Disclaimer: I only own my plot. If you think I own CoM or CoMO, I'll sell you a bridge. (That's a joke. If you believe I own 'em, you're probably gullible enough to buy a bridge from someone. I don't actually own a bridge).
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In The Duke's Citadel in Summersea in Emelan:
Sandry opened her eyes and squinted in the bright rays of the sun. 'Eeesh, I must have forgotten to close my curtains,' she thought as she rolled over. She buried her head under her pillow to try to go back to sleep, but to no avail. Deciding not to waste time trying to sleep when it couldn't be done, she got out of bed and got ready for the day.
It was actually only slightly after dawn and only the servants were up. She told the cook to bring her breakfast to the sitting room. Sandry had actually turned the sitting room into her workshop, complete with a collection of spindles, two looms, and various materials that she used for her work.
Sandry entered her workroom and immediately headed for a tapestry hanging in the corner. Lifting up a corner, she stuck her hand into the hollow behind it and pulled out a small metal box. Opening it, she drew out a yellow book with a swirly pattern, her diary. She also took out a stick of charcoal and started her diary entry.
She started by writing about her recent predicament and the visit to Lark. Sandry scribbled away furiously, trying to put down all of her thoughts before they could escape. She wanted to have everything down so that she would be able to see the whole situation. Sandry finished writing everything that she could think of and started the most important part, her decision.
I have decided to try to compromise with Lord Frantsen. The other option would be to ignore him, but I doubt that it would help the situation. I must try to placate him, but I definitely cannot give him the ruler-ship. I know that he would not make a good ruler so I cannot offer it to him. But I do not know what else to offer. I have a great deal of money, but I doubt that he needs it. I do not have anything to make up for the loss of the crown. From what I hear of him, he is most likely going to demand that I let him become Duke if I ask him to make his peace with me. I cannot think of any plan to carry out my wishes. I'm not even a ruler yet and I already have a heap of problems! If I became the Duchess, I would undoubtedly have even more problems. Maybe I should decline, but then what would Uncle do? Would he give the crown to Lord Rimst or Lord Hirim, or would he give it to someone else? And would the person chosen in my place be a good ruler? Oh, I'm so confused. Perhaps Hirim or Rimst could be a good ruler. This matter bears more consideration.
Sandry sighed, reading over her entry. It had not helped her very much.
"Your ladyship," a maid called from the door. "Your ladyship."
Sandry pulled the door open. "Yes, what is it?"
"His grace requests your presence in the meeting room. Immediately. He said it was very urgent."
Sandry frowned. Her uncle didn't usually have urgent matters for her to attend to. "Alright, just let me put away my stuff. I'll be there in a second." The maid left and Sandry put her diary away and sealed the tapestry so that it could only be moved by her magic. She strode down the hall quickly to the conference room. She could her the murmur of many voices, at least four people. She winced when a loud voice rang out. 'Lord Frantsen,' she thought, quickening her pace. 'This can't be good.'
She knocked on the door as a high, whiny female voice shrilled something. 'Lady Nissa too,' she thought grimly. 'Definitely not good.' Sandry poked her head inside and saw Duke Vedris seated at the head of the table. Erdogun sat to the left of the duke. Frantsen and Nissa were on the left side of the table and two men that were vaguely familiar sat on the right side of the table.
"Sandrilene, come in," Vedris said. "Have a seat." He motioned to the chair at his right. Sandry walked towards her uncle stiffly, aware of the poisonous glances from Frantsen and Nissa. "Allow me to introduce your other two cousins," the duke said after Sandry sat down. "Lord Rimst," he nodded at a pale man with a rather bored look on his face, "and Lord Hirim," he gestured at the youngest with a round face and rather amiable yet timid expression. "Lord Frantsen and Lady Nissa you already know."
Sandry nodded at each politely as her Uncle said their name. Lord Rimst cast a rather cool, expressionless glance at the girl and turned away. Lord Hirim smiled at the girl rather nervously and wrung the hem his tunic in his hands. Lord Frantsen gave her a stiff nod while Lady Nissa glared at the young mage.
"Let's get to business," Frantsen began. "I'm the oldest and I'm your son. Therefore, I should inherit the crown as is custom instead of a little girl with piddly powers." Lady Nissa sniffed her disapproval of Sandry.
"Whatever," Lord Rimst said. He seemed rather disassociated from the rest of the group. "Can we hurry up? I would really like to get back to my estate. I don't see why my presence is required in a quarrel between my brother and a child."
"Umm, w-well I think th-that," Lord Hirim stuttered under Nissa and Frantsen's vicious gazes, "muh-maybe the ch-choice ought to b-be made b-by f-f-father. B-besides, Lady S-Sandrilene d-doesn't seem that b-bad a girl." He flushed red and shrank into himself when Lord Frantsen glared at him.
"It's a simple matter," Frantsen said. "I should rightfully get the throne. She is a child who claims to have powers and she is hardly even related. Everything should go to the eldest son."
"Usually, my son," Duke Vedris said politely, "but this concerns everyone, not just our family. We must think of them as well."
Frantsen banged his fist on the table in anger. "I'm the oldest. It's mine. She is too young to handle the responsibility. Surely you realize that a 16-year-old girl ought to be married off and settled down respectably. She is not strong enough nor does she have the willpower to hold such a position. Anarchy would ensue while she occupied her pretty little head with thoughts of embroidery and needlework and whatever other little things women think about."
"I disagree, my lord," Sandry said quietly, choosing her words carefully. Though young, she excluded some of the commanding aura her uncle did. "I may be young, but I am mature and Uncle is not going to…to pass the throne on for a long time. I know some matters of governing as I am currently helping in governmental matters and I would most assuredly be able to learn all that I need to know when the time comes."
"Hah," Lady Nissa laughed, her voice grating on Sandry's ears. "Be quiet you foolish child. You know nothing and you merely want the throne to snare a husband. After all, who would want a little girl like you," she shrilled disgustedly. Her opinion of Sandry was obvious.
"Just give in girl," Rimst cut in, "You'll crack sooner or later." His pale eyes were focused on her condescendingly. "No female has the grit to stand up against a man." Sandry clenched her hands to prevent herself from doing something awful. She was used to condescending remarks, but for some reason, her patience was not as abundant as it usually was. "Father, your decision to pass over Frantsen is valid, but why did you have to choose a child. Perhaps you ought to rethink your decision and pass your throne on." Sandry could tell from his tone that he thought that his father was senile.
Lady Nissa had been whispering in Frantsen's ear, and Sandry cocked her head slightly to hear their conversation. She had learned how to focus Tris's power slightly and it would be easy with them this close. "--the old fool. Well do something to get rid of the slut."
Lord Frantsen whispered back, "--knows what she's done to him. Undoubtedly sucking up to him and sleeping with half his advisory council. The crazy coot was too stupid to realize what the stupid b*#@~ was doing."
Lady Nissa noticed Sandry's intense gaze on the two. "What do you want, slut?" she demanded nastily.
Admirably, Sandry kept her temper in check-just barely. Apparently, her store of patience had not completely replenished and she found herself considering changing her decision. It would have been so easy to just cocoon them or use her magic to get rid of them. She stared into her lap and fiddled with her fingers to try to bleed off some of her anger.
Lady Nissa seemed to take her reaction as weak submission. "Stupid child," she said triumphantly. "You'll probably give the kingdom to whoever yells for it. The crazy old fool obviously took leave of his senses when he chose you!" she said contemptuously.
Sandry could no longer take the insults to her guardian and raised her head to glare at Lady Nissa. The older woman flinched and her chair squeaked as she unconsciously backed away from the furious girl. The others in the room shifted uncomfortably and threads wiggled slightly, though not enough to catch the attention of those who did not know about her power.
Sandry could feel her power starting to escape from her grasp. She fought to grab them back but for some reason, her power seemed to be much stronger. "Please excuse me," she said brusquely, aware that something bad would happen if she didn't get out of there and her power under control again. She fled the room quickly, not even noticing the puzzled, somewhat fearful glances on her. After she left, everyone seemed to slump down as though drained from a taxing exercise.
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Dinner that night was tense and strained for everyone. Lord Frantsen and Lady Nissa had recovered from the afternoon and glared at Sandry, though rather uneasily. Rimst was ignoring everyone and Hirim just stared at his lap. Sandry felt tired and out of sorts and the duke seemed to be uneasy.
'How am I supposed to solve this problem?' Sandry demanded. 'Frantsen and Nissa hate me and Rimst doesn't support me. Uncle is the only one who supports me.' She glanced at Hirim. 'He seems too timid to choose a side, although he did seem to like me more than Frantsen.' She sighed inwardly and she felt her headache increase.
They finished the dinner in silence and retired to the conference room. The debate now was more subdued, though from fear of Sandry or just plain weariness was unclear. "I demand that I become the heir," Frantsen said, though not as forcefully.
"I'm sorry, my son, but you just do not possess the qualities needed for a ruler," Duke Vedris repeated wearily. The argument was an old one and had not been settled yet.
"He's perfect," Lady Nissa insisted. "All he has to do is order people about and people are more apt to listen to a mature man that a little girl. If he wanted, he could probably get people to rally to support his name. I'll bet the child wouldn't have anyone." She sniffed in Sandry's direction.
"That's not true," Sandry said as politely as she could. "A ruler does not order people about. They would hate him and surely turn against him."
Lord Rimst glanced at her, "My dear child," he began, his voice so sickeningly sweet yet condescending that Sandry felt like throwing up, "you should leave these matters to learned men and get back to sewing your pretty little dresses and such."
Rather than reply, Sandry just closed her eyes and leaned back. Nothing was happening and the sides were at a stalemate, neither giving nor taking. "Fine, Uncle, what if I decide to refuse the title. Then who do you choose?" The duke looked at her incredulously. "Hypothetically," she added, seeing Lady Nissa's sneer of triumph. "So…who do you choose?" The duke closed his eyes and thought for a long moment as everyone stared at him.
"Well," he began slowly, "I would visit Namorn and choose one of my other nieces or nephews."
"What?!?" Lady Nissa and Lord Frantsen exclaimed, outraged. "You would skip over your sons and choose some foreigner you have never met before?"
"While I love you all dearly, I regret to say that none of you would be a good ruler," the duke replied.
Sandry eyed the men. 'Hmmm, Frantsen and Nissa are greedy and self-centered. Lord Rimst wouldn't care about anything. Hirim would probably do whatever someone shouted at him to do.' She had to agree with Duke Vedris. None would be good choices, and while she had doubts about her own judgment, she would probably be better than they would. She thought about her Namornese relatives. 'They probably would not be accepted and they might not be that good after what I saw of them.'
"Fine, I accept your proposal to become ruler of Emelan after you Uncle," she said quietly. "However," she said seeing Frantsen and Nissa open their mouths to object, "I think that we must come to some sort of compromise."
"There is no way to compromise," Frantsen said nastily. "I either become heir or nothing."
"How about if we try to make it so that you will have power, yet not complete power. I assure that I am not going to give in and you know that you have been passed over. I think that I shall have the knowledge to rule when I am…27 or 28 summers and until I am of age, you may be regent. But you cannot be an all powerful regent. You must listen to my opinion and the councils. After I am of age, I shall take over and you can be an advisor or on the council, your choice." Frantsen considered her idea and he did not seem that upset. "Of course, we can always change some details and such to satisfy both of us."
"It seems good, Sandrilene. And my son, what about you?"
Frantsen hesitated a bit before answering, "Perhaps it could work, although I should have more privileges and such." Nissa looked at her husband, shocked and angry that he would comply.
"Wh-wha-what are you thinking?" she sputtered. "We deserve to inherit."
"Nissa, this is getting tiresome. This is the only good end that I see. Truth to tell, I don't think that there is any other choice other than a compromise." She tried to protest. "This is my decision as I am the concerned party," he said, voice hard. She sat back, subdued, though she continued to glare, alternating between Sandry and her husband.
"Now that a decision has been reached," the duke said, "perhaps we should retire and continue our negotiations tomorrow. Sandry and Frantsen nodded ascension while the rest of the group did nothing.
The meeting disbanded and Sandry went to her workroom to record in her journal. She sat near the fireplace and used one of Daja and Tris's glow-stones to write by. She stayed up late and she judged it to be around midnight when she finished. She put her things away and tidied up the workroom.
She headed for her room, stopping by the kitchens for a midnight snack. Her appetite had returned, and she was hungry after only picking at her dinner. As she had gone to the kitchens, she decided to go up one of the back stairwells closer to the kitchen. A sitting room was located right near the stairwell, and Sandry could see light seeping out through the cracks of the door.
'Now who could that be,' she mused. 'Uncle doesn't use that room and everyone that I know would be abed by now.' She put her hand out to push the door open but froze when she heard part of the conversation. The door muffled the words, but the speaker's high, whiny voice carried through well.
"--tomorrow we'll kill him," the voice was saying. Sandry's eyes widened at Lady Nissa's words.
The reply was unintelligible and Sandry couldn't make out any words.
"We'll do it at a private meeting," Lady Nissa said impatiently. We'll get rid of the girl and change the will so that you can be Duke of Emelan.
The man's voice was too low for Sandry to hear anything clearly.
"We can say that we persuaded him to change his mind. The girl won't be around to get in the way." Lady Nissa paused. Lord Rimst won't interfere but we may have to get rid of your brother."
Sandry heard the man mutter something but his voice was too distorted for her to tell who it was.
"Don't tell me you have qualms about killing your father and brother. You've complained to me often enough about them. I don't care as long as I become Duchess."
Sandry backed away slowly and fled up the stairs to her room. 'Nissa and Frantsen are planning to kill Uncle and Hirim. What am I going to do.' She paced the room, trying to think. 'They'll do it tomorrow, Nissa said, so I'll have to warn Uncle and Hirim before the meeting.' She wrung her braids, agitated, 'Maybe I ought to wake uncle now,' she thought. 'Ugh, but I have no proof. Everyone will think I made it up. I'll just have to protect uncle and stop them before they do anything. I'll have to warn Hirim too, although I don't know what he'll do.'
She got into bed. 'Okay, so I'll warn Hirim and protect Uncle tomorrow.' She pulled the curtains open so that she would wake up when the sun rose. She heard a rustle in the hallway. 'And myself," she thought, suddenly cold. They want to kill me too. But they'll have to do something drastic to kill three people at once without anyone suspecting something.'
Sandry got up and turned the lock in the doorway and moved several pieces of furniture against the door. She strengthened her tie to her uncle and was relieved to feel him calmly sleeping. She went back to bed and tried to sleep lightly to be ready for anything. Her efforts were useless however, and her tired body immediately went into a deep sleep.
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Okay, bad compromise but I have to end Sandry's part in her next chapter and that is the only thing simple enough. This chapter was probably boring because it was only conversations, so sorry if it bored you. Next is Tris. I'm working on The Breaking when I don't feel like writing these, so Breaking will probably be updated every other week or so.
*Star Lily*