[Games] Thanks for hosting!
in reply to a message by saphirdufeu
I had such fun playing this. It's been a criminally long time since I last played a royal congrats. I raise my hat to you. As for other themes... well, I've always had a thing for Renaissance Italy, or Victorian Britain, though admittedly we've never had a royal congrats in non-European royalty, have we?
Oh, and: if you, dear reader, enjoyed following the saga of Richard and Hal and their misadventures in kinging, then I simply must recommend you to read Terry Pratchett's Discworld books. Guards! Guards! would perhaps be a good start, seeing as it riffs on the classic fantasy Long-Lost Heir to the Throne vs Dragon Attacking City motif very well, but also happens to have a rather Richard-like protagonist and a very Hal-like leader of the city. Well, it's the other way round, to be fair, and it's my Richard and Hal who're inspired by Vimes and Vetinari, but anyway.
House of Fairfax
DH: King Richard Christopher Samuel [d.]
DW: Dowager Queen Beatrice Edith Sybillia [d.]
DD: Matilda Anne Christine, Countess of Richmond [d.]
-DH: George Nicolas, Earl of Arundel [d.]
--DD: Helen Susanna Euphemia, Dowager Countess of Blois [43]
---DH: Conrad Teodoric Restault, Comte de Blois [d.]
----DS: Lucas Alasdair, Comte de Blois [22]
-----DW: Gisella Theophania Fitzalan, née Baroness of Monmouth [20]
-------DD: Millicent Eloisa [1]
----DD: Eleanore Jane [19]
------DFiancé: Tristan Faramond Raleigh, Earl of Lincoln [24]
----DS: Adam Florian [12]
----DS: Roger Edmond [10]
--DS: Henry Fabian Richard, Earl of Arundel [41]
---DW: Isabel Bernardine, née Baroness of Mulgrave [42]
----DD: Alix Guenevere [8]
----DS: Basil Reginald [6]
-DH: Antony Peregrin Mercier, Earl of Richmond [d.]
--DS: Benedict Philip, Earl of Richmond [37]
---DW: Adriana Rosario Adela Sandoval, née Vizconda de Cabrera [35]
----DD: Julia Maura Inez [16]
----DS: Daniel Hector Elias [9]
DS: King Henry Valerian Ambrose [d.]
-DW: Queen Louise Charlotte, née Duchesse d'Aquitaine [d.]
--DS: Prince Jehan Leopold Walter [d.]
DS: Prince Rufus Joscelin Ives [57]
-DW: Princess Dorothea Cateline Rennes, née Comtesse d'Anjou [d.]
--DD: Cecily Honora, Marquise de Fos [33]
---DH: Isidore Magnus, Earl of Pembroke [d.]
----DD: Cecily Hosianna, Countess of Pembroke [13]
----DD: Arabella Isolde [11]
---DH: Renard Alexandre Malet, Marquis de Fos [34]
----DS/DD: Étienne Antoine / Marie-Henriette Mathilde [5]
----DS: Guillaume Yves [3]
--DD: Marion Sabeline, Duchesse de Narbonne [32]
---DFiancé: Leonard Raphael, Earl of Hereford [d.]
---DH: Thomas Gilbert Tulles, Duc de Narbonne [30]
--DS: King Adrian Valentine [30]
---DW: Queen Alice Elizabeth Osmond, née Countess of Salisbury [28]
----DD: Princess Emily Cateline Sibyl [5]
----DS: Prince Samuel Valerian Joscelin [4]
--DS: Amaury Noel, Comte d'Anjou [29]
---DFiancée: Agatha Clemencia Talbot, Countess of Kent [23]
--DD: Mary Eulalia [d.]
King Hal, according to general consensus, was unkillable. It was just too much trouble to even try murdering him, because somehow you'll soon find out you were terribly misinformed and that it's him who's going to kill you, very shortly. Rebels had tried. Disgruntled nobles had tried. Even a deranged mummer who'd lost his livelihood when Hal banned pantomime from the cities had tried, one very strange morning. He wasn't immortal, of course, but for quite some time it seemed like even death was loath to approach him. Perhaps it took one look at Hal's pale, cadaverous form, thought he was already deceased, and moved on.
Eventually, however, members of Hal's court realised their king was steadily wasting away, and the wet cough he'd caught one damp winter never quite left for good. It took years, a slow, gnawing toll on the ever-busy king, but eventually consumption earned the dubious award of being the one thing that did, finally, drag him down. Hal's last appearance at court was when he formally abdicated the throne, handing it over to his nephew and heir, Adrian, by which time he was reportedly a walking skeleton coughing up blood. But Hal's mind was as sharp as ever as he calmly reminded his people that a nation must not be decapitated, and rather than deprive them of leadership as consumption consumed him until his inevitable end, it would be reasonable to install a new king at once.
The coronation was relatively simple, with as little pomp and ceremony as they could get away with, as Adrian was frugally minded and saw no reason to exhaust the Treasury just for one event. His uncle's crown sat too tightly around his forehead; his wife stood stiffly with one hand on each of their children's shoulders; his father watched from the shadows between torches.
A few months later, Hal died in his bedroom, seated by the window overlooking the capital and the nation he'd loved so much.
King Adrian was an idealist to his core, and while he was shrewd enough to know when pragmatism would be in order, he was at heart someone who simply wanted to do good and be a responsible, benevolent leader to the country. For the first time in decades, people once again flocked to the king's court to hear his judgement and appeal to him, like they once did under King Richard's time. He had the wisdom of Solomon, they muttered with approval; he knew when to let someone off easy and when to punish them, when a poisoned man was really just an unwise berry-nibbler and when a hard loaf was fortified with highly nutritious wood shavings and shards of bone.
Not far into Adrian's reign, his Aunt Matilda died peacefully in her sleep. Then his sister Cecily, widowed a few years ago when Isidore turned out to be a perfect specimen of the Unwise Berry-Nibbler, remarried with the Marquis de Fos, moving to France to join her husband in his estate. And while Amaury, who was very much disinterested in the messy, exhausting tarantella of kinging, was perfectly content managing the quieter realm of Anjou and exchanging letters with his darling Agatha, their sister Marion was still anxious to have children; while Thomas assures her he loved her nonetheless and could simply pass on his duchy to one of his siblings, Marion wanted to have little ones of her own, and so far could only satiate her longing by spending much time playing with Princess Emily and Prince Samuel.
The years passed. Life, like a water-mill, moved on. People died and were born. Cities were burnt and rebuilt. Alliances were shattered and forged. The nation, too, carried on ticking like the giant grandfather clock that it was, full of cogs and springs and mechanisms. Adrian wasn't sure he knew exactly how to deal with all of it. But he had his father to advise him, with all the experience from years shadowing Uncle Hal's every step, and he had Alice at his side, her gaze warming his chest and her wilting fingertips soothing against the back of his hand. That was more than what King Henry had when he was crowned, and definitely more than what King Richard had, even further back. Adrian wasn't sure how he was going to be a good king, but if they managed it without the help and head start he had, then, he thought, there's hope for him yet. So long as he didn't crumble before the ever-evolving, ever-looming threat of bread fraud, he'd do just fine.
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
Oh, and: if you, dear reader, enjoyed following the saga of Richard and Hal and their misadventures in kinging, then I simply must recommend you to read Terry Pratchett's Discworld books. Guards! Guards! would perhaps be a good start, seeing as it riffs on the classic fantasy Long-Lost Heir to the Throne vs Dragon Attacking City motif very well, but also happens to have a rather Richard-like protagonist and a very Hal-like leader of the city. Well, it's the other way round, to be fair, and it's my Richard and Hal who're inspired by Vimes and Vetinari, but anyway.
House of Fairfax
DH: King Richard Christopher Samuel [d.]
DW: Dowager Queen Beatrice Edith Sybillia [d.]
DD: Matilda Anne Christine, Countess of Richmond [d.]
-DH: George Nicolas, Earl of Arundel [d.]
--DD: Helen Susanna Euphemia, Dowager Countess of Blois [43]
---DH: Conrad Teodoric Restault, Comte de Blois [d.]
----DS: Lucas Alasdair, Comte de Blois [22]
-----DW: Gisella Theophania Fitzalan, née Baroness of Monmouth [20]
-------DD: Millicent Eloisa [1]
----DD: Eleanore Jane [19]
------DFiancé: Tristan Faramond Raleigh, Earl of Lincoln [24]
----DS: Adam Florian [12]
----DS: Roger Edmond [10]
--DS: Henry Fabian Richard, Earl of Arundel [41]
---DW: Isabel Bernardine, née Baroness of Mulgrave [42]
----DD: Alix Guenevere [8]
----DS: Basil Reginald [6]
-DH: Antony Peregrin Mercier, Earl of Richmond [d.]
--DS: Benedict Philip, Earl of Richmond [37]
---DW: Adriana Rosario Adela Sandoval, née Vizconda de Cabrera [35]
----DD: Julia Maura Inez [16]
----DS: Daniel Hector Elias [9]
DS: King Henry Valerian Ambrose [d.]
-DW: Queen Louise Charlotte, née Duchesse d'Aquitaine [d.]
--DS: Prince Jehan Leopold Walter [d.]
DS: Prince Rufus Joscelin Ives [57]
-DW: Princess Dorothea Cateline Rennes, née Comtesse d'Anjou [d.]
--DD: Cecily Honora, Marquise de Fos [33]
---DH: Isidore Magnus, Earl of Pembroke [d.]
----DD: Cecily Hosianna, Countess of Pembroke [13]
----DD: Arabella Isolde [11]
---DH: Renard Alexandre Malet, Marquis de Fos [34]
----DS/DD: Étienne Antoine / Marie-Henriette Mathilde [5]
----DS: Guillaume Yves [3]
--DD: Marion Sabeline, Duchesse de Narbonne [32]
---DFiancé: Leonard Raphael, Earl of Hereford [d.]
---DH: Thomas Gilbert Tulles, Duc de Narbonne [30]
--DS: King Adrian Valentine [30]
---DW: Queen Alice Elizabeth Osmond, née Countess of Salisbury [28]
----DD: Princess Emily Cateline Sibyl [5]
----DS: Prince Samuel Valerian Joscelin [4]
--DS: Amaury Noel, Comte d'Anjou [29]
---DFiancée: Agatha Clemencia Talbot, Countess of Kent [23]
--DD: Mary Eulalia [d.]
King Hal, according to general consensus, was unkillable. It was just too much trouble to even try murdering him, because somehow you'll soon find out you were terribly misinformed and that it's him who's going to kill you, very shortly. Rebels had tried. Disgruntled nobles had tried. Even a deranged mummer who'd lost his livelihood when Hal banned pantomime from the cities had tried, one very strange morning. He wasn't immortal, of course, but for quite some time it seemed like even death was loath to approach him. Perhaps it took one look at Hal's pale, cadaverous form, thought he was already deceased, and moved on.
Eventually, however, members of Hal's court realised their king was steadily wasting away, and the wet cough he'd caught one damp winter never quite left for good. It took years, a slow, gnawing toll on the ever-busy king, but eventually consumption earned the dubious award of being the one thing that did, finally, drag him down. Hal's last appearance at court was when he formally abdicated the throne, handing it over to his nephew and heir, Adrian, by which time he was reportedly a walking skeleton coughing up blood. But Hal's mind was as sharp as ever as he calmly reminded his people that a nation must not be decapitated, and rather than deprive them of leadership as consumption consumed him until his inevitable end, it would be reasonable to install a new king at once.
The coronation was relatively simple, with as little pomp and ceremony as they could get away with, as Adrian was frugally minded and saw no reason to exhaust the Treasury just for one event. His uncle's crown sat too tightly around his forehead; his wife stood stiffly with one hand on each of their children's shoulders; his father watched from the shadows between torches.
A few months later, Hal died in his bedroom, seated by the window overlooking the capital and the nation he'd loved so much.
King Adrian was an idealist to his core, and while he was shrewd enough to know when pragmatism would be in order, he was at heart someone who simply wanted to do good and be a responsible, benevolent leader to the country. For the first time in decades, people once again flocked to the king's court to hear his judgement and appeal to him, like they once did under King Richard's time. He had the wisdom of Solomon, they muttered with approval; he knew when to let someone off easy and when to punish them, when a poisoned man was really just an unwise berry-nibbler and when a hard loaf was fortified with highly nutritious wood shavings and shards of bone.
Not far into Adrian's reign, his Aunt Matilda died peacefully in her sleep. Then his sister Cecily, widowed a few years ago when Isidore turned out to be a perfect specimen of the Unwise Berry-Nibbler, remarried with the Marquis de Fos, moving to France to join her husband in his estate. And while Amaury, who was very much disinterested in the messy, exhausting tarantella of kinging, was perfectly content managing the quieter realm of Anjou and exchanging letters with his darling Agatha, their sister Marion was still anxious to have children; while Thomas assures her he loved her nonetheless and could simply pass on his duchy to one of his siblings, Marion wanted to have little ones of her own, and so far could only satiate her longing by spending much time playing with Princess Emily and Prince Samuel.
The years passed. Life, like a water-mill, moved on. People died and were born. Cities were burnt and rebuilt. Alliances were shattered and forged. The nation, too, carried on ticking like the giant grandfather clock that it was, full of cogs and springs and mechanisms. Adrian wasn't sure he knew exactly how to deal with all of it. But he had his father to advise him, with all the experience from years shadowing Uncle Hal's every step, and he had Alice at his side, her gaze warming his chest and her wilting fingertips soothing against the back of his hand. That was more than what King Henry had when he was crowned, and definitely more than what King Richard had, even further back. Adrian wasn't sure how he was going to be a good king, but if they managed it without the help and head start he had, then, he thought, there's hope for him yet. So long as he didn't crumble before the ever-evolving, ever-looming threat of bread fraud, he'd do just fine.
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
This message was edited 8/6/2018, 11:04 AM