Taking office

[Shyriath]

The day after ten thousand gold coins changed hands, the area around the Dutchal residence in Blackrock Nua begins to attract crowds. There had been oddly little in the way of announcement, and new Dukes are not all that uncommon a thing anyway; but it isn't every day that one comes along in this way. A new Dutch! An outsider! Who BOUGHT the office, practically bought Kildare itself! People are curious, of course. They want to see him, see what he's like. But no word had been sent out on when he would arrive.

Some of those who had arrived early, several builders who had come right after finishing a night shift (and a visit to a bar), had been lucky enough to stake out a spots near the entrance of the residence. The household guards watch them carefully, but the workers are not there to cause trouble; they had spread out a blanket as if at a picnic, watching, or trying to recover from hangovers, or drinking, or even all at once. Waiting, like the others.

A man strolls through the crowds nearby, with occasional interjections of "Oop, there," or "Beg pardon" as he weaves through. And he does indeed weave, walking with a pronounced rolling gait, as if the ground under him is not quite steady; the builders watch him with amusement, for at first they assume the man is drunk. As he comes closer, though, they see that his gaze is steady, though not overly focused; he slows to a stop near them. "G'tides to you," he greets them affably. "What's the party for?"

"There's a new Dutch in Kildare, didn't you know?" replied one. His eyes took in the strange man's attire; well-worn black boots; pants loose except at the tight hems, and apparently made of cotton, dyed some dark color (possibly once navy blue, but much faded if so), bound by a wide belt; a lighter loose white cotton shirt. Over that, a heavier long coat: a formal coat, vibrant blue, with black around the collar, cuffs, and lower hem, and trimmed with silver. On the shoulders are identical patches depicting a stylized bird with a fish in its talons, and pinned to the right lapel, near the heart, is a small silver spiralling shape. The pin is obviously polished almost religiously, but the rest of the coat is a bit battered-looking; often mended, but clearly old and used in decidedly non-formal situations. Completing the look is an archaic and especially disreputable-looking black tricorne hat, formerly with silver trimming to match the coat, but with much of it now frayed and tattered. The hat appears to have a few seashells attached to the brim by silver threads (remains of the trimming, perhaps), as well as a fishhook stuck in one of the rear corners.

"And all these people just for that?" asks the man. "Hardly seems worth the trouble."

One of the builders, still drunker than the rest, grumbles, "'Specially since he hasn't shown up yet. We've been here since the early morning and now it's midday. When's he going to show?"

The man nods, as if consider the question seriously. "Yep," he says. "Something ought to be done about that." He tips his hat to them. "I'd best be handling it, then."

They gape openly at him as he crams the hat back on his head, studiously straightens it, and then weaves his way over to the guards at the foot of the steps, who immediately move to block him. The workers hear one of the guards tell the stranger to back off.

"Nah, son, my way's through there."

"What're you here for?"

"There's supposed to be a coronation, isn't there?"

"Yes!"

"Well, I'm itching to attend."

"You can wait like everyone else."

"Now, look, I can show that I'm supposed to be in there. Just a moment-" The man fishes around in the voluminous pockets of his coat as the guards look on warily. "Ah-HA- oh. Nah, wait, that's the letter from this girl I know. Met her during portcall in Gensym. Sweet girl, but she can't spell a drop, you'd think with the schools there she'd do better... Ah, here we are." He brings out a formal-looking envelope, and removes from it a badly creased piece of paper, handing it to the guards.

The guards read it in shock, and then something approaching horror. "Oh. Er, we're so sorry, we-"

"Nah, nah, forget it."

"Did you, did you want us to announce-"

"Nah, I'll do it myself. Just keep watch, that's what you're here for."

The man rolls up the steps to the main doors, and then without going in, turns to face the crowd. "HELLOOO, FRIENDS," he bellows, "I'D LIKE TO- oh, thank you." This is address to an aide who had hurried to bring him a microphone. "Much obliged, g'tides to you. Now, where was I?" He faces the crowds again. "Hello, everyone! I'd like to say how impressed I am at how many people have come out, especially to wait so long! So, thanks to you, much obliged. I'm your new Dutch, by the way. Shyriath-Bukolos called Longwalker, of the ship Osprey Striking."

A long moment of silence follows, which slowly builds up into a dull roar of intense conversation.

"So, uh, a few things-" he fishes around in his pockets again, bringing out a pair of spectacles, a piece of paper, and a pen. "Now then. First off," and he seems to check a box on the paper as he says this, "I wanted to emphasize here that I don't intend to poke my nose into much. As I promised the former Duke, the current Barons of Kildare will keep their positions, from which I have neither the inclination nor the interest of dislodging them, unless of course one of them commits some breach of trust. I don't expect that to happen, of course.

"Also," the new Dutch added, "following from that, I expect that the internal affairs of the Dutchy as a whole will rest considerably in the hands of the Senead. Of course, I will reserve the right as Dutch to make such decrees as I see necessary, but overall I intend to use a light touch. When steering a ship, you grip the wheel neither too tightly nor too loosely." He checks off another box.

After a moment, a third check. "I would also like to assure the people of Kildare, and especially the previous Duke, that the votes he has already made on the bills currently at large in the Landsraad shall not be changed by me, partly out of respect for his wishes, and partly because I'd have voted the same anyway."

He scans the paper for anything else, shrugs, folds it up and puts it, the pen,and the spectacles away. "Have a nice day, everybody."

And with that, he turns around again and weaves into the audience chamber of the residence.

[Jonas]

"My Lord, you're expected at Mons Clistiro, the coronation city."

[Austi_Scot]

Baron Scot had arrived in all his finery just as the Ole man approached the guards. He watched as the guards looked at something from an enveloped produced out of the pocket of ole man, who appeared either drunk at noon day or perhaps something more intriguing. ~um,~ Baron Scot thought, ~ I wonder if that might be one of the peasants off one of my plots?~

Then suddenly the guards let the man through. Baron Scot makes a mental note, ~~ um, the guards looked at the paper, and suddenly they let the bugger through~~ Baron Scot noticed that the guards didn´t give the paper back, ~um~~ he thinks, ~ must be a valuable piece of paper, I wouldn´t mind getting my hands on that for a look see~~

The Baron m his way to the front of the crowd, about the time he arrives in front of the main doors the peasant, or the drunkard, or whatever he was, turned and faced the crowd. The Baron continued to take a few more steps off to the side before he turned to hear what was being said.

Then suddenly he heard the ole man tell everyone that he´s the new Duke. ~~ WHAT~~ and I dressed up in all my finery?~~ The Baron suddenly felt so over dressed that he sat down on the grass hoping few would notice him.

Baron Scot listens intently as the "new Duke" speaks on. ~um, makes list and checks them off, interesting~~ ~~ he did seem to be kind to that aide tho~~ ~~ and he certainly did get the crowd mumbling~~ ~~um, won´t poke his nose into much~~ ~~ wonder what´s not included in "much"~~ ~~ah ha~~ the Baron almost jumped up but was able to restrain himself ~~Barons will keep their position~~ then the Baron thought he heard cause for not being too happy ~~um, wonder what this pirate might consider a breach of trust?~~ the Baron continued to think to himself. ~~oh, of course not, it wouldn´t happen!~~ Baron Scot quickly looked around the crowd and then over at the guards. ~~hands of the Senead? Who´s running that I wonder~~ ~~it feels like either too many decrees or too few, can´t tell from that little line~~ ~~so he´s just like the other Duke is he? ~~voting the same and all~~well suppose we just wait and see on that one.~~suppose I best say nothing for now~~

As the new Duke turns to look into the house Baron Scot jumps to his feet and leads the crowd

"HURRAH FOR THE NEW DUKE, HURRAH FOR DUKE LONGWALKER. LONG LIVE DUKE LONGWALKER!"
The crowd jumps to their feed and immediately joins in the second round.
"HURRAH FOR THE NEW DUKE, HURRAH FOR DUKE LONGWALKER. LONG LIVE DUKE LONGWALKER!"

[Shyriath]

"My Lord, you're expected at Mons Clistiro, the coronation city."

"Eh? What?" Shyriath turns to listen to the comment. "Where's that? Wait, I sailed past that place on my way here. An island, wasn't it? Why'd they pick a spot so far from the capital?"

He suppresses a sigh. He doubts that he's ever really understood the ways land-dwellers' minds work. But at least if he keeps moving he'll be able to hold to the spirit of the Oath of Abjuration for that much longer, despite receiving dispensation from . He's still of the People of the Sea, after all.

"Ah, well, let's get over there. I suppose if the coronation is soon, we'll need to take a plane or something. Lead on."

As they exit the residence again, he hears the people yelling, "HURRAH FOR THE NEW DUKE, HURRAH FOR DUKE LONGWALKER. LONG LIVE DUKE LONGWALKER!" Dutifully, he bows with a flourish of his hat. They're using his agnomen instead of his actual name, of course, but he decides no comment and kill the spirit of the thing; he supposes he'll have time to correct everybody later.

[Andreas the Wise]

Andreas watched as almost-Dutch Shyriath boarded a boat to sail to Mons Clistiro. His speech thus far had been brief and informal. If he were to last long as Dutch, however, he would have to be willing to fit into the traditions of the Duchy. Traditions were like watered down history, after all.

After Shyriath had set sail, Andreas made his way to the docks. A submarine of the Typhoon class - one from the Ocean Palace - rose up and he entered. Then it zoomed its way underwater, speeding past Shyriath's ship sailing leisurely down the River Antya. The old Duke had a role to play at the Coronation, before his successor could be Dutch. And play it he would.

[Austi_Scot]

Baron Scot begins to walk away when he noticed everyone taking off suddenly.

~~oh my, best follow along~~ no wait, I'll ask~~

"Anyone know where the party is headed?" ~~Wait what was that Jonas said?~~Baron Scot stops and thinks.

He then heads out for Mons Clistiro, "I know a fast way to get there." ~~wait did I say outloud,~~ did anyone hear me~~
~~nevermind I best just get going~~

[Shyriath]

Some time later, the ship puts Shyriath and his small entourage ashore on a beach in the north of Carama Bay. The soon-to-be Dutch plods along with his rolling gait, not entirely sure what this is leading up to, but following the others nonetheless. By and by, traveling along the beach, the come to a tiny village on the shore...

And separated from it by a stretch of water, rising from the waters of the bat like the tip of an undersea mountain, is Mons Clistiro, girded by beaches, mantled with strong walls and crowned by soaring towers.

Shyriath had spotted it on the ship to Kildare, but hadn't really looked at it. He privately admits to being greatly impressed. As they approach more closely, he sees that the village's main road aims squarely at the island, disappearing beneath the waves after crossing the beach. A tidal island, then? The road is exposed when the tide goes out? Good for defense. Were he still smuggling, Shyriath might've considered it a good location for a base, he'd thought he'd spotted a small cove on the other side.

The island is not quite accessible, but the road is not far beneath the water; the tides are probably going out even as they stand there. "So, what happens next? Anybody know?"

[Jonas]

"Nothing, Lord Duke," an old man responded, "Now you need to wait until the water retreats."
Then he looked to the city on the tidal island and back to Shyriath.
"Or...," he said, "you can swim... some Dutches did it. They became wise and powerful Dukes. Atleast, if they didn't drown."
And he began to smile and walked away.

[Shyriath]

Shyriath glances back at the departing old man, and then, with a gleam in his eye and a spreading grin on his face, removes his hat, his formal coat, and his boots. No way he can resist a challenge like that. Striding purposefully into the water, he makes a short dive, and starts swimming for the opposite shore.

A life lived on the water has its advantages, after all.

[Andreas the Wise]

When Shyriath emerged on the other side, on the shores of Mons Clistiro, a great roar went up from the assembled crowd. Andreas the Wise came to the edge of the water and helped pull him up onto the shore. "Come, for all is now ready," he said, and led Shyriath onwards.

Shyriath was led to the throne room, the traditional place for crowning new Dukes and Dutches. The Duchal Anthem was being sung in the background by the Dutchal Choir, accompanied by the Dutchal band. Shyriath smiled as he heard a new verse being sung, which had been written for this day.

"We'll skip the formalities and get straight onto the ceremony," Andreas said, with a wink. "Sit down, if you would." Not wanting to offend the traditions, Shyriath sat down in the throne. Before a cheer could start, Andreas began the ceremony.

A dryad came forward, bearing a key.
"I hereby offer you the Lost Key of the Underwater Palace (a copy, the real one is lost)."
Andreas placed the key in the left hand of Shyriath.
"Symbol for our technology and old heritage."

A Blackrockian came forward, bearing a sword.
"I hereby offer you the Blackrockian Sword (not a copy) with the magical ruby that gives the possessor extra power in a fight."
Andreas placed the sword in the right hand of Shyriath.
"Symbol of the old military power of our Duchy."

A pirate came forward, and, after some hesitation, handed over an expensive looking cape.
"I hereby offer you the Cape of Norfolk"
Andreas placed the cape around Shyriath's neck.
"Symbol of the Ducal might. That you can wipe away your enemies."

A Soloralist cleric entered the room, alone. He brought a box and gave it to Andreas. He opened the box, faced once again the guests, took the contents out of the box, and held up a small crown.

"I hereby offer you the Crown of Kildare!"
Andreas placed the crown on the head of Shyriath.
"Symbol of unitity, diversion and history!"


"Kildarians, representatives from over the whole Empire, with the power invested in me, I present you...
the new Dutch of Kildare, Shyriath I of Kildare!"
The mass stood up.
"Bow for your new heir, citizens, counts and Barons. A new reign has started! Long live Dutch Shyriath I! May he rule with the blessing of the gracious gods, the wisdom of the historians, the might of the Dant, and may his pockets always overflow with gold, that he may be forever generous!"
Then the crowd cheered.

[Austi_Scot]

Baron Austi Scot stepped forward and addressed Andreas.

"May Duke Andreas the Wise forever live in the hearts and minds of all Kildarians."
"May all of Shireroth speak of Andreas as the Wise Duke who sold his throne for an army."

Baron Scot turned to the newly crowned Duke Shyriath I of Kildare and bowed, and then he turned to the crowd.
"LONG LIVE DUKE LONGWALKER, LONG LIVE DUKE LONGWALKER" Baron Scot shouted as he raised his hands to the crowd.
The Crowd returned the chat, "LONG LIVE DUKE LONGWALKER, LONG LIVE DUKE LONGWALKER."

Baron Scot turned back to the new Duke, as he did he produced what appeared to be an amulet on a long gold chain from the pocket of his vest as he thought ~ I knew I wore my finery for a reason.~~

"Hallucination offers you this amulet of an envisioningbol of foresight, vision, and knowledge, that you may see the end from the beginning."

Baron Scot placed the chain with the envisioning stone over the crown and around the neck of Duke Shyriath. He then bowed and turned again to the crowd.

"LONG LIVE DUKE LONGWALKER", the crowd stood and cheered.

[Jonas]

"Long live Dutch Shyriath I!", shouted the Antyan nobles.
"You're now placed in the list of Dutches, my Lord," told Jonas with a smile to Shyriath while the crowd was cheering.