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Noblesse Oblige [Znt/SI]

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I just wondered...we've seen multiple moments where Henry has contemplated the lengths he'd go for his family, but has he ever had similar thoughts for Isabella?
 
EVA-Saiyajin said:
I just wondered...we've seen multiple moments where Henry has contemplated the lengths he'd go for his family, but has he ever had similar thoughts for Isabella?
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Unlike Isabella who is at the top of the power command totem pole, and surrounded by at least 4 different knight orders, the Valiers are subservient to the crown of Tristain. And as such have to obey their whims.
From Henry's perspective, just two days ago he learned that Henrietta called on his retired mother to plug the gap of 20 thousand soldiers she lacked for parity, simply because he didn't want to do things his way.
Then immediately after he learned that Henrietta DID in fact send letters for Louise to be at her side, in a war zone, despite he apparent lack of any useful magical powers.
 
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kaazmiz said:
Then immediately after he learned that Henrietta DID in fact send letters for Louise to be at her side, in a war zone, despite he apparent lack of any useful magical powers.
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Which means it was only done to pressure him. With his 'touch my family and die' policy he tries to discourage that behvior.
 
MTB said:
Which means it was only done to pressure him. With his 'touch my family and die' policy he tries to discourage that behvior.
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Yeah...
So now the Valiers are still under Henriettas command, with her likely not giving fucks anymore about her safety, and the object of her hate can suffer as much as she does. So now she is a direct threat to his family.
While Isabella is safely tucked in Leutece, surrounded by knights, and ravens.
It makes sense he's more worried for his parents and sisters than her.
 
kaazmiz said:
Yeah...
So now the Valiers are still under Henriettas command, with her likely not giving fucks anymore about her safety, and the object of her hate can suffer as much as she does. So now she is a direct threat to his family.
While Isabella is safely tucked in Leutece, surrounded by knights, and ravens.
It makes sense he's more worried for his parents and sisters than her.
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...
And as he told his mother 'the rule of steel only applies to living monarchs' ...
It will be interesting to read how Henrietta reacts. Up to now she didn't leave the impression of using her head very much except to try to get what she personally wants.
 
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Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Five
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    • Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Five

    There is no easy way to solve a problem. There is no easy way to settle a grudge. The forces of Tristain and Germania left on that day, and the borders between those countries and Gallia saw an increase in border patrols. The same could be said for the border with Gallia, and thus it was on the first days that a package was sent to one Mathilda Saxe-Gotha, in the form of a small bag that was, inside, big enough to fit a person.

    Hopefully, Mathilda would let the prince explain himself. If he then wanted to die, or if Mathilda wanted to kill him, then so be it. Otherwise, perhaps, he might make Tiffania's life a bit more bearable. Sure, he was the son of the man that had sentenced to death Tiffania's mother, but he was also her cousin, and Tiffania was a sweet kid. I had high hopes forgiveness would pave the way to an understanding relationship. If not...well, there was a lot of land around to dig a tomb for someone.

    Whatever Mathilda chose to do, whatever Wales chose to do, whatever Tiffania said or did...in the end, it wasn't up to me. I had merely sent him to face the music, and did not wish to interfere upon the choices they made.

    I had other duties to attend to.

    The Windland docked with the thundering of its guns as a salute, rattling the windows and making the people gathered scream even louder. Flags of Gallia waved themselves furiously, women fainted, men raised their fists in the air and cheered, throwing bits and pieces of ripped colored paper. The men marched in neat columns, the drummers drumming away as the trumpets sang the tune of our victorious return.

    Soon enough, the marching soldiers came to a halt in the large courtyards in front of Grand Troyes, where I stopped halfway to dismiss the army with a salute. The salute's return was met with a last present-at-arms, and then they marched their way back in the direction of the barracks. The crowd cheered at the passing soldiers, and then they cheered at me too as I waved at them one last time, before the doors of the palace of Grand Troyes closed behind me, leaving the people outside to get on with the festivities -and eat for free to their hearts' content.

    I really would have loved to join them. The stalls on the way had all the bearings of holding on to some great spicy food, and I was sure the meals of victorious champions would be served in the barracks for the returning men and women-but no, I had to follow proper protocol and present to Her Majesty, Queen Isabella, the conquest of Albion.

    Thus the ample doors that led into the royal courtroom were opened by two servants clad in blue and gold, as the announcer spoke my rank and title, for the rest of the gathered court to hear. The nobles applauded my triumphant entrance as the trumpets began to play, Isabella herself smiling from her throne. As the eyes of every member of the court were upon me, I walked towards the base of the steps that lead to the throne and knelt, my head held high because even though I was subservient, I also was an equal of sorts.

    "Your majesty, my beloved wife, I return from Albion with all of the banners of the White Country changed to those of this Royal Kingdom. There is no longer an Albion, up in the sky, but only Gallia," I said with a smile as a servant nearby presented my proof of victory. The royal crown of the Albion royalty and its golden scepter. Isabella grinned in turn, standing up from her throne and taking a single step down in my direction.

    She halted then, and extended her right hand forward. "We trusted in your great success, and none at court thought otherwise. Now, our husband, it is time to put war behind us and be at peace." I blinked. I blinked and then my eyes looked right into those of Isabella. She understood perfectly well what she was saying, and I acknowledged those words for what they were. They were the words of rite to recover the Baton that marked my status as Marshal. It was implicit. While as Prince-Consort I could still levy the army, the implicit message was clear. Return the baton, stop going to war, stop leading the army, grow lazy and fat on the throne by my side.

    With the whole court watching, if I refused such a thing then I would shame Isabella more than anything else I could ever do. If I remarked on the tensions along the border that were to come, then she would merely boast of Gallia, and query if I didn't trust my country to pull through. In this world, the Crown knows best. It's a matter of fact, an undeniable truth -you cannot go against the wishes of royalty, because they know what is best for everyone else.

    Even when they really don't.

    I gripped the Baton and brought it up in her direction, my eyes glaring at her even as she grabbed it, and most primly dropped it on a nearby pillow that a servant held up by her side. The servant bowed profusely as he walked away with it. Isabella's smile was warm, as if she had just done me a great service. Near her throne, a smaller one had been prepared for me to sit. I did not yet rise, because apparently another servant had drawn near in the meantime, a crown of silver and decorated with jewels ready to be propped upon my head with the deft hands of Isabella.

    "Now rise, my beloved Henry," she whispered with a coquettish voice, "and sit by my side."

    I rose slowly and took my place in front of my own throne, waiting until Isabella sat down to do so myself. The court was now in session. Nobles would, now, come in to demand their piece of the pie. They would claim they helped the war effort in this or that way, but...but since they hadn't really been a part of it, because the honors of war went to my men, the ones who stepped forth were my officers, my knights, and my soldiers.

    Rewards were given, Chevaliers became either Baronets, or hereditary knights-lands were doled out, prizes of both money, and honor -under the form of medals- were delivered. As the last of my men -the first to pin the flag of Gallia atop the roof of the palace of Rosais- was rewarded with a medal, those who had participated through other means came forth next. It was a matter of setting monopoly charters upon the trade routes, investing or promising to invest in businesses, and in all of that, Isabella listened to the proposals, and either accepted, refused, or changed them to suit her needs.

    I had no place there but that of the statue, that kept himself up properly and tried his hardest not to look bored out of his wits.

    Also, the crown was a weight on my head I would have gone gladly without. It had taken me months to get used to the flapping of a mantle on my back -a must have for any nobles- and now a crown too? Perhaps I could get it replaced with a paper one? Or have it lightened up?

    Still, it was as I remained silent that I blinked. I glanced at the noble in question.

    "...which is why, five ecus per one hectolitre will be the price suggested-"

    I glanced at Isabella, who seemed to be bored out of her wits already. Perhaps because the sums were to her a pittance, she wasn't really bothered about it. When it came to dealing with silks, iron works, or manufacturing permits, then she was a shark. But if I asked her the value of a single loaf of bread in one of Lutece's bakeries, she would come up empty. "With the proper taxes, this would amount to a benefit for the Crown of at least one ecus every hectolitre, considering a normal exchange of seven thousand hectolitres, that would mean seven thousand ecus earned-" truly a pittance for Isabella's ears. For less than seventy thousand ecus, she wouldn't bother her brain to calculate it properly.

    "That is-"

    "No," I spoke for the first time in the whole day, and it was enough to actually startle Isabella out of her bored self. "Marquis Lestrade-the price you are suggesting of five ecus per hectolitre is...at least ten to twenty times the normal buying price for people in the market. Let us presume you are accounting for the costs of transport, but those would be already taken care of by the lack of tariffs as proposed due to the prime goods that you are transporting, which are exonerated as per royal decree," since I had been the one to suggest it, it was obvious I'd remember it quite clearly. "The Crown can easily withstand a loss of seven thousand ecus, if it means you will drop those prices to a more reasonable level. Do you have a better offer? Otherwise, the Crown will more than gladly take it upon itself to buy at market price and send it over free of charge. A bit of charity will do our souls weary from war nothing but good."

    Isabella did not refute my words. She couldn't.

    In that moment, I understood what I had to do to get my baton back.

    When two royal consorts sit on the throne, it is usually intended that they are both wishing the same thing. The prosperity of their reign, and peace and wealth for their vassals. If Isabella wanted to keep her fingers in her pies without letting me have a share of it, then she needed to give me something to do. If I spoke first, and interceded at the right moments, she was powerless to stop me unless she wished to reprimand me publicly -something she would never do, because then she would be the one losing face due to not having a tight enough leash around her husband's neck.

    Isabella understood it. She understood it the moment my bored eyes turned into fires of determination. She understood it the moment I squared my shoulders a bit more and my lips twitched in something akin to the smile of a shark, my fingers clasped together as I dropped my chin upon then, gazing with vivid interest at Marquis Lestrade's mental calculations.

    "One ecu per hectolitre," the Marquis said in the end. "It is steep, but considering the risks-"

    I nodded. "I have a proposition for you. The crown will pay the difference between the current Lutece's market price and the price you have just said, that is, a difference of ninety-eight sous per hectolitre if I am not wrong," the price was of twenty-two sous per one hundred liters, so... "Upon notice that your cargo has successfully arrived in the docks of Albion, just as long as the grain will be sold to the same price as here in Gallia. What says you, Marquis? Consider that while some of your grain might go unsold up in the docks, the Crown will pay just as long as its all delivered-and rather than throw it away, then perhaps gifting it might do good once it's run its course."

    The Marquis furrowed his brows, and then bowed deeply. "I bow to your wisdom, your highness," he glanced at Isabella, who simply smiled and nodded once in turn, and the Marquis moved away.

    He was definitely happy he'd get a sort of insurance, and even though he wasn't going to earn a fortune, he was still going to get his neat cut. Especially because he was going to sell it without tariffs or taxes to go with it.

    Isabella opened her fan to cover her mouth, and as she slowly fanned herself, she whispered in a gentle, sweet, and no-answering-back tone, "My dear husband, perhaps you should go rest your weary limbs for the day?"

    I smiled, and then inclined my head to the side while looking at her.

    "When the bird infringes on the domain of the fish to swim, why is he surprised that the fish leaps out to fly?"

    Isabella huffed, "We will discuss more of it in private," she snapped her fan to a close and held her calm smile on her face, even as the next noble came up, with his trade charters and monopolies on pelts.

    But Isabella remained on her toes throughout the whole court hearing, but unfortunately for her...she couldn't win.

    The first necessity goods were stuff that commoners needed, stuff that she, herself, had never even heard of. To her, wood was meant to be sculpted, definitely not sold by the tone worked to resist bitingly cold temperatures, or altered magically to burn hotter and longer. She was used to scented candles, made from royal bee wax. What did she know of bulk selling of candles to light the dreary nights?

    You took away my baton.

    Now watch as I bring a hefty dose of welfare state into your court.

    To arms, comrades of the revolution!
     
  • Threadmarks
    • shadenight123 said:
    Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Five

    There is no easy way to solve a problem. There is no easy way to settle a grudge. The forces of Tristain and Germania left on that day, and the borders between those countries and Gallia saw an increase in border patrols. The same could be said for the border with Gallia, and thus it was on the first days that a package was sent to one Mathilda Saxe-Gotha, in the form of a small bag that was, inside, big enough to fit a person.

    Hopefully, Mathilda would let the prince explain himself. If he then wanted to die, or if Mathilda wanted to kill him, then so be it. Otherwise, perhaps, he might make Tiffania's life a bit more bearable. Sure, he was the son of the man that had sentenced to death Tiffania's mother, but he was also her cousin, and Tiffania was a sweet kid. I had high hopes forgiveness would pave the way to an understanding relationship. If not...well, there was a lot of land around to dig a tomb for someone.

    Whatever Mathilda chose to do, whatever Wales chose to do, whatever Tiffania said or did...in the end, it wasn't up to me. I had merely sent him to face the music, and did not wish to interfere upon the choices they made.

    I had other duties to attend to.

    The Windland docked with the thundering of its guns as a salute, rattling the windows and making the people gathered scream even louder. Flags of Gallia waved themselves furiously, women fainted, men raised their fists in the air and cheered, throwing bits and pieces of ripped colored paper. The men marched in neat columns, the drummers drumming away as the trumpets sang the tune of our victorious return.

    Soon enough, the marching soldiers came to a halt in the large courtyards in front of Grand Troyes, where I stopped halfway to dismiss the army with a salute. The salute's return was met with a last present-at-arms, and then they marched their way back in the direction of the barracks. The crowd cheered at the passing soldiers, and then they cheered at me too as I waved at them one last time, before the doors of the palace of Grand Troyes closed behind me, leaving the people outside to get on with the festivities -and eat for free to their hearts' content.

    I really would have loved to join them. The stalls on the way had all the bearings of holding on to some great spicy food, and I was sure the meals of victorious champions would be served in the barracks for the returning men and women-but no, I had to follow proper protocol and present to Her Majesty, Queen Isabella, the conquest of Albion.

    Thus the ample doors that led into the royal courtroom were opened by two servants clad in blue and gold, as the announcer spoke my rank and title, for the rest of the gathered court to hear. The nobles applauded my triumphant entrance as the trumpets began to play, Isabella herself smiling from her throne. As the eyes of every member of the court were upon me, I walked towards the base of the steps that lead to the throne and knelt, my head held high because even though I was subservient, I also was an equal of sorts.

    "Your majesty, my beloved wife, I return from Albion with all of the banners of the White Country changed to those of this Royal Kingdom. There is no longer an Albion, up in the sky, but only Gallia," I said with a smile as a servant nearby presented my proof of victory. The royal crown of the Albion royalty and its golden scepter. Isabella grinned in turn, standing up from her throne and taking a single step down in my direction.

    She halted then, and extended her right hand forward. "We trusted in your great success, and none at court thought otherwise. Now, our husband, it is time to put war behind us and be at peace." I blinked. I blinked and then my eyes looked right into those of Isabella. She understood perfectly well what she was saying, and I acknowledged those words for what they were. They were the words of rite to recover the Baton that marked my status as Marshal. It was implicit. While as Prince-Consort I could still levy the army, the implicit message was clear. Return the baton, stop going to war, stop leading the army, grow lazy and fat on the throne by my side.

    With the whole court watching, if I refused such a thing then I would shame Isabella more than anything else I could ever do. If I remarked on the tensions along the border that were to come, then she would merely boast of Gallia, and query if I didn't trust my country to pull through. In this world, the Crown knows best. It's a matter of fact, an undeniable truth -you cannot go against the wishes of royalty, because they know what is best for everyone else.

    Even when they really don't.

    I gripped the Baton and brought it up in her direction, my eyes glaring at her even as she grabbed it, and most primly dropped it on a nearby pillow that a servant held up by her side. The servant bowed profusely as he walked away with it. Isabella's smile was warm, as if she had just done me a great service. Near her throne, a smaller one had been prepared for me to sit. I did not yet rise, because apparently another servant had drawn near in the meantime, a crown of silver and decorated with jewels ready to be propped upon my head with the deft hands of Isabella.

    "Now rise, my beloved Henry," she whispered with a coquettish voice, "and sit by my side."

    I rose slowly and took my place in front of my own throne, waiting until Isabella sat down to do so myself. The court was now in session. Nobles would, now, come in to demand their piece of the pie. They would claim they helped the war effort in this or that way, but...but since they hadn't really been a part of it, because the honors of war went to my men, the ones who stepped forth were my officers, my knights, and my soldiers.

    Rewards were given, Chevaliers became either Baronets, or hereditary knights-lands were doled out, prizes of both money, and honor -under the form of medals- were delivered. As the last of my men -the first to pin the flag of Gallia atop the roof of the palace of Rosais- was rewarded with a medal, those who had participated through other means came forth next. It was a matter of setting monopoly charters upon the trade routes, investing or promising to invest in businesses, and in all of that, Isabella listened to the proposals, and either accepted, refused, or changed them to suit her needs.

    I had no place there but that of the statue, that kept himself up properly and tried his hardest not to look bored out of his wits.

    Also, the crown was a weight on my head I would have gone gladly without. It had taken me months to get used to the flapping of a mantle on my back -a must have for any nobles- and now a crown too? Perhaps I could get it replaced with a paper one? Or have it lightened up?

    Still, it was as I remained silent that I blinked. I glanced at the noble in question.

    "...which is why, five ecus per one hectolitre will be the price suggested-"

    I glanced at Isabella, who seemed to be bored out of her wits already. Perhaps because the sums were to her a pittance, she wasn't really bothered about it. When it came to dealing with silks, iron works, or manufacturing permits, then she was a shark. But if I asked her the value of a single loaf of bread in one of Lutece's bakeries, she would come up empty. "With the proper taxes, this would amount to a benefit for the Crown of at least one ecus every hectolitre, considering a normal exchange of seven thousand hectolitres, that would mean seven thousand ecus earned-" truly a pittance for Isabella's ears. For less than seventy thousand ecus, she wouldn't bother her brain to calculate it properly.

    "That is-"

    "No," I spoke for the first time in the whole day, and it was enough to actually startle Isabella out of her bored self. "Marquis Lestrade-the price you are suggesting of five ecus per hectolitre is...at least ten to twenty times the normal buying price for people in the market. Let us presume you are accounting for the costs of transport, but those would be already taken care of by the lack of tariffs as proposed due to the prime goods that you are transporting, which are exonerated as per royal decree," since I had been the one to suggest it, it was obvious I'd remember it quite clearly. "The Crown can easily withstand a loss of seven thousand ecus, if it means you will drop those prices to a more reasonable level. Do you have a better offer? Otherwise, the Crown will more than gladly take it upon itself to buy at market price and send it over free of charge. A bit of charity will do our souls weary from war nothing but good."

    Isabella did not refute my words. She couldn't.

    In that moment, I understood what I had to do to get my baton back.

    When two royal consorts sit on the throne, it is usually intended that they are both wishing the same thing. The prosperity of their reign, and peace and wealth for their vassals. If Isabella wanted to keep her fingers in her pies without letting me have a share of it, then she needed to give me something to do. If I spoke first, and interceded at the right moments, she was powerless to stop me unless she wished to reprimand me publicly -something she would never do, because then she would be the one losing face due to not having a tight enough leash around her husband's neck.

    Isabella understood it. She understood it the moment my bored eyes turned into fires of determination. She understood it the moment I squared my shoulders a bit more and my lips twitched in something akin to the smile of a shark, my fingers clasped together as I dropped my chin upon then, gazing with vivid interest at Marquis Lestrade's mental calculations.

    "One ecu per hectolitre," the Marquis said in the end. "It is steep, but considering the risks-"

    I nodded. "I have a proposition for you. The crown will pay the difference between the current Lutece's market price and the price you have just said, that is, a difference of ninety-eight sous per hectolitre if I am not wrong," the price was of twenty-two sous per one hundred liters, so... "Upon notice that your cargo has successfully arrived in the docks of Albion, just as long as the grain will be sold to the same price as here in Gallia. What says you, Marquis? Consider that while some of your grain might go unsold up in the docks, the Crown will pay just as long as its all delivered-and rather than throw it away, then perhaps gifting it might do good once it's run its course."

    The Marquis furrowed his brows, and then bowed deeply. "I bow to your wisdom, your highness," he glanced at Isabella, who simply smiled and nodded once in turn, and the Marquis moved away.

    He was definitely happy he'd get a sort of insurance, and even though he wasn't going to earn a fortune, he was still going to get his neat cut. Especially because he was going to sell it without tariffs or taxes to go with it.

    Isabella opened her fan to cover her mouth, and as she slowly fanned herself, she whispered in a gentle, sweet, and no-answering-back tone, "My dear husband, perhaps you should go rest your weary limbs for the day?"

    I smiled, and then inclined my head to the side while looking at her.

    "When the bird infringes on the domain of the fish to swim, why is he surprised that the fish leaps out to fly?"

    Isabella huffed, "We will discuss more of it in private," she snapped her fan to a close and held her calm smile on her face, even as the next noble came up, with his trade charters and monopolies on pelts.

    But Isabella remained on her toes throughout the whole court hearing, but unfortunately for her...she couldn't win.

    The first necessity goods were stuff that commoners needed, stuff that she, herself, had never even heard of. To her, wood was meant to be sculpted, definitely not sold by the tone worked to resist bitingly cold temperatures, or altered magically to burn hotter and longer. She was used to scented candles, made from royal bee wax. What did she know of bulk selling of candles to light the dreary nights?

    You took away my baton.

    Now watch as I bring a hefty dose of welfare state into your court.

    To arms, comrades of the revolution!
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    To arms! Viva la revolucion!
     
    shadenight123 said:
    Now watch as I bring a hefty dose of welfare state into your court.

    To arms, comrades of the revolution!
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Somehow I get the feeling that if Henry is ever confronted by a popular rebellion he'd say, "Okay. I give up the crown. What's your plan for governance?"

    "What?"

    "Like what are you going to replace the monarchy with? Are you just going to let people run wild with no law?"

    "Well... we havent really gotten that far ye-"

    "No no no. That wont do. Now pen, paper, what is your first goal..."

    One thing leads to another and suddenly a plan of transition to constitutional monarchy is laid out.

    Also: You see, Isabella? You see the dangers of attempting to keep your husband solely as arm candy!?
     
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