Post by Antonin Deliambre on Jul 27, 2014 22:22:20 GMT -5
The morning passed pleasantly enough for the Duke of Calandria, spent in riding through the city to inspect the various markets. The afternoon's schedule was slated for a journey to the drydocks on the river to have a look at the latest ship under construction, but first, Antonin Deliambre - better known as Septimus to his wife and family - returned to the castle to check in, obtain any messages and see about a midday meal. He reined in as he arrived in the inner bailey, tossing the reins to the waiting stablehand as he strode in, stripping the gloves from his hands.
Trusting Catalina had the household under firm control, he headed for his study, the better to obtain any newly-arrived correspondence and the like. Sure enough, the salver on his desk held several articles of parchment bearing various seals from throughout Calandria and Archades. Intrigued, he broke the seal on one, the smile sliding from his face to be replaced by a coldly grim expression. For a few minutes, the only sound was of breathing that was swiftly controlled, the man immobile with no such restraint placed on his mind.
Refusing to succumb to baser nature and roar, Septimus neatly folded the parchment and crossed to the pull, giving the tasseled cord a firm tug to summon one of the servants. The windows stood wide to catch any breeze that could come off the river and stir the humid air, the unmistakably green scent that typified Calandria filling his nose, not that he noticed. Calming himself anew as the man appeared silently, waiting for the order, he turned and spoke quietly. The servant was not the source of his very real ire. "Please find Donna Catalina, Piero, and ask her to join me here if she is able. I have a need to speak with her."
The man bowed, removing himself as silently as he'd arrived and leaving the Duke alone with his seething thoughts. Putting the provocative letter down, Septimus went to stand at one of the windows, gazing over the land without truly seeing it. True, he had half-suspected such an accusation was likely to be forthcoming, but dismissed it as unworthy of pursuit. The Deliambres had not played the assassination game with their northern rivals in generations. Yet word now reached him that the young puppy of a Montefiore intended to investigate the untimely deaths of his most recent predecessors.
It paid to have friendly eyes and ears in the region, though he was tempted to dismiss this bit of information as disinformation to keep the fires of the feud well stoked. Refusing to react beyond his initial anger until he presented the letter to Catalina and obtained her take on it, he sighed heavily. This was most unwelcome news indeed.
Catalina Sandoval