Startled awake by the sound of a shrieking fowl and the cackles of butchers, I was sure of it.
Looking out my window I could see the sun barely risen and the clouds sluggishly dispersing in the rays of the sun. It was still winter, cold, wet and damp. But the hustling and bustling of men and women and the mirth held within the eyes and smiles of the common folk signified its end at last.
They gathered and worked together in groups, setting up decorations and ornaments all around. Others had already begun slaughtering, harvesting and cooking up the animals and vegetables into the mouth-watering traditional 'peppered luxury soup' I had grown fond of eating on this day.
I couldn't be any more certain than I was, today was my birthday.
I scowled and shut the blinds a layer more, letting no sunlight in. It was my birthday but it most definitely wasn't I being celebrated
***
Soon after freshening up I immediately headed out. The noise of construction and people had become too loud to ignore any longer. I also had things doing, of course.
I grabbed an apple of the tray of a hurried servant out I the corridor, an appetizer was just what I needed. It had been over a week since that dramatic dinner with the family took place, but my food trauma still persisted. I didn't want to know what hunger felt like whilst being so privileged.
My feet carried me off to a balcony where I sat and finished my apple, it sweetened my mouth.
The stalls, stages, tents and shows all being set up caused a cacophony of sounds. But despite the unpleasantness of the arrhythmic sounds of nails and planks being hammered down whilst the bleats of sheep and calf resounded, I found it all peaceful.
Watching them interact, scream at each other and work still, knowing it is all for a singular purpose, a purpose that would have them all smiling one way or another at the end of the day. I found it all, a bit inspiring, if not nostalgic.
Having my fill of little sentimentality, I leave the balcony, heading off to consolidate. Father has long enough denied me my rights as his right hand. And as today marked my fifteenth birthday, I would either be charged with practicing the noble styles of swordsmanship, slowly rising up the ladder in hopes of being knighted and given an estate as reward for exemplary valour.
This was the easiest and most common method many noble children took to attaining a modicum of power as they had very little chance of inheriting any landed titles or estates in a first-born preferential succession system.
Many at times, the titles and estates of parents are share as equally between the children. But this often only ends up with the first born, who usually inherits the more powerful and influential titles and estates, usurping and denying their siblings any right to hold land or title. These squabbles over inheritance more than often started wars, small but significant wars.
My only other orthodox option would be to begin studying the art of war and stratagem. I would have lesser chances of dying in battle but also less chance of being noticed as a competent strategist and commander. Generals were often born rather than made, and no one would hand over an army to an unproven student of stratagem for practice.
But still, personally I leaned toward commanding rather than combating myself. Although my chances of becoming a noticeable general upon being thoroughly educated were bolstered by my proximity to father, I wanted much more than just an army to command.
Soon, I came upon the doors of father's study. I placed three firm and audible knocks on it; this time, I wasn't expected, knocking was only proper. No sooner had I planted the third knock had I heard his voice granting me permission to enter.
The strained and exhausted voice I heard matched the scene before me. Father and his study both looked terribly awry. Had anyone else been here to witness or contribute to the scene they would surely begin to feel as uncomfortable and misplaced as I had.
Looking unto the stressed and tired man, I immediately felt as though all my troubles weigh insignificantly to his own. Surely these thoughts were true, he was responsible for thousands whereas I only had myself. Would I dare encumber him any further?
"You wish to speak to me about something. Rainald?"
His voice stirred me from my doubts and contemplations. I looked him in his questioning eyes and came to a final understanding within myself. His eyes and voice held concern and curiosity. As he looked upon me, I thought;
As his son or his constituent?
Either way he saw me, I realized he had a responsibility onto me regardless. And so I wouldn't look down upon his success and capabilities as proven much before I was born and thus far. I admired and respected him and so, I wouldn't think my ambition to heavy a burden for he to uplift.
"Yes father," I straightened up, last minute jitters banished and a resolute resolve born within me, "I wish to speak with you about my position as your Special Advisor."
His eyes lit up at this. I seemed to have gotten his full attention.
"And what about your position?" He let his hands crisscross above his face as he spoke, staring me down with narrowed and suspecting eyes.
His serious demeanour surprised me. I didn't think a discussion along this route would be candidate to get him looking serious. Because of this I did not know whether to be glad or threatened.
I gathered my wits once more, clearing my throat for effect before continuing in detail, "Father, I have turned fifteen today, and as such by noble right I am left with a decision, two paths to choose from." At this he nods and urges me to continue, "Yes, well, I have chosen to become a student of stratagem and seek full command of an army. These efforts would best be managed and bolstered with the privileges…" I pause, seeking the right wording, "Full privileges of the position I hold as Special Advisor. I want the pin"
The pin, often referred to as 'royalty's mark' was a little silver pin shaped in various unique forms pertaining to the position a councillor held on his liege's council. The Special Advisor's pin was shaped in the form of a sceptre, a symbolic instrument of the monarch's power.
I wanted it. The pin was the symbol that guaranteed my position as Special Advisor and commanded the power I sought. With it planted on my chest I would need no introduction, it was one of a kind. Only the King and the Dukes could afford to have these on their various councillors. With it, I would also be able to effectively begin altering the actions and directions the Duchy goes down without meaningless insecurity, without fear of being questioned otherwise.
Not to mention, I would be able to expose myself to foreign contacts, effectively selling myself to the other neighbouring Dukes, Duchesses, and perhaps even the King in the advent of Father's passing.
The pin was instrumental to all my scheming thus far.
At mention of my desire, father could only look intrigued, his surprisingly serious demeanour earlier had vanished, replaced by a pleasant looking but subtly scheming smirk.
"You have never sought out power from myself before, Rainald, what has changed?"
His eyes focused on me as I sigh a relief and gave a response to the surprising but welcomed question, "Nothing has changed, father. I have always sought to ways to improve myself and give to the lands of Aville, I only take a direct initiative now because I have an ambition."
This was true, I did indeed want to contribute as much as I could to the betterment of Aville. Lazy as I was, I still understood that my comfort relied on the comfort of others. If the tax payers did not make nearly enough to pay tax and live until the next month, then I could barely afford the luxuries I would greedily and slothfully seek. If my patients did not fully recover and even died on me, then I would be regarded as incompetent and half-witted, my job and lifestyle threatened.
It was a simple philosophy of giving so you would be given in return. In truth it was more selfish than selfless, egoistic altruism.
I heard him chuckle, "That's good to hear, Rainald." He stood and walked up to the glass covered box by the corner, it held the last pin, my pin.
He picked it up and turned to me, twirling it in his hands "However, you will have to work for it"
I could not say I did not expect such from him, but regardless of this a part of me wanted to scream out my excellent work and diligence on the council. Is this not enough?!
"What do you require of me? I have been exemplary; you have said so yourself. So you must have a job in mind for me to handle before awarding me the pin. What is it?" here I let out my arrogance and remind him of his ego enlarging words, he would be hard-pressed to take them back now.
He placed the pin back in the box, chuckling and almost giggling as he did so, "Yes, I do in fact have a job in mind. I have been tormented by it all night you see," he gestured all around him, his study still in disarray.
"Bring me a profit from the festivities today, Rainald."
Barely. Barely holding back an evil laugh, I say, "I will try my best as always, Father."