Stars Fade Blue
A Fine Gentleman
Emmerich Yves-Leventhorpe was not of humble decent. His father was a noted Earl of the Northernlands, his estate crossing great expanses of natural beauty. His mother was a foreigner, the daughter of a wealthy friend-of-the-Royal-Family in her own country. They did not meet by chance, and were, in fact, arranged into their marriage. Emerie, as he was more commonly known, was not their only child, he was the oldest of eight and this allowed them to let him be free.
At nineteen he was considered a man. Through all of his life he had wanted nothing more than to serve his country and protect his family. Having his own children and wife were not interests to him. It was not the fear of marriage or commitment that repelled him, but the knowledge that his goal in life, his true calling, was to die a hero.
Of course his parents were upset; they had encouraged him since he was small to make friends. The last thing they had ever wanted was to see him go to waste. It was common knowledge that Emerie was a fine gentleman, possessing all the qualities a man ought to have. He was kind, gentle, polite, friendly, excellent with children---on account of his having seven younger siblings---and as an added bonus, attractive. Emerie was strong, valiant, chivalrous, and private, but he was also stubborn and, at times, could be quite arrogant.
Being a member of such a wealthy and well-respected family had its disadvantages. For instance, at his rather young age, Emerie was already a highly ranked officer of the royal guard. None but two men stood between him and the title of General. Many jealous, scandalizing, people spread rumors that his father had bribed the king into placing his son so high, but if those people had actually cared for the truth, they would know how wrong they really were.
Since he was very small, the age of four to be exact, Emerie had been enrolled into the Olingworth-Dogmersfield College for Boys. Despite the name, a majority of the students of Olingworth-Dogmersfield were hardly considered boys. For thirteen years Emerie had attended the boarding school, spending half of each year there and the other with his family. At seventeen he graduated, finding himself in need of a career and purpose in life. With his various---and also a few somewhat inapplicable---skills such as horseback riding, fencing, archery, singing, arithmetic, literature, acting, gambling, gardening, piano, dancing, hunting, and also playing the harp, Emerie decided to pursue a military life, something he had really always known he had wanted.
Needless to say his parents were dejected, dissatisfied that their eldest son was going to join the ranks at such a hostile time in the country’s history. For the next two years Emerie trained diligently, working as hard as---if not harder than---any other man. His accomplishments forced him out of the crowd, inevitably displaying them for all. The higher-ups were quite impressed by him, and rather quickly he was promoted again and again, until reaching his current position as Major General Emmerich Vida Rex Yves-Leventhorpe. Of course, “his men” could call him, affectionately, by the name Yves.
Earl Ehrenfried Leventhorpe of Finesa and his wife, Countess Isemay Yves, had eight children. First was Emmerich Vida Rex, he was followed by Cosette Marie, Eleonore Marie, Gunther Ehrenfried, Hannaliese Marie, Kiefer Ehrenfried, Rosamund Marie, and lastly Solveig Marie. Each male child---aside from Emmerich---was given a middle name of Ehrenfried in order to carry on their father’s name; each female child was given the middle name Marie for much the same reason, however in order to remember their grandmother instead. All of the Earl’s children were given their hyphenated surname Yves-Leventhorpe to document the union of their two parents.
It was widely known that the Earl and Countess refused most assistance regarding their children. As parents they were kind and loving, making sure to bond with each child and allow them to grow, without---of course---giving any particular child too much freedom that he or she would not know his or her place in the future. Only one governess was on staff at the Leventhorpe Estate, hired only because of the quantity of children living there, five of which not being appropriately allowed into public gatherings. Although, at most times, all of the latter mentioned were away at school.
On one specific afternoon, the Earl and his wife silently enjoyed each other’s company in their spacious parlor. The Earl lounged comfortably in his favorite high-back chair reading no particularly inquisitive work of literature as his wife sat equally comfortable in her rigid position on the sofa, the two separated by a hardly measurable space occupied by an elaborately designed short table. As the sun shined in through the unblemished glass, the affection the pair shared was clearly visible in each of their lazily adorned half-smiles.
A knock on the door startled them both, causing a brief set of laughter at the mutual fright. Without being acknowledged---which was perfectly acceptable in the Leventhorpe home---Edwin Bishoptree, the family butler, entered with a silver platter resting atop his left palm. With ease, the lanky man glided over to his master and, after addressing the latter with a bow, lowered the platter before the Earl.
The Countess eyed the scene curiously, watching her husband take the neatly sealed letter from the platter. Edwin bowed in dismissal and left the room, once again leaving the Earl and his wife alone. Both of them were interested by the mail and, as if called, the Countess rose to her feet and positioned herself behind her husband to join him in reading their letter.
“Who is it from?” she asked. The Earl traced his fingers over the parchment and wax seal before answering.
“Governor Abramson Piccolet of Lenore,” he replied, drawing out his words as if testing them on his tongue. He was taken aback by the call in his hands, wondering what business the Governor of such a distant town could have with him.
“Oh,” she replied, bored, before gasping in remembrance. “I do believe Elle went to school with his youngest daughter. For the life of me I cannot seem to recall her name, though.”
“I see,” he breathed, still intrigued by the communication. It was not as if his Eleonore was friends with a Miss Piccolet. Surely if she were, he and his wife would have heard of her, considering the rather excitable nature of his dear Elle.
“Well, open it,” his wife demanded, and he did. The seal broke with a pop and opened to reveal a neatly written, formal invitation. The Countess did not read the elegant words, confident that her husband would share their contents with her as soon as he was finished.
“It seems the Governor is hosting a ball for his daughter, congratulating her on her schooling successes as well as her sixteenth birthday. He has invited us all---modesty permitting, of course---to join them in their celebration,” the Earl shared dazedly. He was still in awe by the seemingly random invite.
“It does sound fun, Ehrenfried,” the Countess sighed, walking around the chair to steal a spot on her husband’s lap. While he moved his arms aside for her, his eyes remained on the parchment he held in his hand.
“Indeed,” he assured.
“It would be an excellent opportunity for both Cosette and Eleonore to meet gentlemen, as well as for Emmerich to perhaps be dazzled by fine young women,” the Countess pressured subtly, trying to keep her husband from declining the invite.
“For Cosette, I agree. As for Eleonore, I wish to throw her her own ball so that she can be as special as all of the other girls; as Cosette was. On the matter of our dear Emerie, however, I am afraid we cannot change his mind now. He is in too deep with this life of his that there is no way for him to leave. He has chosen his path, we cannot lead him elsewhere,” the Earl told his wife, his brow furrowed in his serious tone. “However,” he smiled up at her, “we could always drop crumbs in his way so as to get his attention enough.”
The Countess beamed, rejoicing, “How wise my husband is! Clever too!”
Later that night, after supper, the Earl would write his reply to the governor in the affirmative, that he, his wife, Emmerich, and Cosette would be attending his daughter’s ball. Little did he know of the nature of the governor and his family; little did anyone know how much of an impact that letter of reply would have on two young people.
I never mentioned this, really, but be aware that this story takes place in my own world. This is not particularly a "fantasy" or "science-fiction" type of deal, but it doesn't take place in modern OR historical any place you have ever heard of.
I'm fairly certain that was a terrible sentence that broke a thousand rules of the English language, but I don't care because the message should be clear enough.
MY world. MY characters. MY story. Steal it and DIE.
Comments are always lovely, so thanks. =]
At nineteen he was considered a man. Through all of his life he had wanted nothing more than to serve his country and protect his family. Having his own children and wife were not interests to him. It was not the fear of marriage or commitment that repelled him, but the knowledge that his goal in life, his true calling, was to die a hero.
Of course his parents were upset; they had encouraged him since he was small to make friends. The last thing they had ever wanted was to see him go to waste. It was common knowledge that Emerie was a fine gentleman, possessing all the qualities a man ought to have. He was kind, gentle, polite, friendly, excellent with children---on account of his having seven younger siblings---and as an added bonus, attractive. Emerie was strong, valiant, chivalrous, and private, but he was also stubborn and, at times, could be quite arrogant.
Being a member of such a wealthy and well-respected family had its disadvantages. For instance, at his rather young age, Emerie was already a highly ranked officer of the royal guard. None but two men stood between him and the title of General. Many jealous, scandalizing, people spread rumors that his father had bribed the king into placing his son so high, but if those people had actually cared for the truth, they would know how wrong they really were.
Since he was very small, the age of four to be exact, Emerie had been enrolled into the Olingworth-Dogmersfield College for Boys. Despite the name, a majority of the students of Olingworth-Dogmersfield were hardly considered boys. For thirteen years Emerie had attended the boarding school, spending half of each year there and the other with his family. At seventeen he graduated, finding himself in need of a career and purpose in life. With his various---and also a few somewhat inapplicable---skills such as horseback riding, fencing, archery, singing, arithmetic, literature, acting, gambling, gardening, piano, dancing, hunting, and also playing the harp, Emerie decided to pursue a military life, something he had really always known he had wanted.
Needless to say his parents were dejected, dissatisfied that their eldest son was going to join the ranks at such a hostile time in the country’s history. For the next two years Emerie trained diligently, working as hard as---if not harder than---any other man. His accomplishments forced him out of the crowd, inevitably displaying them for all. The higher-ups were quite impressed by him, and rather quickly he was promoted again and again, until reaching his current position as Major General Emmerich Vida Rex Yves-Leventhorpe. Of course, “his men” could call him, affectionately, by the name Yves.
Earl Ehrenfried Leventhorpe of Finesa and his wife, Countess Isemay Yves, had eight children. First was Emmerich Vida Rex, he was followed by Cosette Marie, Eleonore Marie, Gunther Ehrenfried, Hannaliese Marie, Kiefer Ehrenfried, Rosamund Marie, and lastly Solveig Marie. Each male child---aside from Emmerich---was given a middle name of Ehrenfried in order to carry on their father’s name; each female child was given the middle name Marie for much the same reason, however in order to remember their grandmother instead. All of the Earl’s children were given their hyphenated surname Yves-Leventhorpe to document the union of their two parents.
It was widely known that the Earl and Countess refused most assistance regarding their children. As parents they were kind and loving, making sure to bond with each child and allow them to grow, without---of course---giving any particular child too much freedom that he or she would not know his or her place in the future. Only one governess was on staff at the Leventhorpe Estate, hired only because of the quantity of children living there, five of which not being appropriately allowed into public gatherings. Although, at most times, all of the latter mentioned were away at school.
On one specific afternoon, the Earl and his wife silently enjoyed each other’s company in their spacious parlor. The Earl lounged comfortably in his favorite high-back chair reading no particularly inquisitive work of literature as his wife sat equally comfortable in her rigid position on the sofa, the two separated by a hardly measurable space occupied by an elaborately designed short table. As the sun shined in through the unblemished glass, the affection the pair shared was clearly visible in each of their lazily adorned half-smiles.
A knock on the door startled them both, causing a brief set of laughter at the mutual fright. Without being acknowledged---which was perfectly acceptable in the Leventhorpe home---Edwin Bishoptree, the family butler, entered with a silver platter resting atop his left palm. With ease, the lanky man glided over to his master and, after addressing the latter with a bow, lowered the platter before the Earl.
The Countess eyed the scene curiously, watching her husband take the neatly sealed letter from the platter. Edwin bowed in dismissal and left the room, once again leaving the Earl and his wife alone. Both of them were interested by the mail and, as if called, the Countess rose to her feet and positioned herself behind her husband to join him in reading their letter.
“Who is it from?” she asked. The Earl traced his fingers over the parchment and wax seal before answering.
“Governor Abramson Piccolet of Lenore,” he replied, drawing out his words as if testing them on his tongue. He was taken aback by the call in his hands, wondering what business the Governor of such a distant town could have with him.
“Oh,” she replied, bored, before gasping in remembrance. “I do believe Elle went to school with his youngest daughter. For the life of me I cannot seem to recall her name, though.”
“I see,” he breathed, still intrigued by the communication. It was not as if his Eleonore was friends with a Miss Piccolet. Surely if she were, he and his wife would have heard of her, considering the rather excitable nature of his dear Elle.
“Well, open it,” his wife demanded, and he did. The seal broke with a pop and opened to reveal a neatly written, formal invitation. The Countess did not read the elegant words, confident that her husband would share their contents with her as soon as he was finished.
“It seems the Governor is hosting a ball for his daughter, congratulating her on her schooling successes as well as her sixteenth birthday. He has invited us all---modesty permitting, of course---to join them in their celebration,” the Earl shared dazedly. He was still in awe by the seemingly random invite.
“It does sound fun, Ehrenfried,” the Countess sighed, walking around the chair to steal a spot on her husband’s lap. While he moved his arms aside for her, his eyes remained on the parchment he held in his hand.
“Indeed,” he assured.
“It would be an excellent opportunity for both Cosette and Eleonore to meet gentlemen, as well as for Emmerich to perhaps be dazzled by fine young women,” the Countess pressured subtly, trying to keep her husband from declining the invite.
“For Cosette, I agree. As for Eleonore, I wish to throw her her own ball so that she can be as special as all of the other girls; as Cosette was. On the matter of our dear Emerie, however, I am afraid we cannot change his mind now. He is in too deep with this life of his that there is no way for him to leave. He has chosen his path, we cannot lead him elsewhere,” the Earl told his wife, his brow furrowed in his serious tone. “However,” he smiled up at her, “we could always drop crumbs in his way so as to get his attention enough.”
The Countess beamed, rejoicing, “How wise my husband is! Clever too!”
Later that night, after supper, the Earl would write his reply to the governor in the affirmative, that he, his wife, Emmerich, and Cosette would be attending his daughter’s ball. Little did he know of the nature of the governor and his family; little did anyone know how much of an impact that letter of reply would have on two young people.
I never mentioned this, really, but be aware that this story takes place in my own world. This is not particularly a "fantasy" or "science-fiction" type of deal, but it doesn't take place in modern OR historical any place you have ever heard of.
I'm fairly certain that was a terrible sentence that broke a thousand rules of the English language, but I don't care because the message should be clear enough.
MY world. MY characters. MY story. Steal it and DIE.
Comments are always lovely, so thanks. =]