La Taverne (KOTF IC Thread)

[ULC]

Thierry looks calmly at de Rethel.

A man once defeated, will seek revenge. As will his sons.

And all those who were under his command will seek revenge too. And their sons as well.

Gaetan chokes on his wine as he bursts into laughter, hitting his chest hard to stop the coughing.

"Then dear Theirry, you are not winning correctly, and your not fighting correctly. Simple as that, and it's not something one can truly teach - it must be learned."

[Andres]

You're a fool, de Rethel.

[Vladimir]

De Linars' squire sits in the taverne; his knight hastily gathering provisions and troops in Toulouse. He muses poetically.

*My. Already the cracks are beginning to form. The bloom is off the rose and the petals to dust. Soon the black of east comes and takes away the rest.*

Aware that he staring too intently at the dispute he quietly returns to his drink.

[OverKnight]

Hugues shuffles into the Tavern. It is obvious he has seen better days.

Barkeep! Some wine and keep it coming. Le Monde's a darker place when sober.

He leans against the bar massaging his temples.

[AussieGiant]

Alain walks in, spies Hugues, grabs a bottle of wine and takes a seat opposite him.

Raising his eyebrows above the glass he takes a swig and places the glass down hard enough to spill some remaining wine in the glass.

[OverKnight]

Hugues grimaces at the noise, but nods to Alain.

It seems you were just thrown under the wagon by le Roi, Seneschal.

The Duc raises his glass.

To 15 years of dedicated service.

Hugues drinks deeply.

Hardly seems the way to encourage more candidates, no?

[AussieGiant]

Alain tilts his head to the side for a moment to consider Hugues words.

It seems zat way.

Although I am trying to work out 'is motive for doing so.

[OverKnight]

Hugues shrugs while taking a sip of his wine.

The King is the King, and so is above motives.

Having dispensed with a flip comment, Hugues ponders the question.

His Majesty seemed. . .disappointed concerning the failure of negotiations with les Anglais. The King wanted things done. . .just so. . .and it did not happen in exactly that way.

Of course, the timing of the criticism is interesting as well. Is this less about you and more about the next Seneschal, whoever that is? Do the job as his Majesty sees fit, or suffer Royal displeasure?

[AussieGiant]

Alain grimaces at his words, his age clearly showing through to the older Duc.

With some anguish in his tone he responds.

"I did as 'e instructed, I do not know what else I could 'ave done. I 'ad our Scottish diplomat ride souz and treaty wiz ze English.

I offered Valencia and Caernarvon for Caen and Angers. I was told by our diplomat zat is was considered but in ze end it was not quite good enough. I zen offered ze same terms but wiz ze exact terms ze King advised me. It was met wiz a flat refusal and an end to ze negotiations."

Abruptly Alain stands and walks out.

[OverKnight]

Hugues shrugs again as Alain departs and returns to his wine.

C'est la vie, mon ami.

[OverKnight]

Duc Hugues barges into the bar, a look of madness and desperation on his face. He bears down on the bartender.

I need MORE WINE!

The barkeep, fear in his eyes, hands over several bottles. The Duc rips the cork out of one and quickly drains it. He heaves the empty bottle, shattering it against the far wall. He yells to no one in particular.

I'd rather face a thousand Germans bare-assed and armed only with a wooden spoon rather than run in another election.

The Duc raises his arms over his head, a bottle in each hand, tilts his head up and screams.

Reeves! This is all your fault!

[AussieGiant]

Alain makes his way into the tavern, Madoc at his side.

Smiling at Hugues he can not help but laugh out right.

"'ugues, you crazy bastard, it is not ze end of ze world you know.

Alzough it might feel zat way very soon!"

[OverKnight]

Hugues turns, his speech slurred.

Fin du monde? Fin du monde!? No, this isn't it. That would imply at least a hint of resolution. No this is purgatory! I must have died in battle, and now I am being punished. Scribes! Scribes all around me pushing scrolls into my face.

"Seignuer, I am so sorry, but those last two votes were not properly submitted in triplicate, I am afraid they don't count. . .We must redo the vote because two people changed their minds, so now everyone must have the oppurtunity to change their minds."

I've fought in campaigns shorter than this session!

It's a madhouse! A madhouse!

Hugues resumes drinking.

[AussieGiant]

Alain takes a seat, grabbing the bottle out of Hugues hand.

He takes a long pull and thrusts it back before the now seriously drunk Duc of Lorraine can comprehend what has happened.

"My poor man, if ze Office of ze Seneschal is 'anded over to you, zen triplicate will seem a small administrative 'ill on ze mountain of merde you will 'ave to climb in ze next few seasons!!"

[OverKnight]

The comment does not improve Hugues mood. He gibbers incoherently.

[Ramses II CP]

Prince Louis walks into the bar with his retinue. He is very obviously already well into his cups. In a slur he announces,

"Raise a glass to Baron Wood Lacaze! Toast 'is name and you'll drink on me this night! Th' lads an' I will take our usss... ussss... ujuwal table, send over somefin good barkeep!"

With that he plants himself in his customary spot and starts trading loud, crude, and (surely) physically impossible stories with his men about Yvon's sexual prowess during the Iberian campaign.

[ULC]

The smiling chap that had accompanied Gaetan into the Conseil enters, slides up to the bar and proffers a handful of coin. An low argument quickly breaks out, with the smiling man clearly frustrated, and the barkeep intentionally ignoring the man.

Throwing his hands up into the air, the "smiles" finds himself a seat, and props his legs up on the table, tossing a coin in his hands, and muttering to himself.

[Ramses II CP]

Prince Louis is too drunk to notice the entrance of de Rethel's man, but one of his retinue has managed to abstain sufficiently to still be paying attention. A thin, calm looking man with a gaunt face approaches the smiling chap and nods before speaking,

"I'm Evrart. Been with the Prince a long time. Having some trouble getting a drink?"

[ULC]

The smiling man nods, and answers with a slight accent.

"Aye - I need something stronger then French wine! Tonight is horrible - both me and Ricardo, kicked out because Gaetan requires some space. Bloody hell, if you ask me, it would have been smarter to just go out for a night and get smashed, but it isn't his way it appears."

"The name is Bartholomew by the way friend."

[Ramses II CP]

Evrart gestures to the barkeeep. It is a flat, imperious wave of his hand, a command, ending in the direction of the Prince. The bartender's eyes widen slightly, and he makes a sort of bow. Evrart speaks,

"Anything he has in stock is at your disposal now. The Prince strongly agrees with you I think, only he puts the step of smashing something ahead of getting smashed. In this case the English were the ones torn apart."

Evrart pauses a moment and his eyes unfocus in thought as he continues in a musing tone,

"Half of them spoke French you know. Might've been born Franks even, but they marched under William's banner and that was enough for the Prince, so we cut them. Not a lot, just enough so they'd hope it was all. Then..."

Evrart shakes his head at the memory,

"Wooosh. Off the edge. Screaming, begging, pleading, crying, every sound you could imagine, and they didn't stop after we threw them. Some went begging into the rocks at the bottom, and all the while Louis roared his challenges at them and screamed his fury into the skies. He never looked away, never flinched as they fell."

His eyes return to their focus and his gaze takes on a haunted look,

"Whatever strong drink you're having I'll have the same. The Prince is buying anyway."

[Ibn-Khaldun]

Charles enters the Tavern and quietly takes a seat behind one of the tables. He waves with his hand and pretty servant girl brings him wine..

[Ibn-Khaldun]

Being happy with the voting results or should he say "vetoing results" Charles takes a sip of his wine....

[Tamur]

Barthelemy swaggers into the room, smiling broadly at everyone

A toast, my good ladies and gentlemen, a toast! After years of training I have been given command of men, for the glory of France and the damnation of our enemies! I say, it is a day to celebrate. Drinks for everyone!

[Tamur]

Barthelemy looks around, noting the complete lack of nobility in the patrons, then stands up at his bench and speaks loudly.

Messieurs et mesdames, have any of you noticed the gender of the royal progeny? *he points his finger in staccato fashion at the patrons milling about as he continues* Fille, fille, fille, fille, fille, fille, fille!

Barthelemy guffaws loudly, and a few of the patrons also join in the laugh. Others look around nervously. Barthelemy takes a drink, and sits down. He wipes something from his eye, then confides in his table-mates.

Prince Louis has nearly gone to seed, so let us hope that Henri or Charles have a little more where it counts!

[Cultured Drizzt fan]

Micheal D'Anjou slips into the tavern as Barthelemy speaks, Taking a seat beside him. He smiles wickedly


If you weren't so drunk I would probably have to take offense at your talk of my lord.

Micheal Playfully jabs him in the ribs

You see Prince Loius has more than enough sons, They just are not with the right women! Ask around in Spain and you will see just how fertile our prince is!

Micheal shakes his head Leaning in closer

If you ask me it his bloody wife who is at fault here, probably been told by her parents to keep him from having any sons. Bloody Spanish probably want to cause a succession crisis.

[Tamur]

Barthelemy laughs uproariously at the Spanish sons jest, then quiets and nods thoughtfully as Micheal speaks of the princess. Then he leans back a little unsteadily, takes a swig from a wooden cup, and waves his free hand vigourously.

You have a point there, my Lord. Why in heaven's name doesn't he just drop the whole thing - that whole Spanish... thing - and go fight the Germans with his brother? Get him, Henri, Charles, blast even Phillippe! Get the whole family together and bash some heads that need the bashing!

The Moors... *Barthelemy scrunches up his face as if smelling something bad* ...they aren't worth the trouble.

[Cultured Drizzt fan]

He does not drop it because he is the only one who can save Spain from the heathens. I do not want to get in a pissing match on what war is more important. All I want to say is that without us intervening in Spain the Moors might have engulfed Europe. If not him then who would have stopped them? One can not dispute that he has accomplished much in Spain, And with far less resources than the German wars is getting. He has made the Muslims pay, dearly. And as a Good Cristian I can not find it in my heart to say that that is a waste of time. I agree with what he is doing in Spain, it is part of the reason I joined House Aquitaine.

Micheal smirks

Although one can not dispute the monetary rewards of intervening against the moors. Louis has been given a kings ransom twice over for the Moorish kings, and that money has more than payed for the campaign as well as giving paying for its fair share of the Germans war as well.


.... And the land is rich as well. I am not going to deny that. As a Baron of a Spanish province I am not going to say that the Moorish war has not been kind to the house of Aquitaine. But We have done it all with scant resources, and payed more than our fair share to the German war, past that point how much is expected of us?


Micheal sighs


But now I am just rambling. It is all this waiting around. I need a good fight. Pity there has not been any tourneys ehh?

[Tamur]

Barthelemy listens quietly, looks into his glass, and sets it down firmly.

You have given me much to think about, my Lord. I think I am probably too drunk to make much sense of what you said right now, but I think I will go write it down so I remember.

Barthelemy nods to himself, belches loudly, and sniffles a few times. He then gets up a bit clumsily, salutes Micheal, and then bows with a surprising fluidity.

You've obviously seen much more action than I, and so I respect your opinion more than my own. I shall look to find you here again so we can continue this conversation when I am... a bit more...

He sways, and hastily exits with as much dignity as he can muster.

[Cultured Drizzt fan]

Micheal laughs heartily, Calling out

I look forward to it


He shook his head and turned and walked to the bartender

I want whatever he was drinking

Micheal smiled widely

[shlin28]

A small group of men enter the tavern, each of them visibly armoured. The manager of the establishment has seen enough nobles to know that they are newcomers to the tavern and that one of the men, a giant compared to others and seemingly to be the leader, looked quite disgruntled.

Eager to placate potential customers, the barman hurried over to the group which huddled around one of the larger tables, and managed to snatch snippets of the conversation, seemingly about the Conseil and something about a city called Staufen.

"Welcome, noble sirs. Would you like something to drink?"

"No thank you." Replied the hulk in an annoyed tone, confirming the barman's suspicion that he is the leader of this group of warriors. "A stool and a table is enough for us."

"Are you sure, my lord? Not even a cup of wine to toast Baron de la Salle's victory?" The patrons on the table next to them heard this, and promptly stood up and toasted Villain for the heroic victory and proceeded to boast that they would be travelling to Frankfurt to join his army, if they could remember this in the morning of course. This quickly spread across the tavern, and soon the Tavern was filled with cries of "For Franconian wine!", "God shave shir Villain!" and many other drunken exclamations.

The noble seems visibly cheered by this: "Well... if it is for Sir de la Salle... bring me the finest Franconian wine you have."