Turn I -- Summer, Age 5
Lady Marna started to lead you away, but you reached out for Father's hand. "No! Don't leave me, Father!"
Father took your hand in his as you were being pulled from his bedside, and after clasping for a brief moment, your little hand came away damp with his cold sweat. "Father needs to rest, little one."
The courtiers closed their ranks around Father once again. Your tears welled up, and you whispered, "Goodbye, Daddy..." toward the throng. Mother shot you a pained look, realising that you understood what was happening. She picked you up and hurried you back to your room before her strength could shatter in front of you. Returned to your own chamber, your surveyed the aftermath of the carnage. The battle had been won--or perhaps it had been lost, since you had quite forgot that detail by now--but, at any rate, a great quantity of wooden knights and horses lay scattered across the floor. Sobbing in the solitude of your room, you recovered Father from the battlefield and hugged him as your threw yourself down on your bed.
A bell tolled in the darkness, and you finally awoke from your long sleep. It was the Cathedral of Saint Theobald nearby. Its massive bell produced a deep booming that split asunder the peace and stillness of the night, which then returned momentarily between strokes, as the great bronze beast swung itself ponderously around to strike again with another resounding roar. In between the slow beats of this pealing, other bells began to chime and take up the call in diverse rhythms and tones till the night was all a-clamour. It seemed like every bell in the city, from Saint Mary-a-Cheap in the wharf district to Saint Mary-a-Gate outside the walls, was ringing now. Mother entered your room holding a candle, and the shadows of the candlelight had carved out a theatre mask of grief on her face. Father was truly gone.
The day of the funeral was bright and sunny. A few puffy white clouds scudded across the blue sky, occasionally casting their quick flits of dark shadow on the funereal procession. Yet soon they would pass over. Mother, too, was warm grateful smiles to well-wishers and unhappy frowns in private moments. Fortunately, the well-wishers were many, so mother was mostly happy today. Percy was there, Father's oldest friend and a very brave knight; and the youthful Denny, who knelt down to look you in the eye, smiled at you wistfully, and said he owed your father his life that day. You almost asked him who owed him a new face, so much was your shock at seeing the livid red scar that had buried half of it beneath swelling. You hoped to see Uncle Erran, who always brought a wonderful new toys from Torchester with each visit, but you looked the entire day in vain. Only an assemblage of other minor nobles and functionaries of the County. You learned a dozen times over how much you resembled your father, and managed to smile each time.
***
The fields were still wet from the morning rains, and the crops were beginning to push up from the earth in thick verdant rows. You sat on your bed, holding brave Sir Samuel Stone in your hands. You had chipped his wooden face on the day of... on that day. Fortunately, you were spared further recollection, when the door flew open and Nanna burst into the room in an outrage.
"Young Lord Stone! Is this any way for a proper boy to act! The summer is almost over, and here you fritter it away in your room! Your mother would be most displeased. Go! I don't care what you do, but I won't have you spending the day in this room!"
"But Nanna, the ground is still muddy!"
Nanna scowls at your logical and yet deeply insufficient answer, "And do you think we give Nella threepence haypenny a week just to flounce around in front of the guards? If clothes are stained, then clothes will be washed. Now go! Off with you!" She takes the wooden knight from you and propels you out the door.
Outside your chamber, you ponder the things that you usually like to do around the castle and its environs. You could try to go find Mother in the Great Hall or the Council Chamber, but she is often worn-out and unhappy these days, either surrounded by courtiers whose smiles discomfort you, or surrounded by physicians who give her foul-smelling physic for her growing belly and unborn child. Or you could go down to the barracks, where sometimes there's a good training scrum to watch. Or to the kitchens, where the cook usually gives you a treat. There are young children a-play in the field, ample opportunity to avenge yourself on Nanna by muddying your clothes. Visit Saint Theobald, where your father is interred. Find people to pester with annoying questions. Explore the nooks and crannies of castle...
Your young mind races ahead at all the possibilities, your room suddenly forgotten. You pass by a lancet arch, and stop to look out over the sights of the wider city that is still off-limits to you. One day you will see it all, like Father!
But until then... how does the young Lord Stone usually pass his days?
Mother -- Maternal
Nanna -- Caring
Perry -- Protective
Denny -- Protective
Luther -- Zealously Protective
Finn -- Zealously Protective
Oswald -- Fond
These suggestions are not only what you plan to do today, but more broadly, what you will do for the next year. We want to get through childhood sooner than later, after all. Some suggested actions might happen once, others might be habitual over a year. Depends on context. For each suggestion, I will give a vignette of how that develops your character and leads to discovery and interaction with other characters. More agreement for something means that thing is done more often or with higher priority than other things. Don't feel constrained by the given choices. Now you are five years old, next turn, six years.
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Topic: Heirship: A Suggestion Game (Read 30468 times)