#hltcevent

DECK THE HALLS -- As temperatures drop and the snow settles, the royalty of Europe descend upon the Burgundian court, spurred on by an invitation by the Dowager Duchess. After all, what better time is there to further secure the bonds created at the summit in Stockholm than Christmas - a time when peace and good will is treasured?

Christmas Day is ushered in with the Midnight Mass at the Cathedral of Saint Benignus of Dijon, voices rising high into the vaulted ceiling. The Royals do not reconvene until the morn, whereupon the hunt begins in the forests to the south of Dijon. The evening plays host to a grand feast, with the finest meals Burgundy has to offer provided by the quarry of the hunt. 

The Lord of Misrule, a courtier appointer by the Duchess, presides over the evenings merriment, leading the assembled in song and dance. As the night draws to a close, the candles low, the gift exchange commences.

Dark, thunderous clouds invaded the English skies, releasing a deluge of rain onto the land below. Such morose weather had prevented Louis from traipsing through the gardens; an activity he took much pleasure in doing. Instead,  he stared at the gardens through the windows that entrapped him behind these gloomy walls. Was this Edward's last wrath? His last attempt to bring discomfort into the French King's life? He smiled sadly, bowing his head; he knew Edward would have to have the last attack some how. The footsteps of Marguerite were recognisable. He could hear the sound of his own heart beat in time to the sound of her delicate feet on the wooden floor. Louis took a moment to replace his solemn expression with something a little more welcoming. "My love," he began, eyeing her from a short distance. "I hope these surroundings have not troubled you too greatly. Death is not an atmosphere anyone would be eager to dwell in."

AS THE DUST HAS FINALLY SETTLED, the relations between France and Austria have slowly returned to a precarious peace. With war threatening in the horizon and new alliances made, it is necessary to reinforce the peace treaties every country in the continent signed almost two years ago. But it is not as easy as it seems, for some wounds are slow to heal. 

After breaking its alliance with Denmark, Sweden hangs by a thin thread and it is time for the King to show how powerful his nation still is. As a punishment for putting the country at risk and to push for his son to start acting like the Crown Prince Sweden needs, the King has decided that Prince Einar is to serve as host and mediator. 

Whilst rulers attend to their daily discussions, celebrations such as brunches, tea gatherings, concerts and plays will be available for guests to socialise. Everyone, even those attending to the meetings, are allowed to partake. Soon after their arrival, Prince Einar will throw a Welcome Feast, and for their last night in Sweden, there will be a ball to celebrate one more year of peace. The security in Tre Kronor, the royal residence in Stockholm, is tight and the tensions run high, as for the very first time rulers will meet on a middle ground. But the question is in the air, whispers in the shadows and rumours spread like wildfire; why did Sweden break their betrothal with Denmark? Could this be the start a new war?

The English King was dead. Louis had hated him for as long as he could remember. He had dreamed of this day, imagining every detail of the man’s prospective death. Now the day had finally arrived and he felt... disappointed, underwhelmed. He had desired a more violent death- where the English King cried out in pain as he contemplated his sins. But to pass away in his sleep? Louis huffed. A weak death for a weak man. Nonetheless, Louis annoyingly felt that something was missing. He didn’t feel like celebrating like he had planned to so many years ago. His hatred for King Edward had been an integral part of his being, he had perhaps even come to like the English King because of it. But now his greatest enemy was dead. Who could Louis hate now? The King of Naples didn’t mean as much to him as King Edward did. In a way, the two were brothers on differing sides. Louis had seen so much of Edward in himself, and perhaps that’s why he had disliked him so greatly. Now Louis stared at the dead man’s body in the great hall, mourning the unproductive, hateful, but nonetheless amusing, relationship that had once existed between the two. 

“You are gone, old man,” he spoke quietly in French, his gaze fixed upon the dark robes that clothed him. “What will I do without you? I have loved hating you. And now you are no more. In another life, perhaps we could have been friends. A connection certainly did exist between us.” He sighed and looked to the ceiling for a moment. “I will see you again, whether in Heaven or on Judgement Day, I will see you again brother.” He heard approaching footsteps but his gaze remained fixed on the King. “Would you like to be left alone with him?” He asked the unknown figure, switching back to English. 

LONG LIVE THE KING ––––––––––– The halls of Westminster are quiet in the early morn. It is not an unusual occurrence, for few inhabitants are typically awake at such a time, only a handful of guards and kitchen staff. Mist has creeped in from the river overnight, covering the palace grounds in a hazy shroud. Future accounts would remark that it was a morning much like any other - nothing that initially suggested that something was amiss.

It is the Lord Chamberlain of the Household that finds him, a short time after seven. No obvious signs of foul play are detected initially at the scene. As the family and members of the Privy Council are summoned to the King’s chambers, the final days of his life are reflected on. He had seemed his usual self, if a touch more subdued. Nothing that could have raised an alarm as to his condition. Edward V of England is dead.

The body is later prepared and moved to the Great Hall for the customary vigil in the lead up to the funeral. As long prepared plans are put into motion and word begins to be spread amongst the higher circles, rumours begin to bubble. Was it truly a sudden illness, as official word had said, or was there something more nefarious at play? Were old grievances rearing their ugly heads once more?

As with any change of monarch, the delicate balance of the relations between Kingdoms is thrown off-balance. Only time will tell when or if it shall recover.

A lone voice cries out.

The King is dead, long live the King.

Louis could only anticipate the wrath he would face when he went to meet Marguerite. But he needed her, now more than ever. There was a possibility that he could have lost her today, that the Austrian guards could have turned on them. Quickly, he made his way through the corridors before slowing down as he approached her chambers. How would he handle this? He raked a large hand through his bed of dark curls before finally forcing himself into the room. 

“The carriages are prepared. Everything is going well, my son, but we cannot stay any longer. Soon I will call the troops off and then we must wait for Austria’s response. If it comes to war, then France will be ready. I hope you will also be ready?”

HAIL MARY, FULL OF GRACE ––––––––––– In an act of generosity and in requiem for the late Archduchess, His Supreme Grace the ruler of Austria has invited neighbors near and far to commemorate the sinless soul of Madonna in a Catholic ceremony known as the Assumption of Mary. Accompanied in the ceremony will be celebrations and merriment hosted by the Archduke himself, little expense spared to publicly highlight the pomp and pageantry of the Austrian court -  bringing to the forefront of European politics the small country’s ability to govern without the patronage of the Holy Roman Empire underneath a guise of strict piety. Royals are expected to sojourn in Vienna for as long as a fortnight, and are welcomed to festivities, gambling, matchmaking, and grandeur underneath the brise-soleil of Austrian resplendence.