The small principality of Tirisano was one of those blessed places that seemed to live in a state of perpetual summer. Even in winter, when snow lay thick on the ground, it was bright with sunlight to warm the chill in the air and display to best effect the beautiful gardens that proliferated within the capital city of Itana. Outside the city, it was much the same, the little country alive with wide fields dressed in green and gold beneath the crisp snow. Though they were not a large power, they were a well kept one, each duchy - small though it was - cared for by a family from within the elite nobility, families who provided the political power that was governed by the royal family, such as it was.
In the duchy of Roslae, it was the royal family that was foremost in the mind of the duke himself. Oliver James Stuart was the fifty-seventh Duke of Roslae, and prided himself on both his position in the oldest noble family in Tirisano, as well as his place within Prince Julius' government. Indeed, he had attended school with the Prince, counting himself among the select few who could call themselves the man's friends. And it was to a friend that the Prince had turned to fulfill a need that was most pressing.
The Duke waited in his study patiently, aware that the young man he had summoned to meet with him wasn't exactly known for being on time when the duty expected of him by his family interfered with the fun he could be having elsewhere. But, with any luck, he wouldn't mind so much the duty that was about to be put on his shoulders.
Joshua Oliver Stuart - or Josh, as he was known to his friends - had been more than a little surprised at the unexpected summons from the Duke of Roslae, who was also his father. As the second-born son, he did not have to worry so much about history lessons and politics and being groomed to one day take over the duchy. He was far more interested in soccer games and drama classes and girls than in the things that occupied his father's time as Duke of Roslae. Even so, a summons was a summons - whether it be from the duke or from his father.
It was one of those peculiar situations where the summons had come from both the duke and his father, and thus was not likely to be easily predicted. Nevertheless, when Josh finally made his appearance in the manor house, he was directed to his father's study. The Duke turned as his son entered, looking him over with the gentle, wry amusement of a man who really was too old to be playing games anymore. "Josh, nice of you to join me. How are you today?"
"I'm well, Father, and you?" Josh replied, obviously having just come from some sporting event or other, as his hair was still damp and curling on his head as it dried, and his cheeks were flushed from hurrying.
"Old, decrepit, and generally overworked," was his father's reply, followed by a chuckle. "Much the same as usual. Did you win, whatever it was you've been doing?" He tapped one of the armchairs by the window, a clear invitation for his son to make himself comfortable.
"I don't know," the young man replied, easing himself down into the proffered chair now that his father had given him leave to sit. "I had to leave before it was over, but we were ahead." He smiled broadly, happy his father had inquired as to his activities, even if he so rarely was able to attend in person.
Moving to sit with his son, Duke Oliver settled comfortably into his own chosen chair with a faint groan of relief. "Excellent," he praised Josh without reserve. "And your studies, how are they progressing" I understand you've been garnering a good deal of praise in your theatrical pursuits."
"They're going well. We're doing Hamlet in a few weeks. I got the part of Laertes," he told his father proudly. It didn't matter to him if he had the lead role or not, so long as he had a role, and he was looking forward to sinking his teeth into the role of Ophelia's brooding brother.
"Very good, very good indeed." There was just enough hesitation in the duke's expression, however, to warn that there was bad news coming, however carefully it was offered. "Joshua ....how would you like to take your skills onto a professional stage" To perform with professional actors in an acclaimed theater, in a variety of different roles?"
Whatever pride Josh was feeling turned to confusion at his father's offer. "Professional" But I haven't graduated yet. I still have two years to go," he pointed out, wondering what his father was thinking. Was he pulling the plug on his son's schooling, or did he really think he was ready to work professionally without finishing"
"Nonsense, an actor doesn't become talented at holding an audience through lessons and theory," his father assured him, and to be fair, he did know what he was talking about. "Even when you were a child, you could hold the attention of a hundred guests at a party, without even trying. You could bring people to tears and to laughter, just with the caliber of your recitations. That can't be learned, Josh. And I am in a position to be able to send you to a place where you can put everything you have learned and everything that you can do into practice. Are you interested?"
Josh looked both shocked and surprised by this turn of events, unsure how he should feel about it. It would mean leaving his friends behind, but it was also an opportunity that he couldn't very well pass up. Josh knew his father well enough to know that something was up. This was too sudden, too unexpected, and it was coming just as he was about to take on the role of his short lifetime. "Father, what?s this about?" he asked, pointedly.
"Politics, son." In one word, there was the answer and the smokescreen, rolled neatly into a single sigh from his father. "We are in a delicate situation, following the attack at the Independence Day Parade. I'm sure you have been wondering, like most of the country, why the Princess Royale has not been seen in public but for pre-eminent appearances since the death of her mother and the Prince's brother."
Josh shrugged. He did not know the Princess personally and wasn't overly concerned with matters of politics, though he was certainly loyal to his country as much as anyone his age might be. "I presumed she was in safe keeping," he replied, logically, wondering now if he was mistaken in his presumption. But that still didn't explain how all that involved him.
"In a manner of speaking," the duke nodded. "She's with her father's family. In Rhy'Din." The mysterious father who had never been named, and the infamous city to the north that was at once repellent and deeply intriguing to everyone who had never been there. "And if you agree to what I am about to ask of you, then Rhy'Din is where you will go, to the Shanachie Theater, which couldn't turn you away. You have talent, skill, and integrity, and you will not be going as my son but as your own person."
"I'm sorry," Josh started, jaw dropping a moment at the implication of this bit of news. "Her father?" he echoed. The matter of the Princess Royale's parentage had never been a matter up for public discussion or debate. Ever. As the duke continued to unveil this little subterfuge of his, it became clear to the duke's son just what his father might be expecting of him and why he was making this sudden offer. Josh frowned, his heart sinking. He'd thought perhaps his father believed in him and was offering him the opportunity of a lifetime, but instead, he was only using him for political reasons. "I see. You want me to spy on her."
In the duchy of Roslae, it was the royal family that was foremost in the mind of the duke himself. Oliver James Stuart was the fifty-seventh Duke of Roslae, and prided himself on both his position in the oldest noble family in Tirisano, as well as his place within Prince Julius' government. Indeed, he had attended school with the Prince, counting himself among the select few who could call themselves the man's friends. And it was to a friend that the Prince had turned to fulfill a need that was most pressing.
The Duke waited in his study patiently, aware that the young man he had summoned to meet with him wasn't exactly known for being on time when the duty expected of him by his family interfered with the fun he could be having elsewhere. But, with any luck, he wouldn't mind so much the duty that was about to be put on his shoulders.
Joshua Oliver Stuart - or Josh, as he was known to his friends - had been more than a little surprised at the unexpected summons from the Duke of Roslae, who was also his father. As the second-born son, he did not have to worry so much about history lessons and politics and being groomed to one day take over the duchy. He was far more interested in soccer games and drama classes and girls than in the things that occupied his father's time as Duke of Roslae. Even so, a summons was a summons - whether it be from the duke or from his father.
It was one of those peculiar situations where the summons had come from both the duke and his father, and thus was not likely to be easily predicted. Nevertheless, when Josh finally made his appearance in the manor house, he was directed to his father's study. The Duke turned as his son entered, looking him over with the gentle, wry amusement of a man who really was too old to be playing games anymore. "Josh, nice of you to join me. How are you today?"
"I'm well, Father, and you?" Josh replied, obviously having just come from some sporting event or other, as his hair was still damp and curling on his head as it dried, and his cheeks were flushed from hurrying.
"Old, decrepit, and generally overworked," was his father's reply, followed by a chuckle. "Much the same as usual. Did you win, whatever it was you've been doing?" He tapped one of the armchairs by the window, a clear invitation for his son to make himself comfortable.
"I don't know," the young man replied, easing himself down into the proffered chair now that his father had given him leave to sit. "I had to leave before it was over, but we were ahead." He smiled broadly, happy his father had inquired as to his activities, even if he so rarely was able to attend in person.
Moving to sit with his son, Duke Oliver settled comfortably into his own chosen chair with a faint groan of relief. "Excellent," he praised Josh without reserve. "And your studies, how are they progressing" I understand you've been garnering a good deal of praise in your theatrical pursuits."
"They're going well. We're doing Hamlet in a few weeks. I got the part of Laertes," he told his father proudly. It didn't matter to him if he had the lead role or not, so long as he had a role, and he was looking forward to sinking his teeth into the role of Ophelia's brooding brother.
"Very good, very good indeed." There was just enough hesitation in the duke's expression, however, to warn that there was bad news coming, however carefully it was offered. "Joshua ....how would you like to take your skills onto a professional stage" To perform with professional actors in an acclaimed theater, in a variety of different roles?"
Whatever pride Josh was feeling turned to confusion at his father's offer. "Professional" But I haven't graduated yet. I still have two years to go," he pointed out, wondering what his father was thinking. Was he pulling the plug on his son's schooling, or did he really think he was ready to work professionally without finishing"
"Nonsense, an actor doesn't become talented at holding an audience through lessons and theory," his father assured him, and to be fair, he did know what he was talking about. "Even when you were a child, you could hold the attention of a hundred guests at a party, without even trying. You could bring people to tears and to laughter, just with the caliber of your recitations. That can't be learned, Josh. And I am in a position to be able to send you to a place where you can put everything you have learned and everything that you can do into practice. Are you interested?"
Josh looked both shocked and surprised by this turn of events, unsure how he should feel about it. It would mean leaving his friends behind, but it was also an opportunity that he couldn't very well pass up. Josh knew his father well enough to know that something was up. This was too sudden, too unexpected, and it was coming just as he was about to take on the role of his short lifetime. "Father, what?s this about?" he asked, pointedly.
"Politics, son." In one word, there was the answer and the smokescreen, rolled neatly into a single sigh from his father. "We are in a delicate situation, following the attack at the Independence Day Parade. I'm sure you have been wondering, like most of the country, why the Princess Royale has not been seen in public but for pre-eminent appearances since the death of her mother and the Prince's brother."
Josh shrugged. He did not know the Princess personally and wasn't overly concerned with matters of politics, though he was certainly loyal to his country as much as anyone his age might be. "I presumed she was in safe keeping," he replied, logically, wondering now if he was mistaken in his presumption. But that still didn't explain how all that involved him.
"In a manner of speaking," the duke nodded. "She's with her father's family. In Rhy'Din." The mysterious father who had never been named, and the infamous city to the north that was at once repellent and deeply intriguing to everyone who had never been there. "And if you agree to what I am about to ask of you, then Rhy'Din is where you will go, to the Shanachie Theater, which couldn't turn you away. You have talent, skill, and integrity, and you will not be going as my son but as your own person."
"I'm sorry," Josh started, jaw dropping a moment at the implication of this bit of news. "Her father?" he echoed. The matter of the Princess Royale's parentage had never been a matter up for public discussion or debate. Ever. As the duke continued to unveil this little subterfuge of his, it became clear to the duke's son just what his father might be expecting of him and why he was making this sudden offer. Josh frowned, his heart sinking. He'd thought perhaps his father believed in him and was offering him the opportunity of a lifetime, but instead, he was only using him for political reasons. "I see. You want me to spy on her."