July 2nd, 1613

The Frankish court was a-buzz with gossip and anticipation. For the first time in many years, the King's entire family was to gather at Bannoc Rise, the great castle in the capital of Martel, to celebrate the ninth birthday of his youngest son, the Prince Arthur. Between the preparations underway for the entertainments, the ever-increasing numbers of nobles and courtiers arriving to make their place at court for this auspicious gathering, and the lavish feasts being thrown each evening, it was a wonder to many that King Christian had time at all to continue seeing to the work of the kingdom. But those close to the King knew that it was not wholly his responsibility.

The Council of the Realm sat daily to discuss and implement schemes and policies, headed by the Chancellor, Cardinal Joseph Bereth, the most powerful man at court, besides the monarch himself. Out of these meetings came documents for the King to approve and sign, suggestions for foreign policy and domestic action, whatever the Council believed was suitable to take the attention of their King in his temporarily shortened hours of work each morning. It was the privilege and responsibility of the Chancellor to present these matters to the King in his receiving chambers prior to the holding of the morning court, and on a fine morning in spring, this was precisely what the Cardinal was doing.

"To the matter of the Princess Royal's betrothal to the King of Pomerania's firstborn son, your majesty," Cardinal Bereth was saying as the King sighed and set his pen down for the umpteenth time, "Ambassador DePuis has presented the Council with King Philippe's conditions for the match, including the details of the dowry to be paid when the marriage takes place. I understand he is anxious for the wedding to take place sooner rather than later -"

"I have told you before, Chancellor, I will not consider a match for my daughter that requires her to take up her position as wife until she is old enough to present herself properly to the task," Christian interrupted, irritated by the constant changes to the betrothal contract, which had been in the process of being finalized for the past year. "Marianne is only sixteen years old, and very sheltered in the ways of the world."

"With respect, your majesty's niece, the Lady Alys, was betrothed and indeed married by the advent of her fifteenth birthday," Bereth reminded his king calmly. He was proud of that match, having arranged it himself, though he would have liked the Count of Elan to have lived more than three years past his wedding day.

"And you will recall, Cardinal, that no children came of that match," Christian pointed out. "I maintain that to marry a girl too young is to lay the foundation of barrenness. Is it not the Goddess' decree that we respect womanhood in all its forms?"

"Indeed it is, your majesty." Bereth's tone was carefully neutral as he agreed; his religious vocation was not what you might call the rock of his soul, though he was very careful not to let anyone know of it.

"Then in order to respect womanhood, Cardinal Bereth, surely we must first allow it to flower," the King said firmly. "No, I will not allow my daughter to marry before the age of eighteen. If nothing else, it gives her household two more years to strip some of that innocence from her that the Queen has so assiduously made certain of since she bore me an heir."

"Of course, your majesty, I will make the ambassador fully aware of your decision." Before Bereth could offer another case for consideration, however, the King had already moved on.

"What of the preparations for my son's birthday celebrations" How do they go?" Christian was a temperamental monarch, given to wild displays of emotion in the strangest of times and places, yet he maintained a deep warmth for all his children, both the legitimate heirs of his blood, and the numerous bastards he had sired on many women of his court and beyond.

The Cardinal smiled, though the expression never quite seemed to reach his eyes. He had learned over the past decade of Christian's reign when to play along and when to push his own agenda, and where the King's children were concerned, he gave the duties handed to him as much attention as any other. "They go very well, your majesty," he assured his king. "As I understand it, the dance to be held here in the gardens of the palace is fully prepared for - the young prince's favorite delicacies and suchlike have been ordered, the children of the court have been educated in their behavior, the musicians already chosen and rehearsed."

"What of the tournament?" Christian asked, more interested in this than any of the rest of it. He was as much a sportsman as his friends and nobles, tilting against them whenever he could, much to the chagrin of his advisors.

"The lists have been constructed, as have the pavilions for the knights to be armored away from the ladies' sight," Bereth told him, glad he'd thought to look over these preparations while coming from Council that morning. "The royal box will be complete within the next two days, and refreshments will, naturally, be provided by the palace kitchens. Several of your nobles have already issued challenges against one another, and I believe the young prince himself has requested that a champion be chosen to joust on his behalf."

Christian let out a bark of laughter, slapping his hand against the arm of his carven seat. "Ha! A boy after my own heart," he declared, his pride in his second son evident even without the wide grin that graced his handsome features for a brief moment. "In a few years, he'll be able to tilt for himself, I'll warrant. Have you given any thought to whom this royal champion should be?"

The Chancellor hesitated, though it was such a minute hesitation it might not even have existed. He knew he would have to tread carefully here - the joust was a dangerous sport, the competitors often risking injury or death for their entertainment. A royal champion would have to be a noble capable of holding his own across the length of the day, and yet here was an opportunity to put a little of that risk in the way of certain of his enemies here at court.

"I had thought to suggest Lord William Marillier to your majesty as a suitable candidate for such an honor," he offered with deceptive uncertainty in his tone. "He is of royal blood, and I believe a fine hand with a lance."

But the King was shaking his head, putting paid to the hope that perhaps the strong-willed William might get himself unhorsed or brutally maimed in the name of sport and entertainment. "No, Will is a fine horseman, but his lance is not strong enough to hold to a full day of jousting," Christian frowned. "Have Beauforte do it. Let the new Duke of Lonnare prove his title in my son's name."

"Your majesty, that may be an unwise choice," Bereth warned. As much as he wanted to do harm to the Marillier family, he equally did not want yet more glory poured upon the son of a commoner already raised too high in his opinion. "His Grace has received many honors from your majesty in past years, so much so that there is a distinct undercurrent of resentment building within your court -"

Again, the King interrupted, shaking his head once again. "It's not resentment, it's jealousy," he declared with confidence, though his expression had darkened dangerously. "Or do they think to suggest that I am handing power to those unsuited to it?"

"I am sure no one would dare to suppose that your decisions are in any way unsuitable, your majesty," the Cardinal said smoothly, moving quickly to soothe the rapidly rising temper from his monarch. "The Duke of Lonnare is a fine choice to champion his highness, Prince Arthur. I am sure he will offer fine sport."

"As am I," Christian agreed, and let out a fresh bark of laughter. "I may even allow him to beat me, for my son's honor!"