Outside the Cathedral

Apriciele Square

This square spreads across the eastern bank of the Rive Mirvil, across from the River Palace, affording a panoramic view of its splendors. Perhaps in recognition of that splendor, and the need to remind the populace of true power, the Cathderal of the Sun dominates the eastern edge of Apriciele Square, a symbol of the glory of the god Orien and the earthly works raised to honor him.

The square itself is wide and mostly evenly paved, and maintains the city's oldest marketplace, a haven for street vendors and craftsman, and the occasional performer. It remains lit throughout the night by the priests of Orien, who keep lamps burning as part of their duty to the God.

Stone bridges cross the river to the island of the palace, and a wide street descends to the river docks, where one may hire a boatman to travel to the Cecidia district. As the hills rise away from the riverside, they become dotted with the estates of the nobility.

As Orien's sun begins to brighten the city of Gesarien, the faithful of the God's church begin to gather for morning services to greet the sunrise. The carriages of the nobility push the commoners out of the way, though they travel to the same destination. One such carriage, painted on the door with the olive branch and sun of Duchy Bastine, takes its time approaching the Cathedral, perhaps due to the weight it carries inside. As it comes to a halt outside the gates, the driver steps down to open the door and assist its occupant to the ground -- the immense Duke of Bastine, Lourein. "God-cursed streets. It's days of pain just to make my way to the Cathedral," rumbles the Duke to the driver as he exits. "Are you seeking out the holes just to make my backside ache?"

The carriage of the notably slothful Duke of Bastine is not the only fanciful vehicle that has made its way to morning services. With the etchings of a stag in blue and white, the carriage of the Duke of Mirvil already emptied and the horses are being tended by pages. Durand is stepping forward towards the entrance of the Cathedral, his normal attendants and hangerons following in his wake. At his side is the ever present Count de Soncerre, the Duke's cousin, and the two men are in heated conversation. The Duke waves one hand out in a rough punching gesture, but his words are silenced by the din of passersby.

She has to be contrary; she has to be different. So the lissome Duchess of Chaveaux is in no carriage but rather on horseback, sidesaddle as is proper, along with her guards and a single attendant. Where they are headed is not especially evident, but pause they do. The carriage of the Duke of Bastine is blocking some of the path, after all, and one does not often enough get to enjoy de Mirvil in an argument. She reins in her horse and pauses, her smile secretive. For now she just wants to watch.

The carriage driver bows and bobs and mutters some sort of apology that is lost to the ears of others. Either Lourein has forgotten about the man already, or he accepts the apology. Whichever it is, he ignores the man further. He pats his ample midsection and looks about the crowd. From horses that followed the carriage, four men in Bastine livery dismount and follow the duke as he waddles forth. Spotting Durand through the gathering worshippers, he bellows out, "Mirvil, you slippery dog! You _are_ in Gesarien after all!"

A voice like that is near enough to startle anyone within earshot. Durand is no different, his entire party seems to start a bit at the rough greeting of the Lord of Bastine. With a roll of the shoulders, the Duke of Mirvil seperates from his party, only Soncerre following on Durand's bootsteps. As he nears the formidable Duke, Durand greets him with, "I see you have remained ensonced here, your Grace. I had heard that you returned to your Duchy shortly after the funeral of his Majesty." His own voice is usually loud and agressive, but it pales in comparision to that of Bastine.

Oh, no. This is far too engaging to interrupt. Joanna shifts a bit on her mount as it paws at the cobblestones, but she's saying nothing. A pleasant expression, a polite sort of thing, is on her countenance, but she's just going to eavesdrop for now.

Lourein claps Durand on the shoulder with one meaty hand. The Duke of Bastine has long been known for being familiar with those he knows, regardless of the situation. "I did, I did. But there is nothing quite like Gesarien for entertainment, and you know how I love to be entertained." He nods to the Count at Durand's side, though he turns back to the Duke before he continues. "And with you descending on the city, well..." His features spread out into a grin.

Durand goes to great lengths to hide the displeasure at being whacked. His smile grows the slightest bit tighter, and he rallys to speak before any other emotion shows on his face. "Yes, and then there is the matter of politics. They do have a tendency to strangle our other pursuits, such as the regency of our estates, when situations like the one here in Avanne crop up. Not only you and I, but the young Chaveaux child is also floating around Gesarien."

Well, if Joanna may have entered the conversation before, she has cause to hesitate now. Expression tightening a little, she focuses on the corpulant duke to hear his response to this statement. But she is irked...indeed she is.

Joanna frowns. She did not quite catch all of Durand's statement, damn his discretion! But with a small nudge of her heel to her horse's flank she rides forward a few clattery paces, closer to the two dukes. She'll either hear more effectively or poke her nose in their chat.

Lourein flicks his fingers. "I have little need of whatever alliances she can offer me," he says dismissively, a conversational tone. "Though I would not be opposed to wrapping her around my... fingers, as you say. But a minx she is indeed. She expressed some sentiment about you when I first met her that had you sharing your bed with sheep." One of his guards approaches and whispers something into the Duke's ear. He nods, and lifts his voice enough to allow the eavesdropping Joanna to hear, "Didn't you, your Grace?" He turns to look over in Joanna's direction, having been tipped off by his guard, apparently.

The rest of Durand's party has retired into the Cathedral, leaving only the Count to assist Durand in facing in advesary. With pointed interest mingled with amusement, he turns to face Joanna, to properly greet her. He does not see the need in raising his voice, so he merely says, conversationally, "How odd. I believe she and I agreed to refrain from base insults and natterings until the serious matters of the sucession were managed."

"'Twas before such an agreement, I believe, your Grace," Joanna remarks pleasantly, though her eyes are darker than the norm and her fingers are perhaps a touch too tight around the reins. "I do pray you gentlemen are well this day?"

"Well enough," says Lourein. "Always a pleasure to reacquaint oneself with one's colleagues." With the twitch of two fingers, he sends all but one of his guards away. The man that remains is stoic and solidly built, bearing Vicenan features. "Whatever brings you to the Cathedral of the Sun, your Grace? Are you repenting your sins against the God so quickly?"

Never willing to steal the thunder of a respected nobleman, Durand stays quiet, facing the Duchess to hear her answer. His hands slide to his sides, his finger lacing into his belt the only indication that he is holding back some emotion. Knowing the situation, it is probably humor.

Joanna answers with a reasonably genial smile, "Why, your Grace, in the Vesparan Church both god and goddess are revered; I was unaware that my worship of him was offensive."

"It's too lovely a morning to be drawn into a debate over doctrine," says Lourein, affecting a bored tone. "Still, you did not answer my question. You have a habit of doing so, I've noticed. You can be a terribly difficult girl at times, you know."

"I know. Alas that no man has placed a bit in my mouth and broken me like a rebellious mare," Joanna sighs expansively. "As to why I am here, I am merely passing before the splendour of the Cathedral on my way to my own worship."

Durand cannot resist, "It is a difficult time for such a young girl, your Grace. She cannot be held accountable for the teachings of her elders. It is not as if she has a hand to guide her spiritual health, she has enough on her hands merely managing her own Duchy."

"Alas indeed," murmurs Lourein. A hand reaches up to rub his broad cheek, a gesture that suggests a nervous habit. To Durand's comment, he replies, "This is what happens when women get a taste of power, I fear. They either become intractably contrary, or go flitting off to immerse themselves in society with little concern for what goes on at home. Or even worse, both."

Joanna looks down on the two dukes without much affection - none, in truth - and resettles herself on her saddle. "In other words, we become entirely too much like noblemen," she tells Lourein softly. Durand gets no answer. Yet. Verbally.

Durand's response is simply, "If only that were true, your Grace. While we have ensured a truce between our two Duchies, I do not consider it breaking such if I were to state that I fear for your soul. The Primate is not known for his temperment for those of the Vesperan faith. I would fear his influence with whomever is raised to the throne, for it could be disasterous for your people." If these words were coming from anyone's mouth but the Duke of Mirvil, they may be touching.

"I believe the Duke of Mirvil is quite right," says Lourein. "After all, look what his influence did for your sister." He glances at Durand and adds, "What it must feel like, to be constantly in fear of the torches and pyres of the priesthood." He clicks his tongue against his teeth, "Pity that some must be so obstinate."

Joanna shifts again on her saddle, expression darkening. The fastest way to annoy the duchess, it would seem, is a reminder of her sister's demise. "I do not especially believe that the god and goddess prefer to be feared and have their followers threatened until they worship. Better that the right path is chosen voluntarily rather than shoved down our throats."

"I could not agree more, your Grace," Durand rejoins. "But, I fear that you may force his hand. You should seek him out and speak with him on the matters of divinity. Perhaps then you will come to understand the nature of your heresy. Of course, it is entirely possible that you will convert him to your beliefs, and then save the souls of your people and all of Avanne." He does not even crack a smile at his joke...

It seems Lourein is amused enough for the both of them. He bellows out a laugh. "That I would be very amused to see happen. Very amused indeed," he says through wheezing breaths. "The day Meyric d'Alemia even says 'Vesperan' without his fists clenching for a torch is the day I swear off supper."

"Gentlemen," and she does seem to use that term loosely in this instance, "while I appreciate your bemusement at my expense, I would rather enjoy a certain degree of respect considering that, for the time being at least, I wield as much authority in Avanne as either of you. AND I do so with greater sartorial splendour."

At her words, an serious expression descends upon the lips and eyes of Durand de Mirvil. Stepping a bit forward, to emphasize his words, he speaks up to the horsed Duchess, "Your humor does you well, your Grace, but you should remember that Bastine and I have more cojoined years of ruling than you have years breathing. Your authority does not extend an inch further than your demense, something I would not say for either he or I. You should look to what will benefit your people, not your pride."

Lourein seems perfectly content to allow de Mirvil to chide the Duchess, as he folds his hands across his paunch and watches, a thoughtful smile creeping across his face. It has a very long way to creep. "Frankly, I'm not sure my own authority exists within Bastine. I issue orders, and people have a tendency to laugh and run. I believe they realize I can't catch up to them," he comments, then pauses. "I need better archers, I think."

Mildly does Joanna respond to Durand, "Actually, your Grace, I look to what will benefit both Chaveaux and Avanne and not myself personally. But I do look to my elders to learn what I may, from their triumphs...and," she glances at Durand, "their mistakes." Then she chortles at Lourein and says with what sounds to be honesty, "Your company is splendid, your Grace, truly, but I should not keep you from your prayers. Either of you."

Too serious by half, Durand withdraws from the debate, stepping back to where he was originally. Throughout the discussing, the Count behind him has stayed quiet, as befits his station. "Nor should we keep you from your...rituals. As much as I fear Bastine would dislike it, we must call for a meeting of the Duchies, and the Regent himself. I am certain we can lure our good friend here with food and wine and entertainment. He won't even know that he is supposed to be dealing seriously."

"Seriously? Tsk," comments Lourein. "Any time you gather the duchies, it's often so ridiculous as to be pointless. But, in times of turmoil, I fear I must agree with my brother Duke. The regent has a capable hand, but we need more than capable. Besides, who am I to turn down an offer of food, wine and entertainment?"

Joanna tugs a bit on the reins of her mount. "Good, then I shall make the arrangements for such a meeting," she says quietly, "to the convenience of those of our brethren within the city at present. Good day, your Graces."

Dismissing Joanna with a brief, "And to you, your Grace," Durand swivels to look back at the stone Cathedral. "We should probably enter, Bastine, before Primate d'Alemia begins the service without us. It would look foolish to be forced to slip in through the back like skulking church children."

"I have not been able to slip in anywhere in nearly 40 years, but your point is well-taken, my friend," says Lourein. "Go with the God, your Grace," he says to Joanna, and makes no secret of the long, studying leer he gives her.

Durand passes beneath the massive iron gates of the Cathedral of the Sun.

Lourein passes beneath the massive iron gates of the Cathedral of the Sun.