Landgraben's Harvest Fair [Luciana]

[Amalric Maulesel]

Below Nordeberg's mustard stone, Landgraben's harvest fair transformed the brown, trodden ways of the valley into a mountain range of tents. The garish red, yellow, and blue sails nestled among the alpine geography proclaimed the wealth of the King's guests, the dyes used for their manufacture expensive and exotic. For centuries, the base of Nordeberg walls extended barren to the outlying trees, where the land sloped up again. The area had been used for centuries for the fair, the earth hardened by numerous travelers.

The Harvest fair was a grand week. The ground was littered with gourds, apple cores, and the droppings of precious cattle with sagging, butter-soft coats. Stewed venison and roast wild boar sat in great dishes or was ladled out of steaming soup caldrons. There was even flesh of the wild duck served at vendors and on Amalric's table, garnished with a sweet berry jam. The finest brews were poured and the night cradled the lullaby of many a drunken miner's song.

Most of the iron smithies were done for the season and the mines would be barricaded off soon. Blizzards were dangerous in Landgraben, and so, when winter hit, the people went into a sort of hibernation until the season had passed. This time of year, the storerooms were fuller than they would ever be with honey, milk, oats, preserved currants, wheels of cheese, smoked fish and other flesh, among the turpentine, wool, rope, and a reserve supply of iron ingots. These were the best times of the year, the days when all that was sewn was harvested and a man scratched his head in front of his cache and wondered if he could ever starve again.

Landgraben's fair hosted a war tournament amongst vegetable, hound, and livestock competitions. King Amalrich Maulesel, accompanied by his squire brothers and his knights, rode the grounds dressed in his thickest armor. Every now and then, he would lift his visor and smile, turn to his brother Aiden and tell him that that is how you hold your injured hound. The wriggling canine, what we might consider a mix between a German Shephard and a St. Bernard, was no easy feat to cradle. He rode confidently ahead of his men, his horse lifting him above the mess on on the ground, his armor blinding him from lepers and pretty ladies alike.

These days, he would visit the maroon and violet tents, firmly grab the hands of his nobles and neighbors, and salute the sons that would participate in the sparrings, duels, and jousts. Amalric greeted all with his helm in the crook of his arm and his sword held by an accompanying knight. He shouted loudly wherever he went, bellowing salutations and farewells in a rich accent and his company shouted back, for all had the ale in their blood.

Each night, he supplied a feast in his halls for his men and allies, not a fancy show, but delicacies were spread. Music played amid the history of moth-bitten wool tapestries and polished hunting horns. His castle, though mustier, wetter, and colder than Camelot, broke the wind that charged the mountain pass. There were candlesticks that branched like tree limbs and fireplaces that could roast a horse, but there is warmth enough provided by alcohol and cramped quarters. The Grabenites learned how to live in this harsh country years ago. They know how to work, to mine efficiently during the safer months, and they know how to relax and take a load off, kick up their feet and bath in each other's company.

So the question of the day was, how many knights would be sober for the coming joust? How many had gone to sleep before midnight, bowed away from the dog-like men that licked their cups in packs? How many were guilty of refusing that one more mug of beer that 'couldn't hurt'? Was all of the night's and morning's drink still in Amalric's system? He had left the hall when the sky had lightened but the sun had yet to rise.

So now, the time was noon and the first day of his joust. He had shaken all the hands that had arrived - the fairs third day kicking up in the ground's below his keep. He spent his free time this morning sleeping, and when he finally returned to his battle gear, his mind was weighed down by a stuffy heaviness like his thoughts bore a rusted suit. He picked through the gloves, helms, chest plate, and metal chain mail, rubbing the crux of his nose. He wished one of his brother squires might come to help him prepare. Now where were they off to? Aiden would be knighted in less than a year, but Amalric's mind soon wandered away from the irresponsible prince as he continued to pick through the armor laid out. One of his noble's horses had died on the journey to the fair - he had promised to replace it with a breed from his own stables. He mulled over which he would surrender as he meandered through the complicated armor pieces. A griffin might pick through her cow bones in his manner of picking up the metal and rolling it before his eyes. He took each piece in his hands and weighed it, checking for broken chains, knicks or dents. He was slow and thorough. He still had three hours to suit up and the lazy autumn sunlight cast a warmth more powerful than the great Hall's candles. Soon, his bum met the polisher's stool, his hands folded on the table, his head laid sedated upon the folded mesh of a handsome chain mail coat, and his light, gruff snore could be mistaken by many a hunting page as that of a hibernating bear.

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(TAGGED) Luciana le Valois
(NOTES) Takes place sometime in the middle of season one, is that okay Lu?

[Luciana le Valois]

“Milady, I know I’ve said this time and again, but I really think this is a bad idea,” stated Alis, the nervous wreck of a handmaid, as her wide brown eyes anxiously surveyed countryside. The maid clung to the seat of the plain wooden horse-drawn cart, and added, almost begging, “Perhaps we should turn back and return to Camelot for your safety, milady.”

Seated next to the fretful Alis, Luciana le Valois shook her head and rolled her light gray eyes, as the maid officially became a broken record. She had been saying the same thing every hour since they left Camelot, probably hoping for Luciana to abandon her impromptu trip to the Kingdom of Landgraben. Unfortunately for the handmaid, the princess was not about to give up on her desire to see her future kingdom not when the journey was almost over.

“Alis, I know traveling without at least eight armed guards frightens you, but I highly doubt that anything bad is going to happen between here and Nordeberg. Look, you can see the town walls,” remarked Luciana in a considerate and gentle tone while implying to the fact that her maid should keep her mouth shut. Alis obviously got the hint because the adolescent servant girl didn’t continue with her whiny chatter. Then Luciana snapping the driving reins signaling the dark, massive Friesian that was pulling the cart to keep moving forward on the gravel path, and stated, “Besides, we have Sir Erec with us.”

Riding beside them, on Luciana own horse Cavalier, was the gallant Sir Erec, a handsome gentleman in his mid-thirties and one of the most renowned knights in Armorica. While she was in Albion, Sir Erec acted as Princess Luciana’s bodyguard and champion. Sir Erec was disguised as a middle class merchant, and his warhorse, Ulysses, was dutifully pulling the cart. Sir Erec vigilantly sat in his saddle, scanning the surrounding area every so often. Upon hearing his name, the knight laughed, and said, in an almost paternal tone, “I couldn’t let your Highness without protection. If anything happened, the king would have my head.”

The trio had been traveling for four days under the guise of a traveling merchant family. Each was dressed in their plainest attire, even Luciana who wore a simple red long sleeved dress. With such a small group, slipping out of Camelot in the morning hours was an easy feat, although the Armorican princess had to conceal herself beneath a heavy tarp in the back of the cart as they passed through the main gate. Of course, Luciana left a note with information regarding her whereabouts so Camelot would not send out unnecessary search parties to look for her. Although the trip was the most exciting, it was still a great deal of fun.

By midday, Luciana and her party had past through the stone walls of Nordeberg and were greeted by the sights, sounds, and scents of jovial merriment. Fascinated by the sea of color and the displays of various festive activities, Luciana barely noticed the guard check the back of the cart.

“This must be the Landgraben Harvest Festival. Apparently it's the highlight of the year in the kingdom,” remarked Erec, before dismounting Luciana’s Andalusian. Then as the princess and her handmaid stepped down the wooden cart, Erec noticed the light in Luciana’s pearl grey eyes that she got when she wanted to run off to join the fun. Before she could dash into the merry-making, Sir Erec suggested, “Why don’t you enjoy the festival. I shall take the horses and find an inn.”

The Princess of Armorica barely waited for her guard to finish his sentence before she took Alis by the hand and flitted into the crowd of festival goers. With her handmaid in tow, Luciana meandered through the brightly colored tents that littered the grounds. Taking her time, the disguised royal moved from one spectacle to the next, although she did quickly pass over the entries for largest vegetable. Overgrown crops held very little interest for the princess. In the livestock and animal section of the fair, Luciana admired the various canines that were being shown to the public. Many of the hounds were massive, reaching the height of her hip. At one venue, a dog breeder had a litter of fluffy elkhounds, which Luciana just adored. There was no such breed in Armorica, which made her want one all the more. With a gentle laugh and a playful smile, the princess picked up one of the pups—a male—and held him like an infant in her arms. The little guy licked her face vigorously, enjoying the attention. While Luciana played with the puppy, Alis gawked at the prized mules that were being held in fenced pens. The maid couldn’t wrap her head around why mules were so important in Landgraben. Wanting to show her maid the adorable little hound, Luciana joined Alis by the mules with the pup still wrapped in her arms.

“Alis, look how cute he is,” cooed the Princess of Armorica, hugging the puppy to her chest.

The maid shifted her attention to the fuzz ball in her mistress’s arms, “Madam, I know you have a soft spot for animals, but I don’t think a puppy is the most practical purchase at the moment… Though it is quite cute.” Alis informed her, hoping the puppy wouldn’t be another one of the princess’s impulsive purchases.

“A dog is not impractical,” retorted Luciana in a contradictory tone. She then rocked the pup, and cooed, in a baby voice, to him, “You’re not impractical, are you?”

With that, the Armorican princess took her coin purse from Alis and happily bought the elkhound puppy from the breeder. Luciana carried the young canine in her arms for the rest of the day as she sampled the food and ale of Landgraben. A joyful smile danced on her lips long after the sun set behind the high mountain of the mining kingdom. As night fell on the town, the torches were lit, and the ale began pouring from the tavern kegs. As soon as the drinking song echoed in the air, the two women came across Sir Erec. Eyeing the bundle of fur in Luciana’s arm, the knight asked, “Milady, what is that?”

“This is Hunter. I bought him at the festival. When he’s grown, he’ll be fabulous hunting company,” beamed the dark haired princess, revealing the slumbering puppy to her champion.

“I’m sure, your Highness,” stated Sir Erec, automatically agreeing with her as a subject traditionally did with their monarch. Then without skipping a beat, he informed, “I have found us accommodations at a respectable inn.”

The two ladies followed the knight to the inn, The Merry Mule. Inside they found that most of the patrons were already on their fifth round of Landgraben’s renowned beer. Luciana was greet enthusiastically by the innkeeper, who informed her that he had never had a lady of such high rank stay at his inn. It seemed that Sir Erec let it slip that she was more than a merchant’s daughter. As the innkeeper escorted the Armorican princess to her room, he gusted about how it was an honor to have her patronage and that if she needed anything, she needed only to say the word. Before slipping into her room with Alis close behind, Luciana graciously thanked the innkeeper for his generous hospitality.

The room was quite adequate with two full-sized bed, all the amenities, and an adjoining door between her room and what she assumed as Sir Erec’s room. As the dark haired princess glanced about the room, she noticed her trunk had been brought up. Tomorrow she would dress like a princess and show off her remarkable sense of fashion.

Setting little Hunter on the bed, Luciana sat on the edge and quickly took off her boots. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep until noon. After changing into a pale white nightgown, she quickly slid under the wool covers and rested her head on the soft feather pillow. It didn’t take long for Hunter to scoot next to the princess and quickly fall asleep. As Luciana’s eyes slowly began to close, she heard Alis bid her goodnight and was lulled to sleep by tavern songs.

---

The following day, Luciana was awoken in the late morning by a very cheerful Alis. Truly, the only thing that the princess wanted to do was roll over and fall back asleep, but she willed herself awake, stretching out her arms. As Alis set out her gown and jewels, Luciana leisurely made her way over to a table where a hearty breakfast of sausages, fruit, and a fine loaf of bread. As she ate, the Princess of Armorica wondered what her first meeting with the king and future husband would be like. Luciana did not know much about the King of Landgraben. She didn’t even know what he looked liked. Her parents, of course, sent a miniature portrait of her when she was in her late teens. After it was sent, she wondered if King Amalric deemed her pretty enough to be his queen. Luciana assumed he must have found her pleasing since the engagement was not called off. She had always accepted the fact that she would be married to the King of Landgraben, even though that annoying vague end clause never really specified when.

When she had finished eating, Luciana replaced her night chemise with a flattering gown of red and dark blue. The fine gown had an eye-catching square neckline with heart shaped décolleté with golden braid, double trumpet sleeves, and contrasting panels in the skirt. After Alis had brushed her dark tresses until they glistened, a golden ruby circlet was placed on the crown of her head, and then a portion of her dark brown locks were pulled over the sides of the circlet and pinned on the top of her head. Around her neck rested a brilliant gold and ruby necklace with a single pearl dangling from the center, and from her ears hung simple gold earrings.

As Luciana was putting on her beaded divit toed shoes, Sir Erec knocked on the door, announcing himself. After gaining permission to come in, Erec, who was dressed in his knightly attire, strode into the room. He was warmly greeted by Hunter, who yipped for attention, as the Armorican knight entered the princess’s room from the adjoining room. Sir Erec was attired in his knightly garb of a dark blue tunic with the Valois crest emblazoned on front. Halting in front of Luciana, he bowed at the waist, greeted her with a respectful smile, and said, “Good morning, your Highness. I trust you slept well.”

“Good morning to you as well, Sir Erec, and yes, I slept quite well,” replied the Princess of Armorica as she smoothed out the skirt of her gown. Then she asked in anticipation, “Well, how do I look?”

“Lovely as always, madam. Are you ready?” replied her gallant champion with the utmost courtesy.

“As I’ll ever be,” stated Luciana under her breath, checking herself in a silver hand mirror that Alis had packed. Then she gave tiny Hunter a kiss on his fuzzy head and told him to be a good boy for Alis. As the princess and her guard left the room, Alis wished her mistress good luck and prayed that everything went perfectly today.

Outside the Merry Mule, both Cavalier and Ulysses were tacked in their regular saddles and bridles. Sir Erec fierce Friesian looked every bit a warhorse as he stood at attention in the hands of a young stable boy. Meanwhile, the princess’s own black stallion was being nothing but his usual lively and antsy self as he pawed the ground with his front hoof, making his groom nervous. Luciana shushed her impatient equine as she made her way over to him. With the assistance of Sir Erec, the princess mounted her steed, sitting sidesaddle much to her discomfort. Then as soon as Sir Erec mounted his horses, the two made their way, to Luciana’s surprise, to the fair grounds’ jousting arena.

“We’re not going to the castle?” inquired the Princess of Armorica as she rode beside her guardian.

Sir Erec answered, brightly, “No, milady. Today is the first day of the jousting tournament. The king will most likely be on the grounds suiting up.”

Arriving at the arena, the Armorican knight dismounted his horse, giving it to a nearby groom, and announced that he was off to find the king’s chamberlain. That was Sir Erec, always following protocol, but Princess Luciana had her own ideas. When her knight was out of sight, she gracefully dismounted Cavalier and handed him over to the same groom. In her finery, no one questioned her actions as she made her way through the field of tents. As with every jousting tournament, there was a lot of yelling, mainly knight ordering their pages and squires for their armor or a drink. The ringing of the blacksmith’s hammer resounded in the air as extra shoes were prepared for the horses. It was just like any other joust that Luciana had been to.

Passing by multicolored tents displaying different family crests, the Princess of Armorica searched for the grandest one, hoping the king would be nearby. As she approached the largest of the tents, Luciana heard a muffled but still rather noisy snore emanating from within the tent. She wondered who could still be sleeping with the tournament starting in a few hours. Being her audacious and rather curious self, the Armorican princess slowly and quietly parted the curtain and peaked her head inside.

As she peered around the tent, her gray eyes gleaming, Luciana noticed a golden haired, rather handsome man asleep on a pillow of chainmail. From what she saw, he was a rather large gentleman with broad shoulders. In comparison, he was definitely bigger than both Prince Arthur and her brother, Tristan. He was probably taller than them too. Then without really thinking too much about it, Princess Luciana slipped into the tent silently, not wanting to wake the sleeping warrior. As she continue to study the man, Luciana surmised that if she combine Arthur and her brother, the end product would most likely look something like the man before her.

As the Armorican royal drew closer, she heard to voice chatting outside of the tent. Luciana recognized one of them as Sir Erec. Now, any normal person would run and find a place to hide, but not her. Swiftly, the dark haired princess took a seat in the closest, and most comfortable looking chair and began to play with her glistening dark locks.

“I’m sure that his Majesty is preparing himself in his tent, Sir,” remarked the first voice in a masculine and stately tone. Then a hand parted the curtain entrance, and in walked Sir Erec and a gentleman who Luciana was King Amalric’s chamberlain.

When the princess’s guard strode into the tent, the look on his face was absolutely priceless. The princess had to bite her bottom lip to stifle her laughter. Holding back a fit of giggles, Princess Luciana nonchalantly greeted, “Hello, Sir Erec. I believe I found the king."

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Tags:[/color] Amalric Maulesel
Words:[/color] 2547
Outfit:[/color]

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--- Second Dress
--- Necklace
--- Circlet
--- Shoes
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Notes:[/color] The never ending post found its ending.

[Amalric Maulesel]

Amalric, first of all, has an awful habit of snoring. When he first begins to fall asleep and has reached nothing deep, it is merely a light bubbling in his nose. But if he dreams, as he is this dry autumn afternoon, or sleeps in the deepest, most refreshing, and rarest of ways, he snores with a thundering, turbulent, throaty gargle. At its lightest, breathing out, he sounds like a growling dog, and at its worst, breathing in, his tongue flops in his mouth so much that it has even scared Sir Münche into thinking he was choking. Many times, he has been woken up by his men with a fist in his stomach. Usually, Amalric doesn't dream. He travels too much to dream, often sleeping in cold caves or cricket meadows or the human-jungle of taverns. In Nordeberg, however, he sleeps well, his queerest subconscious thoughts release themselves and all that exhausted him on his journeys would extinguish itself in the healthiest of way.

Amalric had only just begun a dream of griffin wings, snails, and puppy dog tails, the yellow beak and the over-powering weight of his armor turned nightmarish. A touch of drool had begun to leak from his open mouth, and his wolfish snore was transitioning into that of a bear's. The Griffin beat its mighty wings, but the clattering feet of his horse was suddenly disturbed and replaced with the clatter of feet on planks of wood laid down on the royal arms tent's dirt floor. Amalric snorted a bit awake. His nose was hopelessly clogged and bothered, and he rubbed it as he met Sir Münche and another knight with pounding steps. Then remembered where he was - the armory, right, polishing. For every man was the master of his own armor. How much time had passed? His mouth felt dry from being open for two hours. And he's hungry too. Hungry to the deepest part of his gut - sleep does this. He could not remember what he had for breakfast and he craved a second. His eyes switched from the more nervous Sir Münche, who had a desperate look in his eye, to the gaping foreigner. He began to clear his throat, tell his man to wipe that stupid look off his face and get a plate of meat, cheese, and bread, when a woman's voice spoke from the other end of the table, in the direction of his other shoulder. Her voice had been quick and boastful.

He turned immediately with an accusing, hostile glare - a look he might give the lion-hawk if he saw her feasting on a cow from the reaches of its cliff. It was unforgivable for a woman to be in a jouster's tent. She had nothing to be proud of, and he was every inch a boss, a herder of awful little brothers, and a tolerater of plotting, giggling, baby-sock-knitting mothers. He was never so amorous a fellow to take the ripped petticoat of his lady love in a private place, where she might give him, perhaps, more confidence that a rag of luck. Instead, he snatch his quick kiss on the cheek from a lady sitting on the stands, and that was that. So he shifted from the two knights to the lady, his arm thumping on the table like a bartender setting down a heavy drink to a character he was suspicious wouldn't pay.

"What is this?"

"My Lady!" uttered the strange knight.

"Sire, this is Princess Luciana le Valois. You're fi - "

"I know perfectly well who she is!" Amalric interrupted. He knew the name, and he recognized the face too now, as there had been a portrait sent years ago. She wasn't very much like the ladies of his kingdom, whose fashion was thick and heavily embroidered with hair knotted in spiraling braids close to their heads. There was always a sort of frizziness about them and they laughed louder than they spoke. Luciana le Valois, he judged, was sleeker, and he looked her in the eye as he leaned back slumping in his chair, knitting his hands over his stomach. Her lips were pressed in a tight, checked laugh.

And while Sir Erec might wonder at King Amalric's rudeness for slumping in front of his charge, Sir Münche might wonder about the princess's straight posture as a sign of her nervousness and orthodox formality, which made him nervous and tightly formal as well. Sir Münche had been worriedly shifting from the princess to the king. He had been there the day Luciana le Valois's portrait had arrived in Nordeburg castle. He had been at the King's side as he always was, and Amalric too recounted the day vaguely with a hint of stubborn displeasure, and so, he remembered it differently than Sir Münche. If both were to tell the story, the knight's account would have been more honest than the king's. But Amalric, or course, would not have ever given Sir Münche the chance to explain.

So as Amalric looked at Luciana le Valois, at her ruby lips, pale cheeks, and dark straight hair and he at last settled into the sad smile as one confronted with a dish of pig's blood and intestines when they had no favorable impression of such dish. Fiances! They are an overpoweringly sweet and sour taste, but Amalric inhales his food and strong flavors get in the way of his appetite. So yes, fiances, he considers, are their own spoonful of bad medicine, along with mothers and even Sir Münche when he's feeling passionate. But the story of Luciana le Valois's portrait was a long one and though it might take some words to tell, it can be assured these characters of Landgraben recalled the chaos and confusion as one might snap his fingers.

The portrait arrived in a convoy from Armorica, bearing barrels of pickled fish paste among other delicacies to Landgraben. Amalric welcomed the company, for he loved an excuse to feast, and the boars were hunted and ducks shot in the valley's lake. Prince Tristan had introduced himself in the grand hall, to greet Amalric on his throne, where most other Kings like Uther and Cendred sat at this time of day. Though it be dull and rife with business, there is always an hour for a king to sit on his throne and go about the business of his country. The prince had bowed on one knee as is the universal custom of chivalry. A fur cloak was thrown over the Prince's shoulders as a gift and a symbol of welcoming and protection. Everything was going as it it had for centuries. The beer flowed, the meat sizzled, and the foreign men had decided they liked this nook in the mountains. Amalric, every so often, would cast his eyes on the foreigners, and he was happy they seemed content. They often clinked their cups and laughed like his own men. Because they seemed alike to the the Landgraben folk, jolly and half-drunk they got along well with the local nobles and knights.

At dinner, right after Amalric had a second hearty slab of roast venison slapped on his plate and two more ladles full of honeyed carrots and boiled coal-lump potatoes, the portrait was presented. He had not been informed of the convoy's purpose. Indeed, his mother knew, and the convoy thought he knew, for why else would they trek all the way from the sea? Amalric felt interrupted from his meal, eating of prime importance, when Prince Tristan stood in the empty space of the floor. It was there that a bear might be chained or a jester spew his tricks. Two other ambassadors held the heavy canvas, toddling like crabs behind the royal. After a brief announcement and introduction of his happiness for the planned union, the portrait was unveiled and declared a gift for the king.

It was a dark composition, struck in shades of dark blue and purple with specks of teal and pale gray lacing her dress and the color of her eyes, which Amalric noticed first. He stared at it, quite taken with it and fancying it well-made. He wondered what the paint was made of. The brushstrokes were invisible, the texture and shine of the velvet gown impossibly real. "Beautiful," he'd said under his breath, referring more to the composition than the person illustrated. Only, when he came to the face and studied it, and the girl's round countenance and subtle nose mirrored Prince who stood beside her, he suddenly realized what he had gazed at so lovingly was the other le Valois twin. He had stared at the picture for quite some time, admiring it - for paint was no art known in Landgraben. The artisans made exquisite jewelry, wealth that would not be ruined in the dry winter. The King had yet to travel to the grand museums and galleries in the valleys and richer kingdoms, and though he had heard of such art, his education had not consisted of its study.

But the teenage Prince Tristan now looked uneasy. Amalric looked away, shoving Sir Münche to change the subject. His mother gawked on his other side, and in her middle-aged, widowed mom's high pitched shrill, she pinned her displeasure by roaring his name. "I apologize, my dear, he's still shy about women," she then said to the prince, who didn't seem to know what to do as Amalric turned to his mother even more embarrassed. "It's love at first sight, I knew it would be!" The queen beamed, rubbing Amalric's shoulder to his horror. He jostled in his seat, his cheeks tinted with the mixture of ale and the situation. He wanted to look at Prince Tristan, shake his head and explain, but it would also mean yielding to the inappropriateness and cultural barbarism of never seeing a painting before. So he did the only thing he could think to do - he lifted his cup. His mother towered above him, hands akimbo, thinking her son as so utterly adorable despite being all grown up. His three brothers were hooting with laughter at another table. The twenty-five year old buried his face into his palm and nursed his mug, while his mother smiled proudly. When Helen Maulesel signed the marriage contract, she used her biggest signature. She then began a long speech about children and grandchildren and the future of the kingdom. While she spoke, Amalric had grabbed Sir Münche cape, and pulled him in.

"Go tell my brothers to shut up and stop laughing." They were still chortling while the prince turned his back to guide the portrait away. Then, he returned to listen attentively to the Queen's speech. Amalric no longer noticed him however. His two boys were slapping each other on the back now, mimicking and exaggerating their brother's stare, while the twenty-five year old glared death at them across the room. The hooligan's still hadn't learned to behave and they still hadn't completely acknowledged their brother as a king and not one of their fellow trouble-makers.

"But Sire, shouldn't you thank the Prince for his gift?" Sir Münche offered. Amalric had a tight grip on the captain's red fabric, but nonetheless the alcohol-eased man swirled good wine in his goblet with a lackadaisical smile. "I'll give a good whack to the boys soon," he promised after Amalric spitefully removed his drink, took a generous gulp, and put it beside his plate and answered his friend with a sarcastic smile. He was no one's friend today. Amalric released his the captain, bothered, trying to ignore his mother's patronizing smile, as she was just sitting from her speech. He had been crowned not too long ago, at least by his mother's standards, and she knew how to keep her foot in the door.

Unfortunately, Sir Münche only poured himself yet more wine and before Amalric could lunge again for his friend, his mother was elbowing him to say a few words. The hall quieted, and suddenly, the Armorican prince stood out, his arms crossed and an impatient glare directed at his sister's fiance. Amalric stood up - at least he was good at standing up, at looking strong, and by now his brothers finally got the message and settled to listen. Albeit smiling something fierce.

Amalric looked around the chamber, one of the largest in his country. The walls were of mustard yellow stone worn to beige and the high ceiling toted large knotted metal chandeliers. The tables were decked with food, some of which provided by the convoy. His nobility, many of whom could not make it to the castle to celebrate because the journey was too dangerous, had left much room for the knights of his fort. Many a familiar face smiled up at him differently than his devious siblings. Animal heads of the largest boar, deer, and bear were fitted on the wall behind his large wooden chair. The King, swept aside his cloak, and put a hand over his heart. He bowed to the visiting prince. When he looked back up, it was if they had finally met and each acknowledged the other, the bond settled, but of what, Alamric could only hope comradeship.

"If I am lucky enough to be blessed with a wife," he said, keenly glancing at his mother, "I am sure Princess Luciana le Valois would make an excellent queen for Landgraben. I am also glad that the kingdom of Armorica wishes to make an alliance. We have, for a long time, not made an alliance through marriage, and it is a rare and important political commitment." His mother would have him later for such a remark. "I have a great respect for your country, Prince Tristan," he continued, raising his his cup, "and thank you for the portrait of your sister. It is a good piece!"

And now, his brothers on cue burst out laughing. Amalric turned beat red at last as he looked sharply at their table. "He said he'd never get married!" Aiden laughed, barely able to contain it. The younger one, who ought not to be drinking so much, added, "But he just stared and stared!" The eldest fell off his chair, both high off of 'I-told-you-so' glee. Their brother was ten years and thirteen years older and king, but alas, little brothers have no mercy. Music started to play somewhere, over-poweringly loud - Sir Münche had gone missing - and a rambunctious waltz covered up the embarrassing scene. The nobles, sensing the tension got up to dance. The boys' governess, under cover of the crowd, ushered the her charges out though they could barely walk in their fits. How many time did Amalric proclaim that he had no lady he had to wed? How many instance had he pointed out that he could ride around all day and not have to worry about a second mother declaring her displeasure? Never would he ever fall in love!

So returning at last to the armory tent, before him stood the woman in the portrait he had so evidently made a fool of himself over. His forehead was knitted in a pretzel. He had grown since that day, accepted the marriage and then, dusted it to the side once again. The painting had been stored where he would never see it, and because of this, remained in excellent condition. But as the King of Landgraben considered his fiance, her laughter, and the fact that he had once more been made a fool of - found asleep and sneaked up upon - he decided he didn't like her. He would prove his brothers wrong and never call such a lady beautiful.

"I'm sorry, I was not prepared," he said, turning from Luciana to Sir Münche, who immediately bowed. This was most likely his mother's scheming. Amalric, ignoring the incompetent knight, who was meant to be watching the entrance,and sighing something mighty, he stood up from the table. The chain mail played on his fingers as he lifted the mesh to the side. He removed his black leather gloves and the top shell over his chest he had fallen asleep in. The metal ring at his neck had begun to chafe. He set everything on the table.

Then, he approached the lady. He had different manners for foreigners and he used these now. He knelt to Luciana, who had taken over the simple maple chair as if it were an oaken throne. "Excuse me, Princess, this is all quite sudden. But I am King Amalric, you have found me," he said subtly miffed. "And I must eat something right now or I shall die. Sir Münche!!" he shouted, rising and turning around. "Tell the servants to make a lunch! I shall take it outside." He nodded to Luciana, every inch a pompous man who had to eat and fight and be on his way.

He walked back to the table with armor, heedless of the princess, tightly focused on what needed to be done for the tournament and his bitterness evident in how he disregarded a guest.

"Lunch for two?" the captain of knight asked, raising his fingers and chuckling. Amalric soured, cornered. "Yes, you imbecile, for two."

"Might be better to eat here Sire! Its very crowded outside, and your guest is very beautiful, too beautiful for the lot of knights," Sir Münche said kindly. Amalric let a moment for the woman to acknowledge the compliment before grumbling "If you suggest." While Amalric cleared the table of weaponry and all kinds of steel fittings and repair pieces, a servant hustled in with rye bread, buttercheese, sliced smoked meat, and cherry preserves, set neatly in a basket. Finally, Amalric sat down at the table, and taking a thick slice of rye, a heel of cheese, and several cuts of fat-speckled bratwurst, he queried, "How was your trip, my Lady?"

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(NOTES) Merry Mule :3 You are not impractical, are you? XD
(TAGGED) Luciana le Valois

[Luciana le Valois]

It seemed that customs in Landgraben were a tab bit different than those of Armorica. In her home country, the ladies of the court were permitted inside the tents of the tournament contenders. As long as the men weren’t changing, the Armoricans did not see any indecency in it. Besides most of the women who did this were family or betrothed of the knight. It was a well-known in Armorica that Princess Luciana visited her brother before every joust and tournament. Of course Luciana was there to keep Tristan from doing anything stupid, which he usually happens when he’s bored and impatient. Since there was much pomp and circumstance before any and every Armorican tournament, there was a good amount of hurry up and wait. So to keep her dear brother from entertaining himself, Luciana would compel her brother into a friendly game of piquet.

However this was not the case in the tent of King Amalric Maulesel.

Never in her life had Princess Luciana been greeted by the dagger like glare that the King of Landgraben was giving her. Well actually that’s a lie now that she thought about it. ‘There was that one baron’s daughter… Oh what’s her name? Claudia de Marquett! That’s the one. She was a nasty little witch… The little trollop… Parading herself in that unseemly attire like she’s the queen of the universe. Tristan didn’t help… The flirt. He’s lucky that’s his worst quality… Unlike this man.’

Luciana just sat back in her chair and watched the whole little scene unfold. It was clear she was unwelcome at the present time. Even her own knight was even reprimanding her. This was a bit of a shock to the princess. In every other kingdom, her surprise visits were most welcome. Feasts were even held in her honor. However it was not like the norm in Landgraben. Oh no… For once, Luciana felt a just a bit out of her element. ‘I should have waited until the wedding or at least stayed with the horses.’ She thought, regretting the decision to wander off by herself. Her mind wandered to all the lords and gentlemen who had professed their love for her, and she had rejected all of them. For what? A rude, barbaric bear of a man who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady! Dear God, what had her father gotten her into? While her outward composure masked her inner seething, Luciana sat in silence, wishing her father had betrothed her to any other man. Then her thoughts and fury were quelled by the king’s next few words.

"I'm sorry, I was not prepared."

Well she certainly was not expecting that. Amalric did not seem like the man who would apologize, but her judgments were wrong from time to time. However, Luciana wanted more of an apology for the lack of courtesy and less for the lack of preparedness. Obviously if she wanted him to be prepared for visit, then she would have sent an announcement ahead of her, telling him of her intentions. The Princess of Armorica thought it would be a kind gesture for them to meet before their wedding. There was nothing worse than marrying a total stranger. She wanted to know before hand if they had nothing in common so she could prepare herself for a long and possibly miserable marriage. Well at least she was not wedding an old man with rotten teeth and gout. The princess had known women who were more or less forced to marry men who were old enough to be their grandfathers. The thought of it made her want to vomit. Trying to look on the bright side of the situation, Luciana thought, ‘Well at least the children will be relatively good looking.’

So as the Landgraben monarch inspected his armor, her own knight tactfully made his way over to her chair. Sir Erec did not looked pleased as he stood behind the chair she had taken over. Leaning close to her ear, the princess’s champion whispered softly, “My lady, I thought I instructed you to stay with the horses.”

Oh being bossed around by men, especially those of lower rank, did not sit well with the visiting princess. She was not some stupid little girl who hid behind her mother’s skirts. She never was. Luciana refused to be reprimanded or commanded by anyone of her father’s subjects, even her own champion. So the princess turned her head slightly to look Sir Erec in the eye, her own blazing with cold fire, and she murmured nonchalantly in return, “My apologies, Sir Erec, but I did not know you outranked me when we visit allied kingdoms. As you can see, I took it as more of a… request.” She hoped that her statement would remind him that he was her knight not her lord. It obviously had its desired effect for Sir Erec dutifully nodded and stepped away from her, standing at rigid attention. Luciana, proud of her triumph, smirked ever so slightly. It was good to be royalty.

"Excuse me, Princess, this is all quite sudden. But I am King Amalric, you have found me… And I must eat something right now or I shall die. Sir Münche!!! Tell the servants to make a lunch! I shall take it outside.”

Well it seemed that a way to a man heart was through his stomach… such a shame that Luciana did not cook. This got her thinking about how the food would be. When her brother visited, he had told her that the king held a great feast and that every delicacy was mouth watering. However, her brother would eat just about anything. Tristan was no gourmet, but neither was Luciana. However she was a bit pickier. So just as Amalric ignored her, the princess ignored him, thinking about whether it would be rude or not to bring her own cooks when she moved to Landgraben. ‘Surely not,’ Luciana mused. ‘My great grandmother brought her own chefs and no one was offended by it. Of course we’re talking about Armorica… Perhaps I could just decline. After all I’m not very hungry. I just ate an hour ago… Now what are they going on about? Two for lunch… Well this ought to be interesting.’

It was evident that Luciana would have to join the King of Landgraben for his probably one of several midday meals. So she rose gracefully from the maple chair, smoothing out her skirt when she was upright. It would be good to eat outside and get away from the tension that filled the tent. However, that idea was soon shot down.

"Might be better to eat here Sire! It’s very crowded outside, and your guest is very beautiful, too beautiful for the lot of knights.”

“Why thank you, Sir Münche,” replied the Princess of Armorica with a bright and kind smile, referring more towards the praise of her beauty than suggesting that they eat inside. Luciana knew she was attractive, but she liked being reminded all the same… and at least one person in Landgraben thought she was pretty. The princess had hoped that her fiancé would have compared her to her portrait, telling her that the portrait did not do her justice even though it was a good likeness. All the same, she would prefer to get out of this tent. However as she was about to protest with all courteously of course, Amalric agreed with his knight, albeit reluctantly. So as the king and a servant cleared the table and brought in the a basket filled with food, the gray eyed princess once again gracefully returned to her seat, figuring it would do no good to protest, and dismissed her vigilant champion. Sir Erec was reluctant to leave his princess, but when she gave him the royal look the knight bowed out of the king’s tent.

Then as the warrior monarch selected his meal from the bounty, Luciana examined the choices, a bit hesitant to put anything on the metal plate in front of her. ‘Is this all he eats? Meat, bread, cheese, and sweets?’ wondered the princess, the diet reminding her of that of a child’s. ‘Then again, I can’t recall my brother or even Arthur regularly eating any fruits of vegetables.’

So acting like the princess she was (on top of not being that hungry in the first place), Luciana took a slice of the bread, a bit of the cheese, and a scoop of the marmalade, placing them sparsely on her plate. Then after tearing the bread slice in half, Luciana spread a. even layer of the butter cheese on the bread like a painter would maneuver his paint on a canvas. As she took a small bite, the light flavor of the cheese and the sharp taste of the bread swarmed her mouth in sublime complement. She wondered if this was one of delicacies that her twin partook in. ‘He did come home with several barrels of food and drink after he delivered my portrait,’ thought Luciana reminiscing over the morning her brother returned from his voyage.

Luciana had awoken that morning and set her mind to weaving cloth of gold, her loom placed close to her chamber’s largest window. The princess wanted to immediately know when her beloved brother returned. Her fingers moved nimbly and quickly like an arachnid’s leg as she wove the luminous threads together. Then when the sun had completely risen over the land of Armorica, the horns’ blare resonated through the castle announcing the crown prince’s return. So as she glimpse Tristan from her window, the Armorican princess threw the skeins of golden thread to the wooden floor and rushed out of her room like the Devil was on her heels. With the skirt of her simple dress hitched up, Luciana ran out to the main courtyard just as her brother entered. Then as the Crown Prince of Armorica dismounted his steed, his anxious twin took hold of him with an iron grip, and immediately started blurting out every question that was running through her mind. “Tristan! Tristan, what was it like? What was he like? Did he like my portrait? What were the women like? They weren’t prettier than me, were they? Tell me, Tris! Tell me!’

“Lulu, breath, you silly thing,’ remarked Tristan, a bit weary from the journey. “And is that how you greet your dear brother after his diplomatic mission? With a run of questions.’

“Of course not, brother.” She replied, wrapping her lithe arms around the prince’s neck. With an endearing hug, Luciana welcomed her brother home, telling him that she was glad to see that he was safe.

“That’s more like it,” stated Tristan in a jocular tone, pick his dear sister up and swinging her about like a child. Luciana screamed in surprise as her brother spun around several time, laughing up a storm. Then before they both fell to the ground, Tristan set Luciana on the firm earth and offered her his arm. Then after she linked her arm with his, the Valois twins went off to stroll through the palace’s blooming garden that rivaled the beauty of Eden.

“Now tell me everything, beloved brother,” commanded the princess with anticipation.

“Well,” said Tristan, thinking over his time in Landgraben. “Your portrait was well received… I think. It was an awkward situation at first, but it was remedied of course. His mother loved you and was absolutely beaming in delight.”

“Yes, yes, yes… That’s all well and good, but did he like it? I’m not marrying his mother.” Luciana pushed, wanting her brother to get to the good parts.

“I was informed by Sir Münche, the king’s right hand man, that he said you were beautiful. Though I didn’t hear King Amalric from where I was standing. However, he did announce that he believed you would be an excellent queen for his kingdom.”

The Princess of Armorica squealed with delight upon hearing the news. Then she prattled on, “What does he look like? Is he handsome? I’ve heard it so, but I have no proof.”

Tristan gave hid beloved sister an odd look. He did know how to rate men on their looks. “God! How am I supposed to know, Lu? He’s tall and broad with blond hair. Definitely has the feature of a hunter. I heard he’s a great hunter.”

“Tristan, you are absolutely useless,” stated Luciana, knowing her brother would never give her the details she wanted.”

The Princess of Armorica was then brought out of her memories by the king’s voice, asking, “How was your trip, my Lady?"

“Oh… It was quite lovely,” remarked Princess Luciana politely in a sweet tone, setting the bread down on her plate. “I do love the country. Riding across endless fields are always a delight.”

Luciana then took the untouched half slice of rye and smothered it in the cherry preserve. After she enjoyed the new combination, the princess inquired, “What part of the tournament are you participating in, my Lord?”

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Tags:[/color] Amalric Maulesel
Words:[/color] 2176
Outfit:[/color]

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--- Second Dress
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Notes:[/color] HAHA! IT'S DONE!