The door creaked open to the dark room. When Gideon entered, he almost thought he had the wrong one upon seeing the figure lying near motionless on the sofa before him. When it stirred, he almost thought it a stranger, but then he saw the fiery red hair that so many had likened to a jam jar, and with a sinking feeling in his chest, he knew he was in the right place.
"G-Gideon…"
Even the automaton of a man was shaken by the unsteadiness of the voice as he knelt by the boy's side, trying to get a grip on himself.
"Cousin Loic. I… thought I was told you were somewhat improved?"
"Hey I can talk can't I?"
"I…"
"Look-" Loic stopped, bursting into a fit of weak coughs, his dry and wrinkled like an old man's despite being only eighteen, and searching for a handkerchief which he quickly put to his blue tinted mouth. Gideon tosses his gaze about the room uncertainly, waiting for the bout to subside.
"Gideon… we both know I won't make it through this." The young man's sunken eyes looked deep into the cool grey of his cousin's.
"That's utter nonsense" muttered Gideon, an uncharacteristic hesitation growing in his tone "You're going through a bad bout that's all."
The younger Laine shook his head vehemently "Gideon, please!" This plea silenced the older, who stood there resolutely.
"When I'm gone… I've got no children… you have to take my place… you got that?" for a moment, Loic's boyishness fell away, a maturity that only facing death can give replacing it. The two lapsed into silence for a time before Loic spoke again.
"Just… at least promise me you'll take care of Juliette, ok?" he began hacking into his handkerchief again while his cousin blinked down at him.
"So long as I breath, of course." He knelt down by the dying boy's side "We have been… the best of partners you and I."
Loic offered him the slightest of smiles "Guess I did something right for once…."
"Not for once… I am not alone in saying that I will be much amiss without you cousin."
"O-oh?" A single tear fell down the boy's blue tinted face
Desolation was hardly the word to describe it. Writing came easily to Gideon on most days, as easy as knifing a man in the throat in fact to most people's surprise. This however was not most days. He struggled just holding the quill in his hand, an annoyance to say the least to a man who held himself to a standard of nothing less than absolute mechanical precision. He kept continually picking up the instrument, ducking into his inkwell and dashing across the page. "My Dear Ms. Juliette, it is with utter regret and sorrow-" He stopped growling as his cuff caught the bottle of ink, tipping over and ruining the new draft already. He stared at it with wide, menacing eyes for a moment, then wiped it up and replaced the bottle.
He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and groaning. Three hours. Three hours since it had happened. He still couldn't accept it. In his years as a soldier, he'd seen men gutted, dismembered, and executed. A few times, he had been responsible, but none of it could ever have prepared him for this day. with tremulous hands, he dashed out another draft. "Dear Miss Vauclain, it is with the deepest regret that I must inform you that my cousin and your friend, the Count Loic Laine, passed on from Cholera this past Monday."
"I'm still thinking of changing the name."
"Oh? That's a little rash isn't it?"
"Nonsense, this family has been stuck in the muck for three generations now, it's time for a change" Gideon said, spinning about to speak directly to his adopted father sitting arms folded in a leathery arm chair, pipe stuck out from his slightly puckered lips as it had since his son had arrived in Ithania a day ago. Kevain gave the pipe a few light, thoughtful taps before standing and pacing to the window, looking out to a single twisting olive tree in the courtyard.
"You're the patriarch now, even if the titles still have red tape to go through, I s'pose it's your choice, and as your friend and father I'll support it either way. However, I fail to see how changing the spelling from Laine to Lane will alter our financial and political situation."
"Our situation will only alter when we alter. Cousin Loic knew that in his own way."
"Our situation" quipped the older man plucking the pipe from his lips "is that we can't seem to keep a house leader alive for more than three months to a year!"
"Something that I intend to rectify." Gideon paced over to the window, his burgundy silk waistcoat and red sash contrasting against the old man's grey linen coat and tan breeches.
"I have no intention of dying soon."
"Mm? Oh of course you don't my boy, dying is for the weak hearted isn't it?" the elder peered down his hawk's nose at the lad quirking one eyebrow.
The younger offered a dry, cold smirk in return, turning back to the long oak desk. "I feel sometimes as if I were not entirely cut out for this sort of job."
"Fate throws us into the path we're needed on my boy."
"Is that my father or my friend speaking now?"
"Both, actually."
Six guards watched over the body while family arrived. Gideon got used to watching them go on duty from his bedroom window. Two men relieving the ones at the door at seven o'clock, four coming into the relive the ones inside the chamber at twelve o'clock when he visited the casket. This time was no different, except that he made a request. He walked in like usual, but upon standing up to the casket and running a hand over the family crest carved into the lid, he cleared his throat and murmured almost inaudibly to the guards "Leave us." Like that, they turned on their heel and cleared the room.
It was a long time before Gideon even moved. He paced, then put a hand back on the lid. "She said she'd blame me you know. I think she believes I wanted the titles, the lands, but the truth is, there is no one in this world who wishes you were still here more than I."
Gideon tremulously moved the hand from the crest. "You had at least fifty more years ahead… We were going to take the fight to regalia together weren't we? Raise the family back up again… those were going to be our years."
He turned, readjusting the black mourning band around his arm. "But now there are no more years. There are no more years.." The door swung open with a click, the guards coming back in, Kevain at the head dressed in full black. He strode up to Gideon, put an arm around his shoulder and muttered "It's time." Gideon nodded and moved to the door.
The guards moved the cask to the family graveyard. It was a simple burial. Kevain gave a short speech, many of them cried together, except for Gideon as stony faced as ever. And, when it was done, they brought the family together in the great hall and proposed a toast. "The Count Laine is dead, may his spirit find peace. Long live Count Laine."
"G-Gideon…"
Even the automaton of a man was shaken by the unsteadiness of the voice as he knelt by the boy's side, trying to get a grip on himself.
"Cousin Loic. I… thought I was told you were somewhat improved?"
"Hey I can talk can't I?"
"I…"
"Look-" Loic stopped, bursting into a fit of weak coughs, his dry and wrinkled like an old man's despite being only eighteen, and searching for a handkerchief which he quickly put to his blue tinted mouth. Gideon tosses his gaze about the room uncertainly, waiting for the bout to subside.
"Gideon… we both know I won't make it through this." The young man's sunken eyes looked deep into the cool grey of his cousin's.
"That's utter nonsense" muttered Gideon, an uncharacteristic hesitation growing in his tone "You're going through a bad bout that's all."
The younger Laine shook his head vehemently "Gideon, please!" This plea silenced the older, who stood there resolutely.
"When I'm gone… I've got no children… you have to take my place… you got that?" for a moment, Loic's boyishness fell away, a maturity that only facing death can give replacing it. The two lapsed into silence for a time before Loic spoke again.
"Just… at least promise me you'll take care of Juliette, ok?" he began hacking into his handkerchief again while his cousin blinked down at him.
"So long as I breath, of course." He knelt down by the dying boy's side "We have been… the best of partners you and I."
Loic offered him the slightest of smiles "Guess I did something right for once…."
"Not for once… I am not alone in saying that I will be much amiss without you cousin."
"O-oh?" A single tear fell down the boy's blue tinted face
***
Desolation was hardly the word to describe it. Writing came easily to Gideon on most days, as easy as knifing a man in the throat in fact to most people's surprise. This however was not most days. He struggled just holding the quill in his hand, an annoyance to say the least to a man who held himself to a standard of nothing less than absolute mechanical precision. He kept continually picking up the instrument, ducking into his inkwell and dashing across the page. "My Dear Ms. Juliette, it is with utter regret and sorrow-" He stopped growling as his cuff caught the bottle of ink, tipping over and ruining the new draft already. He stared at it with wide, menacing eyes for a moment, then wiped it up and replaced the bottle.
He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and groaning. Three hours. Three hours since it had happened. He still couldn't accept it. In his years as a soldier, he'd seen men gutted, dismembered, and executed. A few times, he had been responsible, but none of it could ever have prepared him for this day. with tremulous hands, he dashed out another draft. "Dear Miss Vauclain, it is with the deepest regret that I must inform you that my cousin and your friend, the Count Loic Laine, passed on from Cholera this past Monday."
***
"I'm still thinking of changing the name."
"Oh? That's a little rash isn't it?"
"Nonsense, this family has been stuck in the muck for three generations now, it's time for a change" Gideon said, spinning about to speak directly to his adopted father sitting arms folded in a leathery arm chair, pipe stuck out from his slightly puckered lips as it had since his son had arrived in Ithania a day ago. Kevain gave the pipe a few light, thoughtful taps before standing and pacing to the window, looking out to a single twisting olive tree in the courtyard.
"You're the patriarch now, even if the titles still have red tape to go through, I s'pose it's your choice, and as your friend and father I'll support it either way. However, I fail to see how changing the spelling from Laine to Lane will alter our financial and political situation."
"Our situation will only alter when we alter. Cousin Loic knew that in his own way."
"Our situation" quipped the older man plucking the pipe from his lips "is that we can't seem to keep a house leader alive for more than three months to a year!"
"Something that I intend to rectify." Gideon paced over to the window, his burgundy silk waistcoat and red sash contrasting against the old man's grey linen coat and tan breeches.
"I have no intention of dying soon."
"Mm? Oh of course you don't my boy, dying is for the weak hearted isn't it?" the elder peered down his hawk's nose at the lad quirking one eyebrow.
The younger offered a dry, cold smirk in return, turning back to the long oak desk. "I feel sometimes as if I were not entirely cut out for this sort of job."
"Fate throws us into the path we're needed on my boy."
"Is that my father or my friend speaking now?"
"Both, actually."
***
Six guards watched over the body while family arrived. Gideon got used to watching them go on duty from his bedroom window. Two men relieving the ones at the door at seven o'clock, four coming into the relive the ones inside the chamber at twelve o'clock when he visited the casket. This time was no different, except that he made a request. He walked in like usual, but upon standing up to the casket and running a hand over the family crest carved into the lid, he cleared his throat and murmured almost inaudibly to the guards "Leave us." Like that, they turned on their heel and cleared the room.
It was a long time before Gideon even moved. He paced, then put a hand back on the lid. "She said she'd blame me you know. I think she believes I wanted the titles, the lands, but the truth is, there is no one in this world who wishes you were still here more than I."
Gideon tremulously moved the hand from the crest. "You had at least fifty more years ahead… We were going to take the fight to regalia together weren't we? Raise the family back up again… those were going to be our years."
He turned, readjusting the black mourning band around his arm. "But now there are no more years. There are no more years.." The door swung open with a click, the guards coming back in, Kevain at the head dressed in full black. He strode up to Gideon, put an arm around his shoulder and muttered "It's time." Gideon nodded and moved to the door.
The guards moved the cask to the family graveyard. It was a simple burial. Kevain gave a short speech, many of them cried together, except for Gideon as stony faced as ever. And, when it was done, they brought the family together in the great hall and proposed a toast. "The Count Laine is dead, may his spirit find peace. Long live Count Laine."
