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Noblesse Oblige [Znt/SI]

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Bah, he was just very unlucky. Next time, LARP with the armor of the anti-tick point defense. Hiking is good for the soul, and so is hugging trees.
 
shadenight123 said:
Louise was wearing a pretty nice pink dress, a parchment in her hands that she was furiously rereading, trying to memorize lines upon lines of whatever sort of artistic drivel she had come up with to celebrate the marriage between the Emperor and the Princess, and it was clear she would rather die than embarrass herself. Agnes was in attendance, silently standing behind a quite cross Eleonore -chosen by all the family to represent the Valliere, and mostly because even though Louise was the Explosive, nobody crossed the Iron Lady and lived to tell the tale.
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I always forgot that despite Louise being a Void mage and Karin's legendary exploits, Eleanore is pretty damn impressive for a mage and she is the next generation follower of Karin's Rule of Steel. If she actually choose to be a battle mage not a researcher, she will definitely be the second coming of Heavy Wind. Her Runic name is pretty damn formidable after all, and she actually lived up to that name.
 
Marla said:
I always forgot that despite Louise being a Void mage and Karin's legendary exploits, Eleanore is pretty damn impressive for a mage and she is the next generation follower of Karin's Rule of Steel. If she actually choose to be a battle mage not a researcher, she will definitely be the second coming of Heavy Wind. Her Runic name is pretty damn formidable after all, and she actually lived up to that name.
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Goal number 2(after dealing with elf): See about recruiting big sister to working for you in reaserch and development.
Incentives: heading her own division (with handpicked underlings as an option), throw money at her, grovel, throw more money at her, appeal to her ego, tell her about how not!Gandalf fucked up and that you need her help.
 
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Chapter One Hundred and Sixty
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    • Chapter One Hundred and Sixty

    They say that marriage is the tomb of freedom, or the only conflict where you bed the enemy, or a lot of other cynically-similar endeavors that yield the result of making you see your other half as the enemy to be conquered, lied to, or otherwise successfully evaded. From my own point of view, it was nothing of the sort. Sure, my wife was a petite psychopath mixed with Marie Antoinette that would have sold croissants to the starving people of Lutece, but she did earnestly try her best to put up with my faults -and I did the same with hers.

    Henrietta was holding her head up high even as the ceremony had come to an end and the kiss had been delivered. It had definitely been passionate on Albrecht's side, and the jolly man was now excitedly roaring to the heavens how he was going to show the Tristanian princess a night she would never forget. Honestly, by the time the metaphors had reached those of the ducks and the stuffing, even I was starting to feel a bit green.

    "Whatever happens next," I said as I steeled myself, gazing at my proud compatriots, "Not a word to my wife, or she'll hang me by the neck."

    My escorts all nodded as one man, and so, I put up my bar face.

    "So ye'r gonna show her a good time uh, yer excellency?" I said with a giggle as I easily infiltrated the circle of high Germanian nobles that were gathered around the Emperor. He was already quite drunk, but still he drank on. Then again, everyone was already quite drunk on the Germanian side, and yet they partied on. I liked this sort of thing. Tristanians weren't bad at parties, but they were a bit of a let down when they got soaring drunk. They didn't dance on tables. They fell flatly dead on them and started to snore and reconsider their life choices.

    There was an old lovely Germanian matron who was currently drunk out of her wits dancing with two poor servants who didn't know what to do about being pressed against her bountiful sides. "Dance me boys! Dance with me girls!" the lovely matron roared. I was half-certain it had to be a Zerbst. Mostly because even the other nobles looked on with a mixture of jealousy, indignation, and some form of how I wish I was in those servants' places!

    "Certainly better than a Tristanian fuck could ever be!" Albrecht replied with a bout of laughter, "Ye'r from Tristain yourself ain't ya?" he snorted in his drink, "You went all the way to Gallia, did yer wife teach you anything of worth?"

    In that moment, I smiled. I could have demanded a duel to the death for that affront, but if I did that, there would be an emperor less, a war in the making and a lot of future mess that I wanted to avoid. Still, the thought to detach the man's head from his neck had grown a few sizes in just a brief lapse of time.

    "Why would I need to be taught when I've been financing the Shadow of the Night? I have first rights to read everything he writes. You call him Schatten Von Nacht around these parts if I'm not wrong," and then I eagerly clapped the back of a nearby noble who nearly choked on his drink. "But you know what? Let's not turn this into a dick measuring contest!" another choking sound, louder yet. "I say, you know how to celebrate! So, come on, for today don't think of me as the Gentle Prince from Gallia! I want to drink wine, have fun, and make friends! Who doesn't want that?"

    The Emperor laughed in turn. "Why not! Let's show you how we Germanian party! Bring us two barrels! We're gonna play dunkers!" I belatedly realized what would happen only after I understood why it was called Dunkers.

    I did send one of my proud escorts to get me a change of clothes, because I knew I would need it, but the Emperor didn't seem to care about that, and so, as the two barrels of beer were hoisted and propped in place by our sides, they were both opened.

    "B-Brother!" Louise exclaimed, aghast from the side. Eleonore was pale beyond belief, the fan in her hand snapped in half as her glasses gleamed with the light of holy vengeance. Still, it was too late to stop. The challenge had been issued.

    Wait. Since when had this become a challenge?

    The Emperor was hoisted up by some of his trusted men, and the same was done by my side. Then, we weren't dunked inside the barrels as much as held over them, and the purpose was to drink beer faster than our men would lose their grip on our sides. There was a jovial laughing chorus all around us, even though I could feel the ghosts of death, punishment, and the phantoms of etiquette and court manners commit ritualistic curses in my name.

    "Ye want some water, ye fancy prince!?" Albrecht yelled from his barrel, both hands on the side of it as he laughed, his men holding up with visible effort.

    "The only water I want better be with hops in it!" I snarled back, surprising him as my own face was just as red as his. "Well? Come on men! We ain't gonna let him out-drink me, are we!?"

    "No sir!" the men that held me up yelled, even as I could feel the cringe in their voices.

    Come on young men, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. When in Germania, do as the Germanians do.

    "We ain't gonna let damn Gallians surpass us in drinking too!" Albrecht yelled, "Push me deeper!" and as he said that, his own men pushed him further inside the barrel.

    The Tristanians, needless to say, were scandalized to the point where not a single feather remained unscathed. Some of the younger nobles in attendance did try to join the festivities, but their firmly displeased wives held them back with swift promises of murder -exchanged with simple eye-glances.

    And then it happened. Albrecht's weight was quite larger than mine, and his men were nobles, not trained soldiers. So, at a certain point, they let him go and he fell face first into the barrel with a sordid thunk. The moment he did, I gave a quick hand gesture and the rest of the men let me go down the barrel myself. The next, we both pushed ourselves out.

    "Ye fell in the barrel first, ye Gallian fancy pants!" Albrecht said with a snort at my sight.

    "The hell ye saying? We fell at the same time!" I snapped back.

    "That's so not what happened!" Albrecht snarled, a fist raised.

    "That so?" I said, a fist of my own raised. "Then I challenge you!" my finger, admittedly, was pointing in all other direction than him, but then again he was spinning a bit, and multiplying. "To an eating contest!"

    "Eating!? Ah! Ye just marked yer death sentence with that! Bring out the Bratwursts and the sauerkraut! Get us the beer! I'll show ye! Oh I'll show ye!"

    I removed my upper clothes drenched in beer, and the Emperor did the same. We stared at one another, chest naked, and thumped our chests practically at the same time in the universal language of bringing it on.

    A few people did actually faint.

    One of my escorts actually was among those numbers.

    The poor bloke must have realized that this type of festivity...

    ...it would go on for weeks.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • shadenight123 said:
    Chapter One Hundred and Sixty

    They say that marriage is the tomb of freedom, or the only conflict where you bed the enemy, or a lot of other cynically-similar endeavors that yield the result of making you see your other half as the enemy to be conquered, lied to, or otherwise successfully evaded. From my own point of view, it was nothing of the sort. Sure, my wife was a petite psychopath mixed with Marie Antoinette that would have sold croissants to the starving people of Lutece, but she did earnestly try her best to put up with my faults -and I did the same with hers.

    Henrietta was holding her head up high even as the ceremony had come to an end and the kiss had been delivered. It had definitely been passionate on Albrecht's side, and the jolly man was now excitedly roaring to the heavens how he was going to show the Tristanian princess a night she would never forget. Honestly, by the time the metaphors had reached those of the ducks and the stuffing, even I was starting to feel a bit green.

    "Whatever happens next," I said as I steeled myself, gazing at my proud compatriots, "Not a word to my wife, or she'll hang me by the neck."

    My escorts all nodded as one man, and so, I put up my bar face.

    "So ye'r gonna show her a good time uh, yer excellency?" I said with a giggle as I easily infiltrated the circle of high Germanian nobles that were gathered around the Emperor. He was already quite drunk, but still he drank on. Then again, everyone was already quite drunk on the Germanian side, and yet they partied on. I liked this sort of thing. Tristanians weren't bad at parties, but they were a bit of a let down when they got soaring drunk. They didn't dance on tables. They fell flatly dead on them and started to snore and reconsider their life choices.

    There was an old lovely Germanian matron who was currently drunk out of her wits dancing with two poor servants who didn't know what to do about being pressed against her bountiful sides. "Dance me boys! Dance with me girls!" the lovely matron roared. I was half-certain it had to be a Zerbst. Mostly because even the other nobles looked on with a mixture of jealousy, indignation, and some form of how I wish I was in those servants' places!

    "Certainly better than a Tristanian fuck could ever be!" Albrecht replied with a bout of laughter, "Ye'r from Tristain yourself ain't ya?" he snorted in his drink, "You went all the way to Gallia, did yer wife teach you anything of worth?"

    In that moment, I smiled. I could have demanded a duel to the death for that affront, but if I did that, there would be an emperor less, a war in the making and a lot of future mess that I wanted to avoid. Still, the thought to detach the man's head from his neck had grown a few sizes in just a brief lapse of time.

    "Why would I need to be taught when I've been financing the Shadow of the Night? I have first rights to read everything he writes. You call him Schatten Von Nacht around these parts if I'm not wrong," and then I eagerly clapped the back of a nearby noble who nearly choked on his drink. "But you know what? Let's not turn this into a dick measuring contest!" another choking sound, louder yet. "I say, you know how to celebrate! So, come on, for today don't think of me as the Gentle Prince from Gallia! I want to drink wine, have fun, and make friends! Who doesn't want that?"

    The Emperor laughed in turn. "Why not! Let's show you how we Germanian party! Bring us two barrels! We're gonna play dunkers!" I belatedly realized what would happen only after I understood why it was called Dunkers.

    I did send one of my proud escorts to get me a change of clothes, because I knew I would need it, but the Emperor didn't seem to care about that, and so, as the two barrels of beer were hoisted and propped in place by our sides, they were both opened.

    "B-Brother!" Louise exclaimed, aghast from the side. Eleonore was pale beyond belief, the fan in her hand snapped in half as her glasses gleamed with the light of holy vengeance. Still, it was too late to stop. The challenge had been issued.

    Wait. Since when had this become a challenge?

    The Emperor was hoisted up by some of his trusted men, and the same was done by my side. Then, we weren't dunked inside the barrels as much as held over them, and the purpose was to drink beer faster than our men would lose their grip on our sides. There was a jovial laughing chorus all around us, even though I could feel the ghosts of death, punishment, and the phantoms of etiquette and court manners commit ritualistic curses in my name.

    "Ye want some water, ye fancy prince!?" Albrecht yelled from his barrel, both hands on the side of it as he laughed, his men holding up with visible effort.

    "The only water I want better be with hops in it!" I snarled back, surprising him as my own face was just as red as his. "Well? Come on men! We ain't gonna let him out-drink me, are we!?"

    "No sir!" the men that held me up yelled, even as I could feel the cringe in their voices.

    Come on young men, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. When in Germania, do as the Germanians do.

    "We ain't gonna let damn Gallians surpass us in drinking too!" Albrecht yelled, "Push me deeper!" and as he said that, his own men pushed him further inside the barrel.

    The Tristanians, needless to say, were scandalized to the point where not a single feather remained unscathed. Some of the younger nobles in attendance did try to join the festivities, but their firmly displeased wives held them back with swift promises of murder -exchanged with simple eye-glances.

    And then it happened. Albrecht's weight was quite larger than mine, and his men were nobles, not trained soldiers. So, at a certain point, they let him go and he fell face first into the barrel with a sordid thunk. The moment he did, I gave a quick hand gesture and the rest of the men let me go down the barrel myself. The next, we both pushed ourselves out.

    "Ye fell in the barrel first, ye Gallian fancy pants!" Albrecht said with a snort at my sight.

    "The hell ye saying? We fell at the same time!" I snapped back.

    "That's so not what happened!" Albrecht snarled, a fist raised.

    "That so?" I said, a fist of my own raised. "Then I challenge you!" my finger, admittedly, was pointing in all other direction than him, but then again he was spinning a bit, and multiplying. "To an eating contest!"

    "Eating!? Ah! Ye just marked yer death sentence with that! Bring out the Bratwursts and the sauerkraut! Get us the beer! I'll show ye! Oh I'll show ye!"

    I removed my upper clothes drenched in beer, and the Emperor did the same. We stared at one another, chest naked, and thumped our chests practically at the same time in the universal language of bringing it on.

    A few people did actually faint.

    One of my escorts actually was among those numbers.

    The poor bloke must have realized that this type of festivity...

    ...it would go on for weeks.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    ...I have no idea what the fuck I just read, but whatever it is, it's glorious.
     
    Does Henrietta have to stay in Germania after the marriage? Is that what Shade is trying to accomplish? Prevent a consummation of marriage? Or is he trying to kill the Emperor of Germania via copious amounts of booze and wine?
     
    shadenight123 said:
    I removed my upper clothes drenched in beer, and the Emperor did the same. We stared at one another, chest naked, and thumped our chests practically at the same time in the universal language of bringing it on.

    A few people did actually faint.

    One of my escorts actually was among those numbers.

    The poor bloke must have realized that this type of festivity...

    ...it would go on for weeks.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    ...No I don't think that's why.
    I'm afraid I have to inform you... you've contracted bishounen sparkles, this is what everyone saw... just with less clothing.
     
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    Why do i foresee this ending with the Emperor dying due to over eating, Leaving Henrietta as the new Empress, and a widow on her wedding day.
     
    So noble, Henry, to sacrifice yourself in this way for Henrietta, such a soft, compassionate heart! Isabella could never understand, but I'm sure your men do. Your men do. Noblesse Oblige.
     
    Really Henry, this time it won't be the escorts that told your wife of your shenanigans in Germania, it will be the court gossips since this is a public spectacle. Or her family-in-law. That works too. Eleanore is giving you the evil eye of vengeance after all.
     
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