Sonifri
Is this the face of a villain?
- Location
- Texas
if raven shacks up with a hen, would the chicks count as grandkids?
Noblesse Oblige [Znt/SI]
if raven shacks up with a hen, would the chicks count as grandkids?
Would you consider the grandchildren of your brother your Grandkids? if the answer is no, then no. If the answer is sure then sure. Ect. Cause sure a familiar is tied to its summoner till death do they part and all, but it still her son.
- Pronouns
- she/her
Fair enough, but that doesn't counter all the other points I brought up. Charles' reflexes, swordsmanship, fine control of magic, poker face, and vitality are all superior to wishes-she-were-a-grandma Karin. And his raw power, while not confirmed to be equal to Karin's in strength, is definitely not something she can ignore.
So he has to fear betrayal and assassins weaker than him. Well he's experienced at least one of these things before, is there any reason for him to assume he won't be able to deal with retaliation?
Why should Charles care about the political state of Gallia? He is family, true, but it is the King's duty to make policies and deal with crisis. The younger spare has a nice villa to manage far from any of the courtly duties he used to help with.
If there was a possibility war would break out over his death Joseph or Isabella would have just clubbed Henry over head and sent in a patsy instead of repeatedly reminding him Charles could kill him if he wanted.
So... What do *you* think should have gone down in this scenario?
Royal "hexagon" magic is combo stacks between royals, if it is relevant to a duel he is cheating.
EvilPorygon
Cookie Monster
- Location
- a phone
Don't count Karin out too easily. She's the mightiest Wind mage in recorded history, an aberration who doesn't need to do full chants to blast out completed magic. She was Tristain's finest Manticore Knight back in the day, and though her swordwand and pirouette skills may have dulled, in sheer power and magical skill she's unmatched. The Heavy Wind is unstoppable once she starts casting.
Unless her spells are stopped with the Void magic Dispel, that is.
Both of Henry's parents were pretty impressive. Pierre was the ultimate bar-crawler and Karin was the ultimate bar-brawler.
- Location
- U.S.A.
Shade ruined me with his update speed. Now I check almost every hour, my mind going "Did he update yet? No. Did he update yet? No. Did he update yet? No." Repeat ad infinitum.
Gh055twr1t3r
Idle Prophet
- Location
- United States
Wait, are you talking about the same man who got killed by a poison arrow in Canon?
- Pronouns
- she/her
In the event Henry was killed?
Charles's entire branch of the family continues fucking off in his villa regardless of the success of any revenge schemes*, meanwhile Joseph and Isabella get back on the crazy train. The Petit Armee falls apart. Even if Isabella was willing to maintain previous pay rates, anything-goes recruitment/promotion policy, and generous financial aid there is no way in hell the porn would continue.
*If any succeed, the backer may find themselves pursued by Charlotte, the Dark (Blue) Mage-Knight at some point in the future.
And now they're both oooooooooold... I guess forcing Charles to kill himself out of the shame of beating up a senior citizen is fine too?
Chaoswind
Lord of nonsense
- Location
- Latin America
Dude Karin had Eleanor before she was twenty (likely at eighteen), Karin is hitting her forties... She isn't old by a single metric, she may not be on her prime, but she still has a long way to go before she can be considered old, this a setting in with old mages can live more than a hundred years, so she can still kill Charles... It wouldn't be as effortless as it could have been during her prime, but she can most certainly do it.
- Pronouns
- she/her
Shade is the one who said it was so:
With the life expectancy shade is using for the fic, 50 pretty much makes her a fossil.
Chaoswind
Lord of nonsense
- Location
- Latin America
Pretty sure his numbers are wrong, starting with her age when she had Eleanor, to the standard ages of mages in the setting... I am pretty sure more mages die to assassination and complications caused by assassination attempts than to old age.
But his fic, his rules. Still think Karin could take Charles's in a duel as endurance is not a big factor on them. Kain HAS power, overwhelming power!!! To the point other squares fear her.
On a battlefield Karin isn't as useful as she was when she was younger, on a duel? She still stomps the competition.
- Location
- Own World
I find it funny that you think raven is female. Should raven gain a human form then it becomes a fujoshi bait. Bromance works too.
Sonifri
Is this the face of a villain?
- Location
- Texas
For Henry to be a bit less of self-righteous ass and let Isabella tell Charles to piss off because Henry did right by the girl when Charles wasn't up to the task.
Chapter Ninety-Three
- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
Chapter Ninety-Three
My blood didn't run cold, as much as stop flowing for a singularly infinite instant. Still, I picked up my swordwand and respectfully waited for my opponent to do the same. The man in question bowed with a charming smile, and the next, our blades crossed. There was a blunting spell on them, but it would still hurt slightly if one ended up getting poked in the eye -and considering just how effective swordwands were, one had to aim at the head to properly train in their use.
His swordsmanship was excellent. It was honestly faster than Jean-Jacques' own, the movements fluid and yet none were unnecessary. Trying to mimic his stance, his motions, his everything-well, it was difficult, but not impossible. The fact he didn't seem to have a limit to his speed made every parry or deflection feel like I've been coming too slow, but he slowed each time short of actually passing through my guard, letting the blow glance away.
The training room we were in had servants alongside its walls, watching in silence as the only noise barring my breath was that of the blades intersecting.
"So," I said. "I didn't know there was someone with your skills in the palace's services," I remarked. The man in question simply smiled, deflecting an incoming thrust with ease that made it look as if I'd been thrusting with a block of wood, rather than a sword. I had been trained by the best-and yet here we were, myself being toyed with. It was kind of frustrating on one part, but on the other...what did I expect?
"I keep to myself," the man replied with a humming tone, thrusting in turn and getting the attack swatted away. "I don't like doing unnecessary things."
"I see," I replied, "yet your skills are quite high. You must have trained for quite a long time to sharpen them," I said calmly, our blades crossing and then separating. Sidestepping to the side to avoid a thrust, I thrust in turn, only for the man to do pretty much the same. We began to circle one another, each sidestep accompanied by a thrust, a parry, or a crossing of blades.
"Thank you for the praise, your grace," the man said. "It is all natural talent however," he added with a smile before suddenly changing the direction of his sidestep, bringing down his free hand to chop down the wrist that held my sword and then placing the tip of his own against my neck. "Nothing more." He smiled as he took a few steps back, bowing nimbly.
I exhaled, and as a servant neared to wipe away the sweat, I inwardly grumbled. I could do that myself, but it would be considered an uncouth thing to do. The fact that there was a servant assigned to wiping away the sweat of my brow-truly, I wondered about what letters home he'd send. Oh dear, today I have swiped the sweat off two knights, one lady and the prince-consort, it was such a fulfilling day!
I chuckled softly as the commoner returned to his spot by the wall.
"Very well," I said with a smile. "However, there are some ground rules I wish to instate."
The man raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"Firstly...that was not the height of your skills. You cannot hide that from me, and that you even tried...well, I'm disappointed," I said smoothly. "Secondly, following the pretty rules of dueling is nice and fun...until someone's fighting for his own life, in which case they are pretty much meaningless. I wish to learn how to fight, not how to duel." I smiled. "And finally, I do not want sugarcoated or honeyed words. If my abilities are so horrible as to deserve a special award for how much I am incapable with a sword, then by all means, say so. I find honesty refreshing."
"I would not say your ability with a sword is bad, your grace," the man answered, thinking it through for a bit. "But it does need polishing. A lot."
I smiled. "Then, what are we waiting for?"
That was how I ended up training swordsmanship with a certain Bleu, a blond-haired totally normal knight of the Western Parterre I had never heard heads or tails of. Isabella, dear, is there somewhere you won't put your spies?
My stay in Petite Troyes had been practically ordered by Isabella, mostly out of concern that I needed to heal properly from the duel with the Duke, but the truth was that she wanted me somewhere she could keep an eye on me while she ran damage control once the news got out of Josette's return, and my actions throughout it. Even though I had claimed full responsibility, there was more than one noble that simply didn't believe it so, and instead remarked on how it was just a surprising coincidence that Isabella had a ring on her finger given to her by the King, and how I'd been seen repeatedly remark on my loyalty to the Crown.
Most certainly, the Prince-Consort who's so quiet during court was simply swept along and did as the King ordered him to do. Even taking the blame on himself for the actions of the king-truly an example of loyalty, as befitting of the son of the Heavy Wind.
There also were nobles who believed the exact opposite, of course. To keep the crown in the hands of Joseph, he blackmailed the Duke D'Orleans into staying away from court. Such underhanded tactics-but such a type of voice didn't last long.
Whether or not Isabella had something to do with that, I didn't bother asking.
I sighed as I watched Raven fly in the air, my afternoon mostly dedicated to reading Holy Books on chants. The rebellion in Albion had swept up most of the Barons of the country, and the vast majority of the commoners in the army had fallen into Reconquista's hands. Whether Joseph was helping them with Myoz or not, the truth of the matter was that Albion's revolutionaries would have won anyway, with or without his help. The whole army refused to follow the King of Albion, themselves or their families starving, and the Reconquista promised fairer ruling with a council of sorts.
The usual tripe of promising democracy in order to achieve dictatorship, spun around with a bit of holy order complex and a sprinkling of We will give you food! which was actually a doable goal if Reconquista had nobles of other countries amidst their kin, willing to send humanitarian aid to their brethren in the White Country.
Thus, it didn't matter. Rumors of the holy void belonging to Cromwell would not spread, but victory of the rebels would be assured unless they managed to acquire some form of aid from the other countries-and they wouldn't, because the troubles of royalty with a kingdom concerned that royalty, and that kingdom, by themselves.
"There you are, dear," Isabella said as she came into view from the corner of my eye, her ladies in attendance gingerly following behind her. As she sat down, servants began to bring her the usual fare of tea, sugar and milk. "I have heard you have been training hard," she began, and I simply sighed.
"Your worries for my person are endearing, Isabella, but I truly will not stab myself with a sword by mistake, whether or not you have people telling you everything I do," I glanced at her, and smiled gently. "Queen Marianne's birthday party is coming up soon. It will be by the shores of the Ragdorian lake, and thus...I was thinking..."
"No," Isabella said offhandedly, "You weren't thinking properly."
Silence settled for a few seconds.
"Isabella," I said with a sigh.
"Henry," Isabella replied without much of an inflection in her voice.
"I am going," I said calmly. "It has been a while since I last danced with you, and I am sure there will be beautiful firework magic and the finest food and wine, but mostly, if we don't go, then I won't be able to show off my beautiful wife. That is quite the grievous sin, is it not?"
"You really like pressing your luck like this, don't you?" Isabella grumbled, huffing as she took a sip of her milk with honey, sugar and a bit of tea on it. "Very well," she conceded. "But you will have to keep me company while the royal tailors prepare my dress for the ball."
I inwardly howled in pain, and Raven, up in the air, cawed in answer.
"It will be my pleasure, my dear wife," I answered with a strained smile.
Isabella, by her part, simply grinned at me.
...
The things I did for the people I cherished.
My blood didn't run cold, as much as stop flowing for a singularly infinite instant. Still, I picked up my swordwand and respectfully waited for my opponent to do the same. The man in question bowed with a charming smile, and the next, our blades crossed. There was a blunting spell on them, but it would still hurt slightly if one ended up getting poked in the eye -and considering just how effective swordwands were, one had to aim at the head to properly train in their use.
His swordsmanship was excellent. It was honestly faster than Jean-Jacques' own, the movements fluid and yet none were unnecessary. Trying to mimic his stance, his motions, his everything-well, it was difficult, but not impossible. The fact he didn't seem to have a limit to his speed made every parry or deflection feel like I've been coming too slow, but he slowed each time short of actually passing through my guard, letting the blow glance away.
The training room we were in had servants alongside its walls, watching in silence as the only noise barring my breath was that of the blades intersecting.
"So," I said. "I didn't know there was someone with your skills in the palace's services," I remarked. The man in question simply smiled, deflecting an incoming thrust with ease that made it look as if I'd been thrusting with a block of wood, rather than a sword. I had been trained by the best-and yet here we were, myself being toyed with. It was kind of frustrating on one part, but on the other...what did I expect?
"I keep to myself," the man replied with a humming tone, thrusting in turn and getting the attack swatted away. "I don't like doing unnecessary things."
"I see," I replied, "yet your skills are quite high. You must have trained for quite a long time to sharpen them," I said calmly, our blades crossing and then separating. Sidestepping to the side to avoid a thrust, I thrust in turn, only for the man to do pretty much the same. We began to circle one another, each sidestep accompanied by a thrust, a parry, or a crossing of blades.
"Thank you for the praise, your grace," the man said. "It is all natural talent however," he added with a smile before suddenly changing the direction of his sidestep, bringing down his free hand to chop down the wrist that held my sword and then placing the tip of his own against my neck. "Nothing more." He smiled as he took a few steps back, bowing nimbly.
I exhaled, and as a servant neared to wipe away the sweat, I inwardly grumbled. I could do that myself, but it would be considered an uncouth thing to do. The fact that there was a servant assigned to wiping away the sweat of my brow-truly, I wondered about what letters home he'd send. Oh dear, today I have swiped the sweat off two knights, one lady and the prince-consort, it was such a fulfilling day!
I chuckled softly as the commoner returned to his spot by the wall.
"Very well," I said with a smile. "However, there are some ground rules I wish to instate."
The man raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"Firstly...that was not the height of your skills. You cannot hide that from me, and that you even tried...well, I'm disappointed," I said smoothly. "Secondly, following the pretty rules of dueling is nice and fun...until someone's fighting for his own life, in which case they are pretty much meaningless. I wish to learn how to fight, not how to duel." I smiled. "And finally, I do not want sugarcoated or honeyed words. If my abilities are so horrible as to deserve a special award for how much I am incapable with a sword, then by all means, say so. I find honesty refreshing."
"I would not say your ability with a sword is bad, your grace," the man answered, thinking it through for a bit. "But it does need polishing. A lot."
I smiled. "Then, what are we waiting for?"
That was how I ended up training swordsmanship with a certain Bleu, a blond-haired totally normal knight of the Western Parterre I had never heard heads or tails of. Isabella, dear, is there somewhere you won't put your spies?
My stay in Petite Troyes had been practically ordered by Isabella, mostly out of concern that I needed to heal properly from the duel with the Duke, but the truth was that she wanted me somewhere she could keep an eye on me while she ran damage control once the news got out of Josette's return, and my actions throughout it. Even though I had claimed full responsibility, there was more than one noble that simply didn't believe it so, and instead remarked on how it was just a surprising coincidence that Isabella had a ring on her finger given to her by the King, and how I'd been seen repeatedly remark on my loyalty to the Crown.
Most certainly, the Prince-Consort who's so quiet during court was simply swept along and did as the King ordered him to do. Even taking the blame on himself for the actions of the king-truly an example of loyalty, as befitting of the son of the Heavy Wind.
There also were nobles who believed the exact opposite, of course. To keep the crown in the hands of Joseph, he blackmailed the Duke D'Orleans into staying away from court. Such underhanded tactics-but such a type of voice didn't last long.
Whether or not Isabella had something to do with that, I didn't bother asking.
I sighed as I watched Raven fly in the air, my afternoon mostly dedicated to reading Holy Books on chants. The rebellion in Albion had swept up most of the Barons of the country, and the vast majority of the commoners in the army had fallen into Reconquista's hands. Whether Joseph was helping them with Myoz or not, the truth of the matter was that Albion's revolutionaries would have won anyway, with or without his help. The whole army refused to follow the King of Albion, themselves or their families starving, and the Reconquista promised fairer ruling with a council of sorts.
The usual tripe of promising democracy in order to achieve dictatorship, spun around with a bit of holy order complex and a sprinkling of We will give you food! which was actually a doable goal if Reconquista had nobles of other countries amidst their kin, willing to send humanitarian aid to their brethren in the White Country.
Thus, it didn't matter. Rumors of the holy void belonging to Cromwell would not spread, but victory of the rebels would be assured unless they managed to acquire some form of aid from the other countries-and they wouldn't, because the troubles of royalty with a kingdom concerned that royalty, and that kingdom, by themselves.
"There you are, dear," Isabella said as she came into view from the corner of my eye, her ladies in attendance gingerly following behind her. As she sat down, servants began to bring her the usual fare of tea, sugar and milk. "I have heard you have been training hard," she began, and I simply sighed.
"Your worries for my person are endearing, Isabella, but I truly will not stab myself with a sword by mistake, whether or not you have people telling you everything I do," I glanced at her, and smiled gently. "Queen Marianne's birthday party is coming up soon. It will be by the shores of the Ragdorian lake, and thus...I was thinking..."
"No," Isabella said offhandedly, "You weren't thinking properly."
Silence settled for a few seconds.
"Isabella," I said with a sigh.
"Henry," Isabella replied without much of an inflection in her voice.
"I am going," I said calmly. "It has been a while since I last danced with you, and I am sure there will be beautiful firework magic and the finest food and wine, but mostly, if we don't go, then I won't be able to show off my beautiful wife. That is quite the grievous sin, is it not?"
"You really like pressing your luck like this, don't you?" Isabella grumbled, huffing as she took a sip of her milk with honey, sugar and a bit of tea on it. "Very well," she conceded. "But you will have to keep me company while the royal tailors prepare my dress for the ball."
I inwardly howled in pain, and Raven, up in the air, cawed in answer.
"It will be my pleasure, my dear wife," I answered with a strained smile.
Isabella, by her part, simply grinned at me.
...
The things I did for the people I cherished.
Dragonskyt
Ashen one, hearest thou my voice, still?
- Location
- Kiln of the First Flame
She's learning...
Victor-Z
The Grinning One
- Location
- Endo Nesa
Dying in glory?
Oh god, this better not be a foreshadowing.
Malbutorius
C'est le bien qui fait mal
So close to being a Courage the Cowardly Dog Reference. So Close.
- Location
- Lynn, MA
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
That's right Henry, you made your bed now you have to lie in it. Just be glad she hasn't found you hidden porn stash yet, and I say yet because it is bound to happen at the most inopportune time.
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I have not heard that name in a long time.
Malbutorius
C'est le bien qui fait mal
It was a great show.
Mizu
Software Developer
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
repeatedly remarking on my
Seems Henry's averted the Albion arc of FoZ, then. What arc was after that?
I mostly remember it being terrifying. Also for teaching me about classical opera. Fun times.
Anyway Henry needs to really step up his game if he want's to be ready by the time canon starts.