Private Caché Forest

[Adron Malvern]

Illyria ~ Caché Forest ~ Mahaut
​

Some had taken to calling Caché Forest the Sea of Green. It was an appropriate name. The Forest spanned miles and miles in all directions. It was peaceful, forgiving. Nothing like the forests that Adron and Alessandra had crash landed in so many years ago. The thought caused the man to chuckle a bit.

They traveled over the green sea for some time until the distance was replaced from green to a lavish, expanding blue. One of the many oceans of Illyria. Aboard the shuttle, the King turned to Mahaut as he spoke evenly. "Caché Forest spans well over hundreds of thousands of acres. It is one of the primary wood harvesting points on the planet. Baron D'Jean is the High Overseer of these lands and you will report to him. You will pay his tax and in return he will offer you patronage on behalf of the Crown." The King explained.

"Bon Havre lies ahead." Adron crossed his arms, turning his eyes to a settlement that laid only a few paces from the beachhead. "Bon Havre encompompasses around twenty miles of the forest surrounding this beach. Which means these will be the lands that belong to you and your people. Aside from those lands there are an additional ten miles that House D'Jean has allowed Bon Havre to cultivate as well. Which means you have thrity miles of forest to cultivate. I believe the tax that House D'Jean presents you is seven percent of your quarterly haul. A very generous tax." The town of Bon Havre was...modest. It was well built with a number of solid wooden huts, however it was obvious that the majority of advanced technology was used for cultivating the forest. "The town needs a school." Adron said evenly. "It also needs a clinic, a law office, and more. It is a new town but the credits you will earn here will be more than enough to bring it out of the dark age this planet had sunken into."

As the speeder came down to land on the beachhead, the Royal Guard stood, preparing to file out of the ship. The Guardsmen stood by the door as light flooded in. The men stepped out as the loading ramp descended down the planet. "Bon Havre." The King said softly. "It is time to bring them into the new light of our world, do you understand this, Lady Archam?"

When the King stepped down onto the sandy beach, his black boots sunk into the sand ever so softly. It truly was a beautiful sight. It was a wonder that those who had once lived here chose war over a day in the cool blue waters. Standing before the beachhead were a number of people, a large group that had been assembled especially for Lady Archam. The first man to step forward was dressed in long flowing robes, made from some kind of cool silk. "My Lady." He bowed his head, his tone respectful yet well learned.

"Your majesty." He said, falling to a knee before the King. "Introduce yourself." Adron said, stepping back with his hands clasped behind his back. The man nodded before speaking clearly, his tone surely one of education. "My lady Archam. I am Sir Duncan, a Knight of the Mind. I am here to teach you the arts that all Noblemen must know. I will teach you to read and write, your letters and numbers, and mathematics as well. I will also teach you proper custom among the nobility and simple geography." He said, before bowing his head respectfully. "I am at your service."

When the man stepped back, another stepped forward. This woman was young and youthful, not without beauty but her raven hair hid a number of scars upon her face. "M'lady. I am Elaena and my family have worked these lands for a long time, before the great war took the last inhabitants. His majesty has tasked me with teaching you about cultivating the forest. The turn of the seasons, how to properly harvest the wood so it will return best, and how to treat and store the lumber for trade." The woman bowed her head respectfully once more. "I am at your service."

The next woman to step forward was a militant one, wearing the armor of the Illyrian Royal Armor. "M'lady. I am Sergeant Amer. I report to the chief constable in these lands, Captain Steele. I will be in charge of the small garrison tasked to keep the peace. Do not be alarmed, we are here to solve petty squabbles and deliver justice, but we will act through you, m'lady. I am at your service."

 

[Mahaut]

~ Wearing ... Traveling Outfit ~
~ Tag ... Adron Malvern ~​

Lady Mahaut Archam, Sieur of Bon Havre.

Ever the orator, and still the title with christened surname were surely not ever bound to sit right on Mahaut's tongue. None of it was truly hers, nor her, nor her charge. Charges, rather. No longer was the petite redhead a solitary and squalid miner looking out for only herself; thus, a ray of that woman could not be seen through her new exterior. She tried to keep her nature in as she still unlearned it. Beauty was one thing, and one a ragamuffin well endowed with a grace of a wealthy patron - as she had been, the wealthiest, by her fateful turn of luck - but strength was another entirely.

Alessandra had polished her in their short lesson time together, wrapped her in fashionable finery fitting of a noblewoman in her own right and arming her with basic turn of phrase, but Mahaut had to temper herself alone. As if the only thing she had taken from Gwenaël had been a bit of phrik, she had much more refining to do if she wanted to see it become anything truly great. One smithy, or may, could offer invaluable trade advice to an apprentice, but when all was said and done, the blade was formed start to finish by the latter.

She nodded at Adron, a bit of her rough manner shinning through. Bow your head, darling, but just so. She remembered her mistake almost immediately, but did not apologize for it. Strength of rule could reside in a well-placed, meaningful admission of guilt, not a frivolous one for but a learner's error. "I understand, Your Majesty."

The beach air was like nothing she had seen. Neither, the ocean tide. How it lapped at the shore, foamed but still nothing like the waters of Gelée. She followed after the King, immersing herself in the crunch of sand underneath her boots and the slight sting of salt at her healing skin, chronically dry and minusculely cracked by years of neglected care in the mines.

"Pleasured to make your acquaintance all," she finally said when all introductions were over. She did not presume she had to curtsy because of her station, not because she wished to present as pretentious, but rather not as improper. Oh, dear, this noble business was already trapping her.

She turned her attention back on Sergeant Amer and asked rather gently, "Tell me, where is Captain Steele?" Perhaps she was to gentle for her own good: She did not want to seem disrespectful of this woman, but she did wonder why the chief constable was not present as well. Her heart flit with the possibility of her first known prejudice. Adron may or may not have warned her about the various challenges a noble of common birth, even with their name writ in the Le livre du sang supérieur, might face while carrying their duties, but Mahaut nevertheless suspected them.

 

[Adron Malvern]

When the Sergeant was questioned about where Captain Steele was she nodded her head militantly before answering. "Captain Steele is at the Central Justice Office in Cheshire, the city where House D'Jean rules from. He wanted me to inform you he will be in contact should you need legal or military aid from Cheshire." The Sergeant promised, before stepping back into line. The people before the Lady of Bon Havre were not her servants, but those she would have to lean upon in her early days of Lordship. It was with their support than Bon Havre would become a shining example of Illyrian progression or stay a pit sunken into the mud of Illyria's past.

"The Captain serves as an attache for the Chief Justice of this area. He is essentially the Lead Peace Officer for all of House D'Jean's lands. He would be a wise friend for you to make." The King said, nodding his head meaningfully at Mahaut.

When the introductions were done, Adron waved his hand at the assembled group. "The rest of you can save your introductions for later. You are all dismissed." The group bowed their head to the King and Lady Archam before turning, dispersing back into the town behind them. The King paused for a moment, watching the group before speaking once again. "Now, let's take you home." He said, gesturing up towards the woods leading into the forest. Passing through the center of the town, it only took a moment before the manor came into sight. It was an impressive display, especially sitting behind the outdated settlement of Bon Havre. "It is not uncommon for Sieur's to give their Seat a namesake. A name for their home that overlooks the lands they command. When I was yet a Count on my own homeworld, we named our seat Blackgate. It was a rather large manor in the mountains that seperated our territories from House Dooku's." He said as they approached the manor.

The manor was made of the exact same wood that surrounded the forest, at least it did on the outside. They made their way to the front of the building, it was a large building with well maintained grounds. Adron waved his hand, causing the main door's to the building to fly open. The interior of the manor was well updated, outfitted with all the luxuries of the modern galaxy. It was furnished, cleaned, and a number of servants moved around attending to the House's upkeep. They would respectfully bow their heads at the two as Adron led the way down the main hall.

"So. Do you have any questions?" He asked, turning back to the woman.

Mahaut

 

[Mahaut]

~ Tag: Adron Malvern ~
​

Mahaut followed Adron down the hall. Her hall. Her seat. All of it was overwhelming, as a sea like to the one out yonder way they had just come, altogether beautiful, and glittering with wealth and promise of oh so much more, but threatening to pull her under at the smallest misstep.

Gabin would love this: Sir Duncan and his Order of the Mind, the manor in and out, the landscapes so different from mountainous and mined Gwenaël. It was more that possible - quite likely - that he had already seen many of his own wonders at university, but she, these having being new second environments she had seen outside of Azurine, could not help but imagine he would be as wonderstruck as she.

So, she asked softly, "Do you know how Gabin fares?"

And, when the King had had his breath to answer fully her first, she asked a new question: "Why did you chose us, Majesty? Surely, Achille was a travesty." To say the least; her Eulogy did not lie - she would not call him Lord, even dead. If the King found that to be a crime, why, then let her head roll as Gabin's had almost. "But you, too, surely have learned noblemen waiting to outshine his memory." She paused, thinking over her next words, until she realized she did not know how to artfully speak her mind. She then elected to not - leave it at what she had said - as not to risk turning the King's favour from her.

 

[Adron Malvern]

It was a passing thing. The package that one of the servants presented to His Majesty with a polite bow of her head. The King nodded at the woman before glancing over to Mahaut, arching a brow at her question. He took a moment to consider the woman's question before finally answering. "He was enrolled in the University a day ago and his classes begin this evening." Adron looked past Mahaut, towards an office that sat in the edge of the hall.

"There's a comm terminal in there with Gabin's contact information programmed into it. Call him tomorrow, you could both do with a familiar face." Adron said, before leading Mahaut to the foyer. When they entered, there were a number of servants, setting vases of flowers down and dusting. Adron's hand slid into his pocket while he looked to them all. "Give us the room." He commanded them and each of them bowed their heads before filing out of the room. The King looked to Mahaut as she asked her question. He did not not answer, instead he merely showed a small smirk.

The man walked over to a small bar in the corner, pulling out a certain Brandy and pouring himself a glass along with one for Mahaut. After pouring the two glasses of neat Brandy, the man walked over to Mahaut, gesturing to two seats in the edge of the room. He held out a glass to Mahuat before taking a seat himself. There was a table between them, hosting a certain board game, commonly played among the Illyrian nobility.

"There is an art to being Nobility. It is more than taking care of the lands tasked to you. For the Aristocracy to thrive it is based upon a number of principles. The first principle is that power is the currency of the realm." The King said, waving his hand at the échiquier that laid between them. The pieces that were sitting under the board slowly floated up, setting themselves up as The Force commanded their movements. "Members of the Aristocracy must generate two types of favor. The first is esteem. Their people must hold them in the highest esteem, prepared to lay down their lives for them if it so calls for it. The second kind of favor is respect. Your colleagues in the world around you must view you as a force to be reckoned with. They must not only believe that interacting with you is a boon to them, but also a necessity. Never put yourself in a situation where you must be humbled by another, but instead always maintain a quiet air of power that all can see and none dare challenge."

"There is only one rule in this game. The loser falls and the winner rises. There is an important thing you must remember. I am not your friend, I am your King. Even though it was by my hands your blood was made blue, I will lift no fingers to help you in the challenges that every noble must face. I am on the side of the Law, so if your troubles can not be solved within the scope of the Law, there will be nothing I can do. I cannot be seen showing favoritism to a House such as yours. It sets a bad taste in those with more establishment."

With the échiquier set, the King looked to the board before clearing his throat. "Every piece maneuvers in a certain way and most pieces are forbidden from moving in certain manners as well. You, my Lady are a neophyte in this world, little more than your people below you. Strip away the dresses, the manor, and the credits and you hold nothing. No esteem, no respect, certainly no worth in the realm of the Aristocracy. These esteems are part of the currency of power and you must build them, or else you will never progress." He said, bringing his glass to his lips to down a bit of the drink he'd poured.

"As you rise you will notice some will fall. They will become natural enemies of your power. They will challenge you and you must learn to fight as our kind does. The battle of the Aristocracy is waged with parchment, parties, weddings- I have seen an afternoon of tea destroy a Great House. The words of the Nobility are heavy and their promises are iron. If a greater House threatens to destroy you they will do so, not by killing you but by destroying the base of your wealth, currying favor among your people until they leave your lands, and finally spinning webs of deception that lead you to a dark pit from which the House Archam would never rise again."

Mahaut

 

[Mahaut]

~ Tag: Adron Malvern ~​

Mahaut watched on as Adron called upon the Force. It was an active struggle to keep her jaws married and her eyes unwidened, almost as hard as lugging a chunk of phrik ore out of the narrowest mine tunnel in the pitch black. But, like she had the latter time and time again, she too managed this trial.

...you hold nothing.

Though truer words had never been spoken to her, she still found reason for upset in them. The late Achille's voice rang with the King's for but a moment - you are nothing - and immediately she was ashamed. The King had garnered more of her respect in the moments he had led his men down that muddy inlet path and spoken all of six words to her than Achille had in the eighteen years he had ruled over her. To have them overlap in her minds eve for but a moment... Titles surely meant somethings to Mahaut, such as her new one and the King's with his Queen's, but she was also still unbelievably wary of the power that had behind their linguistics curtain. It would so easily be twisted, after which the people were helpless to bend in back.

Well, next to. But Adron wasn't like that. And so, trusting rather than knowing it was possible, nor would she.

Despite her reason and resolve, tears pricked at her lower waterlines. She was halfway through raising her right sleeve - ole' habits died hard, Ancients bless the Queen's patience - before she lowered it again in favor of a handkerchief tucked into a bodice pocket. She wiped, remembering to dab instead, at her eyes with that instead. "I understand, my King," she said after a few breaths had calmed her distressed voice.

 

[Adron Malvern]

His words had struck home.

He nodded, before standing and leaving the board set as it was. All of the pieces were fastened in their proper position. He looked over the board for a moment before exhaling, not caring for the tears that fell from the Lady's eyes. They would dry in time or she would be swept away by a mighty current. "The first move is always the most important." He set down the small package that had been in his hands, looking to Mahaut certainly. The King adjusted the tie that was fastened around his neck before clearing his throat. "I will return in a month's time to see what progress you have made or what progress has not been made." The King turned from the woman, making his way to the main door, leaving Mahaut where she was. "Remember. In our journey's we so often find ourselves becoming the very evil's we detest. Do not fall so far, my dear. Or it will be your head to grace the dirts of Illyria, just as it was Achille's."

The door before Adron would fly open through the command of the Force. The King would leave, his parting words being ones of memory. "Au revoir, Lady Archam." He called out as the door's to the main hall would close behind the King.

It did not matter if the Lady of the Manor cried, or if she threw up from the sudden pressure that now weighed on her shoulder. The package that was sitting on the board would slowly float over the board, drifting closer and closer to the Lady. The papers wrapped around the package would gradually unravel, slowly revealing the small metal box. After a moment, the package would open itself to reveal a small portrait. The young man on the portrait was handsome, charismatic, and he seemed to hold himself in great esteem by the fashionable cloak and proud smile he wore.

The late Baron Achille.

His smile may have been taunting or perhaps even sickening to Mahaut, however the message that she was left by the King was clear. Made even more clear when the chess piece began to quake ever so steadily before finally one of the pieces made a single move forward. Adron's words would ring in the woman's mind.

The first move is always the most important.

Mahaut

 

[Mahaut]

~ Tag: Adron Malvern ~​

It was haunting indeed.

Mahaut had no inkling how long she had been staring back at eyes made acrylically alive again, but eventually the spell was broken by a sharp chime. The redhead’s eyes snapped up and immediately settled above the fireplace mantle, where a miniature grandfather clock sat upon the polished oak. The numbers nor miscellaneous markings on its marble face meant less than nothing to her, but the golden pendulum encased in ebony below held her rapture.

Back, forth.

Back, forth.

Back, forth.

Again, again. She lost count. A rasp at the doors, somehow just as loud, caught her attention next. As if another spell had been broken—which, perhaps, it had—the King’s gift slowly lowered itself into Mahaut’s lap. As it did, she unfolded her hands and brought them up to catch it.

One of the doors opened, seamlessly and silently itself, but Mahaut knew it did by the click of Sir Duncan’s boot heels on the bare floorboards. “My Lady?” he hazarded, peeking around the fireplace at her. She felt the need to stand and, in so doing, tucked Achille’s portrait under her arm.

Duncan busied himself with bustling about the foyer, satisfied in the fact he was not disturbing anything. As he drew back each heavy velvet curtain from its window pane, young sunlight cast the dark room in shades of yellow and orange. When he passed in between Mahaut and the fireplace to get at the window behind the échiquier’s table. He finished undressing the crystal pane and stepped back, folding his hands.

Mahaut understood the stance to be one of awaiting instruction. Her eyes swept the room for something with which to occupy him. After not being able to identify anything for a few prolonged moments, and meeting his eyes again with her own, unsure, he stepped forward to take hold of the portrait. She gladly let go.

And he was glad to let her lean on his surety—for now.

“This was from the King, yes?” he asked, the question rhetorical but a nicety.

“Oui, Sir Duncan.” She said the right words, but commanded none of the right intonation. She was sure in answer, but small, as if expecting a physical or emotional backhand.

That, he decided, would be lesson one.

“Oui, Sir Duncan.” He echoed the meaning, but put it on a pedestal of poise. “Be not afraid of the grandiose, My Lady. Where do you desire this?”

Everything, even decisions about meals and sleeping arrangements, had been jarring, but now the knight’s transition between directing and asking to be directed seemed the most of all to Mahaut. “Uhm.” She blinked, trying to cut through the surreal fog harder than ever. “I-in my office.”

Sir Duncan nodded. “Let myself know when and where you wish to hang it.” His work had been cut out for him it seemed. Had it been either by the King or later Baron, he neither knew nor cared; All he knew was he would have to push, at times hard, without throwing her off balance before it was time. Surely that would happen, even by him once or twice as a test, but he had to build her foundations to insure as best he could that she would be ready for all such eventualities. In the end, though, how she sat upon those foundations and therefore her stability was solely up to her.

A servant had wandered back into the foyer to take the painting away as per Mahaut’s request. “Breakfast is served, for when Lady wished to take it,” she offered as she accepted her momentary charge.

Duncan turned from where the maid had been to Mahaut. He sidestepped, motioning with one hand for her to lead on, and sweeping the other behind her shoulders, though never touching her or indeed coming within a foot. “This way, Lady Archam.”

Many more choices awaited her in the dining room.

 

[Adron Malvern]

Morning had fallen on Bon Havre and with it came a new day. Sir Duncan had orchestrated an early start to the Lady's morning because this was necessary. For the next few weeks there would be so much for the young woman to oversee and handle that her days would be long and her night's short. Yet Duncan was experienced in this. He knew she would need a nice even pace so the woman was not buried underneath the weight of command.

The Knight of the Mind was experienced and as he led the Lady into the dining hall he spoke in a warning tone. "The most important part of the day is the first meal. You should make a habit not to work during your meals but for the time being we must make exceptions My Lady." Laid before the new Sieur of House Archam was an impressive breakfast. A bowl of fresh fruits from the land's farms was prepared for her, as well as a fried egg upon a piece of toast. A side of bacon and a small bowl of warm oats also graced the display. Two glasses of water, a glass of apple juice, and a small cup of cafe were made.

Sir Duncan would gesture to the Lady's seat respectfully. He bowed his head towards the seat before looking to the Lady. "My Lady, you are a Sieur. Which makes you the Governor of these lands and all of their commissions." He gestured to the food. "Please eat, my Lady and if you have any questions you need only ask them." He said, standing before the woman as he spoke. An older woman walked over to the Knight, placing a stack of papers in his hand. "Now. The treasury is in good standing. The lands have no debt and the total tax on goods we produce, primarily lumber, is only thirteen percent in total, which is very good. In short, the economy is well. However, your people are not."

"The people of Bon Havre are foreigners to this world and they are from very different place. Many of them are Twi'leks rescued from a slaving ring that The Confederacy dismantled. The Housing Committee is working on having more advanced apartments built up but until they are your people yet live in wooden cabins using technology long outdated."

"So the immediate problems that must be handled are within an art that I will teach you, perhaps the easiest one you will learn. Arbitration. The Law of the land is executed through the Nobility. So you will be judge and Jury to the alleged criminals of your land, do you understand?" He exhaled for a moment before explaining a bit more. "For example. A young boy was caught stealing from the food stores. He stole two pounds of beef and a small bucket of apples. What do you believe should be done with the boy, My Lady?" He asked the Sieur.

Mahaut

 

[Mahaut]

~ Tag: Adron Malvern ~
​

She was used to sustenance being taken from her, not given.

In such, she had to remind herself of many things - sit up, shoulders back, elbows off the table - but most of all, to slow down.

She listened to Sir Duncan first while sipping on juice. She made a short-lived and sour face, not because of the drink's taste, which was satisfyingly sweet indeed, but because of the noise that vibrated off her lips. She was unintentionally slurping. Any way she tried to go about finishing her beverage, she could not seem to shake that sound.

So she abandoned the glass in favor of the bowl of oats. For it she picked up the wrong spoon, but otherwise began eating with as much poise as could be expected of a commoner foisted with title. And, confident enough in herself for now, Mahaut continued listening to her Mind Knight. Before he even mentioned the boy - in fact, that of being judge and jury both - her stomach acidified and she set down her spoonful of oats.

"Achille would have surely have had him executed the moment he was caught," she mused without specific purpose. "What are...my choices?" She still did not have a noble's rhetoric.

 

[Adron Malvern]

Sir Duncan watched the woman carefully. He didn't not feel a need to correct her eating habits too strenuously though was happy to see her taken notice of certain aspects that she must wash away in the light of her newly gilded blood. He placed a hand upon his chin when the woman spoke up, yet his lips drew up in a very complete smile. "Bravo, my lady. It is the wise who know when to ask questions."

The Knight cleared his throat before running a hand over his chin once again and speaking evenly. "Well, my Lady. The crime is just that, a crime. His actions would deprive those in need of food just as he believes he is deprived. Yet, we must remember why we steal food my lady. It is because our bellies rumble. I am sure you can empathize with this." He said, with no meaning of ill intention.

"So, how do we punish the crime in a manner that does not punish the heart?" He asked aloud before speaking clearly. "Well, many Lords and Ladies would demand two fingers. In the realm of thievery this is a considerably light sentence as a man with a hand, even with three fingers, can work. Still, there are other avenues. For example. There is a minor shortage because the hunter's group in the village have been short-handed. if the hunter's group is short-handed and the boy was caught for theft of food, what do you believe is a proper sentence?" He asked her.

"Remember my Lady. You need not be feared and you need not be loved, but your name must always command respect."

Mahaut

 

[Mahaut]

~ Tag: Adron Malvern ~​

Her past considered, two fingers did indeed seem fair. But -

Nodding, Mahaut countered with a surge of confidence, "May work, mayhap, but will we make that work a cruel exercise forevermore? Methinks so." If Achille had realized her logic, he most certainly would have lopped off dozens of fingers rather than heads. It seemed to Mahaut a punishment much more likely to inspire fear among a slaves. Leave those do-wrongers, live but thoroughly wounded, to tell the abhorrent tale of what it would be to wrong the Baron - or, in this case, the Sieur.

She could feel his oiled eyes judging her from where they still sat on her office desk.

"No, that will not do."

There might be time apparent for it though, being feared, but not now. Nor was it quite the time to be benevolent. Rather, she delivered her stance with optimistic but tempered expectations, "I would assume him to be jailed, his procured goods confiscated and returned. It seems mutually beneficial to assign him to the hunting group."

She paused, thinking on it more. Though Gwenaël had been firmly under Achille's thumb since the village's inception, she had seen first-hand the depravity of the deprived. So quickly did morality give way to survivalist intuition. She was unlearned of the High Illyrian way, to be sure, but of all she was not naïve. She fully expected her charity, left unchecked, to backfire oh her and her new House. "To be clear, this would not be an absolution," she clarified. "I would want one of Sergeant Amer's men to shadow him and... What would be a reasonable quota to impose, do you think?" She had never been hunting, herself, at least not as part of a party.

 

[Adron Malvern]

As the young Lady spoke, Sir Duncan listened intently. He watched every movement with judgeless, yet intrigued eyes and when the Lady asked what he thought the Knight of the Mind had a very clear smile upon his face. "Very good, My lady." He said softly, before clearing his throat and pausing for a moment to consider. "Well, given the way things are now another hand for the Hunter's Lodge would be most appreciated. Even if he does not hunt he can skin, treat, or even carry supplies." The man stopped for a moment before nodding softly. "I would say two months, my lady. That would give him time to work over the food he stole three times over. This would be fair, this would be justice." He said.

The Knight pulled up the datapad once again before exhaling softly. "Now, let us move to one more difficult shall we?" He asked, before running a hand over his bearded chin. Whatever he read on the datapad seemed to be something that turned the man's stomach and for a moment he seemed to be considering broaching the subject.

"Now. There is the matter of a feud on your lands. A well respected logger, Ari'non believes another logger, Kerum has stolen his logging machine. You see, my lady. Ari bought the logging machine himself. The more he logs in a day, the more money he produces for his family. The logging machines are usually rented but people often save their wages to buy their own and generate a source of income."

"You see, Kerum is a very vile individual my lady. Yet...there are more than a few who hold him in esteem and would see a slight against him as an insult. Yet, the investigation turned up that Ari'non is correct, Kerum stole the logging machine." He said.

"Now, you could allow Kerum a bit of leeway in light of his influence, however then others may be prone to theft because they believe you weak of hand. However, holding Kerum to the law may cause many to turn sour at you. What do you think of this, My lady?"

Mahaut

 

[Mahaut]

~ Tag: Adron Malvern ~
​

The joy of solving her first puzzle 'correctly' drained soon as she realized not every board had a perfect piece with which it was waited to be fixed with. As she considered the day's second decision, she thought back on the other game, still set up as in had been by the King in her foyer, and the advice he had given to play it:

"The first move is always the most important."

At first, the memory did nothing to hasten along her choice - but then, suddenly, began to inform it.

"I think, to him, I will offer none," she told Sir Duncan, referring to leeway, shaking her head. Mahaut had never once stolen from either House Achille or her countrymen, but she had oft thought on it. For her, every time, a sound mind overruled a literally sounding stomach, for she as a self-proclaimed philosopher but morality above all else. No, good ethics did not feed one as did good food, but a full heart and a full mind was what sung her to sleep most nights anyway.

And they were was delivered her from a Hell burnt into the mountain, having caught the King's amethyst eye.

So she wouldn't stand the criminal act, just as she had not stood for the food theft, but she would stand for the criminal himself until benifit of the doubt was ripped from her scorned hands. "But I...I wish to know wherefore comes this thievery. Vile as Kerum is, perhaps his behavior resonates from a baser need. How fares his family? What quality wood does his property grow?" Sometimes, she had seen miners, specifically panners, steal from each other's yield piles to appear more successful than they had in fact been, and to avoid a shirker's punishment. Might something similar be at play deep underneath the surface here?

It was worth an ask.

 

[Adron Malvern]

It was easy for those in power to turn their eyes from justice in favor of the public eye. As Mahaut spoke it became apparent to Sir Duncan that the Lady of Bon Havre seemed more focused on justice. In the eyes of the King, this was the proper path and so she would always be supported by the Crown, yet there are two pillars of support in the Aristocracy, above and below. Sir Duncan sat back in consideration for a moment before nodding at the woman's words.

"If you would stand by the law then he must serve three months of time in the Viscount's jail and pay a fine of five hundred credits." The older man cleared his throat before nodding. "I shall require your seal for this matter, as it will expedite the process." The older man said.

When poised with a question of Kerum's status the Knight of the Mind turned his eyes to the datapad before him. He scrolled through the datapad for a few moments before shaking his head softly. "Kerum has no family to speak of. A brother who lives in the capitol. He is the logger of two acres of land, fertile. No previous convictions of crimes though there is a history of accusations. Pays his taxes well, contributed to the community, though he is known to favor the bottle." Sir Duncan tapped the datapad before turning back to Mahaut.

"I can see no mitigating circumstance to give you pause, my Lady, though as I said the incarceration of Kerum could end in a bit of a scowl aimed at you. Of course, these things pass but you must always be aware of how others view your leadership." He told her. The Knight stood up, clearing his throat as he did. "Also. The world of the Aristocracy is a...curious one to the uninitiated. I have ordered three of the town's guard to the manor. They will serve as your bodyguards my lady, you will learn that protecting yourself is paramount."

Mahaut

 

[Mahaut]

~ Tag: The High Court of Illyria ~​

Mahaut's stomach dropped at Sir Duncan's response. No mitigating circumstances... Pays his taxes, contributed to the community... Had she made the right choice?

Then, she blinked. A guard?! Of three? She had never relied on more than, at times, one other besides herself for anything. Of course she had made friends in Gwenaël, but all but one were of the shallow necessity of survival. And even that one left - Gabin, of course - hadn't been a easygoing, perhaps traditional as assumed by most friendship. They had rarely the luxury of energy or time to give to each other, either in assistance or in comfort and kinship. But that had in ways made their bond all the stronger, the moments in which they could truly look out for the other all the more precious. So, anyone outside of that relationship, that experience...

...could she really trust them?

She didn't betray the thought.

Instead, she simply cleared her throat and, with it, her head. "Very well," she began. "I appreciate very much these teachings, Sir." And, really, she did. "What remains for the day?"

 

[The High Court of Illyria]

THE ROT​

Tags: Mahaut ​

Sir Duncan input a few notes into his datapad before turning his attention to the Sieur with a smile. "You have done well my lady but the next matter is of more importance and slightly more grave." He turned to the datapad before him and cleared his throat, reading off a message intended for the Sieur.

"Now, this is a message from Anura, a logging foreman on the western side of your territory.

Dear Lady,

I am most displeased to inform you that the monthly requirement of lumber will not be met. Several of our prize groves have taken to a rot that we have no means to stop. The taint is sudden and we cannot ascertain its source. If you would please be so kind as to lend counsel, we would greatly appreciate it. I fear if this rot continues to spread, we will be forced to shut down all of the western groves."

The Knight turned the datapad off and set it on the table before clearing his throat. "My lady I am quite familiar with most forms of rot and plague. The affliction Ms. Anura describes is not one Bon Havre has ever experienced before, this is most distressing as we cannot be sure that it will not spread. I recommend we go immediately to investigate this disaster." He said with an urgent, yet calmed tone.
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[Mahaut]

~ Tag: The High Court of Illyria ~​

But, ho, perhaps here came a chance to make a righter choice.

So, of course, Mahaut deferred to Sir Duncan's recommendation.

The flight to the western groves was not long, but even still left a strange feeling in her haunches. The perfect stabilization of a hovercraft was vastly different than the ever-shifting spine of a trotting horse. The latter's movement was written into her physical memory so that the body may never, she feared, adjust to its absence. As she stepped off board to meet Anura, a wave of motion sickness washed over Mahaut. She moved with more or less grace through it, and the feeling lessened as she did but she could not shake its entirety. Trying to ignore it, she turned her attention to him and began:

"Sir Duncan, you may have ascertained if the King has told you an inkling of my past that I know quite a bit about phrik but little about wood. And indeed even that much is about felling it and seasoning firewood rather than managing its sustainable growth. Ms. Anura asks for my counsel, but I was hoping for hers. What is there then to do?"

 

[The High Court of Illyria]

THE ROT​

Tags: Mahaut ​

As they dismounted the shuttle, Sir Duncan tried his best not to screw up his face at the poor condition of Bon Havre's Sieur. He did,

however, clear his throat and speak easily over to her. "My Lady the people look to you for strength. You must seem your strongest when you are at your weakest." He advised. When the woman spoke of her lack of knowledge in the area, Sir Duncan nodded at her understandably. "Of course. Allow me to explain. Bon Havre serves at your luxury. The various logging foreman's who encompass Bon Havre have typically inherited their knowledge and expertise on the specific lands that they inhabit. The trees are mostly the same but the land they inhabit are very different. For example, it is much more difficult to cultivate the groves nearest the coast due to the salt in the waters. While those trees closer to the mountain range are harder to harvest and clear due to their roots intermingling with the many rocks beneath the ground." He explained to her. "The only reason I am even aware of such things is due to years of study, and I am nowhere near an expert."

"Ah, speak of the expert." The man said, gesturing to a dark skinned woman who was approaching the duo. The young woman, Elaena, bowed her head while dipping low into a proper curtsy.

"Elaena's family is the only to have cultivated trees from every part of your province. It makes them the subject matter expert in such things." The kind words from Sir Duncan were met with a playful smile from the girl.

"Sir Duncan is too kind. Yes, my lady. My family is loyal to our Sieur and prepared to offer our assistance." She said with a happy tone.

Duncan spoke once again. "Elaena is a foreman of her own groves, those in the center of the province, closest to your manor. So when miss Anura requests your aid, she is also requesting the aid of Elaena who is the more knowledgeable of the two."

"Surprised the queen could be bothered." Elaena spoke through a muttered tone, however Duncan was fast to let his hand fly, striking the woman across the shoulder warningly. "That is no way to speak around a Lady, Elaena." The woman flushed as she realized her words before bowing her head towards Mahaut in apology. "I am sorry, m'lady. I forget myself sometimes."

Elaena righted herself before clearing her throat. "Now. M'lady I would like to show you something." Elaena led the way to a nearby tree. It was in a sad affair. The dirt around it had darkened and the trunk was dry, with bark chipping off from the base. The leaves were all but dead, save a small corner that had yet to become afflicted with the death. "This rot is something I have seen before, but it was years and years ago when I was a girl." The woman cleared her throat before speaking lower. "Sir Duncan do you remember the woodraces?" She asked the Knight.

Sir Duncan nodded, before turning to the Sieur. "A competition amongst local Sieurs and Magnates. They compete through a number of logging tasks, a bit of a tradition in this part of the world. Very popular. Held every ten years or so." He said, before turning to Elaena. "Why?"

"Well, when I was a girl I remember my Grandfather returning from the races. He was cussin' up a big ol' storm over a - excuse my language- cheatin' ass Sieur prettyboy." The woman said in a low tone.

"Ah, Lord Dantes." Duncan said, running a hand over his chin. "Not your most...reputed of Sieurs I am afraid. He cultivates without respect for the forest and for years has been pushing his lands closer and closer to being nothing more than a barren field."

"Right...well during the competition, my grandfather told my pa that Dantes used some kind of...weird fertilizer to poison the trees against him. Every tree that was not his own began to wilt after being planted."

Elaeana tapped the base of the tree. "I remember the tree my grandfather brought back. It looked just like this one..."

"...and it did not make it to the winters." She said gravely, her eyes turning towards the expansive grove filled with the rotted trees. That was when Sir Duncan gave off a distressed grumble. "Troubling. Most troubling that this seems to point to another Sieur." He muttered.
​

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[Mahaut]

~ Tag: The High Court of Illyria ~
​

Mahaut just bit back her own sigh. Troubling indeed. Many questions flooded her mind at once, but the one that floated most prominently to the forefront was for Sir Duncan: "What power do I have over another Sieur? Surely, if we can work to prove involvement, even after the fact, we might be able to involve some...higher powers. A course of reparation, yes?" Names for the ranks most immediately above her escaped the mind.