022 » baby pull me closer in the backseat of your rover

[haillenarte]

[francel's seven years old, this week. he's counting off the days until he'll be eight. his nameday is next week — and he's not certain that anyone will remember, not really, but it's fun all the same.

it's definitely more fun than accompanying his father to fortemps manor, anyway. francel likes sneaking into fortemps manor so that he can see haurchefant — but he doesn't like going with his father, because count haillenarte always insists that haurchefant has better things to do, that countess fortemps is making him run errands, and that francel should just be a good boy and play games with the servants in the parlor.

except there aren't any servants in the parlor. instead, there's a boy about twice his age sitting on a couch, and he isn't haurchefant — he's haurchefant's older brother (half-brother? father always tells him not to say that out loud, and it's very confusing).]

...H-Hello, Lord Artoirel.

[francel bows, but he's still not very good at it, and he wobbles a little when he shifts his weight to one leg. his boyish voice trembles like a sparrow's when he talks.]

F-Fair weather today, is it not?

Comments

[ironbone]

[The small one is likely sickly if it's too slow to get any food. Privately he thinks it should just be left alone, but he can see where Francel might sympathize with it.]

...try digging in the bag a bit. There is usually a larger beetle or two trying to feed on the dried worms. If you find one, you can just feed it to the small fish directly.

[haillenarte]

[francel purses his lips. privately, he doesn't like larger bugs very much — but he's a boy, and boys aren't supposed to be so squeamish, so with displeasure written all over his round little face he brings out one of the beetles artoirel was talking about and tries to isolate the sick fish to feed it the beetle directly.]

Shoo. I said shoo! Go away! [swatting at the greedier carps isn't doing him much good.] You are dismissed, fish!

[...strangely, that order actually seems to work, as the bigger carp give up and allow the little one to gobble the beetle down in peace.]

[ironbone]

[That imperious little order is just too cute. Who tries to dismiss a fish so seriously? Artoirel swallows a laugh, lightly ruffling Francel's hair.]

You best leave it at that ere it starts to think you are its mother.

[Not that fish really have a concept of family ties, but the way the little carp is now eagerly gaping its mouth at Francel like a baby bird makes him think of it regardless.]

[haillenarte]

[honestly, the only thing going through francel's little brain right now is if a fish is dismissed, does that make it disfished?

but the ruffling of his hair distracts him from the fish long enough to forget it and all its fishy problems. francel smiles up at artoirel, very sweetly, but he seems a little sad.]

...But fish do not have mothers, do they? They hatch out of eggs, and their parents do not truly care for them. They will watch until the eggs hatch, perhaps, but no further. Some fish even eat their own young.

[there's a forlorn, wistful quality to his voice that suggests that even at this tender age, he can somehow relate to those poor abandoned baby fish.

...but this implies that francel has definitely been through a children's marine biology book about fish before.

...this implies that his earlier question about what fish eat was literally just a setup to his dumb fucking joke.]

[ironbone]

[An implication he would really rather not dwell on, for that would mean he's in for a great deal more bad puns when Francel visits next. He seems somewhat surprised at how familiar Francel seems to be with fish, nodding as he takes the feed sack and rolls it shut again.]

Aye. You are surprisingly well read for your age, Lord Francel.

[He honestly can't say he was the same when he was seven. Most of his efforts went toward mastering etiquette and swordplay with some basic conjury thrown in for good measure. That isn't to say he neglected his studies in other areas, but fish were far down the list of things he felt would be necessary to carry out his duties.]

Did you learn that from your uncle?

[haillenarte]

No, I only speak to that uncle at banquets.

[he laces his hands behind his back, watching as the fish lose their interest and fan out to different corners of the pond again.]

When I have time to myself, I like to read the books in my father's library. Only he thinks it strange that I like to read his tomes, so he keeps bringing me boys' books — the sorts with knights and dragons in them. I read those too, but that never takes more than a bell or two. Father's books are more challenging.

[ironbone]

I should think he would be glad. You said you lack talent for swordplay, did you not? Perhaps you could become a scholar instead. You have two fine brothers that can become knights.

[Unless Francel gains considerable strength with puberty it would be a mistake to ask him to become a knight, anyway. He can still bring honor to his house without taking up a sword, so there's no need.]

[haillenarte]

Only two? [francel laughs.] Have even you given up on Stephanivien, Lord Artoirel?

[and then, a little flatly:]

...Father wants all of us to become knights. That's just how it is.

[ironbone]

[Oh dear, he really shouldn't have let that slip!]

I would not say that I've "given up on him", but I have noticed that his talents lie elsewhere. It would be a shame to not capitalize on that. The wishes of your father must be taken into account, of course...

[Artoirel glances away. Sometimes lately he feels as if there's one particular duty expected of the eldest son that he may have trouble fulfilling. Taking a wife is something he holds absolutely no interest in — if he's being entirely honest with himself, he's actually somewhat repulsed by the thought.]

[haillenarte]

Yes, our tutors say that Chlodebaimt shines the most brightly of all of us. But Laniaitte handles a blade better than Aurvael or myself... and Stephanivien refuses to show up to practice entirely.

[disenchanted with the fish, francel wanders over to the pretty gazebo, and takes a seat, swinging his little legs when they don't touch the ground as he's seated.]

What about you, my lord? Are you like Haurchefant? Haurchefant is always practicing. I think it such a wonder he never gets bored of it.

[ironbone]

[Are you like Haurchefant. As if he would want to resemble a bastard in the slightest way.]

I should say not. I have a great many other things to attend to; I cannot afford to simply swing a sword around day in and day out.

[Lifting his chin, Artoirel follows after Francel so that he can stash the feed sack back under one of the benches. He doesn't yet sit, though.]

I am fair with a blade though, and I have passing skill in conjury as well.

[haillenarte]

[francel looks at artoirel with wide-eyed surprise, clapping his hands together in excitement.]

Conjury? You know conjury, Lord Artoirel? Oh, that seems ever so convenient! I wish I could learn the healing arts, but the House physicians say it would be bad for my humors.

[ironbone]

[The praise softens his mood again. Though he may not be all that vain he does enjoy recognition as much as the next man, and his father is sparing with praise unless he does something truly exceptional.]

The healing arts can be somewhat taxing, [he agrees modestly.] You must tune in with nature or you run the risk of harming yourself rather than healing another. If your humors are already out of balance then the learning process could cause you no small amount of damage. Do you fall ill often?

[haillenarte]

[francel nods solemnly.]

Yes, often. The physicians always have some new reason for it. Mayhap I forgot to wear my coat, or mayhap I went out when it was too cold, or I went out when it was too warm...

Sometimes I think they just make these things up because they cannot simply fell my father that they don't know what's wrong with me.

[ironbone]

[And his father still wishes for him to be a knight? He must think that learning swordplay will strengthen his body. It seems such an unnecessary risk when Francel clearly has a bright mind that could be put to use — if not for his small size and the fact that Artoirel already knew his age from the start, he would have thought him to be at least a couple years older than he actually is.]

I doubt that they are simply making things up. If the usual explanations fail them then they must continue to try other things. Diagnosing someone can be quite tricky.

[Or so he hears. He's not a physician, but he certainly speaks with an air of authority on the subject regardless!]

Since you are not bedridden, I would say you're likely to grow out of it. Childhood illnesses that fade as the body grows are common. Perhaps you can learn conjury when you are older.

[haillenarte]

Really? ...But do you think I would be any good at it?

[francel looks around the gazebo as he talks, seemingly in search for something more to do besides feed the carp.]

[ironbone]

[Unfortunately for Francel, there's little to do. That's exactly why Artoirel generally brings a book with him. There's a lovely swing elsewhere in the garden, but the main activity in a hedge maze is simply finding the end of it.]

I think the fact that you have an interest is a good start. With something like swordplay the body's physical limitations must be taken into account, but learning conjury relies more on mental discipline. With determination most anyone can at least master the basics.

[Though going beyond the basics is another matter entirely. Artoirel has managed to push himself to learn enough to handle emergency healing suitable for use in battle, but he'll never be a master conjurer. Communing with the elementals or cleansing the land isn't ever going to be a strong point of his.

He notices the slight fidgeting. As peaceful as this place is, he supposes it might be boring for such a young boy. That's all right; they've been out for nearly a bell now. It's likely getting close to noon.]

Would you like to start heading back? It should be lunchtime soon.

[haillenarte]

[francel nods maybe a little too earnestly, hopping off his perch on the bench and lacing his hands behind his back while he wiggles his shoulders back and forth.]

Will... will we have lunch together, my lord?

[ironbone]

If you would like to, I see no reason why we should not.

[He'll leave the decision up to Francel, though. At such a young age his table manners might not quite be second nature yet and he wouldn't want him to stress about trying to behave properly while eating. If he's sickly, then it's more important that he feels comfortable enough to eat his fill.]

[haillenarte]

[here it is, the most important question:]

Will there be pudding after lunch?

[ironbone]

[Pudding? He doesn't really keep track of what dessert is going to be. It's not as if he doesn't like sweets, but a preoccupation with them is seen as childish so he stopped focusing on them long ago because he basically aspires to be a tiny adult.]

I'm not certain. Pudding is simple enough to prepare, so I suppose we could request it...

[If he's asking for a guest it's perfectly acceptable!]

[haillenarte]

[francel practically sparkles with glee.]

I want pudding! So... so long as that is fine by you, my lord!




[they make a really picturesque pair when they walk back through the doors of fortemps manor and out into the hall where the maidservant from before is now hauling a basket of laundry to the washbasins. she smiles brightly at them as they pass through on their way to the dining hall. it's not like young lord artoirel doesn't usually associate with children — he's got little lord emmanellain to look after — but artoirel never holds emmanellain's hand quite as tenderly as he's holding francel's, and emmanellain just doesn't carry himself the way francel does — with poise and grace and his little steps carefully measured, like a show dog's.

that fact does not escape emmanellain's notice as he stares sullenly at the pair from one corner of the dining hall, then excuses himself from the room.]

...Was that your brother, Lord Artoirel?

[ironbone]

[Part of his softer manner in handling Francel is simply due to propriety. It is not his place to have a hand in regulating Francel's behavior like he is expected to with his own younger brother. All he really has to do is treat him kindly as he would any guest — and since Francel is so well mannered, it's a pleasure to do so.]

Aye, that was Emmanellain.

[And even though he excused himself it was still really quite rude! That boy. He slowly exhales through his nose.]

Have you not met before? He often visits with your sister, I believe.

[haillenarte]

Hmm... Laniaitte speaks often of Lord Emmanellain, but she has never brought him to our home.

[and for good reason, really. laniaitte and emmanellain play fun games together, like tag and hide-and-seek, but their games tend to end in laniaitte running off in a huff because emmanellain deliberately unlaced the back of her dress...]

From what she has told me, I imagined him to be somewhat... spirited. Is something the matter with him today, my lord? Is he ill?

[ironbone]

["Spirited" is one way to put it. Francel may be phrasing it as politely as possible, but Artoirel can read between the lines. Clearly he's teasing Laniatte more than he ought to. He'll have to give him a lecture on how to treat a lady before their father catches wind of it or he'll cane his backside so hard that he won't sit right for weeks.]

As far as I know he's feeling just fine. I suspect he spoiled his appetite by filching food from the kitchens again.

[Emmanellain can be... impulsive. When he decides on something he just does it.]