Post by Léandre de Guivre on Jul 18, 2010 13:32:48 GMT -5
Timeline: Second Week of Winter, Year Two of Queen Sabrina's reign
The knock at the door came at sunset. At first, I mistook it for some creature scurrying about in the hours of the early evening--one often hears such sounds when one is alone--but it came again, and more insistent this time.
I sighed, irritated at this intrusion into my sanctuary, and replaced my quill, hastily snuffing out the candle that I had been using. It was a short walk to the door, my home was not large by any means.
If the messenger appeared surprised that I had answered the door myself instead of sending a servant, he did not show it on his face. "Lord de Guivre, I apologize for disturbing you at this hour, but this is a matter of great import."
I raised an eyebrow at this assertion. "What could be so important that it could not wait until morning?"
"The Baron Citrine, your uncle, lies dead with no heirs."
The words hit me with the force of a blow to the face. I could barely remember Léon Citrine, my mother's brother, but what I did remember was of a man with a kind face and soft brown eyes, and sweets, there were always sweets.
"How did it happen?" I asked, containing my emotions being a mask of impassivity.
"Died of a fever in mid-autumn," came the response. "We have been searching for you, Léandre de Guivre, you are his closest kin." So saying, he opened his messenger bag, carefully withdrawing sheets of parchment. "The barony of Citrine belongs to you now."
I sank down into a chair, hand obediently rising to massage my temples. Léandre de Guivre, Baron Citrine, no, no and no, this was all wrong. I was a scholar, a teacher, not a leader of men.
"Are you certain he has no other living kin?" I asked, my voice quiet in the dusk.
"No, lord," the messenger shook his head, and there was sadness in his tone. "You are the only kin we could find."
I sighed and looked up at him.
"Give me the papers," I said.
The knock at the door came at sunset. At first, I mistook it for some creature scurrying about in the hours of the early evening--one often hears such sounds when one is alone--but it came again, and more insistent this time.
I sighed, irritated at this intrusion into my sanctuary, and replaced my quill, hastily snuffing out the candle that I had been using. It was a short walk to the door, my home was not large by any means.
If the messenger appeared surprised that I had answered the door myself instead of sending a servant, he did not show it on his face. "Lord de Guivre, I apologize for disturbing you at this hour, but this is a matter of great import."
I raised an eyebrow at this assertion. "What could be so important that it could not wait until morning?"
"The Baron Citrine, your uncle, lies dead with no heirs."
The words hit me with the force of a blow to the face. I could barely remember Léon Citrine, my mother's brother, but what I did remember was of a man with a kind face and soft brown eyes, and sweets, there were always sweets.
"How did it happen?" I asked, containing my emotions being a mask of impassivity.
"Died of a fever in mid-autumn," came the response. "We have been searching for you, Léandre de Guivre, you are his closest kin." So saying, he opened his messenger bag, carefully withdrawing sheets of parchment. "The barony of Citrine belongs to you now."
I sank down into a chair, hand obediently rising to massage my temples. Léandre de Guivre, Baron Citrine, no, no and no, this was all wrong. I was a scholar, a teacher, not a leader of men.
"Are you certain he has no other living kin?" I asked, my voice quiet in the dusk.
"No, lord," the messenger shook his head, and there was sadness in his tone. "You are the only kin we could find."
I sighed and looked up at him.
"Give me the papers," I said.