Re: Redoubt Island Recwar II: Withdrawl
Posted: Wed Jul 02, 2008 2:19 pm
Salignac
Chevalier Alexandre Lebed-Cygne looked again at the son of an old cup bearer standing opposite him holding forth with all sorts of demands, inducements and dire threats. A cup bearer... yes well that might well count for something in his part of the world, perhaps - but to call himself a prince on account of it, now that was taking it a bit far. However it might be stretched to equate with equal standing to a knight. Alexandre doubted that these Antican heathens had much in the way of an organised system of peerages. It would be enough of an equivalance then for negotiations to continue.
"Viscount of Frejus, you say? I shall naturally have to write to His Grace the Duke to confirm this arrangement. But in the interim I feel that we are close to an accord. Bon then. I shall end this chevauche and place my sword and the rifles of my retainers at your disposal. You in turn will ensure that the lower orders do not attempt to disturb the accustomed rights of the nobility and, as you say, the gentry also. My associates and I shall answer for the maintenance of the King's Peace in Frejus and Carcassonne. We shall answer to you and not to that rabble which you dignify with the name of assembly up in Pierrefeu. Let them keep their liberty, you will see the mess they make of things in due course. Incidentally, do not for a moment think that you can trust these grocers turned politicians, these bourgeoisie it is in their nature to scheme against whoever divine providence or circumstance has set over them. The common people would eat out of your hand, so keen are they on you since you do not beat them, but the middling sort would cut your throat in a thrice if you come to stand in the way of their squalid dreams."
The Chevalier d'Arkan paused for a moment.
"You look positively parched my dear sir. Shall I call for wine? Something stronger perhaps? I have a fine bottle of brandy in my tent - I shall have my man bring it up."
And in truth Braden was starting to look a little unsteady on his feet, beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, a glazed look had come over his eyes, and he was starting to sway a little under the weight of the ceremonial gear he was unaccustomed to wearing.
"Not necessary" he replied. "I have a hipflask - whisky."
The Chevalier wrinkled his nose at the mention of the tipple and made a gesture to a retainer lingering at the edge of the pavilion who promptly disappeared and came back carrying an opaque green glass bottle and two glasses.
"Bah - crofters piss. Now, try this brandy, I swear to you it is so exquisite - the ambrosia of the angels and saints themselves - that you'll never want to touch anything else."
Braden looked hesitantly at the brown liquid decanted into the glass set in front of him. As if to assure him, and in truth to steady his own nerves, the Chevalier knocked his glass back in one go. He would normally consider it a mortal sin to not savour the flavour of so fine a brandy but there would be opportunities for that later. A relieved looking Braden picked up the glass, sipped the liquid tentatively and, finding it to his liking, consumed the rest with an appreciative sigh.
"So do we have an accord then?"