╳ ❛ CONSEQUENCE.

 Charles, by nature, was a hunter. He relished in the pace, the wind,  the prize;  the whole game seemed to resonate within him. It was a  game he’d always win,  and winning was a favourite pastime of the  sybaritic King. BOTH  the  lion  and  gazelle  run,  but  the  lion  will  always triumph.

    Charles had made an effort to pin key French alliances,  on  behalf     of his sister. Though he had once thought  that  no  French  citizen     bore a decent head, he had come to realise that only  the  majority     of French individuals proved halfwitted, and the Comte  of  Roche-     fort was not  among  them.  Charles  relinquished  that,  a  country     sovereign by a fool would only reflect it’s leader. It was preordained     and lamentable, though he  would  suppress his tongue lashing for     the sake of a beloved sibling.

 The King chuckled, his grip  on  the  horse’s  reins  loosening  with  familiarity. “They might, if they wished to see their fingers  severed  from the hand that  indites  such  a  risible  statement.  Nay,  things   are different in Naples, then they are in  France.”  Looking  over  at  Comte, Charles grinned, “there is propriety!” 

    “Ha-AH!” Cracking the reins, Charles urged the horse  onwards  to     follow a boar that had creeped  between  the  foliage, winding  it’s     way down a path made of solid dirt, proving perfect for the hooves     of a well bred stallion, such as the King’s and his companion. 

     The careful gaze of a man jaded by the world remained upon      the King, expression stern as he made sure to study and any      every  reaction  provided;  such was  the  GAME  of court. A      hollow laugh was released from Clement in response to the      monarch’s answer - he was somewhat thankful that its false      nature would  have gone  unnoticed by  those whom  did not       know him personally. 

          ❛ Perhaps I should provide Your Majesty with a LIST           of names–❜ The Comte  mused in  a tone low enough           to indicate a certain sincerity to in his words, despite           the  edge  of amusement  with which  he had  spoken.           ❛— as you must already know, I am a man who does            greatly APPRECIATE propriety, sire. ❜

     Upon  the  monarch’s  sudden  spur  to  action,  Rochefort      collected  the  reins of  his own  mount, a  crease  forming      upon his brow as he paused  to analyse the path which the      Neapolitan had begun to traverse. The pace he chose was      decidedly  slower  as he followed, his countenance one of      wariness as he pushed his horse into a trot.  

“Because I’ve been so nice to you?”

      “ ——- Perhaps.” With a sip of her wine, she turns back to face Clement and returns to her seat, “ Though the problem with expanding ones social circles is that it requires one to be social, you see why I am in a quandary.” With a small chuckle Constance took another refreshing sip of her wine, watching him over her glass for a short while, “ Your right, it does not, though it does make me think twice on whether or not I should give you yours.”

          “ —— well you are the most benevolent man I know, I thought gift giving would appeal to you greatly.”  She teases, replenishing her chalice, “ and perhaps someone has something for you and you wish not to be embarassed when the sentiment is not returned.”