[RPG] Re: [RP] Family Politics

[bpratt]

Those who observed him would have seen him enter Olik Manor in the small
village of Slet, Rustton. But he was careful to make sure he wasn't followed
- paranoia was for him an art-form by now.

He was only in there a few moments. When he came out he looked noticeably
dejected, even distressed. He appeared to mill about in some confusion. He
finally found the Steward of Olik's Estates, a man named Jan Tolmy, and the
two spoke some words in a plainly somber fashion. Finally, Jan Tolmy nodded
slowly, and then with equal slowness parted company and began calling for
various local officials.

Gauihu, meanwhile, stood for a while, apparently in deep thought. The robe
of the Arch Priest was bright red in the mid-day sun.

With so much war and death lately, the news of yet another corpse seemed to
have little weight beyond the immediate community of the village. It wasn't
long, though, before a small procession left Olik Manor, bearing the
withered body of an old, retired knight named Trostian. Gauihu's father. He
died in his sleep, the family's physician said, drowned in his body's
fluids. It was no surprise to anyone; the man had been deeply ill and
bedridden for months.

And so another cycle of inheritance passed in the village. The lord of the
manor had finally passed away. Who was to be the next lord was in no real
question. Oleg, the eldest, had gone off to war and stayed there; for all
anyone knew, he was dead in some frigid wasteland in the north, or
dessicating in a scrub desert on some eastern continent. Asov was insane.
Takani was a woman. That left Gauihu, Count of Rustton and now Arch Priest
of Abington.

But to the villagers, none of this mattered that much. Jan Tolmy, one of
their own, would remain in charge of the day-to-day operations. Things would
continue much as they always had. Everyone, big and small, had their duties,
and duty did not call for unwarranted speculation.

And so Gauihu rode north to meet up with his guards and help defend
Riverholm, no better or worse for the wear. Once out of the village it
seemed his expression of sadness fell away, replaced by his typical neutral
coldness. Nothing had changed for him either, it seemed.

Only there was now one difference. He wore a ruby ring on his right hand.
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