April 5th, 1615
Just as Alys had predicted, William Marillier arrived at Arindale far in advance of the reply he had written to the letter that had announced the birth of his first nephew. He had informed the king, his uncle, that he was going, and had been sent off with Christian's blessing, arriving in Lonnare barely a week later. Delighted with his sister and her husband, and even more so with the newborn babe that bore his name, he had brought his merriment with him to the isolated duchy, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to tease the married ladies who were Alys' closest friends, not to mention their husbands who had become close to Charles. But his friendship with Charles was older than theirs, and it only took a few days for Will to finally get some time alone with his dearest friend.
"Fatherhood suits you, Your Grace," he chuckled, raising a cup to Charles as he lounged in his friend's study comfortably. "How does being Your Grace suit you?"
"T'would suit me better, if you'd stop calling me Your Grace," Charles retorted, chucking in return as he flopped down on a chair, a cup of wine in his own hand. It had been too long since he and Will had spent any real time together like this - not since before he and Alys had gotten married and made their home in Arindale.
Crossing his ankles comfortably, Will grinned at his friend. "Where's the fun if you won't let me remind you constantly that you're going to outrank me until I succeed my own father?" he pointed out in his merry way. "You're one of the highest in the land these days, Charles, don't forget it. I'm just a glorified secretary of the chancellor's empty office."
Oddly, Charles did not smile at his friend's reminder that his life was no longer carefree, if it ever was. He was proud of his accomplishments, proud that he'd been elevated far beyond his birthright, thanks to Christian's generosity, and he was more than happy to have won Alys' hand in marriage, but with all of that came duty and responsibility for an entire duchy. Though he'd been warned, he'd never realized how exhausting it could be. Still, if he were to do things over, he wouldn't change a thing. "I'm surprised to hear you complaining. I thought you were content not to shoulder the responsibility."
"Oh, I wouldn't be Chancellor, not for all the riches in all the world," Will agreed, nodding his head vehemently. "At some point, Christian is going to have to appoint someone to the position, and I have already told him it will not be me. I do not have the inclination to spend every waking hour going through dispatches and official documents, not to mention the vast network of spies that lace the continent. As it is, I know what is known right now, but I would be happier not knowing."
As Duke of Lonnare, Charles didn't have to worry that it would be him either, nor did he have any ideas who might be a good candidate for the position, which Bereth had vacated by command of the king. Though Charles thought he, too, might be happier not knowing, he couldn't help but inquire as to what his closest friend and brother-in-law knew that he didn't. "And what is that' We have a tenuous peace, Bereth is in prison, and you are an uncle. What more do you want?" Charles asked, lazily gesturing to his companion with his cup of wine.
Will laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, Charles ....where should I start?" he said with a sigh, leaning forward to refill his own cup from the pitcher that stood nearby. "Bereth is not in prison. The Dalai in his wisdom evidently considers the man too dangerous even to keep him in Gelre. He has been sent as a missionary to the heretic council of Lotharingia."
"Not in prison?" Charles echoed, his expression darkening. This did not come as good news to the duke, no matter how far away Bereth might be, if he was free, it was not far enough.
"Not in prison," Will nodded, sitting back. "How to explain this" Old Peter of Carib actually seems to be pretty determined to die at some point in the next year or so. He, as you know, has no heir and no functioning government. Lotharingia has been caught in their attempt to marry Jolly Saint Peter to one of their own noblewomen, on the pretext that when he dies, those heretics can annex Carib and consolidate their power-base once again. Thus ....Bereth, who is too much an embarrassment for the Church to give him any more power, has been sent as a missionary to Lotharingia. He will either fail in his mission to bring them back to the Goddess, or they will kill him, and when that happens, we have been instructed by the Dalai's offices to immediate cut all diplomatic ties with the heretic council in preparation for war. The pieces are moving, Charles."
"Good lord," Charles murmured under his breath. They might be at peace with Coimbra for the moment, but it didn't look like that peace would last. "We can't afford to let Carib ally with Lotharingia."
"Exactly." His friend took a slow swallow of wine. "We have time, though. Among the Dalai's other decrees was an instruction for Clovis of Valentia to stop pretending a war footing with Pomerania on pain of excommunication, and it has been heeded. That particular worry is now gone; the vassal states of Pomerania will not see one of their number cede from the High King's power in a fit of pique, at any rate. That leaves Pomerania free to deal with the threatening clouds gathering over Edessa." Edessa, the single most stable state in Merengia. News that things weren't going well there was almost shocking.
"Edessa?" Charles echoed, furrowing his brows as Will continued to share news of the other countries that made up Merengia, be they ally or enemy. "What is happening in Edessa?" he asked solemnly as their conversation turned to more serious matters of state.
"A problem of Pomerania's own making," Will told him with a rueful cast to his humorless smile. He sighed, putting the words together in his mind before he began to explain this one. "You know, as I do, that Edessa has always held to her own customs; that her women fight as well as her men, and the firstborn child of the king is the heir, not the firstborn son, yes? Well, the current queen of Edessa is the High King's own sister, and she's spent the last twenty years muddying the waters." He rolled his eyes as he sat back. "By Edessan law, Sigmund's heir is his daughter by his first queen. However, Queen Anne has been making the case that her son, Sigfried, should be the heir, since he is Sigmund's only son, and she has gathered a sizable faction in her favor. Sigmund took a nasty wound at Berynsford when he joined us there, and it looks to be killing him slowly. If High King Philippe does not intervene soon, Edessa will erupt into civil war when Sigmund dies."
"And Philippe will likely favor Sigfried, as he is his sister's son, rather than follow the custom, which could cause a war between factions," Charles said, saying nearly the same thing as Will, but in a different way. And if that happened, Francia might need to choose sides and get dragged into another country's civil war, fought on foreign soil. In fact, several countries might be dragged into it and Coimbra and her allies would likely use it to their advantage.
Just as Alys had predicted, William Marillier arrived at Arindale far in advance of the reply he had written to the letter that had announced the birth of his first nephew. He had informed the king, his uncle, that he was going, and had been sent off with Christian's blessing, arriving in Lonnare barely a week later. Delighted with his sister and her husband, and even more so with the newborn babe that bore his name, he had brought his merriment with him to the isolated duchy, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to tease the married ladies who were Alys' closest friends, not to mention their husbands who had become close to Charles. But his friendship with Charles was older than theirs, and it only took a few days for Will to finally get some time alone with his dearest friend.
"Fatherhood suits you, Your Grace," he chuckled, raising a cup to Charles as he lounged in his friend's study comfortably. "How does being Your Grace suit you?"
"T'would suit me better, if you'd stop calling me Your Grace," Charles retorted, chucking in return as he flopped down on a chair, a cup of wine in his own hand. It had been too long since he and Will had spent any real time together like this - not since before he and Alys had gotten married and made their home in Arindale.
Crossing his ankles comfortably, Will grinned at his friend. "Where's the fun if you won't let me remind you constantly that you're going to outrank me until I succeed my own father?" he pointed out in his merry way. "You're one of the highest in the land these days, Charles, don't forget it. I'm just a glorified secretary of the chancellor's empty office."
Oddly, Charles did not smile at his friend's reminder that his life was no longer carefree, if it ever was. He was proud of his accomplishments, proud that he'd been elevated far beyond his birthright, thanks to Christian's generosity, and he was more than happy to have won Alys' hand in marriage, but with all of that came duty and responsibility for an entire duchy. Though he'd been warned, he'd never realized how exhausting it could be. Still, if he were to do things over, he wouldn't change a thing. "I'm surprised to hear you complaining. I thought you were content not to shoulder the responsibility."
"Oh, I wouldn't be Chancellor, not for all the riches in all the world," Will agreed, nodding his head vehemently. "At some point, Christian is going to have to appoint someone to the position, and I have already told him it will not be me. I do not have the inclination to spend every waking hour going through dispatches and official documents, not to mention the vast network of spies that lace the continent. As it is, I know what is known right now, but I would be happier not knowing."
As Duke of Lonnare, Charles didn't have to worry that it would be him either, nor did he have any ideas who might be a good candidate for the position, which Bereth had vacated by command of the king. Though Charles thought he, too, might be happier not knowing, he couldn't help but inquire as to what his closest friend and brother-in-law knew that he didn't. "And what is that' We have a tenuous peace, Bereth is in prison, and you are an uncle. What more do you want?" Charles asked, lazily gesturing to his companion with his cup of wine.
Will laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, Charles ....where should I start?" he said with a sigh, leaning forward to refill his own cup from the pitcher that stood nearby. "Bereth is not in prison. The Dalai in his wisdom evidently considers the man too dangerous even to keep him in Gelre. He has been sent as a missionary to the heretic council of Lotharingia."
"Not in prison?" Charles echoed, his expression darkening. This did not come as good news to the duke, no matter how far away Bereth might be, if he was free, it was not far enough.
"Not in prison," Will nodded, sitting back. "How to explain this" Old Peter of Carib actually seems to be pretty determined to die at some point in the next year or so. He, as you know, has no heir and no functioning government. Lotharingia has been caught in their attempt to marry Jolly Saint Peter to one of their own noblewomen, on the pretext that when he dies, those heretics can annex Carib and consolidate their power-base once again. Thus ....Bereth, who is too much an embarrassment for the Church to give him any more power, has been sent as a missionary to Lotharingia. He will either fail in his mission to bring them back to the Goddess, or they will kill him, and when that happens, we have been instructed by the Dalai's offices to immediate cut all diplomatic ties with the heretic council in preparation for war. The pieces are moving, Charles."
"Good lord," Charles murmured under his breath. They might be at peace with Coimbra for the moment, but it didn't look like that peace would last. "We can't afford to let Carib ally with Lotharingia."
"Exactly." His friend took a slow swallow of wine. "We have time, though. Among the Dalai's other decrees was an instruction for Clovis of Valentia to stop pretending a war footing with Pomerania on pain of excommunication, and it has been heeded. That particular worry is now gone; the vassal states of Pomerania will not see one of their number cede from the High King's power in a fit of pique, at any rate. That leaves Pomerania free to deal with the threatening clouds gathering over Edessa." Edessa, the single most stable state in Merengia. News that things weren't going well there was almost shocking.
"Edessa?" Charles echoed, furrowing his brows as Will continued to share news of the other countries that made up Merengia, be they ally or enemy. "What is happening in Edessa?" he asked solemnly as their conversation turned to more serious matters of state.
"A problem of Pomerania's own making," Will told him with a rueful cast to his humorless smile. He sighed, putting the words together in his mind before he began to explain this one. "You know, as I do, that Edessa has always held to her own customs; that her women fight as well as her men, and the firstborn child of the king is the heir, not the firstborn son, yes? Well, the current queen of Edessa is the High King's own sister, and she's spent the last twenty years muddying the waters." He rolled his eyes as he sat back. "By Edessan law, Sigmund's heir is his daughter by his first queen. However, Queen Anne has been making the case that her son, Sigfried, should be the heir, since he is Sigmund's only son, and she has gathered a sizable faction in her favor. Sigmund took a nasty wound at Berynsford when he joined us there, and it looks to be killing him slowly. If High King Philippe does not intervene soon, Edessa will erupt into civil war when Sigmund dies."
"And Philippe will likely favor Sigfried, as he is his sister's son, rather than follow the custom, which could cause a war between factions," Charles said, saying nearly the same thing as Will, but in a different way. And if that happened, Francia might need to choose sides and get dragged into another country's civil war, fought on foreign soil. In fact, several countries might be dragged into it and Coimbra and her allies would likely use it to their advantage.