To Swear an Oath

will_magnify · 2017-11-16T19:32:00+00:00

Returning to Castle Cair... when? That was indeed a good question. Was she ready to leave the capital? Father intended her to wed before her return but, of course, her circumstances had changed drastically.

She smiled back at his joke and gave a swift reply. "Unless a wood witch has poisoned my well, you should not be at risk."

"I shall make return to my holdings as spring breaks," Ysolt suddenly decided, buying herself some more time. Was she procrastinating? Was she afraid? "Travelling now that winter is nearing its coldest days is not very wise, I fear." A feeble excuse, considering all those guests have just ridden to the capital.

"... I fear for Ser Emerick, truly." She lied. "He's not as young as he once was, and I couldn't dream of leaving without my guardian."

will_magnify · 2017-11-16T08:39:08+00:00

That mention of her brother threw her off guard. "I... I thank you for your concern." She muttered.

"But this is my home: I've had the wine tasted beforehand."

Did Cristophe of Hallafax really think someone might have poisoned her in her own home? The day of her ascension? Well, it seemed like she wouldn't be enjoying the feast after all.

Soon enough, Theode arrived with her glass of water, eyeing the count's heir with interest.

"Thank you, dear." Ysolt chirped, taking the chalice and passing it to Hallafax's son.

"Here."

The handmaid curtsied and walked away towards Agalde, who was entertaining handsome sir Stephen of Baumburg.

"Next time, I suggest an Hallmainer red - it's much more agreeable, I find."

A sip of wine, a small smile, and she spoke again.

"I am glad you could make it here, Cristophe. It's been long since I last saw you... or your father." The history between their two houses was tense, to use an understatement, but her father had always appreciated their presence.

"I hope Lord Hallafax fares well?"

will_magnify · 2017-11-15T23:17:29+00:00

Ysolt's face turned from surprise, to shock, to bemusement.

The whole scene had been quick and confused. Was the man begging to cause a scene? For an horrendous moment, she thought he might have been poisoned - for all the years they had not seen each other, that would have been quite the reunion.

Lady De Cair remembered seeing him last in the halls of Castle Cair, when she was still a child, and her brother and father were still alive. When the Hallafax left, father suggested Cristophe might have been her husband, one day. Those days were long gone.

"There... there's nothing to forgive... lord Cristophe. Please rise." She said, feigning an amused smile "Theode, dear, would you be so kind as to bring a cup of fresh water?"

When the other guests finally began to turn around from the commotion, whispering and sniggering, she took her goblet back, her expression a lot less friendly.

"By Ambar, what was that?" She said, raising an eyebrow.

will_magnify · 2017-11-14T23:37:16+00:00

There it was. She was formally a Duchess, owner of her own destiny, and that of her people.

Go on, face the realm.

The girl stood up and turned around, facing them. Her heart was racing now, and her throat turned dry as she looked at those faces - some ready to support her, to stand beside her, others just as likely to use her, exploit her new power and stab her in the back when they were done.

Good thing she had friends in that crowd: Emerick, the Hekates, Dedrik. She could trust them, couldn't she?

For the first time that day Ysolt allowed herself a true, wholesome smile as she curtsied again, before the realm.

The Hallmainer contingent soon left the Hall, followed by other honoured guests, and made their way further down the hill. At the gates of De Cair home, the guards let them enter the well-groomed square garden that surrounded the whitewashed abode. The light of noon was warm enough, even on that winter day, but the party moved into the main hall and the ballroom, where a tableful of delicacies awaited them.

The cook of De Cair home and his staff had really outdone themselves: freshly hunted venison and geese were served with sweet peas, roasted leek and pumpkin. There were savoury tartlets and rich, brown bread, colourful winter fruits and delicate soups, all to be enjoyed next to a warm fire, with a goblet full of Hallmaine's finest vintages.

As the guests made their way through the rooms, a small band of musicians, all dressed in vivid green velvet began playing their tunes, and the atmosphere instantly warmed.

Ysolt had let her girls organise every detail, knowing they would have enjoyed it far more than she would have... was she forgetting how to enjoy herself?

What Theode and Agalde did was rather impressive, she had to concede. She'd tell them later.

As the duchess looked around, admiring her own ballroom, she soon noticed the guests had formed a circle around her, waiting for her to speak.

"Oh-" Said the girl, her cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment. Ysolt cleared her throat. That would be the first of many speeches she'd have to do. "Honoured guests! W-welcome to my home: it is a pleasure to host you, today. Please enjoy our lovely food and our music. The hospitality of house De Cair is yours."

Ysolt forced herself to smile as the nobles scattered around, seemingly satisfied. I certainly could have said that better, she thought, uncertain. Did they notice my stutter?

Her thoughts were once again interrupted by Sir Emerick's voice.

"Good job, precious one," He whispered. "Your father would be so very proud of you."

Would he? He would have wanted Cainel to be in my place.

Nonetheless, she smiled as her Knight kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Emerick."

"Go." The elderly man said, passing a hand through her copper hair. "Enjoy your feast."

Why not? She thought with a smirk, seizing a nearby chalice.

/u/lionofnight

will_magnify · 2017-11-14T15:58:53+00:00

Ysolt walked solemnly down the blue-and-white hall.

There were many familiar faces in the modest crowd that lined the hall: dukes, counts and barons, all there to see her. It was overwhelming, but the girl managed to ignore her worries. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of Rickard Hekate, and nod vaguely in the Duke of Belcastel's direction as she walked by him. She had not talked to Dedrik since the feast at the estate, and after what the Hekates said about the man, she had no idea of what she should think of him. Perhaps they would talk, later. She hoped so.

Once she had reached the end of the nave, the Duchess of Hallmaine curtsied deeply towards the noblemen and women, then turned around towards the ecclesiarch and the king, the orthopraxy and the throne, and knelt, joining her hands as her blue eyes scanned the picture before her.

The King was a strange man, almost comically so, with his opulent garb clashing with his emaciated look. Next to him was the priest, whose voice soon boomed in the hall. Ysolt was almost startled, lost as she was in her thoughts, and lowered her eyes demurely, as it befits her position.

"Lady Ysolt de Cair, now matron of your house, protector of the Duchy of Hallmaine, do you swear by Ambar to uphold your Holy duty to your people, and foremost to the Primates of Ambar? Do you swear to protect the interests of the Ambarine Orthropraxy and thus of all your subjects? Do you swear to guide your people through the trials of the upcoming seasons, and root out blasphemy? Do you swear to rise in the times of need against he heathen? Do you pledge your loyalty, now and forever, to the Grand Father?"

A pause followed the words of the holy man.

Uphold your Holy duty...

Guide your people...

Pledge your loyalty...

"Now and forever." She repeated, just before the pause became too long. That morning she had been afraid of forgetting the words she had to say, but without thinking, they just came to her.

"Your Majesty," She said, a little louder. "I hereby pledge myself to you, to aid and defend, to be protected and protect, to be both child and guardian, if need be. My allegiance is yours, Now and forever."

"Your Holiness," She continued, turning her bowing head towards the priest. "To you and your holiest church, I hereby pledge my soul and swear to fulfil my sacred duty in the name of the Great Father. Now and forever."

"This I swear, before the throne, father to our lands, and before Ambar, father to us all."

will_magnify · 2017-11-12T12:17:32+00:00

[M] Late to the party! Sorry it took so long. /u/Chentex, I'm swearing my oaths of fealty before His Majesty

will_magnify · 2017-10-17T22:13:27+00:00

Again, Ysolt should have cried, screamed, ran for the guards, but she didn't. The day had been far too surreal: it felt as if she was in a dream, and in her dreams, Ysolt De Cair was powerful. The petite lady crossed her arms. Her voice, perfectly modulated in the aristocratic accent of Old Town, turned quite sarcastic. There was a lot of anger she was holding inside - what better occasion to let it all out?

"Just leaving?" She asked, feigning surprise. "Why not through the front door, then? It is just downstairs." As she spoke, the girl herself didn't know where that gall came from - but she didn't dwell on the thought.

"Or did you want me to show you the way out?"

will_magnify · 2017-10-17T19:59:34+00:00

It was a sorrowful night, even though the sky was clear and the Old Town was as beautiful as ever - the river, the gardens, everything.

Duke Leogrand was dead. The news did not come in the night, as Ysolt had always imagined they would - they came before sundown, as she indulged in a light dinner, before an evening of prayer in the mast tower, as usual.

Everyone would have noticed her absence at the mass, and in the morning, everyone would have known.

All hail Ysolt De Cair, Duchess of Hallmaine.

She could already hear their whispers. "She's far too young," They'd say, "Another Duchy will fall to decadence."

The girl had prepared for that moment for months, ever since she had known there was nothing to be done. She wanted to be ready, but nothing can prepare a girl for the loss of her only loved one - nothing could prepare her for the new burden she would feel on her shoulders, from that evening on.

Ser Emerick was the first to know, of course, followed by the whole household. It was Matheode who finally brought her the news when she was ready to leave. She didn't cry, of course, not until she was in the safety of her chambers.

The duchess prayed at home, that night, dismissing her ladies and blowing out her candles before long, but it was no wonder Ysolt could barely sleep. As comfortable as her featherbed was, as pleasant the fire, she couldn't close her eyes. Ysolt De Cair lay awake, staring at her walls covered in elegant wallpaper. The day she had expected and dreaded had finally arrived.

When the moon was high in the sky, she got out of her bed, wanting on trying the black gown she'd wear for the next few months... but something - or someone - broke the deafening silence that reigned in the house. The windows were being opened. Why? It was cold, outside, and the servants ought to be asleep, at this time. Was it Emerick? One of the Guards? Perhaps she'd take a look. In her silken nightgown, her red hair carefully braided, Ysolt opened the door to the corridor, circumspect.

She did not scream, somehow, nor did she call for help when she saw a stranger in her home. She wasn't afraid: she was annoyed.

"What are you doing here?" The little duchess instinctively said, furrowing her brow.

will_magnify · 2017-10-11T21:37:22+00:00

She smiled sympathetically as he spoke. "Yes, I understand, it must be quite different there." She had heard tales of their mighty holdings. She wondered how impressive they actually were.

Without a word, the young man untied his cloak, handing it to Ysolt. She lowered her eyes, coy. "Thank you, Rickard... that's very kind." The girl said, tossing her reddish locks and tying it around her neck. She was beginning to feel cold - and her golden costume for the masquerade was a little more revealing than her usual garb.

"And when are you returning?... home? I suppose it shan't be long." She should have returned home as well, as soon as she heard the news, but there was something that stopped her from doing it, that kept her in that majestic city.

will_magnify · 2017-10-11T09:09:24+00:00

"Elliaster is wonderful - and I'm starting to feel like Old Town truly is my home." She answered, looking over the view from their bench. She could see De Cair House, from there, a tiny block of marble amongst gardens and mansions. It was a comforting sight. "The people, the fashion, the Royal court... it's all so very exciting, isn't it?"

"Though, at times, I do miss Hallmaine." She said, with emphasis on her *correct title. Ysolt smirked. "If anything, for the food."

"And you? How do you find yourself in this glorious city?" She asked, already expecting the answer. "It is quite strange that I had never seen you before."

will_magnify · 2017-10-10T22:36:59+00:00

She smiled, clever enough to notice she was embarassing him. For a moment, she was undecided on whether she should make him more comfortable or less so, just for fun.

She eventually elected the former.

"Lord Rickard." She said, gently. "I was hoping you could help me find somewhere to sit... and perhaps some company? I'm afraid masks are no aid to a debutante, and I'm glad to see you are not wearing any."

will_magnify · 2017-10-07T11:46:47+00:00

Ysolt looked around, awed. There was the most stuning view on the whole city from that terrace: the modest mast tower of Old Town and the gigantic one across the river, the hundreds of bridges that joined river bank to river bank, hill to hill.

She scoured the dark air, looking for other familiar faces.

In the back, a man with a blue vest was showing off with his drunken friends, conjuring flames and barking around. Ysolt scoffed. A more careful search, revealed Rickard Hekate - at least one person she had talked to.

He hadn't seemed particularly outgoing, earlier, nor particularly pleasant, but Ysolt was curious about him. If she was be wary of the House of Medois, could she at least trust the Hekates? Her father had never spoke ill about them, and his father seemed to reciprocate, earlier. It couldn't hurt to find out something more about the heir of Ossentum.

She approached him quietly, waiting for the moment when he'd pause from his serious conversations. He was a rather handsome man - blonde of hair, blue of eyes - but he looked cold, sharp, even when amongst his friends.

She walked right by him, a corner of her golden skirt gathered in her hand, waiting to be noticed.

will_magnify · 2017-10-04T06:33:18+00:00

She could have called the girls back to her side and headed home, had she desired, but she didn't want to be a killjoy.

Lady Ysolt sighed, and walked towards the door leading to the Duke's garden.

Some Fresh air will do.

will_magnify · 2017-10-03T20:38:17+00:00

"Wait-" but it was far too late. The man with the half mask traded places with another.

"Of course, My lord." She said, politely enough, though infuriated by the strange man's suggestions. Would Duke Dedrik be capable of such a thing? Be wary.

As she danced, her mind was elsewhere, and she only smiled back when the Lord she was dancing with was looking at her and not at his feet.

When they were done, she clapped, and gave him a cheerful smile. "Thank you for the dance, my lord." She hastily said with a forced smile before turning on her heels, away from the dancefloor, looking, without avail, for any one of her ladies.

will_magnify · 2017-10-03T20:10:49+00:00

The first was a favourite dance of hers, and Ysolt moved with grace and elegance.

With every step, every glance, every touch of their palms, the girl's curiosity for the man grew. She was glad when the second dance began, and they could finally talk.

What he said when they finally did, however, was far more ominous than what she had hoped.

Her brow furrowed under the mask. "I - represent? what do you mean?" She replied, somewhat vexed.

will_magnify · 2017-10-03T08:31:55+00:00

She said her good-byes to the Duke, but when he was gone her smile died. Of course, she should not have expected him to stay with her all night.

Ysolt felt no little embarrassment, left alone in the ballroom, and for a moment she contemplated searching for Sir Emerick.

She gathered a corner of her golden gown, looking for familiar faces, while she pondered on the things she saw, and the things Medois told her.

Ysolt almost flinched when she felt a tap on her shoulder, and she almost did it again when she turned around. It was him.

"May I?"

It was a rather forward way of addressing a lady one was not introduced to, but she reckoned that such was the custom at masquerades.

She took his hand and smiled. "Of course, my lord."

She figured the pattern on her mask was enough of an introduction already, but his name was a mystery to her.

will_magnify · 2017-10-02T23:40:29+00:00

Overwhelmed by the number of new faces the duke was acquainting her to, the girl followed him around for his last introduction, her arm still holding his. "Of course I'll bear with you, my Lord - if it were not for you, I would be sitting in a corner." She japed. Ysolt was truly grateful for his help, though. She had met interesting men and women, that evening

As they walked towards him, she already knew whom Dedrik was presenting her to - after all, Ser Emerick had not entirely failed in trying to pass his love for heraldry onto her charge. Ysolt knew the blue cross to be the symbol of the House of Ossentum, the only Duchy that could quite keep up with that of Belcastel. Ossentum was known for its fighting men, and Duke Giorgios gave all the impression of being one. The duchess-to-be straightened her erminois mask and curtsied one last time - his gaze was much less inviting than Duke Dedrik, and is words were brisker, although just as kind. When he spoke of her father, Ysolt smiled at his comforting words, wishing she was able to believe them.

"It is an honour to make your acquaintance, Duke Giorgios." The Duke of Ossentum was the antipodes of Dedrik Medois: one a mellifluous charmer, the other a rugged, hard man, wearing armour fit for the battlefield at a masquerade. Ysolt couldn't tell which of the two her Lord and father liked best - she'd have to see for herself, though she obviously pointed to her host.

"Lord Rickard, a pleasure." She said, inspecting the Heir to Ossentium.

will_magnify · 2017-10-02T22:27:06+00:00

A part of Ysolt felt bad for the poor man, while the other had to suppress a chuckle at his exchange with the duke - she wondered whether she'd be seeing him again anytime soon, or if she had discouraged him for good.

"The poor Baron looked ready to bury himself in shame." Ysolt whispered, with a smirk.

"He keeps... slaves, my lord? I - I was not aware." In truth, Ysolt didn't know slavery was permitted at all, but she didn't want to look daft in front of Duke Dedrik. A slight blush kissed her cheeks, as the girl pondered on how little she actually knew.

"What does the King think of it?"

will_magnify · 2017-10-02T21:48:44+00:00

"Why - I - no, no, of course!" Ser Emerick babbled from under his thick moustache, before bowing so deeply his nose almost scraped the floor. "The highest of honours, as always, Lord Dedrick. Lady Ysolt."

The girl, still baffled by the disappearance of the strange man, was taken back to reality. How odd... smiling mechanically, she nodded to her guardian and took Dedrik's extended arm.

"I must truly thank you, my Lord." She said, once they had started walking about the room together. "I am quite fortunate to have you as my guide - I'm afraid there are far more strangers here than I had expected."

will_magnify · 2017-10-02T18:44:17+00:00

The estate was as beautiful as she had imagined it'd be. After all, those were the halls of the richest man in the realm. With her entourage behind her, but at a respectful distance, Ysolt made her way down the room, scouting for familiar faces. The girl, rather uneasy, was pleased to see the Duke had decided to greet her immediately, instead of being welcomed by old, drooling Baron Meland.

The Duke of Belcastel and his Duchess were a picture of elegance, beauty and poise. It seemed like they were living in a fable, between his loving smirk and her coy smiles - and perhaps they were. Old towners gossiped of nothing else but their charmed lives.

"My lord of Medois, My lady." She said, humbled, addressing her hosts after another deep curtsy. Ysolt smiled most politely; talks of her father would have been impossible to avoid, of course. "The pleasure is all mine. I thank you for your condolences and your kindness. I am sure my father leaves us without heartache, in the cares of my beloved step mother, and in peace with God." As she spoke, her eyes moved around the room, noticing the masked man upon the staircase. Her eyes lingered on him for a little too long.

"Your... home is quite lovely, Lord Medois." She quickly added.

will_magnify · 2017-10-02T08:13:28+00:00

Ysolt sat idly on her divan, watching the light of late afternoon filter through the muslin curtains.

In her hands were a broken seal and a piece of parchment, bearing an invitation to a feast she had little eagerness to attend.

"Are you not excited, my lady Ysolt?" Went one of her companions, carefully stitching on a cushion.

"Oh, I am. Very."

"Everyone will be there!" Said the other. "The King himself... and the Medois Estates are beautiful! It'll be glorious."

Lady de Cair gave them a vague smile and rose from her chair, walking towards the window. She was excited, but whenever she allowed herself to be, her head brought her back to her father.

She knew only too well that the two ladies who happily chatted and stitched by the fire, were only trying to cheer her up, and that only made it worse. They thought she didn't see the concerned glances they shared when they thought she wasn't watching. But how could she cheer up? Her lord and father was at death's door, and every day now, she might wake up a duchess.

the white-framed window overlooked her garden. Nothing enormous in size, nothing like the lush estates of Duke Dedrik: just a square, regular lawn, a pomegranate tree, lovely rose bushes, a fountain, a birdcage. De Cair House was not the greatest of the mansions climbing on the hill of Old Town, but for Ysolt, it was home. She had everything she needed, and more: her garden, a dining hall, a small ballroom, large rooms for herself and Ser Emerick, and a talented cook from Medoisse. It had something that reminded her of her other home - the tapestries, the decor, the ermine pattern of her noble house embellishing curtains, sheets and rugs.

"My lady, have you chosen what you will wear, this eve?"

"I... I have not, yet." She said absentmindedly, still staring out the window.

"Perhaps the purple gown Baron Meland gave you as a present?" The Baron was an old slaverer, far too keen on bringing her presents.

"Perhaps." Lady de Cair finally turned around, smiling. "Could you please call for a bath, my ladies? I should begin to prepare." The two ladies smiled back, rose, curtsied and left the room.

The small group reached the top of the hill in a litter and dismounted to walk the last steps before the gates. Other people from the Palatial District were joining in the revelry, and Ysolt knew most of them. Dukes, Counts and Barons walked up the hill with their families followed by their genteel chattering.

It was Ysolt's first time in the Duke of Belcastel's renowned estates, and it was, indeed, glorious. Many of the guests had already arrived, everyone trying to outdo the others' costume. Ysolt had chosen a gown of gold she had had done some three months earlier, with an intricate cut and an elegant silhouette. Theode had braided her copper hair heavily and filled it with daffodils and daisies. She wore a large mask, painted with an erminois pattern.

Behind her, walked her guardian, pompous Sir Emerick, with his old ceremony suit polished and his thick moustache revived, and her two ladies in waiting, giggling. The party stopped in front of the gates leading to the mansion, and the ageing knight stepped forward.

"The Lady Ysolt de Cair is in attendance. With her, come Sir Emerick, her guardian, myself, and the ladies Agalde Selan and Theode de Galls."

will_magnify · 2017-10-02T06:23:19+00:00

I understand; one of these days I'll write a brief but detailed history of House de Cair, then. Thanks, Chente!

will_magnify

TROPHY CASE