newmodelblade | Memory Registry!

Memory Registry!

A million spinning construction gifs.

To be done when I am far less tired and more sober.

Lucien sits in the study of a grand building, one that he recognizes as a formal manor home for the royal family attached to a local fort. Across from him, his elder brother, who for all the world would be identical to Lucien were it not for the missing eye and scarring on his face. Between them, an ornate chess board, clearly a display piece, that the two had pulled down that evening. Lucien's mind is wracked with frustration that, even after two years of training at the academy, his brother could still best them as though he was a child.

"Do you really not get it, Luci?" the older man chides him, smirking in a way that makes the pit of Lucien's stomach get hot and then cold with irritation.

"I— I concede that you really are a brilliant mind, still. I just don't know how you manage every time!" The words sting on his lips and the back of his throat.

"Ah, Luci, Luci... I'll tell you, then, as a graduation gift. It's the same trick I've been playing since we were boys. You've always been so into paying attention to your surroundings, so willing to jump up at a moment's notice, that you never notice when I palm and move a piece." The other man laughs and gestures at two pawns. "A moment ago, that was a square back. Useless in its position then; but you caught movement on the grounds and that second was all I needed."

"Oh. I see. How... simple." Lucien found himself not quite readily responding or in full control of his facilities at that revelation. Then, his brother laughed, and after a moment to register the sound, Lucien threw the board and the table aside and jumped from his seat, across the space between them, already throwing the first blow.

Takeaways

Lucien is perhaps not the best chess player in the world...
He is earnest, attentive to his surroundings, and a bit impulsive.
But he also has an absolute willingness to not take injustice even from the people whom he cares about.
The end of his formal education was two years in the nation's military academy; presumably he knows something about fighting and military tactics because of this.
He has at least two brothers, since he recognizes this one to be the eldest of them.
Apparently nobody he's close with ever seems to call him more than Luci. No respect from big bro. :(

Edited 2019-06-14 22:40 (UTC)

Lucien is exhausted -- he is a young man, scarcely more than a boy. It is the early hours of the morning. He appears to be on the mustering grounds of a fort or redoubt, though it is clearly a time of relative peace given how the primary feelings at the moment were more of irritation at the lack of sleep, and the want to return to bed where it was warm and soft. Then, from seeming nowhere, a sharp pain in his collarbone, enough to make him see starbursts and immediately have to blink back a few tears. His eyes refocus; an older man man now stands before him, holding the cane as if it were a sword at en garde.

"Sleeping, your highness? That will not do! The enemy is always ready to take advantage of your weakness. Perhaps... a morning jog will do you good?"

Takeaways:

Lucien evidently didn't get favorable treatment during his stint at the academy.
The training had to have lasted longer than two years; perhaps the majority of his education occurred here?
This old man was someone who he respected if he endured that with no comment and all attempts to show a stoic front.
Said old man had to have been high ranking to be doing that; even if he wasn't receiving special treatment he did just strike a royal scion with no consequences.
The war between the Empire and the Forest must have cycled hot and cold several times even in Lucien's lifetime, if his younger self was concerned with that.
That hurts his shoulder just to think about... ;~;

Lucien stands on the balcony of the royal promenade. His sister, the current interim ruler, has taken ill, and Lucien was the royal heir most connected to the military of the Golden Empire. The men and women on the field are professionals, dressed in finery normally reserved for celebration -- but the occasion is somber, the atmosphere oppressive.

Lucien had not wanted for parental figures in his life, but the old Grand Marshall had been chief among them. He had taught the young prince what he knew of warfare; not logistics and tactics, but of battlefield realities. And with the fatal nature of The Throne, the man had been what Lucien imagined a grandfather was like.

"I will speak briefly, as the Grand Marshall was not a man for speeches. For over a century, we have stood at the precipice of war with our neighbors, another conflict like the one my Great-Grandfather led us through. The Grand Marshall told me in great detail of those days. Despite being our army's commander, he had no desire to return to them. As such, we honor that. We have relayed word of his passing to our enemies; as you know, The Grand Marshall once served as the Knight Commander of the Black Forest. We hope that, in honoring his death, they will join us in accords, and there may be peace in our time."

The crowd broke into a bit of a restless murmur at that, only quieting when Lucien waved to bid the Commandant to begin the funeral procession. He stood, watching them walk past, and hoped he and his sister had made the right choice.

Takeaways:

Even if we don't have his name, Lucien knows who the old man was now—the Grand Marshall of the Empire and former Lord Commander of the Knights.
Also apparently the closest thing he had to a grandfather?
Also the memory references father figures, suggesting that his parents are also dead. This war has churned through the royal family in great number.
Actually it is a bit worrisome than in this memory Lucien is thinking of a sister and nothing about any brothers; it suggests they're also dead or similarly out of the picture.
He has also been cut in on the decision making and he notes his sister's rule is transitory; this is probably his first address as the Crown Prince.
At least at the start here, Lucien is not one given over to big speeches.
Lucien has had it impressed upon him the horrors of war, and apparently unlike many other nobles has no desire for the ongoing conflict to return from cold with occasional sparks to a hot, total war.
Peace talks with the Black Forest were apparently a mutual desire on both parts' sides.

Lucien stands at the bedside of a woman not much older than him, also blonde. It is spring; the curtains in the opulent bedroom have been opened to let in natural light. The two have mostly been watching each other in silence. Her once similarly green eyes have gone bright red; he know it, along with a great deal of other differences, are a side-effect of the magical corruption she has endured in her service to the kingdom.

"The physicians tell me that they expect you to make a full recovery, Euphrosinia." He offers, a bit tepidly, because concern and the awkward circumstances of the situation.

"So they tell me.. But why so formal, brother?" She asks him. Her voice is dry and chiding.

"Oh! I suppose that I have been making so many public appearances that I scarcely remember who I am addressing!" Lucien offers in return, even managing to laugh. He feels a slight chill down his spine when she smiles. It is his relief that he does not have to explain that he tried addressing her by her birth name, Renée, as a sister, and she did not recognize it.

Takeaways

So our assumptions that the nobles older than Lucien were dead might have been both a touch hasty and optimistic.
The reason everyone close to him calls him Luci is that apparently the nobles get a different name when they ascend the throne, so this is a further sign of intimacy.
Something about ruling the kingdom works some great changes upon the people who do so, body, mind and soul.
In this case it seems to have done something drastic to her, if she did not even respond to her birth name yet is still cognizant enough of it to chide Lucien for not using it.
By the time Euphrosinia was no longer able to rule the kingdom, Lucien was having to step up to do public appearances. Given how old he in this memory he would have still been a student in the academy. No wonder he was falling asleep all the time.
But given he wasn't pulled out of the academy to rule, it suggests this is not the sister from the previous memory. Lucien must have at least four siblings, two brothers, two sisters, and he may very well be the youngest?

"Your higness, this is madness!"

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."

Takeaways

Dueling is legal in the empire!
Lucien is far more intense when he has the power of the throne backing him.
The war is immensely unpopular but for whatever reason the nobles feel there is some reason to keep it going on, still.
His mentor was the consort of the Witch Queen... So was possibly Naeva's father?
Lucien was notably using a popular dueling style in the kingdom for effect, which suggests that this was not his preferred style.
Apparently he's not very fond of the emperor who started this war...
He is however a fan of the Empress before them, though.
Apparently a marriage alliance was proposed and he said yes?

Edited 2019-06-15 00:28 (UTC)

He had not expected the air to retain such a chill, even in the summer. It had been five weeks since he had taken the throne, and he had left for the Forest some week ago. It had been a long path through warstrewn territory, with people crowding to see the Crown Prince who had sworn to do everything to end the war once and for all. Even among the Nightkin, he had been granted this sort of reverence. But two days before the path had become treacherous and slow-going, and this morning, the horses had stopped and refused to go any further. Something terrified them.

Lucien had bid his coachmen and the guard farewell and send them back to the empire, continuing the trek on foot. The forest was vast and looked untamed; only the road before him seemed to suggest anyone lived within it. Yet strangely, he wasn't afraid. He felt the invitation had a warmth of its own, as though it had stretched out a long ribbon before him that he need only pull himself along.

At last, he found himself walking up a path in the woods up a hill. As he passed, the torches lit themselves, each one in unison, merely a step before him. They led up to the grand front gates, already opened. Still, he felt the need to say something.

"I am Crown Prince Lucien Margelidon! Soon to be Emperor Hadrianus VIII! I have come to talk of peace between our people, and a marriage to rejoin what was unjustly sundered before it could be wholly joined! Will you meet with me?"

...The answer was not spoken, but, as he looked ahead, the grand front doors swung open, and a woman, pale and beautiful, stood in them.

Takeaways

Hey that's Naeva! :D
The Forest is truly alive, not just in the biological sense either. It is a magical land that is clearly connected.
While some nobles may have complained, the common people on both sides are desperate for peace, so ultimately this is the right choice.
Magic is much more prevalent here than it was in the empire, and the empire is not magic poor by any means.
Why is it so cold tho???? D:

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Memory Registry!

Memory 1: Lucien and his Eldest Brother

Memory 2: Lucien at the Military Academy

Memory 3: Lucien Gives a Eulogy

Memory 4: The Fate of His Eldest Sister

Memory 5: Lucien's First Court

Memory 6: Lucien Arrives at Schloss Dos Martos