The Rebuilding--Chapter One

[Evie]

The Rebuilding

Chapter One

January 1, 1465
The King's Way
City of Rhemuth
Afternoon

The bells at the Cathedral of Saint George and throughout the City of Rhemuth pealed in celebration as the newly crowned King and Queen of Gwynedd and their retinue processed back towards the Castle high above the city after their Coronation. Thousands of people lined the streets to watch as their beloved King Nicholas Haldane rode past them alongside his beautiful consort, Queen Catherine, formerly of Andelon, their voices lifting in loud cheers as the procession moved past them.

One particular watcher did not lift his voice along with everyone else. He merely watched thoughtfully as he took in the splendor of the royal display, the dazzling crimson and gold of the King and Queen's clothing and their retainers' livery, the expense of the public celebrations as fountains of wine flowed yet again in the public squares and various food merchants had been supplied with funding from the royal purse to see to it that those who turned out in droves to celebrate the Haldanes' Coronation were well fed. If they could spend so lavishly on a day of merrymaking, surely they could afford a little extra to send his way. He deserved the recompense, after all. It was the least they could do for the expenses he'd been paying for the past nine years to feed and clothe the little Haldane by-blow brat his slut of a wife had foisted upon him.

One particular face in the procession caused him to narrow his eyes in barely suppressed anger. The features were all too familiar; he saw their smaller image daily under his roof.

The watcher took a swig of the free wine he had refilled his flask with. Emma might have made a fool of him, trapping him into wedding her with her smiles and wiles, but he would have the last laugh. These bloody arrogant Haldanes would pay also. Fire him, would they, just because his work had slipped a bit when he'd felt a little unwell for a few mornings in a row after a few nights out on the town? Just because that horse the current King's late father liked so well had turned up dead because he'd not noticed a few weeds that had got mixed in with the stallion's feed? Bah! He hadn't needed that job anyway. He'd quickly enough found another to replace it, and another after that one when it turned out not to be the sort of position a man of his talents deserved. These days, he just did odd jobs now and then. The Jouvians had stolen his horses, leaving him without a steady job again, but dealing with horses was too much hard work anyhow, now that he could just send his woman out to earn their upkeep instead. Emma was still good for that much, if nothing else. She wasn't so pretty anymore, but she'd do what she was told if she knew what was good for her, or he'd beat her some more until she was a proper wife and obeyed him. A man had to eat, after all, and food wasn't as easy to come by these days, now that there'd been a war. After all, they had two other little mouths to feed now besides the little Haldane cuckoo she'd brought to the family nest as her bloody dowry.

#

January 1, 1465
The King's Way
City of Rhemuth
Afternoon

The Dowager Queen Alixa breathed a small sigh of relief as the royal procession made its way back towards the castle. It had been nice to get out of the castle grounds for a bit, and the Coronation ceremony had been lovely--even more elaborate than hers and Cinhil's had been, forced by necessity as they'd been to scale theirs down both for the sake of her lord's health and due to the war that was imminent at the time--but she was still unused to spending so many hours at a time away from her infant daughter.

At least in the few months since the end of her confinement and her churching, she had been able to take the opportunity to venture out more and learn more skills she had not had time to focus on developing while she'd been Cinhil's primary caregiver. She felt secure enough now on a horse to opt for riding in the procession today rather than being drawn in a carriage, an accomplishment which likely seemed small to most of the residents of Rhemuth, or at least among those who were noble born, but it was a skill she had not been allowed much opportunity to learn in Joux and had little time to improve upon after moving to Gwynedd until quite recently. Camber had assisted her with finding one of the gentlest mounts in the royal stables, and they had gone riding out frequently when the weather was mild enough, as it was a skill she knew she would be expected to know once she returned to the kingdom of her birth.

She still thought of Joux that way, not as my kingdom, but merely as the kingdom of my birth. Learning to think of herself as the Heiress to Joux might well be a more difficult transition for her to make than simply learning to be away from her daughter for longer periods at a time. It was a transition she would need to make nonetheless, for her father King Renier showed no signs of eventual recovery, and while he was functioning well enough at the moment (if one could call it that, given that he was almost fully paralyzed aside from his eyes and the ability to swallow small sips or spoonfuls of soft food with a Healer's assistance), there were limits to how long even dedicated around-the-clock Healer care would be able to keep his body working well enough to continue in his present state. His body was declining even if his mind and will had not, which had caused the need to set training controls in his mind once it had been determined that he was still in full possession of his Deryni faculties and might yet prove to be a danger to others.

Being trapped as a prisoner within his own body had done nothing to sweeten Renier's disposition. One of the few powers left to him was Mind-Speech, and he used that remaining ability to rant silently at his Healers and the members of Joux's Ruling Council--imposed upon him by his hated suzerain the Hort of Orsal–whenever he had the chance. As his heir, Alixa was by default a member of the Ruling Council also, yet due to her recent bereavement followed by the birth of Cinhil's child, she had been given a short reprieve from having to show up in person to discharge her duties, instead receiving updates and relaying messages back to the Council by means of dispatches carried back and forth by Gwynedd's Ambassador to Joux. Now that she had recovered her strength and her duties to her late husband's kingdom were greatly reduced, she would need to return to Joux soon, at least for short intervals at a time, to participate more fully in the Council's decision-making and start learning her future responsibilities until it was time for her to take up the crown and burden of sovereignty over a kingdom she barely knew. She did not want the Ruling Council to assume she intended to remain an absentee heir, or worse, an absentee queen, allowing them to take full sovereignty over her kingdom while she sat by passively on the sidelines, allowing men without a single drop of Buyenne-Furstán blood between them to usurp her birthright.

Prince Camber, riding alongside her in the procession, caught Alixa's eye. How are you holding up? he asked her via Mind-Speech, glancing down at the horse she was still not all that accustomed to riding.

I'm fine, though it's just as well we're only a short distance from the Castle. If I don't collect Cynewyn from the nursery soon, I'm going to start mooing like a distressed dairy cow! A split second later, as the rest of her brain caught up with the unfiltered thought she'd just let slip past her shields, she turned rosy with belated embarrassment as beside her she saw her escort's shoulders shake with silent laughter. Sweet Jesu, sometimes she was a little too comfortable with Camber! She supposed that would be an asset once they were married, but for now while she was still mourning his brother, and while they were still not quite officially betrothed, there was a little awkwardness in this strange not-quite-related, not-just-friends but not-yet-more relationship between them.

Camber shot her a glance filled with barely suppressed mirth. I'll head straight to the nursery and let Lucie and Betsy know you have need of your child just as soon as we get home, if you want to go straight up to your apartment and get settled in while waiting on her to bring Cynewyn. The last thing I want is for you to start mooing so loudly as we enter the bailey that the Royal Chef gets confused and serves you up at tonight's feast!

#

January 1, 1465
The Cathedral of St. George
City of Rhemuth
Afternoon

Melisande de Northwode along with her daughters had been invited to attend the Coronation, and for once she had braved the crowds of Rhemuth (although facing them still caused more than a slight twinge of trepidation) so that her young daughters by the new King could see their father being crowned, not wishing to deprive them of witnessing such a historic occasion, not to mention one so deeply meaningful to their father. There had been a few whispers when she'd turned up for the ceremony, as Mellie had expected, but for the most part they were not the sort of nasty, mean-spirited whispers that she'd been subjected to in the past. Instead, the quiet murmurs she had happened to overhear were mostly curious, speculating on how she had managed to win their new Queen's support rather than her animosity, given that everyone had expected them to be natural rivals for the King's affections. Mellie privately wondered the same. She had gotten to know Colin's wife well enough to realize the woman, although kind and gracious, was hardly a saint, so that made her willingness to extend her protection to her husband's former paramour and natural-born children even more baffling. Not that Mellie wasn't grateful, far from it! It was such a nice change to be able to attend a public event and not get pilloried for it, at least figuratively if not literally.

Their son Balian had attended the Coronation as well, but as he was now his father's page, he had been allowed to process in and out of the Cathedral with the squires and pages of the Royal Household. Mellie missed her eldest son. He was growing up so quickly, and his new duties and training kept him very busy, although he still made time to spend a few hours each week with her and his sisters. All too soon, however, Mellie knew such visits would come to an end, or at least would be far less frequent, for she had just recently been informed by Colin of the dowager queen Alixa's plan to marry Prince Camber sometime in the next year, once she was out of official mourning for the late King, because she would need a consort in order for the Hort to confirm her as Heiress to Joux. If Prince Camber was meant to follow his future wife to Joux, that would mean his newly-formed household would go with him, and that could include Balian, for it was Colin's intention to transfer Balian into Camber's household for a year or two in order to increase their son's educational opportunities by exposing him to different customs and cultures besides their own.

"Are you ready to head back?" asked Master Devyn McLain, returning to her side after briefly absenting himself to speak to another of the King's guests, and stooping to pick up Emmeline when she reached up for him in happy recognition.

"Yes, thank you," she replied, feeling a little self-conscious. She had accepted his gallant offer to escort them to the Cathedral earlier that morning, having known Devyn for years, and thinking it would be nice to have some friendly support while watching the man she'd loved and lost being anointed and crowned along with his beautiful young Queen. But it had belatedly occurred to her that being seen in public with a man might lead to speculation that there was more to their relationship than simple friendship, and that potential awkwardness was amplified by her growing suspicion that it was more than simple friendship from her that Devyn wanted. Not that she thought he was assuming, like some others had, that now that she was no longer sharing Colin's bed, she would be looking to move on to another protector. But unlike most other royal mistresses, she had not made herself available to Colin because she was simply interested in material rewards or influence. Theirs had been a love of the heart, a relationship started with the full intention of legitimizing it if they could gain the necessary royal consent. That consent had never been given, and now it was far too late. Mellie was very fond of Devyn, but her heart was still too bruised to even consider turning to him for anything more than friendship, and even if it hadn't been, she dared not marry anyone and risk the hazards of childbirth again. Yet she worried if offering him even simple friendship might be leading him to have unrealistic expectations that someday she might be willing to offer him more.

#

January 1, 1465
The Cathedral of St. George
City of Rhemuth
Afternoon

"Mi padre," Princess Esmeralda of Andelon teased her father, "I am very sorry to have to disappoint you, but you are no longer the handsomest man in the Eleven Kingdoms."

King Mikhail, visiting Rhemuth along with his second-eldest daughter to witness his eldest daughter Catalina's Coronation, arched a sable eyebrow at the impertinent minx beside him, an amused gleam in his eye. "Am I not? Well, I am afraid King Nicholas is already taken, and I'm certain you've heard the rumors about how handy your sister is with a scimitar."

Esmeralda laughed. "I'll admit her Colin is very high on that list of world's handsomest men as well, but I was actually talking about that one. What can you tell me about him?" She glanced towards a man standing ahead of them and on the other side of the aisle, tilting her head very subtly in his direction as she Sent an image of the object of her admiration into her father's mind. Mikhail chuckled.

"That's Cormac, the Ard-Tiarna of Llyr. At least he's of suitable rank and station for you, though if you are hoping to catch his eye, you might have to queue up. However, I do happen to be somewhat acquainted with his sister, if you would like for me to arrange an introduction to her instead."

"Even if his sister is equally attractive, I am certain she would suit me less well," Esmeralda joked.

Mikhail shook his head in mock despair. "I meant if the Banoidhre finds you equally suitable to be introduced to her brother, she might be willing to arrange that. Since I have only met the man once, for me to introduce you might come across a bit like me trying to throw a daughter at him. I am not so desperate to marry you off just yet that I'm willing to toss you at him like a dart at a dartboard, hoping you might hit the target and stick."

His daughter stifled a laugh. "I am not so desperate to be married off that I would be willing to be stuck with the man before knowing if he is as equally attractive on the inside. Though I certainly wouldn't say No to an introduction." She glanced over to where her tutor, newly returned to the Court of Andelon, was catching up with her sister's weapons master, Don Salim. "Do you think Don Riordan knows the Ard-Tiarna well enough to arrange for one also, if you don't have a chance to speak with the Banoidhre while you're here?"

"Possibly, since they are cousins, but as Don Riordan was born and raised in Andelonia, he would know his Llyrian relatives less well than the man's own sister. I'll see if I can arrange a meeting with Aoife of Llyr before I head back home tonight. If not, I'm certain Colin and Catalina can introduce you. I think Cormac's youngest sister Saoirse is also still here in Rhemuth, pursuing some studies in the Healing Arts at the Cathedral Schola." Mikhail glanced at Esmeralda. "Banfhlaith Saoirse is fairly close to you in age, I think. Perhaps a little older, but not by much."

"I want to look into the Schola curriculum anyway," said the princess, "while I am here, just to see how it compares to ours back home. And I'm also quite curious about their library."

"I'm certain Catalina will be glad for you to have the opportunity to see both while you are here at her husband's Court," said Mikhail. "Three months of supervised exposure to a foreign court should prove a beneficial learning experience for you."

"As opposed to just throwing me straight into deep water by marrying me off to some unknown Prince whose kingdom is on the verge of war, like you did with Catalina?" Esme joked. "I don't imagine Llyr is on the verge of being invaded by anyone right now, are they?"

"Dios mio, mija, I will certainly miss you in your absence, but it will be nice to have a brief holiday from your sassy tongue!" her father replied, his grin taking the sting out of his words.

#

January 1, 1465
The King's Way
City of Rhemuth
Afternoon

Joscelin Morgan, Duke of Corwyn, rode in the procession just a short distance behind the newly-crowned King and Queen of Gwynedd, struggling to keep his mind on his surroundings to help ensure no one in the crowd would present a danger to the sovereign or consort. Normally he was fully attentive to such tasks, but his composure had been rattled by having to spend much of the day seated altogether too close to the woman he loved and the man she had been forced by political necessity to marry seven years earlier.

Every time he thought his heart was nearly healed, some circumstance or another would bring Miranda, formerly Princess Royal of Gwynedd but now the Queen of Orsal and Tralia, back into his sphere, and the scab would be ripped off the inner wound once again. One would think he might have grown used to the injury by now.

Someone in the crowd drew his eye, and for a brief moment Morgan was not entirely sure why, for the man looked more or less like any other Rhemuth denizen of the less affluent sort, although at a closer look, something about him looked vaguely familiar. The King's Champion could not place where he had seen the man before, but he knew this was not the first time their paths had crossed. The surly-looking churl was staring at Prince Camber with a look of undisguised hatred.

Camber! Joss Morgan hastily warned the prince, his mind utterly diverted from Miranda Haldane for the moment as he continued to watch the man warily. Watch out for the lanky brown-haired man in the stained russet jerkin on the right side of the street. He Sent the prince a swift mental image of the semi-familiar face he had spotted glaring at Camber. I don't know if he means to put action to that glare, but if looks could kill....

...I'd be dead already, agreed Camber, urging his horse slightly forward, instinctively moving into a better position from which he could block any potential attack from that side from reaching Dowager Queen Alixa, Joss noted. Camber's keen eyes scanned the crowd for the man as well, but both the prince and the King's Champion watched as the hostile watcher turned and staggered off into the crowd.

#

January 1, 1465
Rhemuth Castle
The Lower Bailey
Late Afternoon

The open carriage containing the King and Queen rolled through the gatehouse and came to a stop in the lower bailey, where Queen Catherine, now nearly eight months heavy with Gwynedd's heir, was assisted out of the carriage by their Master of the Horse.

Nicholas descended from the carriage, offering his arm to his wife. "How are you feeling? Do you need a nap before tonight's feast?"

Catalina shook her head as they stepped out of the way of the others arriving behind them. "There'll be time enough for long naps after the baby is born, once I'm in my confinement. Right now I just want to find Papá and Esmeralda. I don't imagine they've arrived back at the Castle yet...."

"Ahead of us?" Nicholas chuckled. "I very much doubt it, Impatient One. And it's not as if you won't be seeing them even more in future."

The two had already decided along with King Mikhail that Princess Esmeralda would remain in Gwynedd with them in the coming months, both to help Catalina as her due date steadily grew closer, and also to give Esmeralda some experience in navigating intercultural differences in a foreign court. Widening her opportunities to meet suitable potential husbands was also a possibility, though somewhat lower on her father's priority list.

Once the Heir's birth was imminent, Queen Noora would also arrive to assist her eldest daughter through the birth and the month of confinement. Then after Catalina was fully recovered from the birth and had been churched, Nicholas had promised her that she could accompany her mother and sister back to Andelon and spend a week visiting with her younger siblings in the warmer clime of Andelon before returning to her duties in Rhemuth.

Whether or not he would allow her to bring Gwynedd's newborn heir with her was still a matter up for fierce debate, though Nicholas was beginning to worry that his Queen was going to win a decisive victory in that matter also. It had not helped his case that Mellie, somehow getting wind of the disagreement, had tartly reminded him that had anyone attempted to separate her from one of their newborn children for more than a few hours, much less a week, they would have had to pry the child out of her cold, dead fingers first. But if he thought to delay Catalina's visit to Andelon for too much longer, until he deemed a brief absence from Rhemuth to be safer for their young child, she was likely to lose the opportunity of spending time with her entire family one more time, for Esmeralda had already reached an age to marry and the next oldest sister was not that far behind. It was not like a one-second jump through a Transfer Portal would make it impossible for mother and child to make it back home swiftly or for one of the Queen's Deryni ladies to fetch them home at once if some emergency happened to arise while they were visiting abroad. Even a mere human like Mellie could figure out that much.

With the mother of his other children quite staunchly in the Queen's corner on this matter, Nicholas decided he might as well go ahead and find some suitable scrap of white fabric to hang from the parapet in surrender. At least the climate in Andelon in late March ought to be better suited for a month-old Prince than the bitter cold they would likely still have here in Gwynedd.

#

January 1, 1465
Rhemuth Castle
The Great Hall
Evening

Lord Sebastian Arilan took a swift look around the Great Hall from his vantage point at the screens passage, taking in the huge crowd of people in attendance for the celebratory feast. Some of the visiting dignitaries had already come and gone from Rhemuth, having arrived the day before, or some even arriving earlier, in time for Christmas Court, which had both marked the beginning of the twelve days of Christmas festivities and also had become an occasion for presenting Coronation gifts to the soon-to-be-crowned King and Queen.

Enough important guests still remained that most seats in the Great Hall had been filled, and the High Table extended to make room for the crowned heads of Andelon, Beldouria, and Llyr as well as the King and Queen being honored in the day's festivities. Sebastian's lips twitched with amusement as he noticed the Queen Mother seated one table below the dais, perhaps for the first time since her marriage to the late King Uthyr, seeming a little bemused by the novelty of sitting below the high table for possibly the first time since early childhood, yet enjoying herself nonetheless. She tilted her head to hear what her granddaughter Anneke was saying. To Sebastian's knowledge, this was the first court feast the King's daughter had been allowed to attend, having learned enough of proper deportment for a child of her age and status to be permitted to participate in such a public event due to the nature of the occasion, although Mellie's youngest two children were still confined to the Royal Nursery, the feast ahead extending well past Emmeline's bedtime even if she was on her best behavior, and of course tiny Cole cared little about anything yet beyond being kept dry, fed, and held.

Mellie herself was not in the Hall either. Sebastian felt sure she must have been invited, but he could understand how difficult a day this had probably been for her. He'd been a little surprised to see her at the Coronation ceremony earlier, quite honestly.

Sebastian's gaze slid across to the table on the opposite side of the hall, where Prince Camber and Queen Alixa seemed caught up in some sort of humorous conversation with Princess Richeldis and her husband Prince Philippe of Bremagne. The Princess appeared to be as far along in her pregnancy as Queen Catherine was in hers. Beside the Dowager Queen sat her younger sister, Princess Cécile, and as usual whenever Sebastian happened to spot the Jouvian princess, his heart skipped a beat. She was absent her usual companion, for Saoirse of Llyr had requested and received permission to act as her brother Cormac's table squire, serving him at the High Table that evening in order to spend as much time as possible with him before his return to Llyr.

Cécile chose that moment to look around the Hall, a forlorn look on her face. Catching his gaze, she gave him a slight nod and a fleeting smile before returning her attention to her meal. The smile gave him a faint reason for hope. Even if she associated his presence with painful memories, at least she was willing enough to be cordial nonetheless.

#

January 1, 1465
Five miles southeast of Rhemuth
A peasant's hovel
Late night

Toby Pratt curled up under his thin blanket and pretended to be asleep like his younger brother and sister were. He could hear his father outside, stumbling his way up the short path from the village of Bourton atte Molling up the hill towards their small cottage. It wasn't his footsteps on the muddy path Toby could hear so much as the angry muttering that increased in volume as the man slowly approached the door.

Jarvis wasn't Toby's actual father, of course. No one had made a pretense of actually believing that for years now, at least not within the small confines of these four walls they lived in. Outside, where others might see them, he was required to act the dutiful son, no matter how badly he or his mother were treated, and refer to the hateful drunkard Toby's Ma was married to as "Pa," and act properly subservient and eager to please. Toby had done his best when he was younger, trying to earn the love of a man who appeared incapable of loving anything but strong drink. But he was nine now, and had long since realized Jarvis wasn't worth the bother of trying to please, aside from the bare minimum required to preserve his own skin.

Toby wasn't even his real name. His Ma had asked the midwife to baptize him under a different one when he was born, she'd once confided after he'd figured out the reason Jarvis hated him, though why she'd bothered, Toby had no idea. But Toby was the name Ma had told Jarvis that she'd named him, once his purported father had managed to drag himself back home after celebrating his birth at the village alehouse. At the time, perhaps it had even been a proper celebration. Toby was unclear when it was that Jarvis had figured out the child his wife had given birth to was not his own blood kin after all. According to Ma, Jarvis was not as given to frequent drunken binges back in those days. It had only happened once or twice a month back then, not almost nightly whenever Jarvis could manage to scrape together enough coins for the brewer to keep pouring whenever his most frequent customer could see the bottom of his tankard.

He could hear Ma behind the makeshift curtain, a thin linen sheet tossed over a rafter to separate the children's corner of the room from where she and Jarvis slept, the sole concession to privacy their home allowed, unless one counted the tiny privy in the back garden. She had been crying quietly, thinking him asleep, but now as the door creaked open, announcing her husband's return home, the crying ended abruptly with little more than a tiny sniff or hitched breath. Ma wouldn't want Jarvis to catch her crying; he would only threaten to give her more reasons to cry if she didn't stop sniveling at once. She needn't have bothered pretending to sleep; Jarvis immediately strode across the small room to yank her out of bed.

"Did you make anything tonight? Hand it over."

"I put it in the coin pot like I always do," she answered quietly. "Don't wake the children."

"I'll wake them if I want to, you useless cow," Jarvis replied as he walked across to the kitchen shelf to check the small pot where Ma put her earnings if she had any. It was empty more often than not, either because she hadn't managed to bring home any money that evening (which would result in a beating if that was the case) or because Jarvis had already taken it to spend. Toby knew his mother also kept a coin or two back whenever she could, hidden away in a pouch tucked inside her skirts, because if she didn't, they'd not have any money to afford food or other necessities aside from whatever their small garden could supply, then she'd be beaten for not supplying those needs also. There must have been enough in the coin pot to mollify him, for he merely grunted as he pocketed Ma's earnings.

Jarvis crossed over to the one small lockable chest that contained what few possessions he owned that were of any value, stashing the coins in there. The faint clink of them landing on what sounded like other coins surprised Toby; it was rare for Jarvis to have more coins on hand than what might provide for the next evening's drinking binge. He heard another rare grunt of satisfaction from Ma's husband. "Aye, that should be sufficient."

"Sufficient for what?" Ma ventured to ask.

"None of your business," snarled Jarvis as he locked the chest before pulling the leather thong necklace which held the key back over his head, tucking the key securely into his shirt. Stripping off his muddy hose and stained jerkin, he tossed both to the side–Toby heard them land on the packed earth floor–and headed toward the bed. "Move over, woman." The bed ropes creaked as Jarvis's weight settled onto the thin mattress. Toby hoped he was too tired or drunk to do anything but sleep; Ma needed some rest. She'd been up since dawn because little Silas had awakened with an earache.

"I'll be wanting breakfast early. Toby and I will be heading into Rhemuth at first light."

"Why are you taking Toby to Rhemuth?" asked Ma, the alarm in her voice echoing what Toby felt, although mingled with his fear was an undercurrent of excitement as well. Normally he quite liked the novelty of visiting the great capital city, but the few times he'd gone, it hadn't been in Jarvis's company, or at least not with him alone.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out. Now quit your yammering, slut; I need my rest."


Next Chapter: https://rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,3533.0.html

[tmcd]

Creating an item on my calendar: event, recurring, every Sunday and Wednesday, no end date, description "Hate Jarvis Pratt".

[Evie]

Creating an item on my calendar: event, recurring, every Sunday and Wednesday, no end date, description "Hate Jarvis Pratt".

Oh, come now! I'm sure he's a perfectly charming fellow when he's not drunk!

...


...


...


Or maybe not.

[QuasiSparklz]

Creating an item on my calendar: event, recurring, every Sunday and Wednesday, no end date, description "Hate Jarvis Pratt".

The way his name sounds really seems to match his character, too. You can really spit it out of your mouth when talking about him.

[Evie]

Creating an item on my calendar: event, recurring, every Sunday and Wednesday, no end date, description "Hate Jarvis Pratt".

The way his name sounds really seems to match his character, too. You can really spit it out of your mouth when talking about him.

Preferably with a strong mouthwash. 

[Jerusha]

Not a likeable sort at all. Not feeling comfortable about Toby going to Rhemuth with him.

[Evie]

Not a likeable sort at all. Not feeling comfortable about Toby going to Rhemuth with him.

It's possible Jarvis is up to something, and that the something he is up to is probably no good.

[Laurna]

The first mention of a wrong-side of the blanket born Haldane, first had me questioning from which Haldane.  I mean Cinhil was not healthy enough, Col was locked into the love of one woman and I presume no others, and Camber was in Seminary.  And I can not imagine Queen Soraya allowed his Majesty, King Uthyr, her husband to stray far from her bed....   

Then the king's Champion sights a man gazing daggers at Camber.  And I am,  "OH?"  Here is a story we will need to hear more about.  And I am certain the author will not let us down.

[Evie]

The first mention of a wrong-side of the blanket born Haldane, first had me questioning from which Haldane.  I mean Cinhil was not healthy enough, Col was locked into the love of one woman and I presume no others, and Camber was in Seminary.  And I can not imagine Queen Soraya allowed his Majesty, King Uthyr, her husband to stray far from her bed.... 

Then the king's Champion sights a man gazing daggers at Camber.  And I am,  "OH?"  Here is a story we will need to hear more about.  And I am certain the author will not let us down.

Good observations, except that keep in mind that a child who is nine at this point of the story would have been conceived ten years ago. So our young Haldanes would have been roughly 20, 17, and 14 at the time (give or take a year, depending on birth dates and such). Looking back at earlier stories in the story arc, Cinhil at age 20 was still relatively healthy. He was already starting to have occasional fainting spells and such, but ten years ago would have been probably a year or so before the story "The Star-Crossed," where we see him riding out into the countryside with Aoife of Llyr, and he doesn't have his sharp decline in health until after the disastrous Empowerment ritual that caused further damage to his heart (which, as you'll recall, didn't happen until two months into his marriage to Alixa).  Even in his last year of life, when it was known to all that he was dying, he still had some good days mixed in with all his bad ones, and was capable of fathering Cynewyn nine months before his death.  Colin's relationship with Mellie became physical during his sixteenth year, but he had a few casual trysts prior to falling in love with her, so he can't be ruled out completely. And Camber was something like two years away from entering seminary yet, and we've already had several hints in other stories that he was a bit of a wild child before he settled down, so maybe puberty came roaring in like a March wind for him? And while it's a bit of a long shot, there's also Uthyr, who was hopefully too wise to be sleeping with the hired help, at least if he didn't want Soraya gelding him in his sleep, but who knows? Maybe he was just super discreet?

But yeah, you won't have to wait too long to get answers to the question.

[Evie]

So, quick question before I post the next chapter.  I've just done the math, and given that this is a sixty-six chapter (plus epilogue) story, if I post chapters only twice a week, it will take right around 8 months to post the entire story.  If, on the other hand, I post chapters three times a week, the entire posting time will be shortened to around five and a half months.

There are pros and cons to each schedule. Granted, posting more frequently means y'all will have less time to wait between chapters, which is some ways is bad (it reduces the tension and suspense), but in some ways is good (it shortens the waiting time to learn what happens next).

However, I realize I tend to write pretty long chapters (approximately 10 single spaced pages each), so posting them only twice a week would give readers more time to catch up with each chapter, even if your schedules are busy, and therefore readers who can't read each one right away are less likely to fall behind.

Do any of you have a preference as to what posting schedule I should use?  Twice a week would likely end up being Wednesday and Sunday nights around my bedtime, which would mean most people would be reading them sometime on Thursday and Monday. Three times a week could be closer to every other day, so maybe a Monday/Wednesday/Friday night posting schedule, with just a slightly longer wait between the chapters at the weekend.

Thoughts?

[DoctorM]

I like the MWF schedule, actually.

[Evie]

OK, so now I have a vote for MWF and another one (on Discord) for the WSun posting schedule. I guess I will see if more votes come in between now and bedtime and then decide if I post another chapter late tonight or wait until Sunday.

[Demercia]

Does 8 months give you time to write the sequel?  Ducks and runs.....

[Evie]

Does 8 months give you time to write the sequel?  Ducks and runs.....

If you don't behave, I'm going to turn a Fierce Wild Priest loose on you! 😂

[tmcd]

I vote for whatever pleaseth Evie the more. If WSun was the first choice, then by all means post WSun.