The Council is Called (4/1, Adrien/Council/Kenneth)

[Adrien Fontenot]

Adrien looked in the mirror at the figure of the boy king who stared back at him. The Gods knew he wasn’t ready to run the kingdom, but Adrien didn’t see to know or care. He looked good. He looked like a King. Young, but still imposing (or so he thought). “I’m ready.”

The council met every week. And these were the same men who advised him. Adrien felt comfortable with some of them; others made him feel as though they were tearing his insides out with their eyes. But he was King, and they were just men, and in the end they would do exactly as he told them too. Because he was King!

He walked down the hall, Sir Geoffry following, and then waited as the guards opened the door to the Council room. Everyone else was waiting, and they rose as expected as the King entered. The room was decorated in the royal golds and purples, with a deep colored cherry wood table in the center. Four chairs lined each side of the table - one for each advisor - with the final ninth chair at the head. That was his chair! To his right Sir Geoffry always sat, always ready to protect even during council. Another Horn, Kenneth Montrose today, always stood behind watching. The others on the right were his Authority of Knowledge, Authority of Welfare and Authority of Religion. The Authority of War, Bradyn Forthwind’s chair was to his left. Down the left side continued on with the Authority of Coin, the Authority of Diplomacy, and the Authority of Castle Matters. The far of the table, across from Adrien, was one last chair, which belonged to Patrick Marsden, the Castle Steward. His role at the meetings was to record the matters decided, so that proclamations could be written and sent out to the kingdoms.

Adrien took his seat and looked around at the men who made up the long row of advisers. He gave each a nod, trying to look distinguished as he did so. Patrick cleared his throat, and spoke softly, “The 14th council session of the year 241 is called into session. The first order of business is setting the official date for the upcoming Celebration for Those Lost.”

“How about in a week?” He offered to his advisers. “The preparations for the ball and the tourney are nearly done. I think the servants could put up the decorations in a week and the tourney grounds have been ready.”

[Nathaniel Merrick]

Nathaniel sat in his designated seat, his posture relaxed, his long legs stretched out beneath the table before him. His hands rested upon the lacquered surface, fingers folded, criss-crossing each other lightly. This was his sixth year serving on the royal Council, and he fancied that he'd settled into the role quite well. The new king was young, but likeable, though on the surface at least he appeared to be coping with the sudden pressures that leadership bestowed. The road was unlikely to be an easy one, but for now they could at least contend with a subject comparatively more pleasant in nature.

The Celebration of Mourning was a fine idea, an event within which everyone could feel united, albeit in their loss. The plague had claimed the lives of many, so it seemed, without any real discrimination for station; nobles had died, as well as those people who served them.

Clearing his throat softly, he motioned to speak.

"A week isn't much time for the letters to reach their destinations, your Majesty. We'll need to allow time for them to arrive, for the lords and ladies to prepare, and for travel..." He trailed off, enunciations slowing. "I'd wager three weeks, perhaps four?" Although the notion of the various Houses scrabbling to both get ready and to reach Belleile within a mere week was somewhat entertaining, he had to say.

[Julius DeLauncey]

Julius regarded Adrien with a faint smile as the proceedings began. He was young - there was no denying that - but he held himself with confidence, and that would do much to inspire similar confidence in his council members, and his subjects. It helped that he was tall, too - if it had been Bertram in that chair, the thing might have nearly swallowed him.

Adrien suggested a week might be enough time for preparation, and that proved his inexperience -- if he'd seen a province house in the throes of last-minute planning, as Julius certainly had, he might have known better. But, he had started the discussions, so at least no one could accuse him of being timid, or unenthusiastic. Inexperience, they could fix. "Four, I should think, your Highness," he said, glancing quickly at Merrick in acknowledgement, but addressing the king and turning his gaze back to him almost immediately; this he did to remind Adrien, and the others should they need it, that it was the king who was ultimately to make the decision. "Three perhaps, if it was only lords who needed to prepare, but we all know how women are." He allowed himself a smirk.

[Adrien Fontenot]

Adrien hadn’t even thought of the other’s need to travel! That was alright though. That was what his council was for! He nodded sagely, as though considering this advice and coming to a conclusion. “We’ll set the date then for the first of May? So that the Celebration of Mourning occurs right at the beginning of the month? That is more than four weeks.” He smiled, “And you’re right Julius, Aurora will need at least that long to prepare all her dresses.” In truth, he knew his sister had likely already started. Even without a date set in stone, the castle had expected this celebration for some time. Adrien was just glad it was finally here. Finally, he would see a real tourney! Not just those ones used to select another of his Horns. Like the one he watched Kenneth win. It was exciting, but not the same as someone vying for a purse of gold.

He looked to Gaius and used his kingly voice again. “Lord Gaius, are the food stores in enough order for a May first celebration?”

[Geoffry Tanear]

Sir Geoffry of the Iron Bow had made the schedules such, that he'd have council meetings following his guard duty. Taking his seat at young King Adrien's right hand, he nodded to Sir Kenneth, who was standing behind the King. Although he was in his tunic embroidered with the sigil of the Horns, a prancing unicorn with the five weapons they represented behind it, and thus not optimally equipped to defend King Adrien, he wore his sword belt and was always ready to leap up in defence of the King. Though he had a will of steel, especially where his duty was concerned, Sir Geoffry was getting on in years, and the plague had made him feel that, which was why he didn't wear his armour like he did when standing guard.

The session was opened and King Adrien opened it, as was his right, by proposing a date for the celebration. The Lords Merrick and DeLauncey rightfully suggested that the proposed date might be a little short for celebrations, though he didn't know what that joke about women was good for, so he pretended not to hear. "I do quite agree, Your Grace," he said. "Apart from that: as you say, everything is ready: I've got everything coordinated with the guards and they stand at Your Grace's disposal as always," he reported.

[Kenneth Montrose]

Kenneth Montrose of the flowing sword stood behind his King, his brightly colored purple and gold armor shined in the light that trickled through the window. Slowly he had begun to hate this spot -- at the beginning of each meeting the sun always burned a hole through his eyes, and he often had to shift from left, right or center behind the king in a vain attempt to escape the sunlight.

He was quiet; he nodded when people acknowledged him, and rested a hand near the sword at his side. Besides the longsword strapped to his belt he had a two-handed great sword strapped to his back and a short-sword strapped to his left side; he always wielded his blade in his left and his short-sword in his right. The men began to speak, and Kenneth listened mindfully. He watched them all with fierceness; eyes darting to every movement and taking in their attitudes best he could. If for whatever reason a man in this room tried to assassinate Adrien, he was determined to be strike them first. It was -his- job to protect the king, after-all.

[Duncan Montrose]

Duncan Montrose took a habit of always bringing a tome to these meetings. Although he would never read while the king was at the table, sometimes the waiting dragged a long time, so he read, slow as he was at it. At times it was a book of history, other time some genealogy or a list of royal clerks. More often than not it was work. Running a court was a lot of paperwork, he found when he started immersing himself in the work of the Seneschal, or the Authority of Castle Matters - a name with more pomp attached to it. There were fees for the retainers and the castle suppliers. Inventories of furniture, tapestries, candles, art, any and all sorts of equipment. Guards rotas and reports. Letters from stewards and all sorts of people who had some interest in the court, but couldn't or wouldn't dare to write the king personally. Accolades and grievances on the courtiers, petitions for better chambers, more servants, more singers and musicians for the ladies, allowances for taking residence in the court or bringing friends or establishing or increasing personal guards for the more prominent residents. It was tedious, and it was all on his head, as well as his stewards.

He stood with reverence to the king, and sat down when the boy took his seat. Duncan was sitting between Patrick Marsden, the man he was very closely cooperating with, and Nathaniel Merrick, his daughter's husband. Duncan had his fair share of misgivings about the people of Merrick's kind. They looked strange, spoke strange, and he'd never seen one until he came to Forsilvra. But he'd seen a lot of bizarre things since his coming and got used to it. Still, he had some reservations about the way Nathaniel behaved. The young man managedto prove himself worthy of the council and treated Kenna well, but he was still a reckless fool on many accounts. Still, he was the fool Duncan knew well.

When he first sat in the council, the Seneschal was taken aback by how far away from the king he was. It looked to him like an insult. Even today he would prefer a seat further up the table, but he also knew the benefits of the background. It was easier to watch others while he preteneded to look at the king, and less of a trouble to hide his reactions from the other councilors and the ruler.

In his thoughts, Duncan smiled at the image of Malcolm tripping over himself, trying to make it with his household in time, inside very few days. He agreed with Nathaniel though, the lords needed more time. As the others talked, Duncan stole a glance of his son behind the throne. Kenneth was shifting from side to side, his eyes squinting. If he could see his father's face, he'd know that Duncan didn't approve. If the sun's in your way, find a better spot. Don't dance like a mule, he'd like to tell if he could.

He'd say something relevant, but the king asked another man directly, so Duncan remained silent, with one hand stretched over a page in the castle's ledger of expenses.

[Gaius DeLauncey]

Gaius was respectful in that he answered immediately, without delay, even though he rather thought the young man could jump, if only because he'd have to organise an extra shipment of supplies to replenish the stores, and that meant talking to that shitswine Dockmaster.
"Yes, your Majesty" was all he gave; because that was the long and short of it. If they had an extra two hundred nobility, another one thousand eight hundred attendants, they would run the stores dry in perhaps two months, without replenishment; since there would be replenishment, it was not a problem.
"The Lord Authority for Castle Matters will find the city butchers well-stocked, the bakeries overflowing, and the breweries well-maintained should the guests exceed my expectations." They wouldn't, but there was always some ponsy Noble who wanted Pig's Anus stuffed with Pheasant's Penis. Those Arbrechtian bastards tended to eat anything, the disgusting brutes, but the Ahesteri could be picky. If Gaius had to feed any nation, it'd be Caelain: table manners.

In his mind, he was scratching slight calculations down for cost, for where the extra supplies would be brought in from, how that would effect the region. Generally, a big celebration was excellent for the Island itself; he predicted a .09 percent growth of average income for the year, with a far lesser .008 for major tradesmen in ports such as The Hollows. Good. Admirable. Gaius nodded at the King. Smart kid, even if he had fuck all idea of how slowly things moved in reality.

[Adrien Fontenot]

Adrien listened as Gaius spoke, pleased with the answer. So they had enough for the celebration. They had everything they needed. He looked at each man at the table, thinking of their position of what he might ask them. Adrien thought it was important to make them all feel needed. After all they were working hard to keep the kingdom functioning.

“Thank you Lord Gaius. We will need to ensure everything is ready for use by the time the lords and their families start arriving. If the ceremony is on the first, then they’ll probably get here sooner, right?” He paused and then nodded. “Right. I know my uncle will want to get here as soon as possible.” His eyes flicked to his War Authority, Bradyn, who was from Caelain. His own forefathers were from there as well, so Adrien particularly liked the Caelish people.

He moved down the table to where Duncan was sitting, “And the castle will be ready to hold all those nobles? We might need to house some of the people in the manors too.” He said that one as though he knew exactly what he was talking about, even though King Adrien had no idea exactly how many people Licorn would hold. But Duncan wouldn’t make him look stupid. And besides, wouldn’t the families of the council want to stay with their kin?

[Duncan Montrose]

Duncan listened to Gaius report, and nodded once when the man was finished. If the city was stocked, then all would go well. The castle servants were trained, and the plague put them into discipline. Not so many were eager to jump into excess when people around were dying. Now the ports were opening, trade flowing again, the travels became safer and the court would be lively again. The Seneschal would make sure the castle was ready for that. It'd be harder if he was in charge of the city, but Licorn was not Belleile. It was smaller and much better organized.

He looked at the King and answered him with immediacy similar to his predecessor's. "My manor is open for as many guests as it can hold." He said in the studied accent of the south. He was sure the other councilors would make similar promises. They'd be accepting their own families first anyway. The Seneschal would accept any and all Montrose and their companions, bar Malcolm who surely will be staying in the castle itself. The brothers were better far from each other.

"The castle will be ready inside the week. I will dispatch for new supplies immediately, prepare the halls and vacant chambers. There are many that became lodging for spiders over the last decade." Courtiers died of the plague, and not so many were eager to take the beds of the fallen. "The serving men we can't accommodate will find plenty of room in the city."

He let it off there. That was every answer he thought was needed, and Duncan no longer threw words on wind.

[Osiris Linnet]

Osiris did love a good party! Plus if that party had food it would be the best party ever in his opinion!

He'd sat in his designated seat after hobbling in on his cane. His leg hurt more then normal but honestly, it always hurt, so maybe that is normal? He didn't say much, just kept his ears open in case he was asked a question, but nothing had really changed in the world of religion in the past week, or month for that matter.

His mind was actually focused on a conversation he had earlier that day with his Handmaiden. Well, the previous Keeper's Handmaiden, but for now he had to concentrate on the meeting before him, he could worry about his own problems later.

[Nathaniel Merrick]

Everything appeared to be moving along swimmingly. A date had been set, the foundations being laid... Nathaniel was actually getting quite excited. Social gatherings were but one of his many pleasures in life, and he was very much looking forwards to meeting several of the diverse array of nobles who would be in attendance from across the lands.

As expected, and with regards to the issue of rooming, Nathaniel put forwards his own offering in conjunction with Duncan's own.

"The same," He smiled simply. His doors were open to those who would need a place to stay; Merricks, or otherwise. Those manors were huge anyway... It would be nice to fill up some of the space.

[Bradyn Forthwind]

Bradyn had sat in silence up until this point, doing naught more than simply bowing his head when the King looked at him. There was little at this time for him to mention about the proceedings, for they were discussing whether the decorations, food and the like could be ready for such a time and where people would be staying. There was no particular need for a councillor for war to speak up at a time like this.

The fleets were organised to receive and guard guests and he had anticipated that many House members would be received in the manors of those who resided here. It would cause no major concerns to the army, nor to the dispositions of his forces, so it was best left quiet, except for his assent. He knew, as they all did, that the King was inexperienced and needed the support to guide him through these times.

"I see no problems for my area to be prepared in the times discussed and my manor is open to any from Caelain, or any others who need a place to stay."

[Adrien Fontenot]

“Good! Good.” Adrien commented as each man spoke. This was definitely one of the easier council meetings he’d led. At the end of the table, Patrick was scribbling notes, notes Adrien would have to listen to later in the day. There was always so much to do after council meetings. Thank the gods he only had to hold them once a week.

“Is there any other business with the festivities then?” he asked his men. “Oh. Osiris, are we going to provide places for the Northrens to worship?” Their gods were not the gods of Forsilvra, or of the southern isles or Ahestere, but Adrien didn’t think telling them their gods weren’t welcome would be a good idea. After all, they were travelling all the way down here just for him, and if he remembered his studies, Jondé preached that as King he had no business into the religion of his subjects.

[Osiris Linnet]

Osiris nodded to the king and crossed his hands on the table as he answered. "Yes, my king. All of our available space can and will be made available to them. I will see to it personally."

As the religious adviser he was supposed to be five steps ahead on all of this business, but his situation with picking a new handmaiden was getting the best of him, he'd have to make sure he'd delegated duties properly after this meeting was over.

[Gaius DeLauncey]

Was he supposed to dance? Leap from his seat in excitement that the King decided he wanted a banquet and everyone was to come, and they'd have the happiest of times? Gaius was glad they'd be stimulating the economy, but beyond that he was unconcerned - he'd get to Josie and Marchie. That was the only personal point that would come out of all this. So the man simply sat in his chair, giving his beard a quiet scratch.

Osiris spoke, and Gaius just barely kept his mouth shut. His opinion on the Council was not exactly gleaming, but the religious advisor got under his skin. Too mouthy, flamboyant...Too damned Ahesterian. But you shut up and shrugged; so long as he didn't poke him too much, and did his job well as religion was directly linked to welfare, Gaius didn't really care.

[Adrien Fontenot]

This meeting was so easy! Why couldn’t they always be so easy to get along with.

“I have two other orders then,” he suddenly realized. “The first is the amount we will set for the purses for each of the tourney victors. There hasn’t been a tourney on Forsilvra since before the plague, so I think we should consider a good sized purse, assuming of course, we have the money. And then the second…”

He trailed off for a moment, his eyes glancing around at each man around the table. He was king. In theory he could just say he wanted this and that would be that. Yet, the words didn’t come out that way.

“I’d like to ride in the joust.”

[Julius DeLauncey]

Julius had paid due attention to every speaker in the room, as was proper, but his eyes never left the king for long; he was the boy's scholastic tutor, but he'd become much more than that. He sought to find in Adrien's speech and attitude fodder for both praise and advice. Thus far he had done well, though hopefully he would grow out of his polite, tentative suggestions into gracious orders.

Then again, on the topic of participating in jousts, he'd rather Adrien not speak at all. Of course he'd like to join in; he was a fifteen-year-old boy. But it was dangerous.

He doubted Adrien would respond, at least not initially, to concerns over his safety. He still seemed to hold the invincibility of youth in his mind, with death a distant, toothless danger -- which was remarkable considering the fate of much of his family. Julius was silent for a moment. Exasperation tugged at the side of his mouth, but he tried to be diplomatic. "My king, I understand your desire to enter the tourney," -- little that he did; Julius had never squired -- "as you've never had the opportunity. But there are political ramifications to be considered. And with the kingdom just out of a great upheaval, it might be best to apply yourself to more pressing matters."

[Duncan Montrose]

Duncan spoke his turn and fell silent, watchful as ever. The meeting ran smooth and almost uneventful, but it had its characteristic flow. Of the men in the room, Duncan paid most mind to Julius, Bradyn and Gaius. And the King of course. All the rest was ornamentation. Sir Geoffry was old and stuck in his noble ideals. Osiris, not so long in the council and a priest at that, lived in his own world of religion. And Nathaniel was a flamboyant fool, and his son-in-law at that.

It was not until the boy said, weakly, of his wish to be in the joust that the air became a bit hotter in the room. Duncan would not be the first one to speak. He waited to see who would make a reply first. And it was Julius Delauncey of course, advocating restraint. The voice of reason. The advice of a scholar.

"These are political ramifications, Julius," he spoke from the back of the table. "The King must show these lords he is not a squeamish youth." In the north they called Adrien "milk king" and passed jokes about his tardiness and supposed feminity. It was in the boy's best interest to prove them else. "I say ride, Your Grace."

Duncan was not himself a knight, such distinctions being nothing in the Green, but he was a fierce warrior of the hills. He'd seen Kenneth tourney, and many before him, and could understand how these events might appeal to a fighter, as watered as they were. In the Green, men tested themselves in harsher ways than this, and far more dangerous.

[Nathaniel Merrick]

Nathaniel listened to the exchange for a time following the King's announcement that he would like to ride in the joust. Apparently, this was going to be the cause of some disagreement within the Council. And just when they all seemed to be getting along so well...

When Duncan was finished, Nathaniel did something that might have been taken as foolish. The flamboyant fool opened his mouth. "I agree with our Seneschal, Your Grace." He smiled easily, comfortable in his seat for all that this could soon spiral downwards into a conflict. "I think it would be good to see our King take part in his own celebrations, rather than just watching from the stand- if that's what he wishes."

Nathaniel wasn't exactly a fighter himself- he'd never jousted, and whilst he'd tried fighting with a sword the once, he had never really excelled at it. Quite the opposite, in fact. Besides, they couldn't coddle Adrien like that, could they? Within reason, perhaps, but still...

In any case, he fell silent after that. The next few moments might well prove a fair bit interesting.

[Julius DeLauncey]

Julius' eyes darted to Duncan; he had expected the man to speak up immediately, and he wasn't disappointed. But the man had hardly needed to voice his opinion; everyone here knew that Duncan would be in favour of any activity involving testing the king's mettle publicly. He was predictable that way -- so was Julius, in the opposite manner -- and though there was tension in the room it was a familiar one.

He desperately wanted to address Duncan - his true opponent here, though Nathaniel had spoken too - but it was really Adrien he had to convince. "My king, you are neither expected nor required to prove anything of the sort -- you are their king by birthright, not by tested skill at the sword. To indulge any one who may think otherwise may show insecurity rather than strength." It was desperately difficult not to let his gaze slide to Duncan, but in these matters he was much practiced.

"Even beyond that, there is the practical matter of protection. Your Grace has a member of the Horns even here, among your trusted council. Please understand my hesitation with you setting yourself unguarded against armed men." He had avoided the subject at first, but with two councilmen already against him, it might be best to remind Adrien - and the rest of the council - of the ever-present danger of assassination. Forsilvra had been isolated for so long; perhaps they had forgotten that members of a fractured kingdom - many of whom had not seen court in years - could behave unpredictably.

[Geoffry Tanear]

Geoffry had listened intently as matters that did not concern his brief nor required his wisdom passed the agenda of the King's Council. But when his young King mentioned riding in the joust, he frowned immediately and opened his mouth to speak. Queen Corenna and King Joseph surely would not have permitted him that, the Gods bless their memories. Before he could, however, a discussion had already been started between the Royal Seneschal and Julius DeLauncey. Say what you will about the martial prowess of the Arbrechtians, their valuing combat above all else would one day be the death of them, and their rightful king if he didn't speak out. At least the Vandermarkman spoke sense.

He scraped his throat, requesting attention as politely as he could. "Your Grace," he said. "That Horn on the Council would be me, and I've been here for a long, long time. Your royal parents - the Five bless their memories - would surely not want you to come to harm." He wondered if he would confess to his own fears, the fears Julius Delauncey had already expressed. In the end, he decided to do so. "Nor do I, who has sworn to defend you. For the love of your parents who you shall remember by throwing roses, please let my brother of the Gaian Spear and myself teach you more about the lance before you decide to try your hand at jousting. As my lord DeLauncey says: we cannot protect you in the joust."

He feared the King would come to harm if he persisted. He had been as firm as he could, with the fatherly care he sometimes felt for the young King, but still tried to be soft-spoken as he always was to his King.

[Gaius DeLauncey]

It was all genuinely simple, and Gaius waited for someone to state the obvious, but noone seemed to actually say it. Blast, some were actually supporting it. Taking a long and very loud sigh, the DeLauncey decided to be eloquent instead of sarcastic for once.
"My King, I must advise against this. Not a Knight will attempt to joust you, for fear of arousing your displeasure. Besides, the tilt is incredibly difficult - there will be trained killers taking to the lance, and they will quiver at the thought of participating against you as they might very well kill you. And when you win, as you will for no Knight or Lord would dare strike you, it will be a hollow victory."

They were being morons. Did the Seneschal want a dead King? Gaius would make note of this opinion.
"In a few years, perhaps, in disguise. With the heaviest armour. Against weak opponents with a preference for accuracy. Until then, my advise is that you observe in a Kingly fashion, not get yourself killed trying to 'show them you are not a squeamish youth'." The last few words were thick with mockery, and Gaius didn't even try to hide it. What were they THINKING? Only Sir Tanear and Julius seemed to actually see this, and that gave them alittle credence with the Authority of Welfare.

[Bradyn Forthwind]

Bradyn simply sat back and listened. Many of his points had already been made by other and more eloquent men in the room. He had no intent to see the King end up dead on the first tilt. His was the realm of warfare and for the King to decide to enter that arena without so much as consulting him, or by the looks of it, the Captain of his own guard, was basically an insult.

Still, the young man was likely to want his opinion on it too. It at least proved that Duncan and Nathaniel were either soft in the head, or wanted the King to die. Either way, their opinion was being outweighed. The only one who hadn't chimed in was the Religious Advisor, who would likely say some rubbish about 'The Gods protecting his most divine and blessed visage from the blows of mortal men'. Why not add all the people who had no idea to the mix?

"I object on the same grounds as my esteemed colleagues, Sir Geoffry of the Iron Bow, Lord Julius and Lord Gaius." Interestingly, the only two advisors on warfare were both from Caelain. Said a lot about the military knowledge of Lacharn and The League, really. "The King should not ride, for he is inexperienced and would either be wounded, or rob a Horn candidate of their potential to be considered his future protector." Simple, precise, effective.

[Duncan Montrose]

The Authority of Religion had not spoken yet. Damn the Authority of Religion, Duncan thought. He was losing this battle, although he observed with some satisfaction Nathaniel's quick chiming in with approval. Well, he could count at the fool sometimes. All others have spoken against it, and he would be a fool not to hear their points.

The truth was that Duncan wasn't a jousting man himself, and knew nothing about the skill it took to wield a lance. He had to believe the men who trained it. If it was so dangerous, and they all agreed, it could well be too dangerous for a fifteen year old boy with no skill.

"Then why is the king inexperienced?" He threw that into the air, to everybody and no one in particular. "If I am not mistaken, noble boys become squires at eleven, sometimes sooner, and knighted at their sixteenth year. I earned the right to carry a sword at twelve, in battle." Then he finally turned straight to his King, driving his point. "Your Grace, if your Authority of War says you are inexperienced, then I advise you to boot your current tutors. You need only one who will make sure you gain that experience, and you need him fast."

If he were careless, Duncan would smile now. Because he knew the king wanted to prove himself, and what better way for a young man than through his valor and combat skill? He remained serious though, looked his young king in the face with an honest concern, even as he thought of a certain knight prancing behind the boy's chair. The knight who happened to be an accomplished jouster, and his son.

[Bradyn Forthwind]

Bradyn regarded Duncan with but a glance. He might have had a good point, had this been a competition for knights of his own age and training, so he had to give him credit for that. But he was fighting a losing battle trying to persuade the King. Too many of the people with actual experience were against it and, while the King listening would be a different matter, he hoped his voice as War advisor carried weight with such matters.

"He is inexperienced, Lord Duncan, compared to the men he would tilt against. These are the best in the country that would appear, not squires or knights his own age with experience. Ones training their entire life, with no studies to interfere. When the leader of the Horns himself advises otherwise, I think we ought to listen. After all, I'm sure he knows exactly who will be likely to enter."

[Duncan Montrose]

Bradyn Forthwind insisted on making it a chat. Duncan looked at him briefly, but he did not stoop to that leve. He spoke directly to his king, intending to keep it that way. "Be it as it may, I will not insist on my advice, when many more knowledgeable in the matter speak differently," he yielded.

But he didn't abandon his point. "But Your Grace should do something to prove your mettle. Birthright is fine and dandy, but a sharp and swift swordhand is better. Once again I advise you to revise your training."

[Adrien Fontenot]

They were all giving him a headache! Adrien knew that Julius would object, but he hadn’t expected so many of the councilors to agree with the scholar. The seneschal was pushing him to enter, while his own knight, the one he squired for was telling the rest he wasn’t ready. It was as though with this one question, each man on his council suddenly wanted to exert their authority and be the one to push him to an answer.

“Stop!” he called out, suddenly feeling irritating. “Isn’t this my decision anyway?” He turned to Geoffry, who claimed he wasn’t ready (and likely his teacher was right). “If I’m never to ride in a tourney, how will I ever be knighted? And if I am not knighted, who would ever want to follow me should I need to lead us into battle?” He glanced at Bradyn. “I know, that you are the war councilor, but my ancestor Jondé lead men! He was the first and perfect king. I’m sure he was a knight too. So tell me how you all expect me to lead, when I must simply sit and watch?”

[Gaius DeLauncey]

Gaius took a long, loud sigh. It seems when he wasn't bitter and sarcastic, noone listened to him, so there was that. Still, he'd have to curb it alittle when he spoke. The edge remained in his tone, however, aswell as the exasperation.
"Yes, my King. And when every Knight forfeits, the Lords will think you quite the warrior. And when you lead men to battle, they will admire you charging into battle as if you sit at the tilt. The Great Lord Jonde, after all, valued a good lance far above supplies or the disposition of his men. And he never listened to trained advisors who had his best interests at heart." Perfectly deadpan, the Lord Gaius shrugged dramatically.

"The King has the right of it. Risking his life as one of the last of the Fontenots, indeed, risking his dynasty, is entirely secondary to the pre-emptory game of the Tourney."

[Geoffry Tanear]

Geoffry got quite irate when the Seneschal suggested that the King boot his advisors. It was almost as if he suggested he was too old to be a Horn. What nonsense: the Horns served for life and besides, he would not let anyone with evil intent pass near the King. When the discussion got out of hand, it visibly irritated the young King, making him shout out that they should stop this, mentioning the legacy of King Jondé. When Lord Gaius spoke, Geoffry almost frowned at his tone but perhaps that was what was needed. He should try again.

"Your Grace," he said kindly. "I have served your father and his father before him as bearer of Cortland's Iron Bow. Skill at war is nothing like skill in the joust. If I would ride to war as I ride in the lists, I'd have my horse cut down under me before I could shout a battlecry. Don't worry about the Lords: they will follow you because you are Jondé's blood, the trueborn and rightful King of all Forsilvra. Being a Knight is so much more than skill at arms and riding in tourneys: it is a responsibility of its own, and it entails restraint, at times. There comes a time when you will be able to prove yourself, but that time is not now."

He hoped the Arbrechtian would keep his mouth shut now, and stop filling the King's head with things he really shouldn't do. The Arbrechtian taste for battle was insatiable, and that annoyed Sir Geoffry. Battles should be fought for the right cause.