Arturia ap Pendragon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_once_and_future) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
imperial_stage2012-08-05 01:10 am
the_once_and_future) wrote in imperial_stage2012-08-05 01:10 am
Return of the King of Knights
Who: Arturia, any Briton, or anyone with a reason to be in Camelot
What: The Queen returns
When: 5 August, early morning
Where: Camelot, either in the courtyard outside the great hall or inside
It was the early hours of dawn, when the city began to wake from its slumber for a new day of work. The medallion of the sun hung low on the horizon, a brilliant magenta as it filtered through the rolling fog along fields of wheat, barley, and rye. Farm hands had just begun to lead their sheep and cattle out to pasture, and squires started their task of tending to the mounts of their knights. Apprentices to various trades were already performing the morning chores their masters tasked them with, occasionally dodging shopkeepers rolling up the curtains over their stalls. It was a day like any other.
It was into this idyll that the small company of knights rode, weary to the bone but none the worse for wear in spite of their previous battles. They had left behind their their families and friends to join the campaign; each knight's spirits were light if for no other reason that they would see their loved ones again. They were exhausted, but at long last, they were home. The Black Company had returned to Camelot.
The knight at their head dismounted with ease and grace, giving Llamrei a fond pat before a somewhat bewildered stable-hand led her away. The company followed suit, awaiting the dismissal of their leader. A final "huzzah!" heralded their departure, eager even in their weariness for their anticipated reunions. Yet, even in this otherwise joyous homecoming, Arturia ap Pendragon frowned slightly as her sea-green eyes scanned the courtyard, as if expecting to find something there that was conspicuously absent. But whatever she expected to see was not to be found.
Though every bit as weary as the knights she commanded, Arturia carefully suppressed any sign of it, deliberately presenting a vision of strength and poise for the sake of the subjects who needed to believe in her. The sovereign must be the rock upon which the kingdom rested; she must not show frailty and must exude all the virtues of chivalry at all times. Their victory must be nothing short of the expected outcome, as natural as the waves against the white shores of Gwaych, the province the Black Company had successfully defended from corruption.
With measured, graceful steps, the Queen of Britain made her way to the great hall.
[OOC: Prose or action tags are fine, whichever is your preference.]
What: The Queen returns
When: 5 August, early morning
Where: Camelot, either in the courtyard outside the great hall or inside
It was the early hours of dawn, when the city began to wake from its slumber for a new day of work. The medallion of the sun hung low on the horizon, a brilliant magenta as it filtered through the rolling fog along fields of wheat, barley, and rye. Farm hands had just begun to lead their sheep and cattle out to pasture, and squires started their task of tending to the mounts of their knights. Apprentices to various trades were already performing the morning chores their masters tasked them with, occasionally dodging shopkeepers rolling up the curtains over their stalls. It was a day like any other.
It was into this idyll that the small company of knights rode, weary to the bone but none the worse for wear in spite of their previous battles. They had left behind their their families and friends to join the campaign; each knight's spirits were light if for no other reason that they would see their loved ones again. They were exhausted, but at long last, they were home. The Black Company had returned to Camelot.
The knight at their head dismounted with ease and grace, giving Llamrei a fond pat before a somewhat bewildered stable-hand led her away. The company followed suit, awaiting the dismissal of their leader. A final "huzzah!" heralded their departure, eager even in their weariness for their anticipated reunions. Yet, even in this otherwise joyous homecoming, Arturia ap Pendragon frowned slightly as her sea-green eyes scanned the courtyard, as if expecting to find something there that was conspicuously absent. But whatever she expected to see was not to be found.
Though every bit as weary as the knights she commanded, Arturia carefully suppressed any sign of it, deliberately presenting a vision of strength and poise for the sake of the subjects who needed to believe in her. The sovereign must be the rock upon which the kingdom rested; she must not show frailty and must exude all the virtues of chivalry at all times. Their victory must be nothing short of the expected outcome, as natural as the waves against the white shores of Gwaych, the province the Black Company had successfully defended from corruption.
With measured, graceful steps, the Queen of Britain made her way to the great hall.
[OOC: Prose or action tags are fine, whichever is your preference.]
no subject
"If you need aid, I have raised a force specifically to fight the Rift Abominations known as the Crusade Company. They are from all over Dagaria, and I have seen fit to let Jeanne D'arc command them when I am occupied with my duties in Rome. I will send word to her, if there are still battles left to be fought."
He notices her paling, and is momentarily bemused, for Garviel is unable to feel fear entirely, it having been removed from his palette of emotions by conditioning and magical means. He assumes only shock, and perhaps disgust, and says to Arturia, "Something is wrong?"
no subject
"We shall find her," she reassured him. "Whether or not she decides to return to her duties, she shall be found....and rescued, if need be."
Though the name was unfamiliar, the queen took a small amount of comfort that there was some manner of organisation to deal with the problem. "That is most welcome news," she commented. "We have eradicated the immediate threat, but I fear that more will reveal themselves presently."
But this particular issue put Arturia in a very difficult position. To reveal that she had apparently been impersonated during her absence was enough to cause unrest among the people. But the identity of that person would be enough to start widespread panic.
Arturia took a few moments before she spoke again, her demeanour grave. "I...have my suspicions as to the identity of my potential impersonator. If confirmed, it is a most serious matter.
"I am, however, at a loss. To reveal too much would throw my kingdom into disarray... as it is, I am uncertain if the news of my impersonation can be contained."
no subject
"More threats always will present themselves, until the Rift is closed. I suspect we'll always see corruption trickling forth slowly most of the time, with the occasional wave of foulness washing over the Riftguard countries."
Her words about the question of the impostor strike a chord in the grizzled Astartes, and he pauses, choosing his words carefully. "You have the oaths of myself and my brothers that none shall hear of this from us, until you give us leave to speak the truth. I... understand how difficult it is to known a dangerous truth, and be unable to spread it without causing a wider panic." He halts for a moment after that, thinking back to his undertaking to Aldurukh, and the mixture of treachery and loyalty that he'd found there, most of all he remembers the horror of seeing one loyal warrior of the Emperor cut another loyal knight down because of the need for secrecy. "My heart urges me to tell you to keep honor and tell as much of the truth as you can, and all of it if you dare. However, I have a suggestion. If you can find, expose, and properly sanction your impersonator before the news has spread too widely, or when you officially proclaim what has happened here that may well mitigate the effect. I am by nature a line soldier, a Captain of warriors, unschooled in the intricacies of politics, but I've been forced to learn how to handle..." Another pause, "Public opinion of late. Presenting your people with both the cause of their uncertainty and a properly punished criminal at the same time may wall prove to be advantageous, because it will reinforce your position as a strong and just ruler, even under difficult circumstances."
Garviel frowns, aware of a possible breach in protocol and says, "Forgive me, that must seem presumptuous. I am a warrior, and I speak to you as a warrior, but you are a monarch and I must honor and respect that." He bows deeply, in a gesture that seems apologetic somehow, bowing enough so that his fairly massive form, bulked out by his armor, is at least briefly bowing below Arturia's chin, somewhat dimunitive in size though she is compared to him."
no subject
His oath only further cemented her favourable opinion, as did his assessment, and Arturia found no fault with it. With a slight shake of her head, she made to reassure his concerns of speaking out of turn. "I value any advice, regardless of the source. However, you are now my equal. It is no breach of protocol to offer suggestions."
She paused for a brief moment, casting a quick glance around. There were no others in the immediate area, though the petite knight was ever-cautious. "Walk with me."
She ventured further into the great hall, towards the back beside the hearth. There, she could project an image of merely conversing while being away from prying eyes. Though chivalry was the law of her land, the queen could not afford to be naive when it came to treachery. And it was only when she was certain she would not be overheard that she revealed what she feared.
"In truth, I am the second child of my mother. My older half-sister is a sorceress without equal, but one who despises me thoroughly and seeks to undermine my rule at every opportunity. Her name is Morgan le Fay, and she is nothing if not dangerous."
no subject
He walks with her, and while reassured by her words of equality, it would seem he is used to standing as an advisor in court, and a battle-captain in the field.
His face and form is cast into shadow as he looks away from the hearth for a moment. Arturia has taken him into her confidence in a significant way with such an admission, so he shares one with her, "I have known such strife with my kinsmen as well. My own mournival brothers slew each other at Istvaan, before the end. That is where my story ends, historically, though it was not the end of my life. Do you know where we could seek her out, to establish whether or not this was her doing, and to bring her to trial if it was?"
Sorry for the late, got sick
As to his question regarding the whereabouts of her half sister, Arturia shook her head slightly. "I am certain she maintains a stronghold in some location within Britain, or just beyond its borders. Yet...I can only guess that it is guarded by strong spells that prevent it from being found.
"Moreover, she appears to move about the kingdom; I have received reports throughout my reign of strange magic, the sort that only she would know."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I am certain she plots within her walls. Of this, however, I have no proof."
No worries.
He nods, and seems inclined to say more, to sympathize from his own history, but thinks better of it, instead, standing silent and stoic. He simply looks at Arturia, trying to puzzle out what he can from her stance, her armor, her blade. Trying to see if there are differences in body language between the seeming impostor that he knew, and the real King of Knights.
no subject
Perhaps there was; though she was true royalty by blood, Morgan had not had the years of training to lead a kingdom. By contrast, it had been drilled into the young queen since birth that even the simple stance of a monarch must exude proper regal bearing, project an image of strength for the people to look up to.
It was the way that only a queen could carry herself, the bearing of a person who understood that she was always on display.
no subject
He frowns, then decides to bow, clearly unsure of how to excuse himself from the presence of an equal. Most of the time he just says what he has to, then strides out, not thinking highly of Sawa or Amestris' ruler, seeing the regent of the Nameless states as a boy to be watched over, and seeing Char as a brother in arms, with all the easy comradeship and lack of formality that such a thing entailed. After the bow, he and his retinue begin to slowly withdraw, unsure if turning their backs on the King of Knights would be considered an insult, the armored sons of Ultramar walk a bit awkwardly back after their own bows.