A/N: Okay. This has got to be my favourite chapter that I've written in this fic so far. Hope you like it. Also, do you think I should include the plot of "Several Days of Aggravating Occurrences" in the storyline? Or should I make up something new? Please give me feedback. PLEASE!
Meet the Masbolles
Sir Dominic of Masbolle was a venerable fief holder, one the tenants looked up to, and other nobles envied. He was respected by his superiors, and his opinions were valued in conference and discussion. He had kept his fief in very good shape during his 20 years as the lord of Masbolle. Sir Dominic was an admirable character in court, and was known for his honesty and good judgement. He was a free spirit at dances and dinner parties, always the one with the most interesting conversation and the wittiest retorts. Yes, he was a man to respect, which was why no one cared to bother him in the naming of his children.
His first child was a boy, who was automatically named Dominic. No one judged him on this, as it was common for the eldest son to be named in honour of his father. Young Dominic was a strong lad, a good boy, everyone said, to take responsibility of the fief when Dominic the Elder died.
His next child was a daughter. She was pretty with golden hair, born three years after her older brother. People said she would be very popular at court, and most likely draw in very admirable suitors. She was polite and composed, and smiled in the barest of ways. She was hailed as the most beautiful girl in all of Masbolle. But the tenants did whisper a bit when Sir Dominic gave his daughter her name: Dominique. But they settled down, as it was also common for the feminine form of the father's name to be used in the naming of his eldest daughter.
It was when his third child was born that people began to exchange glances. A girl, this time. She was dark, like her mother, and had slightly less grace than her older sister. She liked to read, and star gaze. She took up archery and riding, but she seldom used her bow, and her saddle grew dusty as the outdoors lost its attraction. She was interested in political affairs and international relations. She bored the tenants with her endless drawl about the disasters in the Copper Isles, and the latest scandal in Scanra. Of all Dominic's children, she was the least liked. People chuckled at her naming feast. Her name was Domitiana.
By the fourth child, people were beginning to groan in anticipation of his naming day. The boy took most after his father, it was said. He had a face made for smiling, and sparkling blue eyes with a strange warmth in them. He was witty and charming, and it almost made up for his being a younger son, and not the heir to the fief. He was well liked, even by his cool elder siblings, and managed to get a laugh out of them once or twice. No one bothered to laugh, or chuckle, or even cringe when it was announced that his name was Domitan.
Besides creating a collective public belly laugh, Dominic's naming of his children also made other problems. For instance, all four of them were nicknamed Dom, as well as Dominic himself, and so whenever anyone called for "Dom", five heads would simultaneously poke out of five doors. It took quite a while each time to figure out who had been called and for what. When a crime was committed, the children would confess that "Dom" did it without really confessing anything at all. When Lady Ilia wanted a family meeting, she would simply ask the servants to fetch the "Doms" and then sit back and wait for her husband and children to waltz into the room as if nothing was at all out of the ordinary.
It was on one of these evenings when Dominic the Elder noticed that something was not right. He leaned forward in his high-backed chair, surveying the sitting room. Dominic had come home, accompanied by his knightmaster. At 17 years old, he would be going for his Ordeal in Corus soon. Right now, he was sitting quietly on the couch, reading an old battered volume on something Sir Dominic would be bored by. Dominique was playing with kittens on the rug in front of the fire, that slight smile gracing her lips. Domitiana was engaged in a heated conversation with Dominic's knightmaster, Sir Granen, on the need for an established and respectable form of government in Scanra. Really much too complicated for a twelve year old. Sir Dominic sat upright suddenly in his chair.
"Where's Dom?" he asked.
"Over here by the fire, father!"
"I'm just here papa! What do you think about Scanra?"
"I'm reading. Would you like to take a look?"
Dominic shook his head. "No, no no! Where's your younger brother?"
"I dunno."
"Couldn't care less."
"Probably getting into trouble."
Sir Dominic frowned deeply. "Is he still at Queenscove with Neal?"
Dominique yawned. "Oh, maybe. He was supposed to be home today."
"Where is the brat?" Dominic closed his book and looked around, as if expecting to see his brother pop out of nowhere. "He's getting into trouble."
Dominique put down a kitten and glanced warily about the room. Things weren't right when the mischief-maker of the family disappeared. "He better not be in my room."
"Maybe he took my horse out for a joy ride," Domitiana offered, deciding that Scanra would have to wait.
"I hope he did! I feel sorry for any horse of yours! You never give poor Patches any exercise."
"I do so, Dominique!"
"Oh, please! When was the last time you took him for a ride?"
"Just... just yesterday."
"Prove it."
"I don't have to prove it!"
Dominic the Younger sighed. "Dom didn't take Dom's horse since Dom already has his own horse."
Once everyone had absorbed that and worked it out, there was a collective "OOOOh."
Sir Dominic, who was very protective of all his children, stood up and brushed off his breeches. "Come on. Dom and Dom, you search the lower floors, and Dom, you come upstairs with me."
Everyone blinked, shrugged, and went on their way, leaving a very confused Sir Granen to sit alone in the sitting room, since sitting is what sitting rooms are for.
Sir Granen picked up the volume his squire had been reading and waited for them to return. After a short while, he heard their voices calling out for the lost member of the Masbolle family.
"Dom! DOM!"
"Yes?"
"Not YOU! Dom!"
"Oh."
"DOM!"
"Yes?"
"Oh, for Mithros' sake!"
"DOM!"
"I'm RIGHT HERE!"
"DOM!"
"Yes?"
"OH, SHUT UP!"
After much searching and some name calling and scuffling, it became apparent that the particular Dom being searched for was not at home. They regrouped in the sitting room. Sir Granen gave them all an unreadable stare, then walked out of the room.
Sir Dominic the Elder stood in front of the fire like a general. "Alright. If anyone would like to offer information about the whereabouts of Dom, please speak now." Before anyone could open their mouths, he held up a finger. "And by "Dom", I do not mean anyone in this room, I mean the youngest child in this family, Domitan. Is that clear?"
Nod, nod.
"Alright then. If you have anything to say, please raise your hand in a polite and composed manner. You may raise the entire hand, or, if you like, you may raise a single finger. That is your pointer finger, not your middle finger." Domitiana rolled her eyes. "If you would like to wiggle it a bit, that is acceptable. However, there will be no "Ooo! Ooo!"s or "Me! Me!"s while your hand is raised. Also, there will be no sabotaging of others that wish to speak. You know what that means. No exaggerated waving that might "accidentally" injure another participant." Dominic the Younger put on an innocent look. "No sudden, heavy leaning. No tragic limb spasms. None of you have any strange wasting diseases that may get you your say first. And please, children, no garbled speech, gibberish, or pig latin." Dominique muttered something under her breath. "The family conference begins..... now."
Dominic stood first. "I would like to say, father, that Dom is missing."
Dominique rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Sir Obvious."
An icy glare was directed at Dominqiue.
Dominic sighed. "Continue, Dominic the Younger."
"Thank you, father. Ahem. I suggest that since the place of residence Dom was last heard from is Queenscove, one of us should take a little trip round the bend, and see if our little brother is there. Even if he's leaving now, we'll meet him on the road. Is that clear to everyone?"
Sir Dominic chuckled. "Dom, you may one day lead this fief, but for now you have to hear what everyone else has to say." His comment brought forth a blush on his son's cheeks.
Dominique rolled her eyes. "I weep for the future."
Domitiana grinned maliciously as she and her sister shared one of their rare moments of fellowship.
"Now, now, my cruel hearts, do you have any better ideas?" Both girls looked at their feet. "Well, then, who's going to ride to Queenscove?"
Silence. The day had started out sunny and bright, but had now changed to a dull gray as rain poured from the heavens. Nobody wanted to go out looking for their annoying adolescent brother in THAT.
"What, isn't there a sense of protectiveness for the youngest member of our family?"
Silence. A kitten hacked on a hairball.
Dominique cleared her throat and everyone turned to stare at her, knowing that she was the one with the coolest thinking and the quickest mind. "I think Dominic should go, as he is the eldest, and would have an increased sense of protectiveness for all of us. So he must be just itching to get out there, aren't you, Dom?"
Silence. All heads turned to the sullen squire shooting death glares at his sister.
It only seemed to encourage her. "Well, Dom?"
Dominic looked wildly around the room, searching for an escape. "But..." Everyone was staring at him expectantly. Finally, he stiffened and raised his chin.
"I refuse to go out in the pouring rain to look for my pipsqueak brother!"
______________________________________________________________________________
Dominic the Younger, soon to be Sir Dominic the Younger, sniffed and pulled his cloak tighter around him, for all the good it did. Rainwater was streaming steadily down the back of his neck and into his shirt. He kicked his horse into a trot.
"I'm denouncing my family. Inheritance or not."
Meet the Masbolles
Sir Dominic of Masbolle was a venerable fief holder, one the tenants looked up to, and other nobles envied. He was respected by his superiors, and his opinions were valued in conference and discussion. He had kept his fief in very good shape during his 20 years as the lord of Masbolle. Sir Dominic was an admirable character in court, and was known for his honesty and good judgement. He was a free spirit at dances and dinner parties, always the one with the most interesting conversation and the wittiest retorts. Yes, he was a man to respect, which was why no one cared to bother him in the naming of his children.
His first child was a boy, who was automatically named Dominic. No one judged him on this, as it was common for the eldest son to be named in honour of his father. Young Dominic was a strong lad, a good boy, everyone said, to take responsibility of the fief when Dominic the Elder died.
His next child was a daughter. She was pretty with golden hair, born three years after her older brother. People said she would be very popular at court, and most likely draw in very admirable suitors. She was polite and composed, and smiled in the barest of ways. She was hailed as the most beautiful girl in all of Masbolle. But the tenants did whisper a bit when Sir Dominic gave his daughter her name: Dominique. But they settled down, as it was also common for the feminine form of the father's name to be used in the naming of his eldest daughter.
It was when his third child was born that people began to exchange glances. A girl, this time. She was dark, like her mother, and had slightly less grace than her older sister. She liked to read, and star gaze. She took up archery and riding, but she seldom used her bow, and her saddle grew dusty as the outdoors lost its attraction. She was interested in political affairs and international relations. She bored the tenants with her endless drawl about the disasters in the Copper Isles, and the latest scandal in Scanra. Of all Dominic's children, she was the least liked. People chuckled at her naming feast. Her name was Domitiana.
By the fourth child, people were beginning to groan in anticipation of his naming day. The boy took most after his father, it was said. He had a face made for smiling, and sparkling blue eyes with a strange warmth in them. He was witty and charming, and it almost made up for his being a younger son, and not the heir to the fief. He was well liked, even by his cool elder siblings, and managed to get a laugh out of them once or twice. No one bothered to laugh, or chuckle, or even cringe when it was announced that his name was Domitan.
Besides creating a collective public belly laugh, Dominic's naming of his children also made other problems. For instance, all four of them were nicknamed Dom, as well as Dominic himself, and so whenever anyone called for "Dom", five heads would simultaneously poke out of five doors. It took quite a while each time to figure out who had been called and for what. When a crime was committed, the children would confess that "Dom" did it without really confessing anything at all. When Lady Ilia wanted a family meeting, she would simply ask the servants to fetch the "Doms" and then sit back and wait for her husband and children to waltz into the room as if nothing was at all out of the ordinary.
It was on one of these evenings when Dominic the Elder noticed that something was not right. He leaned forward in his high-backed chair, surveying the sitting room. Dominic had come home, accompanied by his knightmaster. At 17 years old, he would be going for his Ordeal in Corus soon. Right now, he was sitting quietly on the couch, reading an old battered volume on something Sir Dominic would be bored by. Dominique was playing with kittens on the rug in front of the fire, that slight smile gracing her lips. Domitiana was engaged in a heated conversation with Dominic's knightmaster, Sir Granen, on the need for an established and respectable form of government in Scanra. Really much too complicated for a twelve year old. Sir Dominic sat upright suddenly in his chair.
"Where's Dom?" he asked.
"Over here by the fire, father!"
"I'm just here papa! What do you think about Scanra?"
"I'm reading. Would you like to take a look?"
Dominic shook his head. "No, no no! Where's your younger brother?"
"I dunno."
"Couldn't care less."
"Probably getting into trouble."
Sir Dominic frowned deeply. "Is he still at Queenscove with Neal?"
Dominique yawned. "Oh, maybe. He was supposed to be home today."
"Where is the brat?" Dominic closed his book and looked around, as if expecting to see his brother pop out of nowhere. "He's getting into trouble."
Dominique put down a kitten and glanced warily about the room. Things weren't right when the mischief-maker of the family disappeared. "He better not be in my room."
"Maybe he took my horse out for a joy ride," Domitiana offered, deciding that Scanra would have to wait.
"I hope he did! I feel sorry for any horse of yours! You never give poor Patches any exercise."
"I do so, Dominique!"
"Oh, please! When was the last time you took him for a ride?"
"Just... just yesterday."
"Prove it."
"I don't have to prove it!"
Dominic the Younger sighed. "Dom didn't take Dom's horse since Dom already has his own horse."
Once everyone had absorbed that and worked it out, there was a collective "OOOOh."
Sir Dominic, who was very protective of all his children, stood up and brushed off his breeches. "Come on. Dom and Dom, you search the lower floors, and Dom, you come upstairs with me."
Everyone blinked, shrugged, and went on their way, leaving a very confused Sir Granen to sit alone in the sitting room, since sitting is what sitting rooms are for.
Sir Granen picked up the volume his squire had been reading and waited for them to return. After a short while, he heard their voices calling out for the lost member of the Masbolle family.
"Dom! DOM!"
"Yes?"
"Not YOU! Dom!"
"Oh."
"DOM!"
"Yes?"
"Oh, for Mithros' sake!"
"DOM!"
"I'm RIGHT HERE!"
"DOM!"
"Yes?"
"OH, SHUT UP!"
After much searching and some name calling and scuffling, it became apparent that the particular Dom being searched for was not at home. They regrouped in the sitting room. Sir Granen gave them all an unreadable stare, then walked out of the room.
Sir Dominic the Elder stood in front of the fire like a general. "Alright. If anyone would like to offer information about the whereabouts of Dom, please speak now." Before anyone could open their mouths, he held up a finger. "And by "Dom", I do not mean anyone in this room, I mean the youngest child in this family, Domitan. Is that clear?"
Nod, nod.
"Alright then. If you have anything to say, please raise your hand in a polite and composed manner. You may raise the entire hand, or, if you like, you may raise a single finger. That is your pointer finger, not your middle finger." Domitiana rolled her eyes. "If you would like to wiggle it a bit, that is acceptable. However, there will be no "Ooo! Ooo!"s or "Me! Me!"s while your hand is raised. Also, there will be no sabotaging of others that wish to speak. You know what that means. No exaggerated waving that might "accidentally" injure another participant." Dominic the Younger put on an innocent look. "No sudden, heavy leaning. No tragic limb spasms. None of you have any strange wasting diseases that may get you your say first. And please, children, no garbled speech, gibberish, or pig latin." Dominique muttered something under her breath. "The family conference begins..... now."
Dominic stood first. "I would like to say, father, that Dom is missing."
Dominique rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Sir Obvious."
An icy glare was directed at Dominqiue.
Dominic sighed. "Continue, Dominic the Younger."
"Thank you, father. Ahem. I suggest that since the place of residence Dom was last heard from is Queenscove, one of us should take a little trip round the bend, and see if our little brother is there. Even if he's leaving now, we'll meet him on the road. Is that clear to everyone?"
Sir Dominic chuckled. "Dom, you may one day lead this fief, but for now you have to hear what everyone else has to say." His comment brought forth a blush on his son's cheeks.
Dominique rolled her eyes. "I weep for the future."
Domitiana grinned maliciously as she and her sister shared one of their rare moments of fellowship.
"Now, now, my cruel hearts, do you have any better ideas?" Both girls looked at their feet. "Well, then, who's going to ride to Queenscove?"
Silence. The day had started out sunny and bright, but had now changed to a dull gray as rain poured from the heavens. Nobody wanted to go out looking for their annoying adolescent brother in THAT.
"What, isn't there a sense of protectiveness for the youngest member of our family?"
Silence. A kitten hacked on a hairball.
Dominique cleared her throat and everyone turned to stare at her, knowing that she was the one with the coolest thinking and the quickest mind. "I think Dominic should go, as he is the eldest, and would have an increased sense of protectiveness for all of us. So he must be just itching to get out there, aren't you, Dom?"
Silence. All heads turned to the sullen squire shooting death glares at his sister.
It only seemed to encourage her. "Well, Dom?"
Dominic looked wildly around the room, searching for an escape. "But..." Everyone was staring at him expectantly. Finally, he stiffened and raised his chin.
"I refuse to go out in the pouring rain to look for my pipsqueak brother!"
______________________________________________________________________________
Dominic the Younger, soon to be Sir Dominic the Younger, sniffed and pulled his cloak tighter around him, for all the good it did. Rainwater was streaming steadily down the back of his neck and into his shirt. He kicked his horse into a trot.
"I'm denouncing my family. Inheritance or not."