Lucien (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
newmodelblade) wrote2029-01-01 12:00 am
newmodelblade) wrote2029-01-01 12:00 amMemory Registry!
A million spinning construction gifs.
To be done when I am far less tired and more sober.
To be done when I am far less tired and more sober.
newmodelblade) wrote2029-01-01 12:00 am
Memory 5: Lucien's First Court
Lucien's head snapped across at the man addressing him. Older by perhaps a decade, his furious expression was diametrically opposed to his fine clothing and coiffed hair. If anything he looked too old for the dandyish way he presented himself, now standing up from the table.
"What is?" Perhaps it was the subtle urging of the Throne, but Lucien's patience had already run incredibly thin with the proceedings; he had explained his course of action several times over the weeks, and had garnered most of the court's support on the matter in private, but now that they were in the public eye this was theatrical.
"We have been at war with these people for centuries, and you simply think that a few speeches, a public tour, and a wedding will make it all go away! We should have reparations for what they have cost, an apology for—"
"For what, precisely? What is it that they owe us anything for, when we have had a mutual war decimate both of our nations for a century? My Great-Grandfather is dead. The Witch Queen is dead. Even with the long lifespans of the Nightkin, there are scarcely any who recall the first days of the war, and the last one who did begged that I find common ground—"
"Because, your highness, he was a subject of the Black Forest! He had been consort of the Witch Queen! He was a sentimental old man who wanted to secure his legacy! The fact that you thought of him so highly has blinded you to-- to what a dishonor you bring upon us with this treaty!" The older man had gone completely red in the face, but seemed to realize he had insulted a hero and the chamber had at least figuratively recoiled from him. "If you were not the heir of Jean-Florent, none would stand with you on this madness, and someone would have cut you down for such foolishness. It is passing absurd that you expect us to accept this!"
There was a long heavy silence, before Lucien also stood up.
"I understand, Good Duke. You are correct in that I leverage my ancestors' name, as is my right as a ruler. But I am not yet Emperor. I do not stand wholly above you, I am not divine made flesh as our kingdom understands."
"Your Highness, what do you—"
He turned to address the knight to his left. "Your sword, if you will. I have been issued a challenge for a duel, if I did not miss my mark."
There was a gasp among those assembled, even as Lucien stood patiently with his hand out, waiting for the blade. The knight hesitated, and when Lucien repeated the gesture, finally provided the weapon.
"You have made it clear that were I not upon the throne, you would cut me down. I am here to offer you the opportunity. Do so. Take my life and birthright; you may then lead the Empire into whatever war you wish."
The nobleman looked aghast, eyes wide, taking a step back for every step Lucien advanced.
"We are both military men. Draw your sword. The time for words has evidently long since passed, and you will find me far less willing to spar with them than Victoria Minervia was." Lucien held the blade up, flat, at nearly eye level; a dueling posture common in the kingdom. "Come, man! Do not let your nerves and reason get the better of you now!"
In the end, it was brief. The Duke, so backed into a corner, drew his blade and rushed the young man. His swings were wild and furious, and the other courtiers went scrambling to avoid them lest they wind up the second casualty of this duel. But it took only a moment for his guard to be battered aside and for Lucien to run him straight through. Rather than hold the man for his last words, as was considered a common nicety in the dueling culture of the kingdom, Lucien pried his blade free and let him fall.
"I am not the heir to Jean-Florent, as the Duke said. His mother, Empress Rosalinda, ruled the empire before him with a merciful eye and a blade in hand. I wish to follow in her footsteps. And if that means an arranged marriage with the new Witch Queen and a pilgrimage to the ancient sites of her people — I bid you all be ready with a wedding party or a revolutionary guard, come this winter. Am I understood?"
There was a long murmur through the crowd, as Lucien bent to clean the sword on the slain man's cape.
"Have the Duke's body remanded to his family. Let them know he died a patriot."
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