de-la-foofayette

[de-la-foofayette]

Crows' Chess, Ⅰ : "House of Lesse"

"My Sweet Little Child o' Mine, I'd ne'er wish to go o'er the streams, they are not beck'ning~ I love you so~

Somewhere across Lyre River, I saw the gods flutt'ring so... They gave me a child, o~ Wasn't it you, though?

Tell me a story, A story once so~ My child, you're the only one~ Who will not leave me so~"

The lullaby was heard circling around the room, for Greta Prestenn-Lesse had a gift of singing. It was encouraged by her mother well. So well, in fact, that before she became the Kaesarie's Bride of Leselynn, she was a renowned Folkry Singer.

[Kaesarie - a Leselynnien term for "Highest King", for there are many kings but in smaller providences.]

Now she was using her talent to sing to her youngest child, Stormis Prestenn-Lesse. He was different than the others, Greta knew, for she noticed the child's interest and curiosity in thick scrolls of parchment than the thick armor of steel. She also noted that his friends often tease him for having "long ears", and thus, this gave Stormis the nickname "Long Ears". Very original, thought Greta. He also loved to hear her sing. So whenever she has the time, she will sing out to her heart's content many songs. Some her own, some from others.

As she continued to sing, she remembered her years as a child. Her ripe age of twenty-and-two gave her the privileges of a "young adult", but she never really liked the way society embodies these types of people. Proper, styled gracefully, and ever-so-polite, she thought. Everyone had a role in this kind of civilized society, and she despised how ingrained it is to everyone's mind.

She then continued to think while she sang another song, about the kingdom.

The Kingdom of Leselynn is small. But, with small, comes a bigger community. Greta knew almost everyone in her husband's court personally. She knew all their names, all their wives, and all their habits and hobbies. Ha! She even knew one of the Kaesarie's aides, for he was her brother.

All her thoughts were broken when a small voice said, "Momma?". It was Stormis, looking all ready to sleep through the night.

Ever the "Graceful Queen of Leselynn", she responded, "Yes, my child. What is it? Do you need something?" 

"I'm a bit knackered now. Can I turn in for the night?" Stormis asked, with all the kindness the Queen rarely saw in boys these days.

"Of course, of course! Why do you even need to ask? I'm singing to you, remember?" She said as she started preparing her son's bed and blanket as she moved around, still ever so gracefully.

"But, momma... Whenever you sing to me, it always seem to sound like you're singing to yourself. I mean, for yourself." The boy responded.

Greta was a bit taken aback by her child. His response was quick, filled with a child's wit, and a hint of intelligence. She looked at her child with sparkling eyes, and answered, "My dear boy, I also sing to myself when I sing to you. It is a form of..." She thinks quickly for a word, "... Relaxation, you understand?"

"Y-yes, momma... I get it. Thank you for singing to me, momma." He said. Still adorable as always.

"You're welcome, my baby. You're always welcome." Greta said as she kissed the boy's forehead goodnight. "I'll dream of you, darling. In my arms, always so charming."

"Me too, momma... in my dream, I'll be in your arms, as you said I will be." He said before suddenly falling into his slumber.

Greta moved quietly, and she moved out of the bed, ready to go sleep herself. 

But before she did, she thought of her child's response to her. To be honest, he was very right.

I always do sing to myself. 

----------------------------------------------------

Kaesarie Wudlynn Lesse is a quiet man, a man who would bore into your eyes rather than talk aimlessly without fruit. He is a man with extravagant tastes, but he wouldn't say that to your face. Such is a man that is the Kaesarie of Leselynn.

Currently, he is talking with some of his Magistrates in the Kinge's table. They're discussing Political matters in Leselynn and in other Kingdoms, and other social issues as well.

"Kaesarie, we've just gotten word that our messenger has reached the Isle of Eponymus! It has been a successful journey, and he is able to send our regards to the Duke of the isle as well!"

"Excellent, tell our messenger that he should expect a generous sum for his efforts. Next?"

"Kaesarie, we've also gotten news from our correspondents from our newspaper, The King's Daily: The Counsel of Lords accepted our terms to give some of their power to the Kaesarie."

"Very good, next?"

"Kaesarie, there is a current revolt in our neigboring Kingdom of Veselles, and our Diplomat living in Veselles has a letter from their king, asking for supplies and resources. Should we allot them our coveted resources and our army?"

"Hmm, I will have to think about that. In the meantime, you can tell the king if he would be able to pay such a debt if a war would ever happen."

Every night, before they all go on to their households and rest, they talk about matters such as these. The Kaesarie, ever so quiet, would enjoy these moments. No fuss, no daylight bothers... Everything about the kingdom is there. He said to Greta once.

It was done over steaming pots of soup, ladled to every person's bowl that was available or empty. The Kaesarie inherited his love of food from his mother, Jayne Kanrod Lesse. He believed that everyone should have their fill before returning to their household's embrace.

All was going well, everyone reported news that glowed with delight in regards to the kingdom or to others. Everywhere Wudlynn looked at, it gave him the feeling of... Joy? Happiness? He didn't know. It was rare of him to. The air smelled of fresh soup broth, and freshly made pots of fish stew (a known delicacy in the Upper-Class world) and meats of all kinds. The feeling he felt became more personal, as he felt an elated sense of optimism that he wasn't used to.

This was alarming, for every good thing that happens... There would be five more to ruin it. He thought of the worst, and knew the worst. This put him in a grim mood every day in his court.

Well, he was right.

"Sir-- I mean, Kaesarie!" A messenger ran fast and quick, he raced in the long hallways and finally reached the king. Murmurs and gossip started to occur, as the Kaesarie's Court started to. Luckily, the Kaesarie heard it too.

"SILENCE!" He shouted, "no one shall gossip in my presence. All should be at ease, continue your discussion." He said as the group followed his orders and went back to what they were doing.

The Kaesarie gestured to the messenger to approach. "What is your message? It sounds dreadful enough." He said, he looked at the messenger soulfully and at his court.

"Kaesarie, I have here a message from the princes of Feldenhald. They would like me to have it read it you." The messenger said as he ruffled in his old and dirty satchel for the letter. After a bit of time, he found the message, and broke its seal. He read it out loud for everyone to hear:

Dear Wudlynn,

I hope this missive finds you in good spirits. Allow me, Kinge, to address you in this momentous occasion. I extend to you a cordial invitation to partake in the grandest event of this year, an esteemed competition known as The Kinge's Game. The name resonates with a regal magnificence, does it not? Ah, but I digress, for alas, your response shall remain elusive.

Now, you may wonder why such an extraordinary undertaking has been set into motion. It is with a heavy heart that I relay the news of our venerable Paw-paw's fateful encounter with the God of Death. In light of this, and as neither of us harbors any desire for the burdensome throne, beset by the chaos that plagues our nation, I have devised a whimsical diversion tailored to suit the inclinations of distinguished individuals such as yourself.

Behold, the rules of the affair are thus revealed:

All those who bear the titles of Kings, Queens, Dukes, Noble-Kings, and Kaesaries are hereby summoned to partake in this captivating contest.The noble pursuit entails seizing the throne while ensuring unquestioning allegiance from all subjects.Subterfuge, thievery, and any conceivable means to ascend the throne are fully permissible.In this grand spectacle, we shun the constraints of conventional rules, for we, the arbiters of this game, harbor an aversion to such trifling limitations.

Of all people, you, Wudlynn, possess intimate knowledge of our late Paw-paw's absolute dominion over vast swathes of land, spanning the expanse of the mighty Empire of the East, including your own fiefdom. Should you emerge triumphant in this audacious pursuit, you shall ascend to the esteemed position of the Highest Duke, ruling with unwavering authority over all domains. The proclamation of your title shall be unveiled in due course, for we seek to bestow upon you an honor befitting your forthcoming grandeur.

As I reach the end of this parchment, I beseech you to accept my heartfelt wishes for good fortune. Rest assured, missives and proclamations have been dispatched to all eligible participants, inviting them to embark on this remarkable endeavor.

With utmost sincerity,

Kinge Osrumir

"Oh, hell..." Wudlynn knew what this meant. Ever since he was a child, Kinge Crodd Osrumir had a flair for wording, and he knew as well. He would toy with his servants with long-- and sometimes explicit-- terms, he would always play pretend as the smart one in their brothers' roleplays. Wudlynn knew, since he was their uncle. 

Oh, my dear, dear Kinge. Why are you doing this? Do you even know what you're doing? I think you do. He continued pondering at the sent missive that he just heard. A game? Competition, if I heard right. I am sure that the princes could be oh-so-kind with me, since I am their uncle. 

Wudlynn also knew, that whenever Kinge spoke with the accent of a gentleman, with the excellent speaking of a speech-writer, and the utmost... Smile when speaking: His words were double-edged. Dipped in scorn, and dried under the sun with no regrets. A born Wilcher. He thought.

People started murmuring, talking about the letter sent to the Kaesarie. They all had one thought in their minds: What will happen next?

"Gentlemen!" Eyes glanced at the man who was silent. It turns out they would get their answer soon enough.

"As you now know and heard, I have received a letter, from our respectable princes from the isles of Feldenhald. They want to play a game, a competition, of sorts." He continued as he eyed everyone from his wooden throne. "As you know, it is our duty to protect the kingdom that we hold: The Kingdom of Leselynn. But it is also our duty to expand, to conquer newer territories." 

Murmurs started escalating. Tension increased, and the sweat from their pores are profusely continuing. 

"But worry not! For I have decided right here, that I will NOT play by their games. They might be elusive themselves, but we have the wise-ness to bypass these... Things." He said, struggling to finish the sentence, for he was clearly terrified. "You are all dismissed. Return to your homes, enjoy the rest of the night. But never speak of this to anyone of your family members. For you are sworn to follow and obey me, 'til death unbinds ye from yer oath." Continued the Kaesarie, reciting from the heart the excerpt of the Kaesarie-Courtienn's Codex. 

The murmurs ended, and all the members of the court left in a hurry.

An aide of the Kaesarie arrived to assist him to his room. "My liege, if you would please--" The aide said. Wudlynn interrupted him.

"No, I do not please. In fact, I would please if I could go by myself." He said in a matter-of-fact sense. Seriously, who does these? I'm not a limp, nor a paralyzed man! I can walk by myself, with all parts of my body! I'm not a derelict! 

"Y-yes, my liege, right away." He then scuttled off, not looking back to the Kaesarie. Everyone knew that looking back was a sign of doubting against orders, and no one doubts when the Kaesarie is around.

The Kaesarie walked to his room, and saw his wife. Greta, on her side of the bed, was combing her hair in preparations to sleep. The Kaesarie walked in, and sat on his side of the mattress with a sigh.

"I overheard you talking sternly to that poor, poor aide." Greta said in a cold voice. She despised hearing her husband talk in such a manner that would make a little boy wet his woolly pants.

"Y-you know them... always asking if they can help and be of assistance... I didn't need that. Why do they have to be there after every night?" He replied in an angry tone. He also despised having to hear his wife question his actions. 

Greta turned around, faced him with sullen eyes, and said, "If you were a bit kinder to the man, I think he would have appreciated it. He's just a boy, you know. Ten and six years old, he deserves a break from your attitude." She said that in a grave tone, then she turned around and continued to comb her silky hair. 

Oh, if I could only touch that sweet, sweet hair of yours. I would be complete by now, but no! You don't want it! For I, an angry Gitch, a fat sodder, don't deserve that right! He got mad while thinking about it. He cooled off for a while. 

After a moment of silence, he turned around and said, "Do you hate me?" He wished not for that, for a wife to hate her husband would be on grounds for Moral Treason, and he would be hung, for it is his'-- or, every husband's-- obligation to be respectful and appropriate to their wives. 

Aside from those reasons, he also loved his wife dearly, which was rare nowadays.

Greta turned around, and smiled. A genuine smile. He thought. That calmed his spirits.

"No, of course not. I married you because beneath all that grave and always-serious tone, there's a sweet person. A person worthy of my luscious locks." She giggled quietly.

"Oh, you flatter yourself very much." He said, then smiled while he finally got to twirl her hair. By the moors, it is beautiful. He thought. It always was luscious, and very much a sight to see.

"Well... I guess." Greta said as she fussed his hand away for a moment to continue combing it, "You really should say sorry to that boy, you know." She continued talking as if she weren't interrupted by her husband's twirling.

They sat there, awkwardly. To each their own, Wudlynn had heard of that quote once. But we're married, shouldn't that be a sign of tiredness to each other? He wanted to talk to Greta, to his queen, to tell her all the things that had happened tonight. But sadly, it was against the rules for a Kaesarie to tell their family or mistresses the goings-on in their rough life. It was all because of mistrust back in the days of old. But, I trust her. Thought the Kaesarie. The problem is, though, if she trusts me.

He shifted uncomfortably, then inched closer to her. "M-my love," he spoke slowly, but in earnest. This was the first time a Kaesarie would share events to his loved one, he continued to ponder, hopefully it won't be my last.

"Yes, my darling?" She turned around and looked at her, with earnest as well. She's my wife, Wudlynn thought as he tried to justify his misdeeds, I am supposed to share with her my thoughts, my works, and my time with her! He inhaled deeply.

"I received a letter today," Wudlynn began, his voice filled with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. "It was from the princes of the isles of Feldenhald. They propose a game, a competition."

Greta's eyes widened with curiosity, setting aside her comb and giving her full attention to her husband. "A game? What kind of game, my love?"

Wudlynn sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. "They want to challenge us, to test our strength and wit. They mentioned expanding and conquering territories. They see it as a way to prove themselves and gain influence."

Greta frowned, her concern evident. "But why would they send such a letter? We have always been peaceful with them. You are their uncle! Or is this some sort of power play?"

Wudlynn nodded solemnly. "That's what I fear. They are known for their cunning and manipulation, and I can't help but think that this game is just a ruse to weaken us or gain an advantage."

"Then what will you do?" Greta asked, her voice filled with worry. "Will you accept their challenge?"

The Kaesarie's face hardened, his determination resolute. "No, my love. I will not play into their hands. We have worked hard to establish peace within our kingdom, and I will not jeopardize that for their ambitions. We will find another way to protect and expand our lands."

Greta look at her husband, with great solemnity and concluded, "You made the right choice." Greta moved closer to him. "For all I know, my darling would never wish to ransom the kingdom over children."

Wudlynn was overjoyed to hear her support, but his face became stern. He looked at her.

"I wish they still are, my love. But those aren't children anymore."

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