#Arno's Court Arch

[richwall101]

Bristol UK Arno's Court Triumphal Arch

The arch was built around 1760 by James Bridges, for William Reeve, a prominent local Quaker and businessman. It is built from Bath stone, of classical proportions but with Gothic and Moorish detail, and formed part of a larger complex that included a regency styled Bathhouse. This arch was taken down from its original position in 1912 and rebuilt in its present location at a major road junction in the City in 1955. The actual bathhouse itself was also demolished and rebuilt at the Portmeririon Folly Village in North Wales in the 1950's and can be seen in the famous TV series "The Prisoner".

[historybehindassassinscreed]

In Game:

The Palace of Versailles (Palais de Versailles) was the royal residence of the King of France, and the political center of French power for over a hundred years.

On December 27th, 1776 members of the Assassin Order, including Charles Dorian, met in the palace to conduct business with the King. However, unbeknownst to them, the Templar Shay Cormac had gained access to the grounds with help from Benjamin Franklin, under the pretext of meeting with a business associate. Seeking the Precursor box, Shay infiltrated the palace and assassinated Charles, while recovering the box at the same time.

As a crowd gathered around the body, Charles' son, Arno, returned, having chased Élise de la Serre through the palace's courtyards. He was then taken in by Élise's father, François, despite the man's role as the Grand Master of the French Templars.

In 1789, François himself was assassinated by Charles Gabriel Sivert and the Roi des Thunes in the palace's central courtyard, during a celebration in honor of Élise's induction into the Templar Order. Arno, having witnessed the murder, rushed to de la Serre's aid, but was arrested for the crime and thrown into the Bastille.

As the French Revolution progressed, the palace was finally abandoned by troops and citizens alike. By 1794, the palace was a popular target for bands of looters. That year, Arno, exiled from the Assassin Order and rejected by Élise, returned to Versailles, only to have his heirloom watch stolen one night after a heated tavern brawl. To retrieve it, Arno infiltrated the palace once more and killed the thieves' leader. He also encountered Élise there, who recovered the watch and convinced Arno to return to Paris, in order to help her bring down François-Thomas Germain, the man responsible for her father's death and takeover of the Templar Order by his extremists. 

In Real Life:

The Palace of Versailles is an opulent complex and former royal residence outside of Paris, now a national landmark. It is located in the city of Versailles, Yvelines département, Île-de-France région, northern France, 10 miles (16 km) west-southwest of Paris. As the center of the French court, Versailles was one of the grandest theatres of European absolutism.

The earliest mention of the name of Versailles is found in a document which predates 1038, the Charte de l'abbaye Saint-Père de Chartres (Charter of the Saint-Père de Chartres Abbey), in which one of the signatories was a certain Hugo de Versailliis (Hugues de Versailles), who was seigneur of Versailles.

During this period, the village of Versailles centred on a small castle and church, and the area was governed by a local lord. Its location on the road from Paris to Dreux and Normandy brought some prosperity to the village but, following an outbreak of the Plague and the Hundred Years' War, the village was largely destroyed, and its population sharply declined. In 1575, Albert de Gondi, a naturalized Florentine who gained prominence at the court of Henry II, purchased the seigneury of Versailles.

The original residence was primarily a hunting lodge and private retreat for Louis XIII (reigned 1610–43) and his family when he hunted in the forests surrounding Versailles. In 1624 the king entrusted Jacques Lemercier with the construction of a château on the site. Its walls are preserved today as the exterior facade overlooking the Marble Court.

(Image source)

Under the guidance of Louis XIV (reigned 1643–1715), the residence was transformed (1661–1710) into an immense and extravagant complex surrounded by stylized French and English gardens. Every detail of its construction was intended to glorify the king. The additions were designed by such renowned architects as Jules Hardouin-Mansart, Robert de Cotte, and Louis Le Vau. Charles Le Brunover saw the interior decoration. Landscape artist André Le Nôtre created symmetrical French gardens that included ornate fountains with “magically” still water, expressing the power of humanity—and, specifically, the king—over nature.

By moving his court and government to Versailles, Louis XIV hoped to extract more control of the government from the nobility and to distance himself from the population of Paris. All the power of France emanated from this centre: there were government offices here, as well as the homes of thousands of courtiers, their retinues, and all the attendant functionaries of court. By requiring that nobles of a certain rank and position spend time each year at Versailles, Louis prevented them from developing their own regional power at the expense of his own and kept them from countering his efforts to centralise the French government in an absolute monarchy. The meticulous and strict court etiquette that Louis established, which overwhelmed his heirs with its petty boredom, was epitomised in the elaborate ceremonies and exacting procedures that accompanied his rising in the morning, known as the Lever, divided into a petit lever for the most important and a grand lever for the whole court. Like other French court manners, étiquette was quickly imitated in other European courts.

Perhaps the most-famous room in the palace is the Hall of Mirrors (1678–89). The gallery extends more than 230 feet (70 metres) and is characterized by 17 wide arcaded mirrors opposite 17 windows that overlook the gardens below. Glass chandeliers adorn the arched, ornately painted ceiling, upon which Le Brun depicted a series of 30 scenes glorifying the early years of the reign of Louis XIV. Gilded statues and reliefs border its marble walls.

(Image source)

On October 6th, 1789, the royal family had to leave Versailles and move to the Tuileries Palace in Paris, as a result of the Women's March on Versailles. During the early years of the French Revolution, preservation of the palace was largely in the hands of the citizens of Versailles. In October 1790, Louis XVI ordered the palace to be emptied of its furniture, requesting that most be sent to the Tuileries Palace. In response to the order, the mayor of Versailles and the municipal council met to draft a letter to Louis XVI in which they stated that if the furniture was removed, it would certainly precipitate economic ruin on the city. A deputation from Versailles met with the king on October 12th, after which Louis XVI, touched by the sentiments of the residents of Versailles, rescinded the order.

Eight months later, however, the fate of Versailles was sealed: on June 21st, 1791, Louis XVI was arrested at Varennes after which the Assemblée nationale constituante accordingly declared that all possessions of the royal family had been abandoned. To safeguard the palace, the Assemblée nationale constituante ordered the palace of Versailles to be sealed. On October 20th, 1792 a letter was read before the National Convention in which Jean-Marie Roland de la Platière, interior minister, proposed that the furnishings of the palace and those of the residences in Versailles that had been abandoned be sold and that the palace be either sold or rented. The sale of furniture transpired at auctions held between August 23rd, 1793 and 30 nivôse an III (January 19th, 1795). Only items of particular artistic or intellectual merit were exempt from the sale. These items were consigned to be part of the collection of a museum, which had been planned at the time of the sale of the palace furnishings.

In modern times, when visiting Versailles, tours of the palace are available.

Sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palace_of_Versailles

http://study.com/academy/lesson/the-palace-of-versailles-history-facts.html

https://www.livescience.com/38903-palace-of-versailles-facts-history.html

https://www.britannica.com/topic/Palace-of-Versailles

https://www.linkparis.com/versailles.htm

[azvolrien]

Night Words

Part three of Pirates of the North Atlantic is in progress (read: I got distracted and forgot about it but have actually been working on it again), but in the meantime here’s an unrelated thing. Bit of a character piece, that being writer-speak for ‘nothing really happens’, but I had some fun writing it.

I just like writing conversations

~~~

           Wygar slowly opened his eyes, felt the chill on his face, and pulled the blankets up to his forehead. His bedroom was cold; clearly the College’s furnace had been banked for the night, and the steam pipes concealed within the walls of the building had cooled without its heat. With a grunt, he rolled over beneath the heavy quilt and flung his arm across – nothing. His hand bumped down against the mattress.

           He sat up. He was alone in the dark bedroom. Frowning, he swung his legs out of bed and stood up, pulling on his dressing gown as he let himself out into the main room. It was no warmer there.

           Tiger-formed, Fayn lounged on one of the broad, padded windowsills, her nightdress draped over her back as she gazed out at the night.

           Wygar detoured to stir the embers in the hearth before joining her by the window. “Are you all right?”

           Fayn nodded, but didn’t turn away from the window. Wygar absently brushed his fingers through the fur on her shoulders and leant in to see what she was looking at.

           A heavy snowfall had joined the previous day’s frost, coating the College grounds in a blanket of white. Even the pond had frozen over.

           “I wonder if it’ll stay?” said Wygar. “Usually the snow here melts by about lunchtime, but it’s been colder than usual this winter.”

           Fayn sat up and shifted to human form. “It’s beautiful,” she said, shrugging on her nightdress. It wasn’t a particularly warm one and goosebumps appeared on her bare arms, but if she felt the cold, she resolutely ignored it.

           “I suppose it is,” said Wygar.

           “You suppose?” said Fayn, smiling.

           He shrugged. “Spending the best part of a winter in the Dragon’s Teeth rather reduced my fondness for snow,” he said. “Now I can’t look at it for too long without imagining how much more inconvenient it’s going to make everything.”

           Fayn laughed. “I didn’t see much snow in the forest,” she said, drawing a circle in the condensation forming on the glass. “It did get cold enough up in the northern reaches, but it wasn’t usually heavy enough for much to get through the trees.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “Sometimes if I was up that way at the right time of year, I’d climb up to the canopy and look out at the snow covering the branches. It was like being above the clouds.”

           “Do you miss it?” asked Wygar quietly. “The forest.”

           Fayn fell into a contemplative silence. “There are things I do miss,” she said after a while. “Travelling around, watching the animals. The general lack of responsibilities,” she added, making Wygar chuckle. “But there are so many more things I don’t that I’d say it still balances out to a ‘no’. Starving. Having to either dig a burrow or build a nest every night. Always looking over my shoulder. Fighting off animals just to get something to eat, either when hunting or because they wanted whatever I’d foraged. Never being quite warm or comfortable enough…”

           “Fleas,” supplied Wygar.

           Fayn froze, her eyes widening. “…Did Rhona tell you!? That little- She promised she wouldn’t!”

           “Whoa, hey, hey!” Wygar held up both hands. “Rhona didn’t say a word. I worked it out for myself.”

           “How?!”

           “Well, partly because since you’d spent twenty years living a feral existence in the uncharted wilds, it was only reasonable that you’d have picked up a few passengers along the way… Aaaand partly because you gave them to me. Must’ve happened on the journey back, when you were riding behind me on Rathus.”

           Fayn made a peculiar strangled sound in the pit of her throat.

           “I won’t say I was thrilled to find out,” said Wygar, “but it was nothing a fine-toothed comb and a thorough scrub with the right soap couldn’t fix.”

           One of Fayn’s eyes twitched, before humour finally won out over mortification and she burst out laughing until someone on the floor beneath shouted for her to be quiet. “Gods,” she muttered, scrubbing tears from her eyes, “it must be true love if I gave you fleas and you still married me!”

           “I certainly don’t have many romantic illusions about you any more,” said Wygar, and briefly nuzzled her hair. See, no fleas was the unspoken reassurance. “Just romantic observations.”

           “Oh, stop,” said Fayn, half-heartedly elbowing him in the stomach. She sat back against the wall and sighed. “At least there was nothing to let you work it out about the tapeworm.”

           “The Healers have a lot of practice with parasites,” said Wygar after an only mildly horrified pause. “Some of the apprentices come from very deprived backgrounds. They come here from all over the country, and some of the more isolated settlements up in the hills-”

           “I get the idea.” Fayn slid an arm around his waist and hugged him against her side.

           Wygar lightly traced the scars on her left shoulder with his fingertips. Most of her scars – and there were many of them – were smooth and silvery; even the ones on her face were barely noticeable from a casual glance, gained from countless scrapes and scratches over her years in the forest. In contrast, the three on her shoulder were stark and ropy, reminders of deep wounds that had been inflicted by the claws of an angry bear and had healed slowly and poorly. Wygar shivered, returned her hug tightly, and abruptly changed the subject.

           “How did you get out of bed without waking me?” he asked.

           Fayn laughed again, more softly. “You’re a heavy sleeper, and I’m very stealthy.”

           “A useful skill in a librarian.”

           “Oh, yes. The apprentices never hear me coming. Of course, that’s easier if they’re being noisy. I suppose it’d be useful for a warmage as well, but your fighting style doesn’t really lend itself to stealth.”

           “No, it certainly does not.” Wygar sat down on the other half of the window seat with his back to the glass. “Have you given any more thought to what we should look for in a house?” he asked, drawing one knee up to his chest and folding his arms around it. “While I’ve generally enjoyed my time at the College, we can’t live here indefinitely. They won’t take these rooms off me as long as I still work here, but they weren’t really furnished with a couple in mind, let alone a family.”

           “Hmm.” Fayn stretched her arms above her head, arching her back. “Not much about the house – I don’t know much about houses, come to that – but I’d like to stay in Magetown if we can. Ravenswood, Windstone and Seacourt are all a bit… penned-in, if you know what I’m trying to say-”

           “I do.”

           “And I doubt we’ve saved up enough to live in Craglee or the Barracks.”

           “We haven’t.”

           “Magetown is less cramped, and it’d be more convenient for the College.”

           Wygar nodded. “Cheaper, too – a lot of people are wary of living too near the College, so it drives the house prices down. Not that the College’s wards let most of the apprentices’ accidents leak out, but… Well, they have in the past, and the city has a long memory. Anyway, my parents have promised to go in with us on the cost, wherever we decide on. Sort of a late wedding present.”

           Fayn nodded thoughtfully and looked back out of the window. Wygar glanced over his shoulder as a fox ran across the outdoor training court, leaving a trail of prints in the otherwise undisturbed snow, but decided that Fayn was the better view.

           “Did you ever imagine yourself getting married?” he asked.

           “I never really imagined the future,” she said after a moment’s pause. “Though there was one time…” She trailed off.

           “Hm?”

           “I’d forgotten about it until you said that. I could only have been about four or five. There was a wedding in the village, and they let me in past the boundary stones for once so I could come to the feast. I don’t think I really understood what was happening at the time – I just thought it was an excuse for a party – but when Una was taking me back to my hut I asked her if I was ever going to have a wedding. Sethuk – the village priest – overheard and said nobody would risk getting that close to a ghost-marked.”

           She said this in an entirely casual tone and with no hint of self-pity; merely relating a childhood anecdote, not fishing for sympathy in the least. Wygar became dimly aware that his mouth was hanging open, and closed it again before Fayn turned back to him.

           “We showed him, didn’t we?” she said. “What about you?”

           “Huh? Oh. Honestly, no – I’d never imagined it until you came into the picture.” Fayn cocked her head, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve… been with a lot of people,” Wygar explained. “Enough that once I’d got to know you a bit – this is going to sound terribly soppy – I… quickly realised that you were the one I wanted to spend my life with.”

           “You’re right,” said Fayn, smiling. “That was soppy.” She reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear, trailing her fingers over his cheekbone. “So it wasn’t just my ethereal beauty?” she teased.

           “No, but I won’t deny it was a factor.”

           “Good answer.” She sat back and shifted one foot slightly to rest it against his hip. “Do you remember all the people you’ve significant pause been with?” she asked curiously.

           “Some in more detail than others,” admitted Wygar, “but yes, certainly. Do you want the list?”

           “You can list them?”

           “Mm-hmm. Not in chronological order, but including more, er, casual arrangements and a couple of teenage partners I never actually slept with as well as the more serious ones…” Wygar took a deep breath. “Rhys, Sian, Gareth, Angharad, Rilla, Aeron, Wynne, Awena, Evan, Iorwen, Nye – not your colleague, a different one – Sioned, Arkadiy, Katya, Tamara, Ebba, Alrik, Ingrid, Eilidh, Fionnula, Lorna, Cameron, Lenka, Alonzo, Carina, Gaetano, Elia, Cyrus, Inara, Safara, Arno, Rosine, Morgan, Arianna, Gwenno and Rhodri.”  

           Fayn blinked. “Wow.” Wygar shrugged helplessly. “Mostly women, right? I can’t tell from some of the names.”

           “About two-thirds women, yes, though more from the numbers of potential partners than any particular preference of mine.”

           “…Huh.”

           “Does… does it bother you?” asked Wygar with some hesitation.

           “No,” said Fayn, completely without hesitation.

           Wygar sat up slightly. “Really?”

           “Should it? You’ve never been unfaithful to any of them – why would you start with me?” A wicked grin appeared on her face. “Look at it this way,” she said. “Means you’d had plenty of practice by the time you got to me – and that’s a lot of people I can swap notes with if need be!”

           “What a terrifying thought,” said Wygar faintly, recalling a whispered and giggly conversation Fayn had had with Rhys a couple of days before the wedding. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what the subject had been.

           Fayn smiled again, less wickedly. “Who would you say is the better fighter?” she asked. “You or Wynne? She certainly drank Calburn under the table at the wedding reception.”

           “Depends, cariad. I’d say I have the edge where magic is concerned, both in power and technique… but in melee I’m reasonably sure she could break me in half. Spent a lot of time training with Master Kendrick – maybe you should try sparring with her the next time she’s around.”

           “Kendrick suggested that as well. Maybe we could drop in on her if we’re ever passing through Northold.”

           “It’s a thought,” said Wygar. “I don’t know the city too well, but I think she mentioned something about a famous burial mound near her flat. There can’t be too many of those.”

           Fayn stared at him. “A burial mound? In a city?”

           Wygar shrugged again. “Like I said, I don’t know Northold much. But while we’re on the subject of visiting places – the Midwinter break is coming up in a couple of weeks. What would you say to getting out of the city for a few days? It would be good to have a holiday together that doesn’t involve either of us getting kidnapped by pirates.”

           Fayn sniggered. “The Sunset Islanders were very apologetic about the pirates,” she said. “Apparently they almost never have trouble with those. Still, you’ve got a good idea there. We can look for a nice hotel in the country or something.”

           “Not-” Wygar broke off to yawn enormously. “Not right now, though.” He looked back at the bedroom door and wrinkled his nose. “The bed will have chilled right down by now, you know.”

           Fayn stretched again, linking her fingers above her head and cracking her knuckles, and stood up. “Come on,” she said, lightly tweaking one of his ears between thumb and forefinger. The point was freezing. “Think I’ve kept you awake long enough. The bed will warm up once we’re back in it.”

~~~

The School of Healing takes responsibility for, er, decontaminating incomers to the College, whether new staff or new students. Accordingly they keep the infirmary well-stocked with flea powders, vermicides and other similar medicines.

Some require more decontamination than others.