[center][b][h3]Gardens of the Caernan Castle, Harksmoor City, County of Harksmoor, Kingdom of Gwethydd[/h3] [img]http://www.britsattheirbest.com//images/ss_garden_english_450.gif[/img] 8th of Gerna | 1200 AU[/b][/center] King Aethlar VI of the Gwethyns ambled and loped listlessly around the expansive gardens that surrounded his palace. They were laid out on both sides of the low-lying but sprawling royal residence in the bustling capital - on the west, they led into the granite cloisters of the Eldva University, joining seamlessly with the academic institution by way of a regimented and carefully planned style. To the east were the great, naturalistic green expanses that were used as tourney grounds in happier times, which themselves rolled into a vast citrus orchard. The sweet, tangy smell reached Aethlar's nose even on the other side of the garden and he inhaled deeply. He longed for better times, for jousting and merriment and galloping out across the vast fields that surrounded the mesa on which Harksmoor was perched. Alas, it was not to be. The King had been grounded in his palace by the news of the death of Emperor Taramyth at sea. Aethlar had not known the Emperor in any personal capacity; he remembered seeing him at the Imperial Court in Lalrial a few times; the young Aethlar smiled as he recalled that the Emperor had been the only person in those enormous, echoing courtly chambers who seemed as unwilling to be there as Aethlar himself. But apart from that, the Emperor had been an absentee. There were rumours everywhere about who had really ran the imperial centre in his stead. "Are you reminiscing about the tournament season?" Aethlar was interrupted from his thoughts by the sudden interjection of his mother. For a woman of considerable bulk, the Queen-Dowager had always had the uncanny capacity to sneak up on her eldest son. The King turned on his heel to face her. She was wearing a mourning gown of deep purple, studded with jet gemstones and complete with a large red pin in her intricately styled auburn hair. "Or are you mourning for the death of our good Emperor?" "I hardly knew him," Aethlar said shortly, folding his muscular arms across his chest. Hiltruda nodded thoughtfully. Her green eyes regarded her son with compassion, if not with a great deal of respect. "None of us knew the Emperor very well. He was completely uninterested in politics," The Queen-Dowager gave a small smile, sinking into the nearest bench with a heavy sigh. "It is what made him such a good Emperor," "What of the new election?" The Gwethyn King asked, joining his mother in her repose. "Will I have to travel to Lalrial?" Hiltruda nodded. "Of course. I shall accompany you. While you are busy with the business of electing an Emperor, I wish to see to it that your sister's marriage prospects do not wither away locked up in this stony prison," She continued, waving a hand idly. "By sister," Aethlar said, narrowing his eyes slightly. "I suppose you to mean Haldetrude?" He knew all about his mother's disdain for his siblings Eadgifu and Gaewin - the bastard sons of Aethlar V by his niece Alysandra di Reckmansworth, daughter of his own sister Gerberga. "Bring the bastard girl too," Hiltruda said flippantly. 'Perhaps we can marry her off to someone so inconsequential in such a dark and cold part of the north that she will rot away and not be heard from ever again' was the unspoken implication. Lord Gaewin was already in the capital. Aethlar watched as a large brown bird loped lazily overhead in the sun. "Who shall be our next Emperor?" "Terminus," Aethlar said determinedly. His mother scoffed, but he persisted nonetheless. "He has been a vanguard against evil in the south for many years. The common people know of him as a hero - and he is a warrior. There is no better man to lead this empire," "What of Jakinius?" Hiltruda crooned. "Guardian of the north?" Aethlar paused. "He is the guardian of the north. We are not northerners. But, from what I have heard, he will make just as good an Emperor as his brother," "Will he?" Came the reply from somewhere in the citrus trees behind the pair. They reeled around. Amongst the oranges and lemons leant a figure, clad all in black. Amidst the gloom of the orange grove she looked almost like a spider, due in part to her curved and misshapen spine and her rasping way of talking. "What makes you think that, gentle nephew?" Aethlar regarded his aunt Princess Alissera tentatively. His wife Queen Eadrith often admitted that the pock-marked spinster scared her; Aethlar was wroth to admit that he was no better. "Is a warrior a good king?" Alissera continued from amongst the trees. She loped her way forward on unsteady footing, eventually settling on the other end of the long bench. "Was Taramyth a good emperor?" "Well... he was an excellent sailor and-" Aethlar began, but his mother waved her hand to cut him off. "Your aunt is not asking about his skills at sea. Was he a good Emperor? Did he attend to the business of his council and his court? Of the treasury? Did he mediate in petty land disputes between his vassals, or arrange marriages for his daughters and sisters? Did he correspond with the Church of the Sacred Flame?" Hiltruda said carefully. "Would you tear away the Princes Terminus and Jakinius from their invaluable posts in the north and south to do so?" "Their work is not the work of an Emperor," Alissera said, shaking her head sadly. Her facial features were unnoticeable beneath the heavy black veil that concealed every inch of her skin. "Who, then?" Aethlar said with exasperation. "Allianna," Hiltruda said deftly, offering a sly smile. Aethlar's lips pursed. Allianna had always been a presence at Lalrial - she had been a magnificent creature, in Aethlar's mind, a delicate rose at the centre of a web of intrigue and boredom. Aethlar still remembered the day he had clambered onto his father's lap at age five and declared boldly that he would marry Allianna and take her as his own Queen. He still remembered the slap that had sent him skittering to the floor too. "Why her?" He managed at last. "She is a woman," Alissera tutted from beneath her veil. "As was our first Empress," "That was different," Aethlar said defiantly. "The first Empress had the hand of Kammeth the Father to guide her," "Be that as it may," Hiltruda conceded. "A woman like her is more likely to be drawn to the inspiring and masculine charms of a Warrior-King like yourself. She may make you her champion," She paused, running a finger along her chin. "Perhaps more," Aethlar blushed crimson. "Consider it. You ride for the capital at first light," Alissera said, running a gloved hand down Aethlar's arm affectionately. He barely suppressed a shudder. "With Princess Haldetrude, Lady Eadgifu, your mother and the Temple-Master Eldarhar," The King could barely lift his eyes from the grass. "Very well," He sighed, rubbing his eyes in defeat. *** [b][center][h3]Valarien Estate, Lalrial, the Heartlands[/h3] 13th of Gerna | 1200 AU[/center][/b] The Caernavir had arrived into Lalrial a few days later with all the pomp, majesty and circumstance that the occasion of an imperial election warranted. The king had ridden at the head of the procession, which had cut through the imperial capital's marble streets like a green dart. Aethlar had been a tall paragon atop his enormous white stallion horse, crowned with the emerald-studded silver band that denoted his place as a monarch. Beside him had ridden his verdant knights, and behind them two enormous carriages had trundled ominously through the crowds of eager peasantfolk, the first of which carried Queen Hiltruda and Princess Haldetrude and the second of which housed Lady Eadgifu and the Temple-Master Eldarhar di Graeton, who was arriving to serve in his capacity as a Master of the Astronomers' Conclave by way of his Chancellorship of the Eldva University. After settling into the sprawling, leafy mansion compound which they owned for visits to the capital, they had embarked to the party hosted by Princess Allianna. It had been during the philippic delivered by the wizened Kawachian that they had entered, the messenger struggling to make his announcement of 'His Majesty King Aethlar VI of the Gwethyns', 'Her Majesty Queen Hiltruda, Queen Dowager of the Gwethyns' and all the rest heard in an attempt to silence Diende. Aethlar entered first, with his mother projecting her enormous personality across the room soon afterward. He was clad in a fashionable, swishing green cloak and was still wearing his travelling crown. Behind them came Princess Haldetrude, attended by her bastard half-sister, whose swaggering, voluptuous silvery-blonde beauty easily outshone Haldetrude's willowy and mousy-haired meek maidenhead. As they entered, Eadgifu lent into Haldetrude, pointing to Diende's back and giggling, she whispered. "I did not realise that the Kawachians were so fond of their history," Haldetrude blushed, but a smile reached her stern countenance for a moment. Upon hearing the impertinence directed to Allianna, Aethlar puffed himself up with indignant and chivalric masculine rage. "How dare you speak to a member of the Impe--" He began, but Hiltruda waved a pudgy hand, silencing him instantly. "I am going to assume that your indiscretions are the result of the softening of the mind so often equated with age," She piped up not impolitely to Diende. "And I see you have, valiantly, shown in your own special way how much your nation values its trade relationship with the Green Kingdom," She gestured to the man's wooden teeth. "We continue to appreciate your custom and place in this empire, naturally, but not your continual and I must say wearisome professions of hatred for a system from which you gain so much," "I find it quite interesting that despite all your professions of hatred towards the Ethican Empire, you have forged your way valiantly here in an attempt to suck what sweet-milk you can from its over-bloated teat," She turned her attention to Allianna. "Princess," She said with a smile. Haldetrude and Eadgifu curtsied while Aethlar and Hiltruda merely bowed their heads. "Pay this man little mind - the mosquitoes and humidity of the southerly reaches have no doubt softened his mind to the point of madness," She said, offering Allianna a reassuring smirk.