I was Rainald of House Adelard, bastard brother to Dagena, Orson, and Oteri Adelard. Bastard son to Galswinth and son to Angilbert Adelard, Count of Moutin and Duke of the Duchy Aville.
Our house was a small but revered for our quick rise to power. My father's talent brought all this wealth and prosperity, as well as the insatiable envy of the nobles he'd surpassed and the ire of the nobles he'd become equals with. I feared for my father, the memories I'd made in this body ensured that I, of course, loved him and wished him well, like any good Fourteen-year-old child.
I had regained my memories of my past life more permanently recently when I began to document the flashes of the past that I experienced in my dreams, invasive thoughts about things I knew but at the same time did not. I certainly felt strange holding a quill instead of a pen but even stranger was how often I forgot about these things before I began documenting them. Though I had gone a week without forgetting a thing whilst not documenting, I'm still a bit paranoid about it. 'we don't want us forgetting why we're here now do we?'
Yes. We were here to succeed.
Though being the son of a duke has its perks, even when you're recognized as a bastard of the family; a fact my siblings save for Dagena, never cease to remind me of. One of those perks is not working for anything and living off the fruits of my father's labour. Sure, I wasn't in the line of succession for my father's dukedom. But I could still very much embezzle as many funds as I could to live a comfortable life. But fortunately, enough I wasn't the naïve little boy that my body may portray me to be. My status as bastard allows for me to be abandoned and imprisoned without a second thought passing the minds of the clergy or the nobles. A little something, I learned from the endless verbal torment my older brother Oteri subjected me to.
I had to earn my part in this world. My siblings would not see me take a piece of the cake promised to them without doing something about it.
A knock on the door and a snide remark of my so-called entitlement and my brother let himself in. Seventeen years of age and a ton of privilege had made him borderline obese. He came in with the parchments I had ordered for my documentation, most likely having snatched it from the servant I sent.
Waving them in his hand he asks "What, pray tell, is the use of bothering my father with your incessant needs to write your fantasies?" he tosses them to the ground unaware and takes a place on my bed and I immediately regret not pushing him out the instant he walked in. He'd found a comfortable place to loiter now, it would be hard driving him out.
"Oteri, please leave me. And he is my father as well, if you have any quarrel with it I suggest you take it up with him" I snatched the parchments from where he let them fall. I could see him sneer in the corner of my eye as I went about straightening the now crumpled up piece of paper.
He scowled at me. But I knew he was uncomfortable. He only got uncomfortable when he felt a debt towards me or needed assistance. He wouldn't show his spite for me today, he needed something. This was obvious in the fact that he came in with the parchments instead of setting them ablaze and making me watch my allowances from Father burn up.
"Oh, perhaps if you weren't so righteous and humble, father would grant my requests!" He hated holding in his hatred, usually, he'd sweat his fat whilst cursing me. I could tell it was taking everything not to call me an 'insolent and ungrateful whelp'
I could only let out a sigh as I set my quill down and turned to face him "Father setting me as an example to quell your gluttony is in no way my fault. Perhaps if you sought out things you truly needed, a jousting lesson perhaps or even better, go on a pilgrimage. So many other things you could ask for but instead you plead for yet another undignified party, lush with harlots and charlatans looking to sell their lies" not bothering to hide my disappointment "Tell me brother, what is the cause for your party this time?"
He clicked his tongue at me, a bitter look he had on his face "Look at you, disappointed in your older brother, are you? Tell me then, are you disappointed in our eldest brother for surviving his maiden battle?!" It immediately stung. I'd forgotten Orson had won and survived his maiden battle. In the midst of my daily haste to write down whatever memory resurfaced. They had been coming up faster now and at times even on command. I was desperate to record it all lest I forget.
Putting my guilt aside, I could still see through Oteri, it was still quite obvious he still had an ulterior motive.
"Well that's all well and good but I'm sure father has something beautiful planned for Orson, not to worry," I tell him dismissively; I had no desire to be roped into one of Oteri's scandalous adventures. "But on your matter, I think you should just be honest with father and tell him what you seek, you know how much he hates liars."
Oteri rolled his eyes but then they quickly gained a sparkle of innocence to match the out of place smile on his wide face "Oh sweet bastard brother of mine" And yet he still managed to be insulting "Could you not do me this favour? Sweet little brother Rainald?" He wanted me to speak to father in his stead. Of course, I had a chance of convincing father of doing something of a wish-granting for Oteri.
Seeing my hesitance, he pressured me some more "You can do it. Father favours you for some reason. Why not use that to your advantage or the advantage of others" He grinned sheepishly
Of course, it was no new news that I, the bastard of house Adelard was quite favoured in the heads eyes. Perhaps he loved my mother more, that's Dagena's theory at least. But that favour noticeably doubled as my memories began to take permanent root in my head. More so the first time I gave him advice that seemed to solve all his problems that week at least. Perhaps my wisdom truly is the reason my siblings disliked me so much.
Letting out a truly exasperated sigh, I let my body fall limp on my bed tired of the talk and planning. "I'll think about it" looking up at him grinning widely I add "As soon as you get out of my room and shut the door behind you"
He only rolled his eyes as he got up to leave.
"Think fast, father is off to Eriow next. Why he needlessly bothers himself with the concerns of other counties is beyond me"
Oteri knew why of course, father had lectured why countless of times before, especially to his potential heirs. Oteri simply refused to acknowledge so. Father, unlike the rest of the Kingdom's nobility, preferred to meet with his subjects in all counties. Normally Counts report directly to their superiors, wherever they may be. They still practice this of course but at father's discretion, seeing as he, most of the time, had already surveyed their county leaving not much for them to report.
He'd told me once that this was simply an early campaign in his aspirations to rise to kingship. Not that the ruling government was a total democracy, in fact, it was feudal. But succession laws were wholly different. The Kingdom practiced an Elective succession law. With a good enough reputation, high rank and powerful friends, one could be elected King, even with no connection to the ruling dynasty. As such many Dukes, Duchesses, Counts, and Countesses had gone around the Kingdom, as much as their wealth would let them, bribing and spreading their name as one just and righteous for a title higher than their own.
Much as it is a rat race, this was how father became the Duke of Aville. Forming beneficial alliances, mercenary contracts, assassinations and usurpation, and all-out war. And yet again he sought to climb even higher.
'The people are less willing to revolt when they are friends with you'
Of course, I questioned the sanity of his actions. Becoming the Duke was hard enough but going for King was going to be, more or less, suicide. Though I'd lived in this world no longer than fourteen years, information is easily received from stations as high as mine. Being a bastard of a Duke was indeed better than being no one.
The Kingdom has been ruled by four generations of kings belonging to the same dynasty. The formula had been proven. The closer someone outside the dynasty got to being popular enough to become King; the closer they were to death.
'The longer this Kingdom is ruled by the same minded men and women, the longer it will rut and crumble.'
This was his answer to my questions. Poverty and disease were as always on the rise, but it was very high in the Kingdom of Saia. Few of the nobility shared my father's concern. Most were satisfied securing theirs and their offspring's share of the continuously decreasing pie.
Ironically, I could count myself one of those who selfishly cut out of that pie.
The door slammed shut and Oteri was gone, leaving me to my thoughts of survival and success. With all that has transpired from my birth as a bastard to my scheming father, it seemed I would be forced to choose but one. If only for the moment. I had to survive to succeed no?
No sooner had Oteri left that a servant called out to me through the door.
A quick chat with her and I was made aware of my required presence with father. The night was turning to dawn. Dagena and Orson were surely still deep in slumber, and father rarely spoke with Oteri, his own lack of refinement being to blame. If my assumptions were true he most likely needed an ear to speak his troubles or a confidant to flesh out his plans.
I took my time putting on my 'peasant wear' as Dagena adeptly named it, I was never one for fashion, in this life or the last. And I wasn't in any particular hurry either. Shutting the door behind me, I attempt to straighten out wrinkles on my clothing, wasn't one for fashion but I frequently got insecure about my appearance to others, it may not be fashionable but it might as well be proper.
Satisfied with myself to a degree, I stalked the quiet, large halls of House Aville. A large one it was. Filled with many courtiers whose mere residence alone implied their significance. Save the ones in the dungeons of course. Most of those were at one point, indeed quite significant people to this realm or another. But court matters are very delicate and can easily lead to surprising outcomes.
I come to a stop as I put an end to the thoughts that carried my feet around the castle. Forgetful as I am, I just realized I'd forgotten where that servant said father would be. I forgot the instant she left I suppose. I'd been walking to the throne room all this time when it is pretty obvious father wouldn't be there at such an early time. There are three places father could possibly be. The throne room was for addressing lords and peasants alike, all their quarrels and incidents found its way to father in his throne room once they'd registered for a meet with him. Once in a while we even received gifts, most of which was shamelessly regifted to lords on the outside of father's domain to garner favours, appease his nobles and in occasions where my siblings get their hands on it; impress women and men alike.
There're also his personal quarters. Father is a workaholic; it is quite doubtful he'd be there or even think of summoning me there. None of us have been in his quarters since infantile ages. Now all I hear from the gossip of the walls was that he uses it for bedding women and lounging alone.
Aside from the throne room and his personal quarters. His office was a particularly good option. There he and his privy council amended existing laws and created new ones to compensate for the others. There he ordered assassinations, forge claims to lands, called for conscription and training of peasant troops in preparation of war. Overall its where he tried his best to solve the Duchy's problems with the council by his side. I had no doubt there was a meeting in process as I walked the halls, heading to that very destination.