kythian lords on their own territory this time and leave the country vulnerable.”

“Perhaps and I have not discounted the possibility,” the Grand Duke shook his head. “But King Rafael is not one for treachery like his father and the gesture of that invitation seems genuine enough.”

“You can’t be thinking of going, are you, father?” Isabelle frowned.

“No, Isabelle, I am far too busy with business here to make the journey. That’s why I summoned you, to discuss this,” Alain peered over his steepled hands at her. “I want you to go to the wedding in my stead.”

The young woman’s eyes widened and she stared at her father with shock. She was about to blurt out that he could not be serious but bit back her words. Of course he was.

“With all due respect, father, I do not fully understand why I should,” Isabelle’s bright blue eyes had a defiant blaze to them. “We have our own affairs to take care of. House Stallion are the lords of the north of Kyth, we have no business in the south. Lange is the one we should watch out or, not Courdon. I do not see why we should play along with their whims, especially after what they did at the Coronation.”

“That is precisely why I believe that we need somebody to be there. Courdon has clearly shown an interest in Kyth, for better or worse, and continues showing interest judging by this invitation. For now, Lange is quiet but Courdon is not, so we must turn our attention to where the danger is coming from. While I dearly hope that this will never happen, who knows if one day you will have to meet the Courdonian army at the gates of Destrier?” Alain paused for a moment, letting that thought go as quickly as it had arrived.

“I pray that never happens,” Isabelle replied in a very flat tone. She tapped a finger against her chair. “You are implying that we must get to know our potential enemy, correct?”

“Precisely. That is not a bad thing, in war or peace,” the Grand Duke nodded. “Especially since Prince Oliver will be on the throne...eventually.”

Sooner, rather than later, if Ambrose was to be believed, Alain thought.

“You are right and I agree,” Isabelle slumped a little in her chair. “You’re always right, father.”

Alain lowered his hands and looked at her sympathetically. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, especially since you have your husband and now your son. But consider this part of your education as my heir, Isabelle. This is a test of your skills as a diplomat,” he sighed deeply “And sometimes, you must put your duty above your family.”

“I know, and I am prepared to accept that. I can’t say I like it, if I may be frank with you, but I will do as you order me,” she bowed her head.

The Grand Duke shook his head. “I am not ordering, Isabelle, I am asking. You can say no if you feel strongly about this and have reasons to back yourself up. But, we both know what the best course of action is here.”

Isabelle looked away from him, retreating into her own thoughts. Her face remained perfectly still and her eyes had turned away from Alain but he knew his daughter well enough to know what she must have been thinking. Eventually, however, she looked up and nodded.

“I see your point and I do believe it is useful to get to know them. Personally I would like to look the future king of Courdon in the eye, since we will be ruling at the same time. I still don’t like it, however, and there is one thing I must address,” she picked up the invitation, pointing to the date with her nail. “The wedding is in October. What if I do not get back to Bern before the snow makes travel impossible?”

“That is an inconvenience, unfortunately. But if the snow blocks your way, stay with Ambrose in Medieville. I’m sure he will not mind receiving you,” Alain replied.

Whatever Isabelle’s thoughts about her uncle were, she kept them to herself as she placed the invitation back onto her father’s desk. “And what about Emile? And Hector?”

“Who out of your family you take, that I leave to your discretion. Since you are the one going, I figure it is best to let you organise this trip according to what you need and what you foresee coming up,” the Grand Duke nodded. “I have every confidence in you, Isabelle. You are more than capable of managing this visit, no matter what the intentions of the Courdonians are.”

“I shall waste no time then,” Isabelle stood up from her chair, pushing it behind her a little. She went over and hugged her father. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“Who else would I trust?”

***

October, on the road to Jisam,

The conversation echoed in Isabelle’s mind as they travelled along the dusty countryside of Courdon. It was far too hot, hotter than even summer in Bern, despite it being autumn. The arid air desiccated her mouth, always making her feel thirsty. It was silly and childish to let something as trivial as the weather get her down but it was not doing anything to help her mood. This was a task she had been set and she was going to do it. But nevertheless, she found herself missing Bern, in particular her son. This was the first time she had really been away from Emile for an extended period of time and it has surprised her how much she had gotten attached to the chubby, red-headed child, to miss him this much.

“Milady, you’re drifting,” came the gentle, mock chiding voice from beside her. “Bad things happen when you drift, remember?”

She looked up at the face of the man in the carriage who was with her, giving him an unamused look. “Not like I have much else to do, Hector. Let me drift a little.”

“And eventually you’ll drift back to Bern and leave me stranded going to a Courdonian wedding on my own. Would you really do that to me?” the knight smiled widely at her, “A wedding I’m not even the official invited guest to! Imagine what they would do to me!”

“Technically I’m not the one who was invited either,” despite herself, Isabelle smiled back, unable to resist Hector’s infectious joy. “You can look after yourself, can’t you, Sir Guinne?”

“Oh don’t call me that, not in private,” he blushed. “That’s so ridiculously formal.”

“So is ‘milady’ but that never stopped you,” Isabelle rolled her eyes.

“It got your attention at least,” Hector put his arm around her, pulling her closer. She did not resist the gesture. “Are you missing home?”

“Don’t tell me you’re not,” she leaned her head on his shoulder. “This is what I must do and I fully accept and embrace that. But nevertheless, it would be so much easier if it wasn’t a diplomatic mission to Courdon.”

“We wouldn’t have to travel so far, yeah,” Hector smirked.

“It’s not the travel that I have the problem with, it’s annoying but it’s beside the point,” Isabelle sighed and glanced out of the window again, “I can’t believe we’re having to play nice after what Courdon did, that they’re even trying to be nice after an attempted invasion. It had been three years, that’s enough time, and it is important to restore relations but they’re pretending like nothing happened and we’re going along with it.”

“Well, who knows, it could just all be an elaborate trap?”

“At this point, I don’t know what I would prefer. I like it when my enemies approach me with a weapon, not hold out an olive branch and smile so I have to look for the weapon behind their back.”

“We shall just have to see when we get there, won’t we?” he squeezed her shoulder. “If the worst comes to the worst, I brought an extra sword. For backup, supposedly.”

Isabelle smiled. “Yes, I best keep my skills to myself” she lifted up her head, meeting his eyes. “For all intents and purposes, you are my bodyguard. We should not say much about our marriage, the Courdonians do not understand nobles marrying commoners. I’d rather not face more headaches with them than I have to.”

“Whatever you say, you’re the boss,” Hector’s smile suddenly grew, stretching from ear to ear. “But this means I’ll have to refer to you by your title.”

She laughed loudly and returned the smile. “So will I. I’m sure we’ll cope,” Isabelle leaned forward and kissed his lips. “Thank you for coming to Courdon with me, Hector. It’s going to be nice having somebody I know there to actually keep me sane.”

SPOILER: Click to show

Isabelle’s official introduction! \o/

Alain is very amused by the invitation and sends for his daughter and heir, asking her to go instead of him. She’s not happy but she has to do her duty to her father.
Then her and Hector talk on the road and generally be adorable.

[Tiger]

Medieville, Late June

It was a very good thing Leif had chosen to go out to the front room to check the letter from his enchanted scrollcase rather than remaining in the bedroom, or he might have woken Kirin with his very loud remark that the Courdonians ought to do something not only physically impossible, but also incredibly inappropriate. He stifled himself quickly, remembering the hour - it shouldn’t have been hard to forget given how little light was poking into the house, but at the moment it was hard to pay attention to things like what time of day it was and gauging the volume of his obscenities appropriately.

The letter shook in Leif’s hands as he stared down at it. This was ridiculous - he almost couldn’t believe it. There had been no love lost between the two countries in the years between the Bloody Coronation and now, and certainly Leif felt no peace toward the country that had tortured Xavier, continued to enslave hundreds - thousands? - of people, and had killed Kyth’s rising queen at her Coronation, along with several knights, civilians, and members of the visiting noble Houses.

And a Duval’s wedding? After members of three noble Houses and the Shadows had to fight Rodin Duval to keep him from taking Xavier back to that miserable country - were the Kythians honestly expected to go down there and make casual conversation and celebrate the wedding of - Leif glanced back at the letter - of this Zaria?

Leif tossed the papers onto a side table and paced agitatedly, aimlessly, around the room. ”Strive toward a harmonious and blessed future as most treasured allies” - please! Leif thought scathingly. Rafael might be keeping more peace at the border than Malik ever had, but that didn’t mean the two kingdoms were anywhere near allies. When they release all the Kythians they’ve captured - and the slaves in general - maybe then we can think about alliances!

Eventually, however, Leif slumped into the chair beside the table where he’d thrown the parchment, running his thumb over his wedding band with one hand as he grumbled and plucked the second letter out from under the invitation with the other. This message was addressed to him directly, and Leif was not surprised by its contents.

The archmage flopped back against the chair, rubbing at his eyes. Lord Everett wanted to send Lord Joffery and Lady Hope...it made sense, even if Leif wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Diplomatic experiences and appearances and that sort of thing. Everett hadn’t been explicit about whether he himself was attending - Leif suspected he was not - but the Jade patriarch had made very clear one person who would definitely be accompanying Lord Joffery and Lady Hope to Courdon.

That made sense, too; Courdon was not a safe place to go without protection. Leif was the Jades’ archmage, and he had fought gryphons and Courdonian mages before, so he was experienced in that area. He had also been an integral part of summoning the dragon who had chased the last of the Courdonians away, though Leif was pretty sure the Courdonians didn’t know about that.

Or maybe they do...and that’s why they’re inviting us down there. They were outnumbered here, even with the gryphons, but in their territory… Some of Leif’s anger gave way to worry. This could easily just be a trap. Like the Coronation, but in reverse. Gather as many powerful nobles as you can...then crush them like a handful of berries.

Well, at least Courdon didn’t have an archmage of their own - to House Jade’s knowledge, anyway. They could predict the abilities of regular incantational mages and thus create a suitable trap to hold them - but a mage of Leif’s caliber was a different story. If it was a trap, the Kythians might need a dragon, or a massive shield with an archmage’s strength poured into it, or a camouflage spell that would hold long enough for them to get out of the Courdonians’ range…

Leif had been through plenty of magical fighting in the past several years - but the idea of fighting Courdonians again, of possibly pulling himself completely...it was enough to make him cross an arm over his chest without entirely thinking about it. He didn’t want to go through that again. And that had been in a battle where Kythians had outnumbered Courdonians, and they’d been fighting on home territory. On their’ grounds...would even Leif’s magic be enough to protect everyone?

Well..it’ll be a lot harder to escape a trap if I’m not there at all, Leif thought. There really wasn’t a choice here; even if Lord Everett hadn’t been very clear that this was an order, not an option, Leif would have had to go.

After a minute, Leif slowly got up from the chair, stopping by the kitchen to pour and magically chill two mugs of juice to take back to the bedroom. It was non-alcoholic juice, of course - so not quite the strong drink the announcement of a Courdonian noble’s wedding probably deserved, but at least it was something not-awful to go along with the very not-great news Leif was going to have to share when Kirin woke up.

He would probably go with the bookkeeper when he headed to Stallion Manor today; the letter had been addressed to Kythian allies, so it was possible the Grand Duke and his House were going to be invited as well - but it would obviously take much longer for word to get to Bern, and then back to Medieville, so Leif might as well warn Ambrose now so it wasn’t a surprise. ...Well, the news itself would be a surprise, but there wasn’t much Leif could do about that.

And while I’m out and about, I suppose I should let Xavier know, thrilled as I know he’ll be about it. And Morgaine, if I can find her... Leif thought. I’m going to be seeing a lot of very unhappy faces today, aren’t I?

At least there was a good amount of time left; Leif would have to leave early to make it to Solis and accompany the Jades properly, but that still left a few months to prepare. He ought to brush up on his Courdonian, he could learn a few new spells, maybe make some protective magical devices for the Kythian guests, brew lots of healing potions, of course ensure he spent plenty of time with Kirin...

And if I don’t live to see our first anniversary because of some Courdonian wedding, I am going to be furious.

SPOILER: Click to show

Leif is so delighted at the thought of going to a Courdonian wedding - especially a Duval’s wedding - and contemplates all the fun things he can do to tide himself over until it’s time to go to Courdon!

Almost a year later, Tiger edited this post to fit correctly in the timeline. Lol, Leif’s not at Marson Manor a few months after getting married 8D

[Lizzie]

Lady Hope Crane, of House Jade, had a checklist. She had everything she needed, and yet, she had a feeling something was missing. So she sifted through the luggage that was sitting, perfectly packed, on the floor.

“Where could it be?” Hope whispered softly to herself, one hand rising to play with her delicate golden necklace as the other searched through their assorted stuff. The wedding gift from the Jades had to be somewhere. She knew she packed it!

After overturning almost everything, Hope sighed, finally finding it, and placed it on top of a pile. She could not lose it. She let go of the fine necklace she was wearing, the golden crane falling back to where it usually lay.

"A word, if I may?" a voice asked, and Hope jumped, looking around and finding her father-in-law, Lord Everett. He continued, "Hope, I need you to promise me that you will not let Joffery sing."

“I, um,” Hope began, sighing as she thought of it. As much as she loved her husband, the 19 year old realized just how much of a nightmare his singing at the wedding would be. His singing voice was magnificent, and it would be hard, but she could make it work. Hopefully. She nodded and finished her thought, “Of course. I’ll keep him from it to the best of my ability.”

Hope let her mind wander, just then, to what would happen while she and Joffrey were gone. It was going to be her first time away from her two children-- her hands shook at the thought, and she let her fists bunch in her dress to keep them busy. Everett Jr. and Joseph would be fine with Everett Sr. and Joffrey’s brother, Reynold, and of course the rest of Jade Manor, but… Hope shivered, trying to push away the thought. She saw Fate and Sunshine in Joseph’s blond hair, and Destiney was all over Everett Jr’s face -- his pretty smile, his small nose, the shape of his head even. The two were toddlers, and Hope’s heart was seized with horror as she realized that at any given moment, if someone didn’t pay enough attention, something could happen. The blonde shook her mind of the thought, and looked over to Everett Sr., still standing nearby.

The blonde gave Everett a small smile, turning back to fixing things around the wedding gift. This’ll be such a great wedding, Hope thought as she closed the trunk gently and looked back to her father-in-law.

--

Princess Karma Crow wished there was something, ANYTHING better to do than sit in her room and wait. Her trunk of clothes and other necessities was ready to go when necessary, and she had nothing else to do.

“Are you sure I can’t bring Wuzzles?” the 12 year old asked, a squeak still coming out in her voice. The elderly rabbit in question squirmed in her lap, as if it knew what she was saying.

“No, Princess,” a servant said with a sigh, “you cannot bring your rabbit. Hasn’t King Galateo talked to you about this?”

Karma thought about it. She bit her lip, petting the squirming rabbit quietly, before levelly saying, “Not exactly.”

The servant let out an audible sigh of relief, glancing at the seemingly calm child before him. The preteen was looking at him still, her chocolate-brown eyes widening into a colder, unblinking stare.

“I still want to bring him,” Karma said calmly, running a finger across Wuzzles’ white ear. Her lips began to stretch across her teeth into her trademark creepy smile, and one hand lifted from Wuzzles’ fur to reach toward the servant. No, Karma thought, stopping herself just before she grabbed him, Ambrose would be mad. She dropped her hand back to the rabbit with a strangled sigh. However, it wasn’t long before she remembered.

Ambrose was coming! Karma smiled at the thought, and the servant gave her an unknowing and uneasy glance. Courdon, of course, seemed like a lot of fun to the young girl. Her cousins all lived there, and they had SLAVES there! The ginger frowned slightly as the memories of her last encounter with slaves flooded back to her. Destiney… Karma refused to let herself think of it. But her cousin, Rafe, would be there. She still liked Rafe, even though her uncle had destroyed even more of her family. Rafe was nice to Karma, promised her cake, and let her play with his slaves. Now, she got another chance to do just that at this stupid wedding.

Karma let her smile morph into a huge grin. This wedding was going to be so much fun.

SPOILER: Click to show

Hope is seriously so great guys, she’s so excited to go to Courdon with Joffrey !!! (PFA) She talks to Everett though. Also she’s kind of iffy about leaving her children at Jade Manor… Meanwhile in Medieville, Karma whines about how she cant bring Wuzzles, but is comforted/pleased by the fact that Ambrose (Celestial) will be coming, and is super excited to see Rafe (Avery) again. Get ready, you guys, because honey, you’ve got a big storm coming.

[Celestial]

((A collab with Lizica))

Several Months Ago, Medieville

Ambrose had wasted absolutely no time getting to Raven's Keep after Leif had told him about the wedding. If Courdon was inviting the Jades to it, there was no doubt that a similar gesture was being extended to Aldrich. There was no way they would invite the border lords and not the king himself, especially if they wanted to better the relationship between Kyth and Courdon. His head spun a little at the thought. Courdon wanted peace after what they did? As much as he desperately wanted to believe that the gesture was genuine, that was far too naive. Not after the Bloody Coronation three years ago. Would Kyth even accept the olive branch? Ambrose felt like it would be a good idea, to try and establish at least some good feeling between the two countries but they were so different, and some of Courdon's policies, in particular its slaves, were despicable. They could try but the two countries could never be friends.

It was something worth discussing at any rate. The final decision, however, rested with Aldrich. Either way, it would be deeply insulting if they simply ignored the invitation so it was best to be prepared. Though whether the king would actually go was another matter.

Once he had arrived at the Keep, Ambrose resolved to find Aldrich. Luckily, Emery knew where he was, and with his assistance, Ambrose managed to track the king down after a short while.

"Your Majesty, there is something we must talk about, if you have a moment," Ambrose bowed slightly to him when he saw Aldrich. Even though the Stallion had met him back when he was a sculptor and used his previous name, it still felt strange to be discussing matters of state without the formality, so he always did it formally. "Master Leif informed me of a letter that arrived from Courdon for Lord Everett. The crown prince is getting married and if the Lord of House Jade has been invited, we both suspect that you will recieve an invitation soon," he looked up at Aldrich again. "What should we do?"

Aldrich had been pacing this hallway back and forth, back and forth, with a sheaf of parchment in one hand and Fettle the pigeon balancing precariously in his hair--but at this news, he stopped. He looked concerned, then troubled, then a bit remorseful.

“Well, we should respond positively,” he told Ambrose carefully. “If it’s an invitation to begin mending relations, we can’t ignore the opportunity.”

"I agree. I do worry it might be a trap, but from Master Leif told me, the letter was sincere enough. And King Rafael had been reasonable until now," Ambrose nodded to Aldrich, "We should still be careful in approaching this. However...the question does remain, will you be going? I assume the letter will be addressed to you and inviting you, your Majesty, so you have to make the choice."

He swallowed. "There are good points and bad points to going for you, I think. It would show the Courdonians we do want friendly relations if you do go. But, if it's really a trap then..." he shook his head slightly, trying to get it out of his mind. It was best not to think what would happen then. The memories of the Bloody Coronation were still raw, not for him but for many people. "But I know there's also the Queen to think about. The wedding is in October, which is when her child is due."

Aldrich began pacing again. (Fettle gave a startled chirrup.) The Stallion stepped away, giving him room and not wanting to be in the way.

“Yes, it’s--it’s entirely possible it could be a trap, but you’re right, Ambrose--from what we’ve heard, King Rafael is not really a man for subterfuge. To be honest, I’d like the chance to meet him in a happier situation very much.” Aldrich paused for a long moment as he continued to pace down the carpeting. “But--the--the timing--” he went on, his voice suddenly going a little hoarse, “I don’t know if I can just leave Asha, not--not when she’s--”

“Hey, you know, you might be good at giving life to statues, but from what I’ve heard, you’re really not going to be all that helpful when it comes to giving birth.”

This bubbly voice came from above them, from somewhere in the rafters.

Ambrose’s head shot up as he was startled by the voice but relaxed when he got a glimpse of the owner of that voice. Aldrich was either so unsurprised at the interruption or so preoccupied with his pacing that he didn’t even bother to look up. “I should be there for support, Babewyn,” he said. “What if something happens to Asha or the baby and I’m not here? Or--or what if something goes wrong in Courdon and I’m not there? If I stayed because Asha is expecting then, it could be interpreted as a sign of aggression by the Courdonian crown prince and his bride-to-be.”

He gave a worried, haggard sigh and moved Fettle off his head to his shoulder. “Ambrose, what do you think?”

The Stallion looked away, feeling a little awkward at this discussion. “I confess, your Majesty, I don’t have much- actually, I have no experience with your situation, not personally anyway, since I never had a wife or children. But my brother has and as far as I can remember, he has tried to be there when his wife was pregnant, even though he had important matters to attend to. Though, he never had to deal with that and anything like this, I must confess.”

He shook his head, knowing that example was hardly helpful and gave Aldrich a weak smile. “But I can understand concern for somebody you love. I think...if the Courdonians really want peace, they would not interpret this gesture as a sign of aggression, or at least they should not.”

“I hope they wouldn’t take offense if I’m not present,” said Aldrich. “I wish I could go, urgh, this is awful. But I don’t know--I just don’t know if I could leave in good conscience...”

“Impending fatherhood can be intimidating. You’d probably spend the whole time distracted and flustered and ridiculous and useless, anyway,” Babewyn piped up from the rafters, and Aldrich glanced up at her as she swooped down and brightly lighted on the hall rug. “And seriously,” she added, poking the floor with a paw, “if you’re going to wear the carpet to dusty tatters in some uptight nobleman’s house, it’s probably better that you do it here, right?”

Ambrose could not help but smile a little at Babewyn’s comment, though he did his best to hide it. It was one thing for her to say it, another for him to find amusement in it. He let his expression become more neutral before he spoke. “It is probably for the best then, your Majesty. Courdon seems like the sort of place best tackled another time, when you are more ready for it,” he nodded, “However, if you are not attending, it is even more important not to ignore this invitation, in case they really do take insult. If you really do think we should use this opportunity to improve relations, which I think we should, we would have to send somebody to the wedding to represent you and Kyth.”

“Yes, of course, good point,” said Aldrich. “If I can’t go, we’d need someone else who can help keep everyone safe and sensible in Courdon.”

“Someone nonconfrontational and not an idiot,” Babewyn said helpfully.

“Someone diplomatic but strong enough to stand their ground when necessary,” Aldrich added.

They paused for a moment. Aldrich swallowed, but then looked up hopefully. “Ambrose,” he said at length, “would you go?”

The Stallion had listened to the conversation between the king and the sculpture, trying to think of somebody he could recommend but he had to admit that he was drawing a blank. However, when they suggested him of all people, it felt like he had been struck over the head with a blunt object. Aldrich could not be serious. But there was no mockery or insincerity in his voice.

“Me?” Ambrose clapped his hand to his chest, staring at both Aldrich and Babewyn. “I’m flattered, very flattered, that you would consider me but...I don’t know.”

He bowed his head, sighing. “It is not that I don’t want to go, your majesty, I would do it if you ordered me. But..why me? There must be somebody more experienced with diplomacy and more capable of handling a Courdonian delegation. And somebody who isn’t as...” he waved his hand in front of his eyes, “Handicapped as I am.”

“You don’t have to go if you think it might be too much,” Aldrich said quickly. “But I can think of a whole list of reasons why you’d be the best person to have in attendance in Courdon.” He shuffled around the stone pigeon and the sheaf of parchment in order to better talk with his hands. “Ambrose, you’re a good advisor--patient, and knowledgeable, and insightful, and ingenious. You’re good at defusing tense situations, and your own disposition helps calm people down. And--do you remember that day when you once met with the Shadows in the rain? It was potentially dangerous to go, we all knew that, but you came anyway and spoke and negotiated with a whole group of people, even though you were by yourself. Really, when it gets right down to it, Ambrose, you are a courageous diplomat.”

Even though he did his best to hide it, the Stallion could not help but smile at how Aldrich talked about him. Kind words always meant the world, since they were so rare in his experience, but he did not miss the point behind them. It was strange, he had always just done what he thought was right, never thinking for a moment that it was courage. Goodness knows, he was afraid when he had met the Shadows, but he knew he had to do it to avoid the sort of suffering which he had seen far too much. But courage, he knew, was not just an absence of fear. Ambrose was afraid to go to Courdon, not just because of the fear of it being a trap but because of what could happen to him with his visions, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Not just in order to foster better relations between the two countries but save Aldrich the heartache of worrying about Queen Asha. Was that not a duty he had to his country, a duty he had taken on when he had accepted this job? Ambrose wanted to do it well back then and he still wanted to, more than ever. He would have objected if he had not felt he was the right man for the job but Aldrich was not stupid, far from it. If he thought that Ambrose was the best man for the job then the Stallion knew he should have some faith, both in the King and in himself.

"Thank you, Aldrich," he bowed his head. "It does mean a lot to me that you believe that I can do this. I still have my misgivings but I will do my best. I'll go on your behalf."

A thought occurred to him. "As for my visions, it sounds like Master Leif is going with the Jade party. He knows about them so...worst comes to the worst, I can ask him to help me. So really, I have no excuse."

Aldrich brightened. “Thank you, Ambrose. You’re--...thank you. I know you’re going to do a great job. We can better settle the specifics of the trip once the date is closer. I’m glad Master Leif will be attending as well, though; it’s a long trip, and everyone will have to be cordial, and careful.”

“Oh,” Babewyn said. “And make sure you pack a sledgehammer and some parchment and ink.”

Aldrich paused, blinked, and then turned down to look at her. “Um. Why?”

“Parchment so someone can draw Courdon. I’ve never been there, and I’m curious what it looks like,” the gargoyle said. “And sledgehammer,” she went on, turning to Ambrose, “because then you can whack sharks on the nose if they try to eat someone in the delegation. Whomp!” she added, miming the motion with her forelegs and accidentally nearly tripping Aldrich with the back of her wing. “--Sorry. --Or, you can hit them in the eyes or gills, too. I hear that’s a good strategy if you’re being attacked.”

“...Babewyn. Ambrose is not going to be fighting man-eating sharks.”

"...I am also pretty sure that there won't be any man-eating sharks at the wedding, Babewyn," Ambrose smiled awkwardly. "Nor can I imagine why I would need a sledgehammer, even if I could wield it."

“Hey, gotta be prepared for anything. It might get exciting. Do you think? I don’t think they get many tourists over there. If anything’s fishy, the delegation has to be able to adapt and not start any wars, right? Sharks and gryphons.”

Aldrich cleared his throat and looked apologetically at Ambrose. “Um, granted, we should be prepared for any sort of...difficulties that may crop up, but I think you’ll do very well.” He paused, smiling, before his expression turned contemplative. “We should probably put together a wedding gift for the bride and groom, too. I’ll have to think of something.”

"Hmm...I assume a sculpture might be too much trouble? Given how yours tend to come to life, I don't know if that would be a suitable gift. Though we can always commission something from a craftsman in Medieville," Ambrose nodded. "Though this can be arranged with the minutia and the details of the trip. We still have not recieved the invitation formally after all."

He smiled and bowed his head. "But I am very grateful that you are trusting me with this. I won't lie, I am apprehensive about this trip, especially since the thought of something going wrong is prominent in my mind, but I will do what I can. I just hope I won't have to deal with sharks and gryphons, as Babewyn said," the Stallion glanced at the gargoyle. "I will however try to draw Courdon for you. I was planning to bring some parchment anyway and while my speciality is technical drawings, I can attempt landscapes."

Babewyn grinned. “Fantastic!”

Aldrich managed a smile, too. “That sounds good. We’ll tackle this as it comes. We may not be able to plan for everything, but we’ll plan for what we can.”

SPOILER: Click to show

After Leif(Tiger) tells him about the wedding invitation, Ambrose goes to Aldrich and they discuss what to do. Sadly Aldrich can't come because Queen Asha will be having her child at the time of the wedding but he suggests Ambrose go as his representative. Ambrose is confused why him but after Aldrich explains, he accepts. This cannot go wrong at all...

[Shinko]

((Collab with Rosalie Dylas (Maddy)))

Morgaine entered the lock and key shop, her arms full of groceries, which she sat down on the counter with a grunt of exertion. “Ugh, I’m getting too old for this…” Looking around, and spotting no one but her cat Mercury snoozing on a shelf, she called, “Rosalie, where are you? Rosie?”

Rosie came skipping into the world, “I’m here!” she said happily, “How was your shopping trip?”

“Fine,” she replied. “Though next time I might have to kidnap Lawrence to help me carry some things, carrying home food for two was already a juggling act, but as often as he stays here I’m basically buying for three now and I’ve only so much arm space.” She sighed. “Help me get this upstairs, will you? I heard some news down at the market you might be interested in.”

Rosie’s smile widened at the mention of Lawrence, “My Lawrence,” She said dreamily, taking the groceries from Morgaine, “What news?” she asked, carefully holding the groceries.

The old woman led the way up the stairs, and once they’d arrived in the kitchen of their small apartment and started putting things away, she answered.

“I heard it from Ilsa, who got it from Xavier,” she said grimly. “Apparently there’s to be a wedding of the crown prince of Courdon, this coming October. And all the nobles of Kyth have been invited to attend.”

“Oh,” Rosie said, setting down her armful, “How nice.”

Morgaine gave the young girl a look much akin to one a teacher would give a student who hasn’t studied properly. “Rosalie, think about this for a minute. What would happen if, say, the Courdonians did like they did at the coronation. Used this wedding to spring a trap on the nobles. Suddenly all the rulers of Kyth are killed, in one fell swoop. And there is no one left to defend the kingdom. Or us. From say Prince Cornelio.”

Rosalie’s face went pale, “N-n-o.” She felt sick, “That can’t happen…”

“It can and it might just,” Morgaine replied grimly. “I really don’t trust the Courdonians, it’s only been three years since we inadvertently assassinated their king after they tried to take over our capital. And almost killed me, which they weren’t even subtle about.” She put a hand up to her eye grimly. “Both Leif and Ambrose are supposed to be going- and if this is a trap, that’s an inventor and an archmage that won’t be around to protect Kyth anymore.”

She scowled a bit. “And there was never really any recompense for what they did to me. The fellow was murdered in jail by a vigilante, but the Kythian legal system never really got to enact any justice on him. Or the way Cornelio frightened you. They just… keep doing these things, and getting away with it, and it makes me sick. I know I’m just a locksmith, and I couldn’t even fight off one of those fools, but I wish there was something I could do...”

Rosie bit her lip at the mention of Cornelio, “Lawrence wouldn’t let him hurt me,” she said, voice shaky, “Sieg and Lawrence would protect us.”

“Sieg and Lawrence are just two men, Rosie, against all the armies of Courdon,” Morgaine said bleakly. “They’re strong, and I know they’ll protect us, but I… I don’t know. It could all be me overreacting, and it could turn out to be nothing more than what it looks like, but if it’s not and something horrible happens to Leif and Ambrose…”

“Keys!” Rosie shouted suddenly, “We should send keys!” She smiled at Morgaine, “Keys with Leif and Ambrose! Perfect!”

Morgaine blinked. “Send… what, you mean like we did during the funeral? When we sent the keys and lockboxes to the nobles as free samples? What for?”

“For good luck!” Rosie said, hands on hips, “And just in case… you never know when you need a key! Keys are important! And they’ll be safe with keys…”

“Hm…” Morgaine pondered this. “I suppose if we gave them each one of the magical keys that could come in handy if they find themselves in a sticky situation. For getting out of a locked room or into somewhere important. And if nothing else at the very least they’ll have something to remind them of home. And-” a smirk played across Morgaine’s face, “It’ll be a middle finger to the Courdonians to flash the keys at them after they tried to steal those same keys from us. You know what Rosalie I think I like this idea.”

She leaned backwards on the counter, tilting her head. “Think you can whip up a special pair of ornate keys, one for an inventor and one for an archmage? I’m sure with your skills you could come up with appropriate designs, so we can send a chain along and they can wear them all the time without being suspicious.”

“You got it!!” Rosie was already out of the room. She had keys to make.

SPOILER: Click to show

In the night, the Locksmith and the Keymaker sent an ornate key each to the Archmage and the Inventor. Quick cameo post, because we can! \ o / You guys can decide for yourselves what sort of fancy designs Rosie came up with for the keys, I'm sure they're both quite pretty and fitting for Leif and Ambrose.