Roleplay I -- The Circle
Any given day in early autumn finds you leaning on the rails of the training field fence. Now and then, Luther has been teaching you to ride a pony, but he is all too often engaged with drilling troops, and you patiently wait by the fence and observe. You see not only the long-familiar faces of the household retinue that have watched over you since you can remember, but also a continuous stream of new faces that the veteran retainers derisively term "Curbies" and who they sweep aside effortlessly in various training scrums that you watch with great interest. The retainers also assign a few other epithets that hit closer to home, namely they begin refering to you as Little Lord Fence Post, and when Luther isn't around, some even ask in hushed tones where Little Lord's Hobby Horse has got off to, producing a wave of suppressed chuckles among them. Regardless of this, they actually seem to be proud of your attention and have adopted you as a kind of mascot or lucky talisman.
On one such day, a block of Curbies bristling with wooden staves is lined on one end of the field, and a block of the retainers on the other. A nervous voice drifts across the gap. "My battle is prepared, Sir. I await your advance." Luther cups his hands and responds, "Never think us rude, Sir, you may go first. We await your pleasure."
The mob of Curbiston levies lurches forward unevenly and attempts to advance, but soon loses the semblance of a battle line. The levy captain frantically tries to reform the line, as the retainers swiftly bear down on the milling crowd with a practiced double line of staves, one row gripping underhand and the other overhand. Your favorite part, the initial crunch where the first black eyes, bloody noses and bruised ribs are dealt out, has nearly been reached, and your little hand grips your wooden sword tightly as if you yourself were out there in the battle line.
Nanna, however, has much less discernment regarding which parts of a training scrum are the most exciting, and she exhibits no particular sense of regret when she yanks you away from the railing and leads you back toward the Keep, only saying, "Come along, young Lord Stone, that is quite enough attaching yourself to that wooden rail like a barnacle for one day. Your mother wishes to see you." Just then, the bell of Saint Theobald's began to ring, and then came the tolling of Saint Mary-a-Cheap, then Saint Mary-a-Gate...
***
As Nanna ushers you down the narrow stone hallway towards the Lord's Bedchamber, a maid rounds out of the doorway in a distracted rush, carrying a bowl full of rags in her arms. She squeaks in surprise and trips over you and nearly upends the contents on you, but Nanna throws herself protectively in the way. The bowl clatters to the floor. Dark red rags squelch wetly at Nanna's feet. "Oh you stupid, thoughtless girl. Look what you have done!"
Nanna is soaked in blood from the waist on down. Fetching the maid a flurry of blows, Nanna tells you go inside the Lord's Bedchamber and wait for her there.
Inside your Mother's bedchamber, a thick circle of courtiers has clotted itself around the bedside, and you can only hear a deep voice intoning solemnly from within the quiet ring, "I annoint you with the oil of salvation in Christ our Lord and Saviour, that you may have life everlasting." You hear Mother weakly reply. "Amen."
Your heart beats fast. How does young Lord Stone respond to this situation?
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Topic: Heirship: A Suggestion Game (Read 29398 times)