Count Geoffroy of York
I am playing with two mods on; ‘Heir Designation for Everybody’ and ‘Sensible New Family’, plus console commands, to make it interesting. I started the game at the ‘Alexiad’ bookmark in 1081, and used the custom character creator to make my character.
I do not own the following DLC: Holy Fury (not yet released), Jade Dragon, Horse Lords, Rajas of India, Sunset Invasion, or Legacy of Rome. All other major ones are enabled.
I will be updating this whenever. It's mainly a personal project that I'm uploading for the sake of it.
Chapter 1
The light filtered through the vast windows onto the mixed congregation below. The stained glass filtered the light, bouncing it around the room in a myriad of shades and shadows. The smell of good food hung in the air, and the people gathered in the chapel could be seen to glance at the rich, laden tables surrounding the altar far too frequently to be polite.
Already, the party had split; three groups occupied the area. The first was by far the largest, a boisterous gathering of heavy-set warriors. One man dominated the circle - a large man, larger even than the retinue around him. He was laughing, huge frame shaking, head tilted back, his yellow teeth showing. Then, leaning forward, he made a crude gesture and waved it at his companions. A roar of laughter went up and he threw his head back again, dirty-blonde curls shaking.
The second group was smaller. It was a group of women, six or seven strong, and they were not laughing like the men, nor even talking. An air of solemnity hung over them, sharply contrasting the men’s easy humour. Here, too, was a clear leader - in this case a tall, elegant woman, wearing the rich, highly-coloured fabrics of a bride. The other women clustered around her and, despite the silence, eyes darted around between them, conveying as much as words could - and far more stealthily.
The third group was the smallest yet; barely five people were gathered at the back of the chapel, near the altar. It was a mixed group, though all male. The faces here were sharply different - one full of wrinkles, one with only the small tufts of a wispy moustache - yet all bore a look of anxiety and worry.
Suddenly, the doors of the chapel opened and in came the priest of the chapel - a small, small-minded man called Eadsige - walked in. The congregation went silent and, as if by signal, dissolved. The tables were suddenly occupied as all members rushed to their seats behind the long, three-sided table set out along the rear and sides of the chapel. All except five people: The dirty-haired, boisterous man; the tall, elegant bride; Eadsige, now walking to the altar; a plump, grey-haired woman from the second group, who stood beside the bride; and the wrinkled man who had stood behind the altar with such a look of worry, and now rushed down to the dirty-haired man.
As the bride walked, it was clear that she was not entirely the tall, elegant woman she appeared from behind. Her hand was on her midriff - her slightly swollen midriff. An observant man would have seen the dirty-haired man frequently, and entirely involuntarily, glancing at the woman’s stomach more.
“Alan!” roared the man, in a tone as demanding as it was frightening. “A banquet fit for a King!”
The wrinkled man - Alan - smiled thinly and replied with a bow. “Your lordship, if I may…” he began, but it was too late - the big man had turned aside and was now surveying the crowded tables like a hawk.
Alan instead turned aside and nodded his head to the bride and the second woman - her mother. Both women inclined their heads and smiled, just as thinly as Alan.
Eadsige had reached the altar and was looking desperately at the big man - clearly desperate to begin but unwilling to intrude and risk upsetting him. “Count…”, he finally managed, in a weak voice that traveled barely half the way to the target. However, he was rescued by the Count himself who turned towards the priest, and now bellowed “Begin!”
Shortly afterwards, once Eadsige had proclaimed the happy couple legally as one, the husband and count turned back towards his gathering and opened the feast. The happy guests tore at the food, and suddenly the silence gave way to a burst of conversation.
In the new atmosphere, Count Geoffroy abandoned his new wife and retreated to his warrior friends. Soon, bawdy laughter and rough language again echoed throughout the holiest place in the castle.
Meanwhile, the small, nervous group of men reassembled in the back of the hall. Eadsige, who had quickly and with obvious relief abandoned his Holy Book, rejoined Alan and the other three, one of whom - the young man with the downy moustache - was speaking.
“Food in a chapel! It’s unheard of!” said he, clearly more concerned than the Count - and indeed Eadsige, the Count’s priest - about the opinion of the Holy Father.
“Shut it, Humbert” growled another, a helmeted, tall man wearing the signet ring of a baron, and the sword of the Marshal of the Realm.
“It’s done, then” said Alan, stopping the young Humbert from retorting with what was an uncomfortably pre-prepared statement.
“Aye”, replied Guobrian, the Marshal. “And nothing we can do about it now, so let’s accept it, I say” he continued. But Alan was clearly headed the other way.
“We need to talk to the King”, he said, surging ahead. At this point, the last man spoke up - a tall, thin man, with a reedy moustache and an even reedier voice. He was another baron - that of Richmond
“Well then, surely our humble Chancellor should do be best placed”, he declaimed, speaking from the great height of arrogance, and the greater height of stupidity. He was indeed a vain, arrogant man, and thoroughly displeasurable to those who knew him - but an important member of this semi-conspiracy nonetheless.
Humbert replied, for he was Chancellor. He replied with a sigh and a slight, thin-lipped grin, immediately forming into a grimace. It was clear he this argument had been repeated before, and it was clear he enjoyed winning it.
“I can do nothing without the Count’s approval, and he will not approve”, said Humbert. At that point the table behind gave a great roar and then suddenly the count himself was behind the young Chancellor, still grinning at the memory of a particularly rude gesture.
“What will I not approve?” He asked, although he knew the answer. He and Alan had been arguing for weeks before the marriage, and this conspiracy was not a secret. Alan replied himself, for Humbert had turned red and flinched involuntarily.
“My lord, you know what it is. That woman -” and here he gestured to the bride - “is the daughter of a former King. You cannot marry her without seeming hostile to the current one.”
Geoffroy bristled at this. His happy memory of the funny-shaped carrot disappeared and he stared at Alan.
“I am from a great family, and I am a lord of the realm. It would shame me to marry any other. Are you saying that I do not deserve to marry a King’s daughter?”
Alan inclined his head. “No, my Lord.”
“Well then I shall not hear you complaining again.”
With that, the Count turned his back on his Spymaster and turned back to his fellow warriors, still laughing uproariously. Alan felt eyes on him, and turned around to catch the new wife - Gunhild Haroldsdohter - staring impassively at him. He inclined his head, but she continued to simply stare at him.
Alan, thoroughly uneased by the whole event, turned and left the hall, leaving the wedding, the Count, and the pregnant bride behind him.
I am playing with two mods on; ‘Heir Designation for Everybody’ and ‘Sensible New Family’, plus console commands, to make it interesting. I started the game at the ‘Alexiad’ bookmark in 1081, and used the custom character creator to make my character.
I do not own the following DLC: Holy Fury (not yet released), Jade Dragon, Horse Lords, Rajas of India, Sunset Invasion, or Legacy of Rome. All other major ones are enabled.
I will be updating this whenever. It's mainly a personal project that I'm uploading for the sake of it.
Chapter 1
The light filtered through the vast windows onto the mixed congregation below. The stained glass filtered the light, bouncing it around the room in a myriad of shades and shadows. The smell of good food hung in the air, and the people gathered in the chapel could be seen to glance at the rich, laden tables surrounding the altar far too frequently to be polite.
Already, the party had split; three groups occupied the area. The first was by far the largest, a boisterous gathering of heavy-set warriors. One man dominated the circle - a large man, larger even than the retinue around him. He was laughing, huge frame shaking, head tilted back, his yellow teeth showing. Then, leaning forward, he made a crude gesture and waved it at his companions. A roar of laughter went up and he threw his head back again, dirty-blonde curls shaking.
The second group was smaller. It was a group of women, six or seven strong, and they were not laughing like the men, nor even talking. An air of solemnity hung over them, sharply contrasting the men’s easy humour. Here, too, was a clear leader - in this case a tall, elegant woman, wearing the rich, highly-coloured fabrics of a bride. The other women clustered around her and, despite the silence, eyes darted around between them, conveying as much as words could - and far more stealthily.
The third group was the smallest yet; barely five people were gathered at the back of the chapel, near the altar. It was a mixed group, though all male. The faces here were sharply different - one full of wrinkles, one with only the small tufts of a wispy moustache - yet all bore a look of anxiety and worry.
Suddenly, the doors of the chapel opened and in came the priest of the chapel - a small, small-minded man called Eadsige - walked in. The congregation went silent and, as if by signal, dissolved. The tables were suddenly occupied as all members rushed to their seats behind the long, three-sided table set out along the rear and sides of the chapel. All except five people: The dirty-haired, boisterous man; the tall, elegant bride; Eadsige, now walking to the altar; a plump, grey-haired woman from the second group, who stood beside the bride; and the wrinkled man who had stood behind the altar with such a look of worry, and now rushed down to the dirty-haired man.
As the bride walked, it was clear that she was not entirely the tall, elegant woman she appeared from behind. Her hand was on her midriff - her slightly swollen midriff. An observant man would have seen the dirty-haired man frequently, and entirely involuntarily, glancing at the woman’s stomach more.
“Alan!” roared the man, in a tone as demanding as it was frightening. “A banquet fit for a King!”
The wrinkled man - Alan - smiled thinly and replied with a bow. “Your lordship, if I may…” he began, but it was too late - the big man had turned aside and was now surveying the crowded tables like a hawk.
Alan instead turned aside and nodded his head to the bride and the second woman - her mother. Both women inclined their heads and smiled, just as thinly as Alan.
Eadsige had reached the altar and was looking desperately at the big man - clearly desperate to begin but unwilling to intrude and risk upsetting him. “Count…”, he finally managed, in a weak voice that traveled barely half the way to the target. However, he was rescued by the Count himself who turned towards the priest, and now bellowed “Begin!”
Shortly afterwards, once Eadsige had proclaimed the happy couple legally as one, the husband and count turned back towards his gathering and opened the feast. The happy guests tore at the food, and suddenly the silence gave way to a burst of conversation.
In the new atmosphere, Count Geoffroy abandoned his new wife and retreated to his warrior friends. Soon, bawdy laughter and rough language again echoed throughout the holiest place in the castle.
Meanwhile, the small, nervous group of men reassembled in the back of the hall. Eadsige, who had quickly and with obvious relief abandoned his Holy Book, rejoined Alan and the other three, one of whom - the young man with the downy moustache - was speaking.
“Food in a chapel! It’s unheard of!” said he, clearly more concerned than the Count - and indeed Eadsige, the Count’s priest - about the opinion of the Holy Father.
“Shut it, Humbert” growled another, a helmeted, tall man wearing the signet ring of a baron, and the sword of the Marshal of the Realm.
“It’s done, then” said Alan, stopping the young Humbert from retorting with what was an uncomfortably pre-prepared statement.
“Aye”, replied Guobrian, the Marshal. “And nothing we can do about it now, so let’s accept it, I say” he continued. But Alan was clearly headed the other way.
“We need to talk to the King”, he said, surging ahead. At this point, the last man spoke up - a tall, thin man, with a reedy moustache and an even reedier voice. He was another baron - that of Richmond
“Well then, surely our humble Chancellor should do be best placed”, he declaimed, speaking from the great height of arrogance, and the greater height of stupidity. He was indeed a vain, arrogant man, and thoroughly displeasurable to those who knew him - but an important member of this semi-conspiracy nonetheless.
Humbert replied, for he was Chancellor. He replied with a sigh and a slight, thin-lipped grin, immediately forming into a grimace. It was clear he this argument had been repeated before, and it was clear he enjoyed winning it.
“I can do nothing without the Count’s approval, and he will not approve”, said Humbert. At that point the table behind gave a great roar and then suddenly the count himself was behind the young Chancellor, still grinning at the memory of a particularly rude gesture.
“What will I not approve?” He asked, although he knew the answer. He and Alan had been arguing for weeks before the marriage, and this conspiracy was not a secret. Alan replied himself, for Humbert had turned red and flinched involuntarily.
“My lord, you know what it is. That woman -” and here he gestured to the bride - “is the daughter of a former King. You cannot marry her without seeming hostile to the current one.”
Geoffroy bristled at this. His happy memory of the funny-shaped carrot disappeared and he stared at Alan.
“I am from a great family, and I am a lord of the realm. It would shame me to marry any other. Are you saying that I do not deserve to marry a King’s daughter?”
Alan inclined his head. “No, my Lord.”
“Well then I shall not hear you complaining again.”
With that, the Count turned his back on his Spymaster and turned back to his fellow warriors, still laughing uproariously. Alan felt eyes on him, and turned around to catch the new wife - Gunhild Haroldsdohter - staring impassively at him. He inclined his head, but she continued to simply stare at him.
Alan, thoroughly uneased by the whole event, turned and left the hall, leaving the wedding, the Count, and the pregnant bride behind him.
