Stage/Turn 10: Celebration & Proposals
a.t.b. 2008
(The night of the public celebratory ball in honour of the Colchester Institute's graduating session of cadets)
Jeremiah Gottwald strode toward the hall in which tonight's celebration would be held, last night (after his altercation with the silvery-haired young lady occurred) the doctor whose charge he was placed under in the Institute's infirmary had explained that the ordeal his body had undergone during the duel with Sir Guilford had left him fatigued and, as a result, that punch was all it took to overcome his weakened constitution.
When they went on to predict a concussion, burst blood vessels, considerable bruising and even lasting symptoms of exhaustion could come to afflict him, and subsequently advised he not attend the night's event and remain under their observation, he vehemently refused to miss this opportunity to celebrate with his fellow Brittanians and it was only after a healthy dose of sedative from the nurse that he became silent.
The following morning he felt thoroughly rejuvenated, the most fresh and energetic he'd ever remembered being, much to the shock of his medical staff who now had no choice but to acquiesce to his desire to be immediately discharged as their thorough examination yielded no sign of the conditions they had predicted he'd be suffering, rather, he fitted a oddly perfect bill of health with no indication of yesterday's condition.
The medics made such a fuss it was around noon by the time he'd returned to the dormitory where Lady Monica had been awaiting him, anxious to verify his wellbeing, she proceeded to pass him the ludicrously expensive formal robes which Lilicia was to bring for him…he must admit he was enamoured with the flowing, grandiose attire.
He may have been enamoured with the noble dress but he soon managed to break his focus upon it to ask Monica why Lilicia had not delivered them herself (she was staying in a guest dormitory on Colchester grounds, as were many relatives of the cadets, to attend tonight's event as well after all) and she replied the Marchioness had come to her while he'd been hospitalized and stated that an emergency meeting of the House of Lords had been called that she was required to attend.
His sister had asked Kruszewski to deliver the garment in her stead (and reprimand him for worrying them by getting himself knocked unconscious, though the young woman politely opted to omit that detail) and was apparently quite characteristically disgruntled about being unable to attend the ball; complaining that the House's warmongering should not be allowed to further complicate her already hectic schedule.
As he neared the site of the event he found himself becoming slightly unnerved at the fact that Viletta Nu, his assailant, would definitely be present; the Countess had informed him (as he arduously attempted to negotiate his way into the night's robes from within his room) that Lady Nonette had tracked her down and arranged for her to be forgiven for her actions in exchange for her personally apologizing to him.
Just as he was about to trail off into pondering how to react to the young woman he realized that he had just arrived at the ball, within the hall all the lights had been draped in a luxurious fabric which gave off a dazzling glow throughout, great tables had been arranged with so much exquisite food it seemed fit for a royal banquet and an ensemble of waiters swooped to and fro seeing that the swarm of guests socialising in the centre had their thirsts constantly catered to with expensive champagne.
With a profound ruckus that drew attention from several bystanders a rambunctious woman pushed her way through and proceeded to half charge and half swagger to his side where a chilled glass of liquor was pressed awkwardly up against his face, "Hey Jeremiah! Why don'cha come 'n' hava lil' drink with me, we're buddies now right? No more stuffy teacher/student crap! Yahoo!", Enneagram slurred out.
The Marquess gave an awkward chuckle, he could practically feel the spectators eyes boring into him, but was promptly rescued as Princess Cornelia emerged from the crowd and removed their former instructor from him with a stern expression, "Hey sis'! Oh, did ya tell Jeremiah how you're gonna be the boss of them fancy guards up on toppa the city?", the rather tipsy woman fawned over her younger, royal friend.
Sir Gottwald believed he knew what his senior knight was referring to and the Princess quickly verified this, "My father has appointed me Principal Knight of the Order of St. Darwin, I'm to begin my duties starting tomorrow", he noticed Cornelia's well-earned pride as she spoke.
When Britannia was first founded the Papacy apparently embraced it as a means to revive the once great influence it possessed in the world, thus, it merged with the nation begetting the term 'Holy Britannian Empire', however, when Charles Darwin introduced his revolutionary theories they provoked a profound empathy with the personal ideals of the 1st Emperor who embraced them as a state religion, replacing that of the Papacy's.
Afterward, Emperor Ricardo issued an imperial edict forcing the Papacy to dissolve by virtue of their apparent utilization of religion to influence matters of the state, claiming this interfered with both the absolute power of the monarchy and the more mundane administrative affairs of the Britannian government (formed by the conjunctive efforts of the House of Lords and House of Commons).
Hence, the presence of the Papacy's religion was now limited to a following among a distinct minority of the population and a clergy to conduct gatherings of these worshippers and traditionally religious ceremonies, such as weddings, meanwhile Darwin was venerated as a Saint and an order of knights was established in his honour which would be assigned to guard Pendragon's upper tier and the royal family.
He paid a silent thanks to his sister's passion for history before he responded, "Command of an Order, that's such a prestigious post, Princess Cornelia! And as your first assignment it's even more incredible, congratulations!", he had been longing to get this off his chest and could refrain no longer, "Your Highness, regarding my conduct yesterday I…I was a disgrace…I was so intent on becoming KoC I…and then you-".
Cornelia intercepted him, very aware of what the Marquis intended to say, "Enough Jeremiah, my entire life I've fought to prove the worth of my abilities. That I would never, as many would like to believe, use my royal birth for personal gain…I detest the idea! I consider you my equal, you deserve this accolade as much as I do, not to mention it would silence all those fools who slander me; you have no need to apologize".
Jeremiah expressed all the gratitude he could without providing an unwanted apology, in the process he noticed Guilford looking agitated behind the Princess, "Lord Guilford, in regards to our duel-", despite his sincere tone he was met by a voice simmering with resentment, "Don't waste your breath Gottwald, not long ago I acted out as you do but upon meeting Her Highness I found duty and discipline in my life".
He continued strongly, "If my Lady condones your actions back then; I am in no place to reprimand you, yet, though we may be comrades we are no companions", Sir Gottwald regretted the grudge Lord Gilbert obviously harboured toward him but he accepted it; had he not bested one he'd deemed to have affronted Lady Marianne he'd likely feel the same.
Lady Enneagram appeared to miraculously sober up, employing her familiar tactic of imploring Cornelia and Guilford to dance, leaving them abashed and distracted, "Hey Jeremiah, Monica showed up early 'n' asked ta talk ta Viletta. Said ta tell ya they'd be out by the balcony, go on over, eh! Both them girls are waitin' for ya, ya lucky dog! Let me know how it goes, eh!", and with a wink she pushed him of in that direction.
As he sidestepped and slipped his way through the bustling crowd a strange feeling settled uncomfortably over Jeremiah; he was about to confront Viletta Nu and though he felt he should say something to her he could not decide what, furthermore, why did Monica take her aside to speak privately? What could she not say to the girl in his presence? Come to think of it she had been particularly nervous around him all day...
His train of thought pulled out of the station as he exited the mass of attendees and the hall's balcony appeared before him, two figures standing out upon it, their faces revealed in the gentle veil of moonlight cast over it; Kruszewski, her voice inaudible due to his proximity to the raucous celebration, raised her hands in accusatory gestures toward Nu who had directed her narrowed stare at the floor before her feet.
"…toward a Marquis is unacceptable, not to mention from a commoner; if you ever affront Marquis Jeremiah again then I you shall not find me so lenient as Lady Enneagram! Do I make myself clear!", the commanding confidence with which Monica spoke both impressed Gottwald and had him surprised (and slightly frightened) of this passionate fire which he had not seen her exhibit in these three years they'd been close friends.
The feminine Knight bounced to face him, briefly stunned after glimpsing him suddenly appear in the corner of her eyes, gave a shaky bow which he reciprocated (though hardly felt necessary given their relationship, that said he'd grown quite used to her overt politeness) then eyed Viletta expectantly as he barely restrained from bracing for another haymaker.
The girl shuffled forward and slid her defeated, golden eyes up to meet his with a low, "Pardon me Sir, I was foolish", and in reply he could not suppress his relief at the apparently effortless resolution to their incident; his thoughts came into speech as a comfortable sigh, "You are most certainly forgiven; the two of us are as Britannian as each and those who would dispute that violate the decree's of our royal family itsel-", she scoffed at him; those gold orbs now flickering with conviction.
"Don't be deluded into thinking for a second I gave a damn about what that filthy, backwards pig from last night though about how pure my Britannian blood is. See, I've realized what really matters in this Empire; class! Could you even imagine him doing the same thing to 'Viscountess' Ernst!", she emphasised her title almost spitefully.
"Exactly! Never! But do it to the poor, little commoner and you can get away with anything! Some nobles take pity on these pathetic wretches and step in to hand out some charity in the name of 'equality', I've had my fair share and you know what it really is? …Pity! So they can all feel a little bit more 'refined'. As much as I hate to say it that pity is the only reason I'm standing here right now; firstly because of the scholarship to get peasants into this Institute and secondly for your stepping in to play knight in shining armour; both in the name of 'equality'!".
A triumphant smirk cracked acrossed Nu's features; from her left cheek to the rush of platinum hair obscuring the right side of her face, "Well, equality is a joke from my experience. But don't you worry about me! See, I plan on rising up through this same system; climbing the ladder of rank and status until my name is so 'noble' that your charity will be well and truly beneath me Sir Knight in Shining Ar-".
Jeremiah was paralysed in shock at what had derailed the soon-to-be cadet's tirade; Lady Monica, her expression absolutely the most livid he had ever seen of her or anyone else in his entire life, had struck her with and open-handed blow so swift he only saw it being withdrawn; one that sent Viletta toppling a couple feet onto her side before knocking her onto her back…in doing so blowing her veil of a bang back from her face.
Beneath it lay what must have been the result of her abuse at the hands of the drunken instructor the evening prior; her ebony skin twisted to a purplish-black in a large, swollen cluster around her left eye. This mound was racked with freshly reddened cuts and scrapes opened from the same force which had removed the large, white gauze bandage that had previously covered it; whose wearer scrambled to apply it once more.
"You call yourself noble!", the battered young woman furiously spat through the coming of racking, pain-induced sobs only to be countered with the menacing order of her attacker, "Get away from me, the Marquis and this event now!", with which she complied; the tears which flew from the right eye of Viletta Nu glimmering as they left the moon's rays and caught the glow of the hall where she disappeared from his sight.
His instincts compelled him to chase after her in pursuit of the reconciliation he believed never should have been required between them, yet Countess Kruszewski slipped a petite hand around his arm in a silent urge for him to stay with which he complied as she fixed him with a gaze bereft of her fury from moments ago and replaced by longing and hope.
She led him over to the balcony's edge where they both found themselves reflexively staring up at the luminescent full moon hanging above them, "Marquis Jeremiah, I apologize if I seemed barbaric and uncultured but…I simply couldn't stand that commoner insulting the nobility like that…and then she dared to question your act of selfless kindness toward her!", he saw the lady Knight's clutch upon the barricade tighten.
Concerned about these successive bouts of anger which he had never seen hint of in his placid companion before Jeremiah placed his hands upon Monica's shoulders and slowly turned her to face him, "I've never seen you like this before Monica, don't betray who you are out of concern for me, I can't empathize with what Villetta was saying; we obviously come from very different walks of life, but I think it's for that reason we shouldn't confront her further and I don't want to see you hurt like her".
He had begun to feel that their conflicting natures would prevent the two of them and Madam Nu from ever repairing their relationship and that it may be best for both of them to just leave one another be, perhaps the Countess had reached the same conclusion as she had now bent her head downward (in what seemed to him as very deep thought) and her characteristic heart-warming smile had returned to her features.
"Marquis Jeremiah", she had once again appended a title to his name, indicating this to be the young woman he'd known, "I know I've told you much of my father; Margrave of Area 10, but I fear there is one thing I've yet to mention…something that leads me to…desire your…help", her embarrassed stuttering had also returned but the way she spoke of this subject made him feel uneasy.
Kruszewski had begun to fidget on the spot and provided him no eye contact whatsoever, "Area 10 is the newest territory of the Empire and my father was in command of our forces which occupied it so the Emperor had him appointed Margrave of the Area…but while he was fighting there he became ill, it was minor at first but it has grown quite severe over such a short time…there's no known remedy for his illness".
Noticing a slight quiver in her voice as she spoke he reaffirmed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "I'm sorry Monica, he must be a great man to have been entrusted with a Margrave's duties", the saddened young lady subtly grasped his hand with her own, "Thankyou, I admire Father greatly, he is a truly brave nobleman…when we last met he confided in me that he has no fear of dying…but what he fears is what will happen to our family after he passes…as that rest upon me…".
He felt her fingers curl around his ever so slightly, "You see, Father has always adhered to the old customs; those that existed before the Age of Revolution, so he doesn't believe a woman should inherit her father's House…and, you see…I am Father's only child…Mother passed away when I was an infant, she was murdered in a revolt by the peasantry…so if Father was to pass now he would not bequeath the House to me…".
Her shoulders heaved and gave a short spasm as he heard her choke back tears and now he tightened his grip on her in support, "If that happens then I'll have nothing; I'd be destitute, homeless, starving! I know I'm not worthy of being my father's daughter, I'm weak…I've done fine at the Institute but Father had to beg to have me accepted…even if I could obtain a position as a knight after suffering such a disgrace I'd have been responsible for losing everything my House had ever achieved!".
Seeing his closest friend break down before his eyes awakened a strength in Jeremiah, "Please compose yourself Monica! If you were denied inheritance of your House its estate would pass into possession of the House of Lords (he knew personally stemming from his own experiences with inheriting his own House and the negotiations over the Troy's). As a noble you could petition the House to return you some of the estate, you could even resort to requesting an audience with the Emperor himself!".
Her chances of the former succeeding and even arranging the latter were slim however and the Lady must have considered this as she remained in hysterics, desperate to calm her he placed his other hand on her cheek and tilted her tear-reddened eyes up to his own, "Even if all else fails, you are welcome to stay with me as long as you wish; I care about you Monica", a gleam of a feeling he couldn't specify filled her eyes in response.
"Jeremiah…there is one solution…Father constantly reminded me it was the only way I could save our House…but…I can't do it alone…and I hadn't met anyone with whom I wanted…", her sudden disuse of his title and the dramatically increased nervousness of her tone unnerved him...and for good reason, "If I were…that is, Father would not object to my inheritance of the House if I…was…married…".
He barely had time to gasp at the logical conclusion of this point when she guided the hand he'd placed atop her shoulder over her heart, it's subsequent proximity to her breasts catching the air in his throat, "I know…it seems I'm using you to keep my House…but…in truth…Marquis…Jeremiah…I've loved you, with all my heart, for the last three years…I was too much of a coward to admit it until now…".
He was absolutely dumbfounded; love! He had no clue, in the slightest! They'd been the best of friends these past three years but…how had he not noticed something! For an instant he was furious with himself for being so clueless in regard to romance and women that he'd been oblivious to this fact after seeing her every day for three years!
And that fury was replaced by an intense depression as he realised that, beyond a close friendship, he felt…nothing more for her.
"Tonight is our last at the Institute…my last chance to ask this while we're together…I held out for as long as I could but…I can't hold back any longer! So…Jeremiah Gottwald…It would be an honour…if you would…marry me?", she fell to her knees in proposal before him, countless things raced through his mind as she awaited a response; love, friendship, her House, his future, marriage and…Lady Marianne.
"I-Monica, I…I…I can't...I think-I think, I'm in love with someone else…", he couldn't bear to look her in the eyes; shame, guilt and confusion washed over and then crushed him under themselves like the waves of the deep sea, he tightly held his eyes closed as they trembled under this pressure and he heard her rise up before him, "I see…but I'll never forget you, Jeremiah…so please don't forget about me…".
She walked at the pace of a crawl past him, still clutching his hand to her breast, and then with a self-induced quiver released him; his eyes opened, he pivoted around to see her, opened his mouth to speak…but no words came, then her voice spoke to him one last time, "Your love…she is so very blessed to have it…goodbye", and so Monica Kruszewski became the second woman to leave him on the balcony; vanishing in the crowd.
Jeremiah skulked about the edge of the hall, head down, staggering from foot to foot as the reality of what had occurred tonight sunk in; the sheltered life he had lived as a Britannian noble, the privileges it afforded and those he had come to take for granted, as well as the harsh realities faced by those of common birth had shaken the sense of understanding he thought he possessed in regard to the workings of their society.
And then the incident with Lady Monica; after which he could feel the great divide which had been thrust between himself and his closest friend, he could understand what had occurred but it still seemed absurd; he cared greatly for her and she cared even more intensely for him he now knew…and yet he knew their friendship was critically tarnished, they both felt so strongly connected to the other and yet they still…"Damn!".
He swung a fist down hard onto the bar in the hall's corner; he had not intended to stumble his way over to the lavishly decorated wooden stand but it served as good target for his frustration, "Ah, sir, is there a problem…can I offer you a drink, sir?", the veteran bartender seemed experienced with unruly yet powerful patrons and he hastily poured a glass of champagne and slid it across the table to the Marquis.
With the ethereal light filtering down into the glass it's amber glow seemed to offer the promise of assuaging this inner torment of his, of course he had attempted (unsuccessfully) to enjoy it just last night…last night; when all these dilemna's were yet to exist and he was just about to learn that his gripes then were not held against him by Princess Cornelia.
He downed the champagne in one jerk of his arm, his desperation to be rid of all these feelings exceeding his sense of discipline, he didn't taste it remotely in the speed and introversion with which he drunk, he shouted for another and attempted to swallow the second more slowly; he fancied the warm, bubbling liquid in his cold, stagnant mood…but its aftertaste of tainted self-control mixed with his vortex of misgivings.
"Another", he solemnly demanded with the intent of alleviating this repercussion and as he lifted another glass from the table he overheard a familiar voice from the lounge, "-I was under the impression that our offensives in the EU War have been rather successful, save for the unfortunate loss of the initial commanders; Sir Troy and his brother".
The unsure yet kind voice belonged to Prince Odysseus (it was a voice he had not heard in person for some 8 years, but would never forget; when last he'd heard it…it had been the orator of his parents funeral…) who stood in conversation with none other than Lady Ernst, "Correct, Your Highness, our offensive capability is greater than the EU's (thanks to Britannian technology; mainly the now mass-produced Glasgow Frame's, he thought) but you'll find stronger swords alone don't win a war.".
Odysseus seemed slightly taken aback but respectfully asked the Knight of Seven what the situation was, "After our first wave of attack the EU quickly realised they could not match our superior firepower with their own, however, our forces had only occupied a minor foothold in the Middle Eastern region before the treaty ceremony with the EU; which the OSI later saw fit to inform us was a ploy by de Bonaparte himself".
"de Bonaparte!", the First Prince queried, "Do you mean that famous EU general who died just before we began our counterattack? So it was on his orders then that Helen was…", Dorothea answered, "The very same and he is famous for good reason; even we Britannian soldiers recognize him as a military genius, but I'm afraid you're misinformed Your Highness; de Bonaparte is still very much alive".
"His 'death' had just been another strategy; he knew OSI agents had been planted among his officers and fooled them into reporting he was dying to lure our forces into making the first strike whenever he wished, the same agents have attempted to cover their blunder by confirming he still lives but their failure cannot just be redeemed; Sir Troy piloted a Knightmare and was a great leader; only Bonaparte's tactics could have slain him".
A boiling spite began to push itself up to the surface, through the night's dull misery and the champagne's bubbling ambivalence, within Jeremiah; Menelaus de Bonaparte had schemed the assassination force that his parents sacrificed themselves against and the trap that lead Sir Hector to his death…hearing that the OSI had seemingly failed to intercept either plot sympathised him with Ernst's words, "War is for the warrior".
A somewhat unassured looking Prince, in avoiding eye contact with the Viscountess, noticed his presence, "Young Master Jeremiah! My I hardly believe it!", the heir apparent took his free hand with both of his own and shook it heartily before ushering him over into the lounge where he now saw that Lady Marianne was seated in audience of their conversation, "It's been too long! Oh, excuse me, I suppose I shouldn't call you Young Master anymore; since our last unfortunate meeting you and Marchioness Lilicia have done very well, I'm certain your parents would be so proud".
He nodded, unable to even enjoy praise from a royal after all that had happened to him tonight; he just didn't feel like himself, "Well Your Highness, the armistice ceremony is to be held in just a few days; based on what happened last time we attempted non-aggression negotiations with the EU I wish to have all the time I can get to prepare for the worst", Lady Ernst hastened Odysseus with the least formality she could manage.
"Even with Bonaparte still behind them, I won't allow the EU to claim another of our royals", she bowed her head slightly to the First Prince who seemed relieved to hear it before turning her sharp focus to him, "The folly which killed Knights as great as your parents will never be repeated so long as I draw breath", he returned the salute the Round snapped him respectfully before she gave another bow (this one much deeper he observed than last), this time to the Empress.
The Prince patted him on the shoulder, assuring him that (despite his nervousness) he would try and accomplish that which his elder sister had died for and the Viscountess voiced her expectations of success in the young Knight's career before they dismissed themselves; leaving him alone in the lounge with his idol herself.
"Congratulations on you graduation Jeremiah, or should I say; Sir Gottwald?", his strained smile was met by the Knight of Six beckoning him to take a seat beside her, which he shakily did before inquiring into this supposed armistice with the EU; he knew nothing of it!
Her Majesty sighed, "Well the EU controls much more territory in the region where the war is taking place, meaning they have many more troops and supplies readily at their disposal than ourselves, therefore General de Bonaparte's new stratagem is to take advantage of these greater resources by mounting a completely defensive formation across the EU-allied continent; which even we will find nigh impenetrable".
He hid his right hand at his side from the Knight of Six on his left as it twisted into a fist and convulsed with frustration, "But My Lady! Our Knightmare's are mass-produced now! Their Knights the finest of soldiers! Why not send more and more until every shield those mongrels raise against us lies broken!", his desire to crush them laid bare.
"If only the world were so simple; the foothold in which we are based in the area lies between the vast EU bastion to the fore and the Arab states who revolted against them in the rear; those states wish to retain autonomy from the EU and are happy to have our forces situated as a buffer against them, however, they are cautious of our own intentions; if we increase troops we give them reason to launch a pre-emptive strike-".
"-then we'd be snared in the midst of a two-pronged attack…", he completed the Empress' logic gloomily, "Exactly, so while the armistice will allow the EU to attempt matching our technology and strengthen relations between their aligned nations, Britannia's Knightmares are advancing faster and faster and our resources will expound drastically as more Area's are occupied; with a more stable source of sakuradite…".
Marianne's words slipped away from him as his downtrodden stare began to drown once more into his champagne…until a blissful warmth placed itself on his cheek and Marianne's silk-smooth voice wove back into his ears, "I know you're saddened by the loss of your parents; but I also know there is a world where they, dear Helen and Paris and all those we love are together; and one day we will all be united there as one".
The delicate speech comforted him somewhat (though why would no-one acknowledge Sir Paris might still live?) yet ever since his parents death he had intended to fight the EU War after he was knighted…and now he could not; on top of everything his future had just been clouded by uncertainty…how was he to become Knight of One now?
For what felt like a moment he was without consciousness, he strained to remember why he had felt so miserable about the night and although it felt like there was indeed cause for this nothing came to mind, this ought to be a very happy occasion...it was only a matter now of what to do with himself that kept him from being overjoyed at the moment he now shared with his idolized royal lady.
"Jeremiah, were you aware the campaign for Area 11 is already being prepared? The most senior officers who will be assigned command are already being selected to organize formation and strategy, among them is the former Captain of my Royal Guard, as a result he can no longer carry out the duties of that post and Charles has been imploring me to organize a replacement as soon as possible; he's been so overprotective lately".
The Empress moved her fingers from his cheek to brush a tuft of disturbed hair back into his neat turquoise mop, "If you can't fight the EU then why not take the post? I'm certain you'll love Aries and I'm also certain my children will love you!", she gave a cheeky laugh, "Not to mention it's a fine first step to becoming Knight of One, just think; the Empress has entrusted you with her life!".
He did his best to express his enthusiasm and gratitude regarding the offer but it would be impossible to express it adequately, instead, he and his new charge shared a toast and it was here that he released he could get used to drinking champagne; so long as it was nice and warm.