Early Summer, Age 5Summer rains. How you hated summer rains. Mother and Nanna marched you firmly to your room, lest you spoil your clothes in the mud. You moped glumly in train as they walked ahead and made satisfied chatter about the excellent crop that the rains would be bringing. Boring. Yet your little ears perked up when the topic turns to the last hopeful missive from your father, Count Stone. The savages were retreating in great confusion and want of supplies. Victory was at hand. Father had bested them good, and soon he would be home again, stumbling merrily about the Keep as you clung to his shins like a little tick.
Later that day, you were playing in your room with your wooden knights and horses, smashing them into each other with gleeful violence, reckless of marring their finely carved details. You pretended to be daddy the great knight, and as usual the enemy was already on the run that day, in that hour, in that moment in time, when the thick gatehouse doors flew open, squealing in protest, and a great swell of confused shouting arose from the courtyard. Why wouldn't a curious young lad look outside then?
"Look where he comes!" shouted Keddin the stable boy, running across the yard. "The Lord hath returned from war!"
"They bear him on a pall!" shrieked Nella the chambermaid through the hands clutching her face, a basket of next week's white linen bedsheets spilt in the dark mud at her feet.
An unmistakeable great looming figure emerged from the gatehouse, impressive even at a distance, and stomped across the muddy courtyard toward the Keep, bellowing as he went, "What ho, the Keep, lively at the winch! Raise the porticullis! Milord is grievous betook with injury!"
Behind Luther, other familiar faces followed in a small knot. They bore sorrow on their brows and a pall on their shoulder. And the pall was spread with the banner of Stone, and under the spread of banner was Count Samuel Stone.
***
Father wanted to see you, so Mother had whispered in tears, her eyes red and her dress black. She led you into the Lord's Bedchamber, and the crowd around the bedside hushed and parted. Inside the crowd, a priest was talking to Father, and Father attended his words so carefully that neither noticed you. The priest dipped his finger into a basin of oil, saying something that seemed important as he reached out to touch Father's trembling hands.
"Through this holy unction and His own most tender mercy, may the Lord our Saviour pardon thee whatever trespasses or faults thou hast committed in life, both with thy hands..." "Amen, Holy Father."
"And with thy lips..." "Amen."
"And with thy mind..." Upon observing you, Sam Stone weakly raised his hand and stopped the annointment of his forehead. "There is still time, priest. Bide awhile. Come here, Isaac."
You take tiny unsure steps toward him. He looks worse than anyone told you. His hair is plastered to his face amid a sheen of sweat. His entire torso is a welter of bandages soaked in shades of dark reds, crusty browns, and sickly yellows. His voice is slurred and different somehow as he continues. "My boy, you are my dearest legacy to this world. Castles crumble, and Glory is fast forgot, but you will grow strong. My valour was costly, but it has bought you honour. Keep it always in memory of me. Mind your mother, protect the lands, serve the King, for the Lordship now is yours. Go now, and remember thy father's love."
Your little mind reels. You sense through the strange quiet, and the eyes of everyone upon you, that you must remember these words. Oh, what were they again? Dearest. Valour. Honour. Mother. Protect. Serve. Lordship. Love. As you knit your brow in concentration, Father motions to the priest, and Mother tenderly pulls you away.
"And with thy mind..." "Amen."
"And with thy heart..." "Amen, Priest."
There isn't much a small child can do here, but I thought it important to begin here. Here is where you can say some last words to Sam Stone, and some grateful words to Maldevious, as players who enjoyed their story for the past 8 months. Let Mal know that his hard work was worth it, guys. After this period of recognition, we will continue with the development of Isaac Stone in segments of a year.
When we resume, obviously, Marna will be your regent and handling the real Lordshipping right now, and you will choose what childish mischief to get up to. Then we proceed through page, squire, etc. Since there is already a Lordship-like, this one will hopefully play a bit differently. Heirshipping, if you will. Ironical suggestions will be met with deeply unironical consequences, but I have good hope that Isaac survives long enough to become a real grown-up... and do all those cool spoiler thingies, just like daddy used to do! Wow! 
Author
Topic: Heirship: A Suggestion Game (Read 30433 times)