The Wedding

It is Friday 14th of February 1698. A time for lovers to be found walking the evening streets hand in hand or together in some hideaway all to themselves. All except for Namo Larking and Amber Dupree for this was the eve of thier wedding day and as such both were out with friends.

I was looking forward to a new life with Amber but not so much the activities that would most certainly be going on tomorrow. My father had made the arrangements for everything from the afternone festival in the town square to entertain those not invited to the cerramony to the select list of those who would. He did let me add a few names to the list which I was sure to include Emile should he make it and Ralph. I had just been informed Ralph would not be able to attend because of another commitment. The information came, to my suprise, as a note delivered under the door to the room me and Manny were shareing. It was most suprising as I recall Ralph didn't know how to read let alone write a note. I could only guess he had someone write it for him as it did have his mark on it, along with the leters CUO. A code we used some years ago which lead me to believe he at least saw the note.

"Come Namo, Show me this town you grew up in. " Manny said as he pulled on my arm. "It is your last night as a single man."

And so we left our room and headed into the streets uncertain who we might run into.

.....

((Just wanted to take this time to let everyone know they are welcome to post replies in charactor to this thread. Be mindfull of the date February 14th 1698. If this is too early of a time for your in game charactor then post as if it is your Grandparent, Father, Uncle, or someone you later meet in your story. To set the stage of this Namo is the son of the wealthest man in Marselle one Danniel Francis Larkin. A Merchant of note who runs the largest inport/export company in France. Amber Dupree, the bride to be, is the daughter of the local Magistrate. Thier marrage was arranged for both political and monitary gains but dispite this they have found that it has become a match made in heaven. The whole city and several important guests from around france have come to this event. It is as close to some as a royal wedding as some will every see. Over the next few weeks I plan to introduce events that accure which may or maynot be significant to later tales. and so now the party begins....))

A pair of curious pale eyes stared down from a small window at the curiosities going on below. The town was purely abuzz in a way the young woman - practically a girl, really, at barely fifteen - had never seen before in her years. She watched the crowds flit about the side-streets in their frantic way, which seemed to her a delicate dance, weaving in and out, all their excited voices harmonizing into a melodious hum to which they moved as one. It was perfectly memorizing.

"Sister Emeline!" a cold voice snapped from behind the girl. "What are you doing?"

Emeline slowly turned, dreading, as she looked straight into the face of Sister Marguerite. The sharply narrowed eyebrows paired with the coldness of the woman's voice was a threat worse than death - a threat Emeline tried to avoid, but all too often caught up with her. Her mind raced for an excuse, but being unable to muster one, she simply stammered, "Sister Marguerite! I, um..."

"Daydreaming again, no doubt," Sister Marguerite rebuked her harshly. "And staring out the window! It was not put there to serve as a distraction towards your duties, young lady."

Emeline bowed her head slightly, taking the full brunt of the chastisement. "My apologies, I did not mean to be negligent. I was simply noticing that the outside is uncharacteristically busy today, and I could not help but be curious."

The Sister rolled her eyes. "What is outside is not of your concern. A nun's life is not a free room-and-board for you to spend all day playing games in your head. If you wish to take the full vow someday, perhaps you should concentrate on what is within these walls... for once in your life..." she chastised, the last part under her breath.

"Yes, Sister," Emeline dutifully responded. She knew there was no point in arguing it. She knew she didn't really have the temperament for this life, no matter how much she tried to do right. She got on well with most of the other sisters - other than Sister Marguerite of course - and enjoyed the studies to an extent, but her mind would wander so far during prayers and service...

"... and as your mentor here, I think perhaps you should spend a bit more time in the Word than..." Sister Marguerite stopped her lecture short, noticing Emeline's glazed eyes. "Emeline, are you listening to me? Emeline!"

Emeline snapped to attention and tried to pretend she'd been paying attention the whole time. "Yes, Sister."

Sister Anne scowled. "You were doing it again, weren't you! Daydreaming. Your egregious lack of focus during what is supposed to be the most meditative parts of the holy existence is an offense to God Almighty and your station. I don't know what the Mother Superior was thinking letting you into this convent."

"I'm sorry, Sister Marguerite... I promise that I'll work harder."

"See that you do. And if you must know what all the townspeople are so excited about, perhaps you should have been listening to prayers this morning. We offered up a blessing for the Larkin - Dupree wedding. We've only been doing so for the last three days." Sister Marguerite sighed irritably. "It's an important event for the city, and we do want God to watch over the new union, yes?"

"Yes, Sister Marguerite."

"Now run along. You are supposed to be studying Latin upstairs, so perhaps you shouldn't tarry, hmm?" Sister Marguerite gave Emeline a final look of disapproval before making her way down the corridor and out of sight.

Emeline sighed in relief, then excitedly turned her attention back out of the window in spite of herself. She should get going, she knew it, but... A grand wedding! She wondered what it would be like. She'd never seen a wedding before - her parents, as explorer-historians, had never taken her any of the places they traveled, even though they were gone for months at a time. And the hired servants and maids and tutors, they would tell her stories, but they were under strict orders never to take her outside the grounds. Why her life had been such a way when everyone else was free to go as the pleased, she never knew nor understood, for it mattered not how many questions she begged the answers to, the answer from her parents had always been silence, and that of the servants always "Because your parents forbid it."

But she had always been a creative child and well-read, and she hazily remembered a fine wedding she'd read about once in a book, and began to wonder what it would be like... exotic foods, dancing, and a beautiful bride... how wonderful and magical such a day might be! She quickly looked around quickly for anyone that might be eavesdropping on her conversation with herself, but the corridor was still empty, and she smiled, letting her inhibition go, and twirled herself in place in a moderately graceful impression of a new wife dancing with her rich, powerful husband. How they'd float across the floor, how all the guests would smile and nod and wish the new couple well with toasts and a grand banquet, and -

Emeline froze in place, noticing for the first time she was being watched. Sister Caroline had been on an approach toward where Emeline had been dancing moments before, but had long since stopped to watch the spectacle. Her hand covered her mouth as if to stifle a persistent giggle. "Emeline," Sister Caroline cautioned, smiling and shaking her head, "Get out of here before Sister Marguerite sees you."

Emeline nodded, embarrassed, and hurried down the hall in the opposite direction from Sister Caroline, towards the staircase for her lessons... but almost without thinking about it, she deviated from the expected path, darting down a different hallway and out a generally-unused side-door that led around the side of the building to a hole in the barred fence to the outside alley. She'd always wondered why the bars were bent, and always imagined that the other nuns must sneak out this way now and again, but had never seen one use it before. The thought of how much trouble she'd be in if she were caught outside gave her pause. It would be an awful lot of trouble, she was sure of it, and Sister Marguerite would probably lecture for hours and hours...

Would it be worth it only to catch a few minutes' glimpse of the outside, which had looked so inviting, especially now on a mild afternoon now turning into dusk?

She'd never been into Marseilles proper for any longer than it had taken her father to hastily drive the carriage through the streets, on the way to deliver her to the convent a few months ago. She'd never seen him or her mother again, but she had expected that. It was only yet another bizarre behavior by her parents that they would never explain. She didn't miss them; she hadn't been attached, not to them, or anyone, or any place for that matter. And definitely not to this convent, which her parents had obviously intended to be her newest prison.

It wasn't right, Emeline decided, to live in a city never to see any of it, especially on the eve before such a grand occasion, not when the entire province seemed destined to celebrate without her. She was tired of imagining the world yet never living in it. She would sneak back inside, fetch her clothes, escape the convent for a few minutes, and be back before evening prayers.

And so she did. Emeline was pleased to discover her clothing still fit fine, even after the strict diet and mealtimes of the convent. She quickly smoothed the long, lightly patterned skirt and untangled her mouse-brown hair as best she could, attempting to look presentable and ladylike, then made her escape to the streets.

For the first time, she appeared to be just like any other free woman. She could hardly contain her excitement as she made her way up towards the center of town to see what she could see. She resolved would try harder to be a good aspirant like she'd promised Sister Marguerite... but only starting tomorrow.

((Emeline is Chantilly's teenaged mother - Chantilly isn't born until September of 1699, which is also when Emeline dies in childbirth, but that's another story altogether and not terribly relevant to the present.

For the purposes of helping along in this storyline, she's a bit of a odd person considering her upbringing but her "stranger in a strange land" perspective could be fun, so feel free to include her, or she also works well simply as an observer of events.

Naivete, awkwardness to social customs, and a sense of adventure (she'd try anything once) would be the dominant traits if anyone wants to try and write dialogue for her if needed to further their own stories, and likewise I won't be offended if she's ignored.))

As we walked the streets we were constantly greeted with the usuall well wishers. While I tried to acknowledge each one my mind was still on the note.

"You've hardly said a word since we left the Inn my friend." Manny stated. "You seem to be somewhere else as well. Thinking of how your life will change tomorrow?" he asked.

"Sorry no that isn't where my mind is at Manny. It was on this note from Ralph. I had hoped to introduce you to him but it would seem that won't be possible." I said as I once again went back to almost a trance like gaze.

"So where are we headed?" Manny asked.

I looked up at my surroundings and realized we were almost to the Docks. "Thought you might like to see where I grew up. My fathers warehouse and office are just ahead. Plus we might get to see Jaque. In my younger days I was certain he almost lived there."

Looking out at the dock area it was fuller than I had ever seen it before. There were all kinds of ships both at the docks and some larger ships anchored out in the bay. I took a deep breath of the salt air and recognized the familier sent of Cherry. Up ahead I could hear the sound of knife cutting into wood and the billiowing clound of smoke. "Jaque!" I shouted. "I see your still around."

A crusty old man peered around the dock Pillar. An old pipe cluched in his mouth giving off the aroma in the air. He held a small piece of wood and a carving knife which he laid at his side. "Well you look a bit like a young lad that used to bother me and the rest of the boys along time ago. I was sure you weren't ever going to come back and interupt our work." He then took the pipe from his mouth and gave me a big smile. "It is good to see you again Namo. Forgive me for not riseing to greet you." He said as he smacked the pipe on one of his wooden legs.

"Well don't think you can get rid of me that easily. I plan on visting you from time to time. It just wouldn't seem like home without you around." I bent down a bit so I could grasp his hand. "Oh I would like you to meet a friend of mine. Emanual Renard, This is Jaque the best block carver in the business." I said.

"Pleased to meet you sir. You can call me Manny." Manny said.

"Don't sir me young fellow. It makes me think I am back in the Navy."

We stood around and talked of old times. It was interesting to hear Jaque retale some of the tall stories I had heard of in the past. It seems everytime he tells one the enemy ships get bigger and his ship gets smaller. I looked toward my fathers shop and noticed a light on.

"Excuse me a minute." I said as I headed toward the shop.

........

James read the invitation again and then cast it aside in disgust.

"But this is just too tiresome. A provincial wedding of all things. Why must I waste time on such a trifle? I am not a man without options. Look, look at this pile of invitations requesting my presence at balls, hunts. . ."

"Marseille is hardly the provinces, Lamont" admonished his companion. "And you must waste time on such trifles because, contrary to your declaration, you are not yet a man. I see you remain as powerless as ever to defy your father and will likely remain so until you reach your majority."

"Robert, I did not invite you here to heap abuse upon my head," Lamont retorted. "I can get all I want of such witty verbal scourging from the local petty nobility and their obsession with their "proud ancestry." "

He whipped out a silk handkerchief and began mincing about the room, flourishing the fabric while repeatedly making his leg at various items of furniture.

"I, sir, am descended from the noble Constantine. Indeed, my family held the Holy Roman Empire together single-handed. Why hadn't you heard, I am the heir apparent to Jesus Christ himself. . .Bah!"

He finished by using the handkerchief to wipe the seat of his pants to the accompaniment of a slow mocking applause from Robert.

"And now," he continued, "I am required to degrade myself still further and attend the nuptials of a local tradesman and some ugly fat trollop he has no doubt got with child while attempting to flatter himself into favor with her equally lowly born father. The lower orders have no conception of separating business from pleasure. It's all one to them. For them swiving and thriving amount to the same thing."

"Lowly he may be," acknowledged Robert. "But his father is not. Old Larkin is prosperous and powerful, a force to be reckoned with in this town."

"But he is still only a merchant. . ."

"You are not listening to me, James. He is a wealthy merchant. The world is changing, my friend. Lineage increasingly yields to coin. Maybe it was always thus, and now there is simply more coin about. These days, even grand old hereditary titles can be bought. Like Baron, for instance. . ."

Lamont slowly flushed a deep scarlet, but said nothing.

"Besides," said Robert, realizing that he had perhaps gone a little too far, "I've seen the lady. Trollop she may be, that is the nature of her sex, but ugly and fat she most certainly is not. Quite beautiful, in fact. At the very least it speaks well for the younger Larkin's powers of persuasion."

Lamont snorted.

"Nonsense. Everyone knows that the skinny ones want it more and are more grateful once you give it to em. I've tested this universal proof numerous times myself. No man wants to attach himself to a skinny wench permanently, however. It is like servicing a skeleton."

"I don't think I said she was too thin, James. Rather in the nice middling way of her sex. Enough to hold on to but not so much that you feel as if you are rolling in suet."

Lamont made a dismissive gesture.

"It is of no consequence. I shall not go. I have made up my mind to defy my father in this."

It was Robert's turn to snort derisively.

"I live in hope to see such a day but I am reasonably sure it has not yet arrived."

"You know so little of me, Robert. Ever you flatter yourself in your conceit, believing yourself to be. . ."

His lecture was interrupted as the door swung open with a crash and Baron Christopher Lamont strode into the room, stopping short to stare at his son as if he did not quite recognize him.

"What in blazes is the meaning of this, sir! The carriage is arriving to take you to that old bastard Larkin's place in half an hour. And you have not even begun to dress! I demand, sir, an explanation at once."

"And you shall have it, father. I am quite aware of my duty to you and as always am filled with gratitude for your generosity, but I am decided that there is no need for my attendance at this function. I have determined. . ."

"Decided!" roard the Baron. "Determined! You have not an ounce of decision or determination in your body, you mewling cocksuck of a whoremonger. It is for I, your father, to decide and determine what best suits your interests which in all respects are, or should be, coincident with those of this family! D'ye hear?"

James' tone had become pleading.

"But father. . ."

The Baron strode across the room, backing James painfully up against the large desk in the corner.

"Do I need to remind you of your duty, sir? You are going to pay your respects to Old Larkin and then you will be attending the ceremony of his sniveling brat tomorrow. Or, if you persist in defying me, perhaps we can discuss what should be done with the most recent pile of creditor letters in your name I have just received? Perhaps you would like to "determine" upon some other course of action for them?"

The younger Lamont's reply was almost inaudible.

"No."

"Very good then," responded the old man brusquely, "Now dress yourself and try not to end up looking like a ninny. Report to me upon your return from the Larkin residence."

Turning with surprising ease for such a corpulent man, the Baron strode out of the room. Robert could not restrain himself.

"Oh Bravo. Such defiance never yet has the world witnessed! Just such defiance did the Persians show to Alexander. Such fortitude was shown by the antick. . ."

Lamont bounded across the room and before Robert could react his friend had punched him in the face. There was the sound of twigs breaking and Robert staggered backward in surprise, collapsing into a chair as with one hand he tried to staunch the flow of blood from his shattered nose. Lamont stood in front of him, perfectly calm, breathing evenly, even smiling slightly.

"You are my oldest friend, Robert. But I'll thank you to remember your place when you are a guest in my house. Now, indeed, it looks as if you may well need a sugeon to attend to that, so please feel free to ring for old Claude and he will be more than happy to arrange for one to visit you here. Now, by your leave, I need to dress for a business meeting."

[James Lamont has made a brief cameo in Deoiridh's core story, "Travelling Light." I thought this might be a useful way to flesh out some of his background. He is probably about 17 or 18 at this time]

"Do you need for me to come with you?" Manny asked.

"No stay and listen to Jaque's stories I am sure it is nothing. I will yell if I need you." I assured Manny. As I approched the office I could hear voices from inside. One I recognized as that of my father but the other one I couldn't. I figured it was just someone my father was doing business with and I new better than interupt but something urged me to open the door.

The room was dimmly lit as it was but a single lantern setting on the table the men were seated. It was my father clearly and all I could see was the back of the other gentleman from where I stood.

"Ahh my son, Gustave you should meet him. Namo I was going to wait till tomorrow but now is as good as any to tell you. Come meet Captain Gustave D'Alembert. Gustave meet my son Namo Larkin tomorrows man of the day so to speak." My father said.

"A bit young but if I must take him along we have a bargin Larkin." he said to my father as he got up from his chair and turned toward me. "Well nice to meet you Namo. I am certain we will have a better chance to get to know each other but if you will excuse me I have another matter to attend." Tipping his hat to me he once again turned to my father and said. "With your permission I have only a week to get the rest of my crew together. I hope you don't take too much offense to this but tomorrow seems like a waste of db to me. So much fuss over getting a wife. Don't get me wrong I will probably want one myself someday. The thought of an Heir to my holdings would be welcome. Not to mention haveing someone to cook my meals, clean my clothes, along with the other needs a man has from time to time. I am just not ready to pay for the upkeep yet.'" Gustave said as he left the shop.

After I watched the man leave I turned to my father. "He didn't seem like a very nice man, father. And what did he mean by getting to know each other?" I asked.

"He is determined, ambitious, driven, and I might add greedy man. Alot of the qualities I have seen and hoped to instill in you over the past." my father continued. "Add shrude, ruthless, and connected and you have all you need to be a sucessfull businessman."

"Well those don't sound like good traites to me." I said.

"Compassion, Carring, Mercifull.. Those are better left to the Clergy boy. About the only good traite as you call them is Honesty. Well at least keeping your word. If you enter a deal your word is all that matters in the end. Secrets aside of course no reason the man your dealing with needs to know all you do. You still need at least some edge." my father said. "Then there are the ones who state Integrity, Duty, and Honor. All good if your in the military but those are the hardest to conduct business with since compromise doesn't seem to be in thier nature."

"As to the getting to know you statement. I have just made arrangements for Gustave to handle the shipping of a new trade route for me, to The Levant. He has agreed to take you onboard as the quartermaster." My father continued "The shipment won't be ready for another week so you will have some time before you leave."

"But you didn't ask me?" I said.

"Your still too young to understand, boy. This is for your future!!!!" He said as his face began to get redder as he talked. "I can't suport you for the rest of my life. It's time for you to start paying your own way."

"But what about Amber. Who will make sure she is safe while I am gone?" I asked.

"Don't worry about that son. I have made arrangements to sucure a house not far from mine. When your away your mother along with her mother will be close by. It has all been taken care of now I don't want to hear another word. You and your friend should be out celebrating and before you ask it was hard enough to make the arrangement to get you aboard Captain D'Alembert's ship don't blow this deal just for the sake of your friend."

I knew by now there was no way I could convince him otherwise so I left the shop.

((While I did take some liberties with Gustave's responses I hope I didn't alter his charactor for Deoiridh. For refernece and future dealing with Gustave I will let Deoiridh handle his character.))

Emeline sleepily woke to the sound of the nearby church's bells. Cautiously she began to sit up, looking around in confusion. She didn't recognize this bed, these walls, this man beside -

She blinked. Man? Her clouded thoughts slowly began to give way to hazy remembrance, and she lay back on the bed, defeated by the weight of it all for a moment.

She'd escaped the convent yesterday evening to explore the town. It had been a glorious evening, at least as much as it could have been as a passive bystander. Curiously she'd wandered the streets, staying close to the crowds to keep a sense of safety and anonymity around her. There had been music - not the orchestral kind she'd ever heard before as a small child when her parents invited musicians to their estate to play, but a lighter, danceable rhythm in the presence of which the crowds seemed incapable of standing still. The overwhelming smells of food and waste had been equally notable in their power to baffle and amuse Emeline. She'd walked around for what seemed like only minutes, entertaining and delighting herself, following her nose and ears to savor the experience.

Except that the truth was that the passage of time was quickly betraying her. Before she had realized it, hours had passed and the sun was long set below the horizon.

Emeline had panicked, and rushed back to the convent, but it was too late - her little adventure into the city-wide soiree had been discovered. A very stern Sister Marguerite, accompanied by the abbess herself, met her at the doors. She'd been turned away.

"We cannot let you in, Emeline. Your time with us has ended," Sister Marguerite stated coldly. She had a hint of a smirk on her face, as if finally relieved to be rid of her younger ward.

Emeline begged. "I promise I'll never do this again. I'm so sorry. I was just so curious, and -"

"The fault is mine, Emeline. I should never have admitted you," the abbess said sadly, shaking her head. "It was a favor to your father, hiding you here, but I knew that your behavior would be a danger to us eventually. I had hoped it would take longer than this, but here we are."

Emeline was stunned. "Hiding me... but... I never did anything to hurt..." she stammered.

"I'm sorry. I cannot explain - I only tell you this so that you might seek answers for yourself. This is not easy for either one of us, but you must go. Now." The abbess closed the door in Emeline's face.

So Emeline had walked the Marseille streets again, only now the wonders of the senses seemed cold and unfriendly, invading upon her troubled thoughts. She had not imagined that she would be evicted for her transgression - surely that was Sister Marguerite's influence. But what had the abbess meant by the rest? Emeline needed to get back to the estate, surely one of the servants would finally tell her the truth, but her pockets were empty, and her stomach even more so. She finally plopped onto the ground in desperation, covering her face and starting to cry.

She had not been sitting long before she heard a voice above her. She looked up to see a young man, dressed in fine clothes and wearing a smile, looking down at her. "It is not fitting for a beautiful young lady to be so distressed on such a night," the man had said gently, offering her a hand to help herself off the ground.

The rest of her memory would not focus, no matter how hard Emeline tried to think about it. There had been drinking in a tavern, laughing... She closed her eyes and tried to remember, but her head ached too much to conjure up any specific thoughts, and finally she gave up. It didn't matter now what had happened last night; it wasn't important. She had to get back to her parents' estate.

Emeline dressed herself quickly and quietly as to not wake the sleeping man and sneaked out of the unfamiliar room, which she discovered as she wandered down the hallway towards a staircase was apparently a rental room over the tavern itself. The barman seemed to snicker as she passed by - or was it her overactive imagination? - and made her way outside.

The sun was bright and the streets were crowded, with all the myriad uninvited party goers waiting outside for the news that the nuptials had successfully occurred. Apparently it had not been too long since it began, since no one seemed to be especially focused on the church doors at the moment, and were instead all still enjoying the street festivities. Perhaps some of them would be in good enough spirits to lend her some money, to pay for a carriage back home.

Suddenly she saw a strange, rough-looking man pushing his way through the crowd, followed by a small entourage of armed men, making his way straight towards her part of the crowd. She looked at him for but a brief moment before she suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of dread. Though her eyes were focused on the man, her mind's eye could see something else entirely... a man, perhaps the same one, but seeming older somehow, more focused and purposeful if such a thing were possible. The air around him was thick with danger. A blade was in his hands, moving, entering into the belly of another man that she did not recognize. The victim's face was frozen in shock as the blade exited and blood followed, escaping the wound at an alarming rate. Emeline yelled out in fright at the sight of it.

The party goers turned around to look at her in alarm at her yelling, then looked annoyed when they could see nothing wrong with Emeline, but she was mostly oblivious to their stares as she regained her sensibilities. What was... She realized she didn't have time to reflect. She searched her field of vision for the strange man, who was now several yards ahead of her, between where she was standing and the church.

She didn't know what was about to happen, or what in God's name had happened to her already, but something inside her told her to go quickly and help. She was small, and could dart through the crowd faster than the man could push through. She had to warn the church guards he was coming. Whatever was going on, something wasn't right about him. She took off running and, sure enough, she beat the man to the chapel steps, where a pair of guards was minding the door.

"You weren't invited," the guard on the right snapped, easily sizing Emeline up as not dressed properly enough to actually be a guest to the occasion. "Get out of here. You can see Monsieur Larkin and his bride when everyone else does."

"Please, sir, there's someone coming this way, and he's trouble, I just know it!" Emeline pleaded.

"Crazy girl, be gone!" the right guard ordered. "No one would dare - "

"Look there!" the left guard exclaimed, pointing at the strange man and his armed entourage, who had finally gotten close to the steps and seemed set on coming straight through, guards or not.

"Stop right there!" the right guard yelled. "No one gets -"

The strange man moved quick, as he had in Emeline's vision, and took the right guard on in combat, with the others taking on the left. Emeline, who had been standing too close, was struck on the side of her head by the flailing of limbs and weaponry, and collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

((in order to keep the time line straight "The Cerimony" follows this topic))