21st Cri, 229 2E: Matters for a King

Matters for a King
Summary: The Voice brings up issues of the Crown to the young King.
OOC Date: 21/04/2014 (OOC)
Related: None
Caedmon Tyrel 
Throne Room - Darfield Castle
The feature of the Throne Room of Darfield Castle that draws most eyes immediately is the magnificent throne, raised on a dais at the far end of the room. The Kilgour Family coat of arms, passed down from father to son through the centuries, occupies a place of honor above the royal throne.
A carpet of red softens the path down the center of the white marble floor. To each side of the carpet, stand tall silver vases of Stargazer Lilies and Irises, their heady scent drifting through the air. The cool marble walls have been draped with mingling swathes of purple and silver silk, with touches of white for smooth contrast. Set about the room, tall silver candelabras hold long purple tapers, their soft glow gleaming on the rug and silks. On the balcony above, more swathes of purple and silver silk have been draped.
To the side, there is an almost hidden stairway to the Hall of Chambers. Rioga guards stand on either side of this door, at all hours.
It is day 21 of the month of Cri, 229 2E

Tyrel places his hands to eitherside of the throne, his head lowering once in thought, yet as the door opens his eyes lift up first before his chin follows. He watches impassively as Caedmon enters the throne room, gesturing with his fingers to brush aside the initial sweeps of formality. "Well enough, considering the responses of our timely alliances have yet to be requisitioned fully," he considers Caedmon, "I hope the day will fair better if you have news and suggestions to deal with those who attempt to shortfall us now in our hour of need." He waves Caedmon to proceed with outlining what needs to be addressed.

Caedmon steps closer to the throne when he sees the king's subtle signal to dispense with formalities. "Your majesty, I do have recommendations," Caedmon confirms. "First is a concern from Count Aldren that one of his vassalages, the Barony of Blackforge, needs attention. He has spoken of appointing Lord Braedon Haravean, his young brother, as steward to govern that territory at least temporarily. The count has requested permission to appoint a deputy magistrate to handle routine matters here on his behalf while he returns to Greenshire to attend to that business. While there, the count intends to rally forces from Greenshire to march toward the border to bolster our army."

"If they young lord proves himself worth, I suspect that the count would propose Braedan to become the next baron," Caedmon answers. "Naturally, that would require your approval." He shifts the folio under his arm and then inclines his head. "Then other matters are the laws which Duke Kincaid has recommended. I have provided you with a summary of those, along with his own drafts of the proposals."

"I will consider the matter," is all that is responded to for now on Blackforge. Tyrel shifts to accept the folio as it is presented to him, taking the moment to regard the matters that have been proposed within. He is thorough in reading such transcribes. A brow is lifted at the subject matter, "This seems an odd time for such a law, though by his hand, it is a matter of winning approval from the people and the Temple, both which we are sorely in need of." He takes a minute to consider the proposals before he nods, "The lands will be returned to Duke Ruxton, to dispense with them as he sees fit. Though do notify the Duke that if his family dares another upset against the Crown, we should take more than a widow's fortune." The folio is closed, "Also, have the Master of Laws move forward with his proposition. I would not anger the Temple further by having our lands treat people to punishments reserved for those who have done ill against the Eight. Let my mother's justice end with her."

Caedmon surrenders the folios and waits patiently for the king. When, after a thoughtful pause, Tyrel delivers his decrees, Caedmon replies, "I am sure that Duke Kincaid meant his proposals to appease the people and assure them that you have embarked on a reign of justice, your majesty. I will inform the Count, the Dukes Kincaid and Ruxton, and the Enlightened, of your decisions, your majesty." He bows. "Are there any other matters that you wish for me, as your voice, to convey to the council, the court, or the people?"

Tyrel sits forward, feeling the cramp of sitting on the throne already growing, "My brother," Tyrel tilts his head, "Prince Logen," he clarifies as he has more than one but this the obvious choice, "He has decided to flee the capitol in some manner, of which we do not know. His chambers were empty and I would have you issue commands to find him - discretely. He is not in a right state of mind after my recent decision and I fear he will bring consequences to the realm for it." A firmness in his eyes that holds Caedmon there, "This would also mean the Knights have failed us again. Have our new commander dispense punishment for those knights on duty over Logen. I would have the rioga's realize that losing a Kilgour, be it death or by his own notion of running off, is a dereliction of their duty, which, we will no longer tolerate."

Caedmon frowns darkly at this latest news about Logen, and he draws a deep, steadying breath. "I am … aware of the … difficulty that has arisen between him and Princess Draventa. When I arrived at their suite on the night before you summoned them to discuss the matter, he asked me to give orders for his confinement in the dungeon. If I might be bold to say, running away from a problem does not solve it. Perhaps we should confine him once we have found him. I will speak to the Master at Arms about disciplining the Rioga at once. As for the prince, shall I assign a trusted ranger to lead a small detachment to pursue him?"

Tyrel clenches his jaw tight, the only outward reaction he has to his brother's ask to be confined. The gravity of his brother's mental state has not lost its profound affect on Tyrel, "Ensure he is treated gently, but yes, bring him back and see that he is held until we can have professionals properly assess his state of mind." A nod to the last, "Yes. Have him pursued. If he tries to go to Mantilo himself…He must be stopped," he grits his teeth at that consequence, frowning, "Perhaps Draventa might have an idea of where he would go. I had heard he spoke to her last before he disappeared. Though I suspect he would try for the Rustles Isles." He shakes his head, sitting back, looking across at Caedmon, "Do you have any further information on my brother's state of mind that could be useful to me in understanding this situation better?"

Caedmon nods at the confirmations of how to treat the prince, and again when Tyrel suggests a chat with the princess. "When I saw him, he seemed distraught, almost senseless, with guilt. He swore undying love for Draventa in one breath, and admitted to his … other interest in the next. The servant of the temple, for his part, seemed almost as distraught." He adds, "As you know, when your father dispatched Logen to Westgate, that assigmnet was in part a disciplinary matter. "Perhaps the burden of guilt has become so great that he struggles to carry it. He wanted a priest for confession. Perhaps that was a genuine plea for help. I will organize a small group to find him. If Logen approaches the Grand Duke, that avenue might lead to greater danger. Mantilo is a proud man of strong feelings. I will speak with the princess to see if she has any insights to where he might have gone, although I agree that he might have boarded a ship to head for the island. As you also know, he has long been a friend of sailors."

Tyrel's brows lift, "Other interest? Who? My brother doesn't have the best of reputations to begin with, considering how he came to be wed the first time around," he knits his brow, "But if he has begot a son on some ser…" there he cuts himself off, "The servant of the Temple…" He looks around and then waves Caedmon closer, "Speak to me of what you know of this. I would understand my brother more properly, since he sees fit not to be of sound mind to do it himself." There's a nod for the matter of discipline handed out to Logen once already, becoming rather uncomfortable with the measure of how far lost his brother truly seems to be. "Yes, unfortunately… find him, speak to the sailors if you must. Someone must have seen him leave or had some share of insight for a man paying in gold to keep his acquaintance quiet."

Caedmon steps closer and lweos his voice so that not even the nearby guards can hear. "On the night when I saw him, Logen proclaimed that he had attraction, possibly even love, for the priest," Caedmon explains. "Whatever his feelings, they were enough to distress the princess to the point of tears. In the paste, he had his reputation, but as a chaser of women, not … this." He pauses. "I could be wrong, but I think that more than anything, Logen is seeking an answer to who he is, what he is, and how he fits into the family."

Tyrel looks almost sick at the admission, clearly his breath lost to him as the Voice informs him of this most distressing news, "Say nothing of this to no one. If you have told anyone of this, buy their silence, with gold, or an arrow to the chest if necessary." He closes his eyes and heaves a breath, "We cannot know what is in his mind without having him here. Though if he means to find out who he is like this, he is surely off course…" There is a hand that rubs at his forehead, before he settles his chin into his palm, looking over at Caedmon, "What would you do, if it was your brother?"

Caedmon shakes his head when the king warns him to silence. "The matter shames our house and that of the princess. It also might cause difficulty in our standing with the Rustle Island. No one will know." He bites his bottom lip when asked what he would do. "Your majesty, when my father died in battle some years ago, my mother fell into inconsolable grief that robbed her of her mind. She now lives in Sky Forrest, at one of the temples there, under the care of healers. Unless your brohter recovers his senses, a similar fate might be best for him."

"I want to know more about the Priest in question as well," his eyes lift toward Caedmon, a dangerous hardness to them, "As well as what we can do… to ensure that he is no longer a distraction for my brother. This is a shame we need to burry and quickly, yet, avoid consequences from Enlightened authorities." He sighs, clearly disgruntled by this whole affair, listening to Caedmon's suggestion of what the end result might indeed be, "Let us hope then he reclaims his senses, for he is young and such a life in confinement of the Eight, while blessed, would be long indeed." He gestures that he is quite finished talking of such matters now, asking, "And are there any other matters I should be aware of, before we allow the courtiers to come forward with their own pleas?"

Caedmon bows. "My wife and I have dealt with the priest on a few occasions, majesty," he answers. "He seems to suffer from anxieties. I last saw him on that fateful night. It is he who urged me to speak to Logen. He said that the prince needed help, and then he begged for permission to return to the temple to consult with his superiors. It is possible that the lad himself was disturbed by this development. If you wish, I will summon him here to speak with you when your schedule permits." He glances to the door, and concludes, "I think that under the circumstances, some 'petty problems' might serve actually as diversion from this weight."

Tyrel nods, "Perhaps if you have dealt with him, you might better speak with him before I do." He also looks towards the door and seems to agree with that sentiment, "Petty problems may yet turn into larger problems. Though the distraction will serve. Yet, I will need to take rest before long. Allow them in then." How -did- his father make this look so easy. He straightens and waits for the doors to admit the first of many petitioners to come calling on him and the Crown.

Caedmon bows once more and heads toward the door. He pauses to instruct the guards. "One case at a time, and if there are several who have come for the same case, allow each to speak to his majesty separately. Do not admit a group." They open the door, again just enough for Caedmon to slip through the passage and into the clamor of the foyer.

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