#ulfric dantes maximilian

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

Someday I'm going to finish writing this story. It would help if I could actually remember where I put my notebook that had the outline and third chapter in it lol

This is a bit from the first chapter, setting up the main character, Dantes. For context, rulers in the kingdom of Hieracium are elected, and each takes the family name of the very first ruler of the kingdom -- an unlucky woman who was volunteered for the job because she knew how to do math related to switching currencies and nobody else did. So the Ulfric Clan isn't a bloodline, it's more of a title.

His father and mother had raised him to work as hard as any farmer or farrier or fisherman. Their particular branch of the ever-growing Ulfric clan had not always been rulers, the late Queen Mother had reasoned, and there had been no guarantee that Dantes would be elected as Maya's successor when she retired. Better to be a Jack-of-all-trades than to find yourself out of work with no practical skills.

But Dantes was more than happy to pull his share of the weight in both the capitol and the city. Perhaps his advisers did tend to gently poke fun at his habit of treating the staff like housemates rather than employees trying to do their jobs. And perhaps some foreign dignitaries looked down on Hieracium a little for having a ruler who was willing to scrub flagstones and scatter reeds with the scullion staff. But the Hieracia people loved him for it. It was a reminder to those within their kingdom and those watching from without that rulers were only mortals, like their subjects.

Dantes had just finished setting a cauldron of water to boil when the head cook shuffled into the kitchen. He smiled at her, dusted off his hands, and began to measure tea leaves into an enormous pot.

“Morning, Mrs. Bolton,” he said cheerfully, “Were the dormitories warm enough last night? I saw frost on the windowpane this morning.”

The elderly woman wrapped her pink wool shawl a little tighter around her shoulders and sucked on her teeth thoughtfully before pushing past the king to add several cups of dried oats to the cauldron. Her hands were not as steady as they once were, and she looked altogether too pale.

“Here, give me that,” Dantes said, trying to take the next cup of oats from the cook. “Sit down and warm yourself before you freeze!”

“Leave off, you!” The cook retorted, gently batting his hand away, “I’m a grown girl, I can handle it well enough.”

She made a face as the last of the oats for the porridge disappeared into the water, and held her hands out to warm them over the steam.

“Truth be told,” she admitted, “Twas a mighty cold night. I can’t speak for the others, of course. But me and Mr. Bolton, we do chill easier than we used to.”

Dantes tutted sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear it,” he said. “I’ve heard that in Nermorn they’ve begun using little coal stoves to heat rooms without fireplaces. Shall I order some for the dormitories? I’ve heard they’re a little messy, but efficient.”

Mrs. Bolton patted his arm with the bold familiarity of one who had known him for most of his life.

“You’re a dear, your majesty,” she told him fondly. “Now you seat yourself! And, and, take some breakfast while you can, afore the rest of my kitchen miscreants wake to scrape the pot clean! I’ll not have it said of me that I let a king go hungry.”

“Yes marm,” Dantes chuckled. He let her push him to a stool by the fire -- no mean feat for a little old woman half his size -- and hand him a steaming bowl of porridge. 

It was bland stuff. Dantes waited until Mrs. Bolton’s back was turned, and tossed two handfuls of nutmeg into the pot. He swiftly brushed his hand off on his trousers, lest the traces give him away, but his attempt at concealment failed anyway.

The instant the cook smelled the nutmeg, she crossed her arms and sighed. “Now sire, you know we need that for baking! You can’t turn every staff breakfast into something fancy.”

“I can try,” the king retorted, with a most unkingly pout.

A few of the other cooks, bakers, and kitchen staff trailed in as the fire warmed the stones. They each greeted the king respectfully, then collected their bowls of porridge and drifted away to begin their morning routines. There was bread to be baked, turnovers to be filled, and enough food to feed a castle to be prepared.

“Colin, get another pot of porridge going,” Mrs. Bolton ordered one of her assistants, “Tis cold enough to freeze the marrow this morn. Make up ten bowls for Jemmy to bring up to the night watch -- and mind you don’t let certain individuals meddle with the recipe!”

“We’re down to one more sack of oats, marm,” the flustered man warned, “All the rest went into the oat farls last night. For the upstairs’ breakfast, remember?”

“Nevermind,” Dantes interjected, pointing his spoon in Colin’s direction. “I’ll see to it that we buy more the next time we ride through Ainselv.”

The king visited the city of Ainselv often. It was only four hours’ ride from Iconos, the capital of Hieracium. As it was a little newer than Iconos, and a little larger, it had a much nicer library, and much nicer merchant stalls. Being so close to the shores of Lake Striga, they had first pick of the goods shipped across the lake from Nermorn. Being further east, Iconos often got what was left over.

“Ordering food is the cellarer’s job, your majesty,” the Assistant Head Cook said in mild reproof.

“Well I’m in charge of all the jobs, aren’t I?” Dantes defended himself, “I can give the cellarer less work today if I like!”

“Sure, and you’re not only looking for new tomes of frightful tales, your majesty?” Mrs. Bolton’s assistant teased.

“Now see here, Mrs. Poppy!” Dantes laughed, then spent an embarrassing two seconds cleaning bits of porridge out of his beard. “See here! That was one time! Heavens, come home with a book instead of a bull once, and you never live it down!”

“Who forgets an entire cow?!” Mrs. Bolton called from the dough table.

“A bookwyrm, that’s who!” Dantes retorted. “I’ll make that oat order, never you fear. Besides, I may as well find something new for the court intendant to read.” He made a face. “She’s up all hours like an owl with those tawdry war romances. May as well find her something with a little more substance, eh?”

“I...don’t know that the Lady Hawksbit is the sort who would care for your tales of knights and monsters, sire,” Mrs. Poppy muttered, but said nothing more about it.

Dantes poured himself a mug of hot mint tea, wished the kitchen staff a pleasant morning, and excused himself. “Off to work!” he announced, “It’s Thursday: out-of-doors work today.”

“Ooo! Mind you wear lots and lots of coats, sire!” squealed a scullion's child on the way to breakfast, “Mother said it’s wicked cold today!”

“And she’s quite right!” Dantes answered. “Oh, Charley, tell the butler I’m requiring a rotation of breaks by the fires today, won’t you? We want no frozen fingers here! Laundry will keep until the sun is properly up.”

“Yes sire!” the child chirped, “If there’s to be lots of breaks, will we get to play in the snow?”

“That’s a question for your mum, not me!” the king called over his shoulder. He took the stairs two at a time and came out in a cozy parlor that had once been an office.

Dantes had never really relished the idea of doing his share of the kingdom’s bookkeeping in the same windowless room his mother had favored. He found it unbearably stuffy in the warmer months. Upon taking the throne, one of the first things he’d done was to make sure his private office had windows that could be opened in the summer. That did incur the risk of pigeons coming to investigate the budget, but there were worse things in life.

Dantes hastily sipped his half-cooled tea as he backed out of the study and made his way up the north stairs to the grand hall. On Thursdays, instead of hearing from advisers all day, Ulfric Dantes was more accustomed to holding court for only four hours. Ministers of agriculture, water control, public health, and other departments related to the kingdom’s overall environment would present their reports to the king during this time. If anything was amiss, the king would ride out to personally contact whoever had been placed in command over the town named in the report. Married rulers usually delegated this sort of thing to their spouses, as that was the job of the vice-rulers. But Dantes remained cheerfully and stubbornly single, and liked to take care of things himself.

Thursday afternoons were generally spent in one of Hieracium’s six cities, holding town hall meetings with city government and civilians alike. They usually had much more specific ideas of what the royal court could improve upon than the advisers in Iconos did.

And, thus far, none of the civilians had tried to badger the king into some kind of political marriage. That was another point in their favor.

#folklore friday #fic prompts #writing prompts #original characters #original story #king and coven #ulfric dantes maximilian #clearly i was in a Redwall mood when I first wrote this #Dantes' main issue is that he wants to retire and adopt a bunch of kids but he's contractually obligated to find a successor first #his would-be first pick for a successor Does Not Want To Be King and will scream if both Dantes AND the population elect him #in Hieracium the people select a couple candidates and they intern with the ruler to see if it works #then the council does electoral votes to pick which one replaces the former king or queen #one of the main candidates would do anything to be chosen. the other wants nothing to do with it. the rival does not know this #original worlds

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

This is a snippet of my King and Coven fairytale which, hopefully, I'll actually have time to work on this year lol. The context is that there have been a rash of strange illnesses and deaths in the settlement of Trader's Gate, and the king has gone to investigate. The investigation is about to be interrupted.

"Rumpus! Come back!"

Chasing after the dog was a small boy, only barely dressed for the winter. He slipped on a patch of ice and went crashing to the ground. The puppy skidded to a halt and cocked its head. It dashed back to the boy with an excited yip and bounced around him before prancing back to the Shieldguards. Lucien bent down to scratch the puppy's ears.

"Well some guard dog you are," he scolded, "Leaving your master in the snow like that!"

The little boy picked himself up and brushed as much of the muddy slush off of his tunic as he could. "Yeah...she's not very good at listening yet."

Dantes hopped down from the loading dock and crouched in front of the boy. "Ah well. She's a puppy, she'll learn. That was quite a tumble! You all right there, son?"

"Yep!" the boy smiled up at the king. "I didn't hit my head or anything. And I didn't even cry!"

"Oh? You're a tough customer, huh?" Dantes teased kindly. "Well I'm glad you're not hurt. You shouldn't run when it's icy. Especially not in cloth shoes."

"I know," pouted the child, "But Matron Dora didn't get enough donations for everybody to have boots this year."

There was only one Almoner's House in Trader's Gate. As the settlement was not, officially, a city, it did not have the same funding as Ainselv. The Almoner's House relied heavily upon donations to take care of those without homes.

"Oh?" Dantes blinked. "I'm sorry to hear that!"

The king turned back to his party and waved Birgit over. "Birgit, while I go over the report, would you visit the Almoner's House for me? See what they need. I'm authorizing you to requisition supplies from Crown outposts if need be."

Birgit bit her lip and glanced back at the lake. What she really wanted was to stay and hear the reports of the glowing waters. But Dantes was not one to put off welfare matters until later.

"Of course, your majesty." Birgit wrapped her cloak more securely around her shoulders and didn't let her disappointment show until she was out of sight. It wasn't the boy's fault, of course, but Birgit rather wished he could have timed his interruption just a little later.

The boy tiptoed to look over Dantes's shoulder at the Royal Investigation Militia and Civilian Protection Dept. They were all clustered around a table covered in the latest catch of strange fish.

"Are you here 'cause of the monsters in the water?" he asked.

"They aren't monsters, kid," chided Sheriff Tan.

"Well they sure aren't fish!" the little boy retorted. "I 'member, this is just like last time when everybody got sick!"

Sheriff Tan sighed. "Kid, this is an official investigation. You need to run along home now."

"But I just had to catch Rumpus," argued the child, "What if she falls in the lake and gets eaten?"

Lucien and Dantes exchanged glances. They hadn't had an opportunity yet to interview the people living in Trader's Gate or Ainselv about the alleged creature contaminating the water. While they knew that children were prone to exaggeration, it couldn't hurt to get the boy's perspective.

"Here," Dantes said, "How about this: let's get you a collar and a leash for little Rumpus, eh? That way you won't have to worry so much about her."

"But I don't got any money!"

Lucien laughed. "Oh trust me, kid, that won't be an issue." Privately, the captain -- and even some of Dantes's advisory council -- felt that the king's bleeding heart was going to get him into trouble someday. Sooner or later, it was likely that someone would try to take advantage of his generosity. But the king was a grown man, and he could make his own decisions, so Lucien let it be.

"Now," the king said brightly, "We've been introduced to Miss Rumpus, but what about you? What's your name, son?"

"I'm Zekiel," said the boy. A moment later he shyly added, "Your...m- majesty?"

"Pleased to meet you, young master Zekiel!" Dantes rose and brushed slush from his knees. "You can call me Mr. Dantes if it's easier."

"Dan! That's not proper respectful!" Lucien hissed to him.

"Well neither am I, according to the Queen of Tangle!" Dantes whispered back jokingly. He held out a hand for Zekiel. "Shall we?"

Without a second thought, Zekiel slipped his hand into Dante's. It would not have occurred to him to be wary of strangers. Trader's Gate was so small that most everyone knew at least each other's names. And the Royal Investigation Militia was known for being a trustworthy partner to the Civilian Protection Department. What was a king but a RIM officer with a fancier hat, anyway?

Dantes let the little boy lead him to Trader's Gate's main street. The king had been there several times over the years, but he let his small guide show him around as if he were visiting for the first time. Zekiel was particularly excited to show him the bakery. The baker had recently made enough money to purchase and install a large, plate-glass window. Apparently it was the talk of the town.

Or at least, it had been, before the water started glowing and people started getting sick.

#folklore friday #fic prompts #writing prompts #original characters #original story #king and coven #worldbuilding #ulfric dantes maximilian #Dantes is currently in denial about it but Lucien knows he's one dad joke away from adopting the nearest unattended kid at any given time #dantes is really looking forward to when he can retire from the throne and just raise as many kids as he wants

[radioactivepeasant]

Folklore Friday

(Not a fic prompt this time, it's an excerpt from my NaNoWriMo project)

The king always rose before dawn. He was the first to unlock the doors, and the first to light the cooking fires in the morning so that the downstairs staff could eat first.

This had been tradition ever since Hieracium was no more than a collection of fishermens’ huts on the shores of Lake Striga. In those days, being king only meant that your lodge was the largest, and your household the best cared-for. After all, you could not have a large lodge if you were wasteful or careless with your resources, and you could not have a healthy household if you were callous or careless with people. 

    As the saying went, “It’s a pretty poor king who won’t even rise to feed his house.”

    As centuries passed, and Hieracium grew and expanded, the symbolic duty remained tradition, with some rulers even buying and cooking food for their entire staff personally. (While a very well-intentioned endeavor, the growing number of staff and their families had in recent generations led this to be a very time-consuming task that left kings and queens with very little time for important meetings. Which may well have been intentional.) Some rulers, of course, had been less enthusiastic than others about carrying out this particular duty. But for his own part, Dantes had never minded it.

    His father and mother had raised him to work as hard as any farmer or farrier or fisherman. Their particular branch of the ever-growing Ulfric clan had not always been rulers, the late Queen Mother had reasoned, and there was no guarantee that they would be rulers in the future. Better to be a Jack-of-all-trades than to find yourself out of work with no practical skills.

#Folklore Friday #original writing #original story #NaNoWriMo #king and coven #Ulfric Dantes Maximilian #he's a nice guy. much nicer than what the author is about to put him through. #excerpt

[radioactivepeasant]

No Prompts this Week because NaNoWriMo, but I do have a snippet of what I've been working on

In the cold, mostly ornamental, throne room, dawn was just beginning to break through the windows. It wasn’t nearly enough light to read by, but that didn’t seem to bother the young woman curled up on the overstuffed throne. One foot dangled over the armrest, bouncing occasionally, while the other braced her knee up to act as a reading desk. She didn’t even notice the king’s approach, bundled as she was in a fur she’d wrapped all the way to her ears. 

The girl flipped a page, and her faint blush grew darker. The creases at the corners of her eyes suggested that somewhere under all that fur she was making a scandalized smile. Or an embarrassed grimace. The hand that had been idly twirling a lock of hair began to drift toward her mouth. But before she could gnaw the already short nails, the king made his presence known.

“Good book?”

With a shriek, the young woman jolted. The book left her hands to turn a graceful arc before landing several inches away. Mortified, she leapt from the throne and dusted down the cushions with long, pale, fingers.

“Oh my stars!” she gasped, “Oh my cats and kittens! I’m so sorry, your majesty, I know I wasn’t supposed to sit there, I just-!”

Dantes bent to retrieve the fallen book and handed it back to the girl. “I think nearly everyone in this castle has borrowed my chair at some point, Birgit,” he said dryly. “I don’t exactly go about putting people in stocks for it, do I?”

Birgit folded her hands into the fur cloak and looked terribly uncomfortable. “Well, no,” she admitted, “But...well, I do think a ruler’s seat of power ought to be treated with more respect. Usually.”

She glanced down at her book and flushed again. “Mostly.”

Dantes shrugged. “Suit yourself. If you like, you can banish your allegedly disrespectful bum to the court intendant’s terrible wooden chair for the whole of court.”

“It will reflect upon its crimes,” Birgit laughed.

#nanowrimo #king and coven #nanowrimo project #original fiction #wip #original characters #birgit hawksbit #ulfric dantes maximilian #yes its a terribly long name #but the monarchy in Hieracium is more or less a series of elected officials who take the same family name after taking office #he could've gone on happily just Dantes if the people hadn't decided he was the best person suited to take the throne after his mother

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

Actually this is a description of a dream I had last weekend. It was so vivid I had to write it down. And illustrate. TW for blood, vampire related violence.

There was king, looked a little like Blackwall from Dragon Age Inquisition. (I later gave him the name Ulfric Dantes Maximilian) He desperately wanted an heir, and consulted with a prophet who gave him a vague platitude. Something about how a king ought to see all of his subjects as his family, even the poorest of street orphans. The king took it as a prophecy and rode out with his advisor to find a child who fit the circumstances.

     The king found a little boy, probably nine or ten years old. He looked like Dahj from Final Fantasy XIII. They immediately connected and the king, upon learning that the boy was an orphan, put him into the wagon with them.

     The advisor did not approve of his decision. It seemed like she wanted to succeed him herself, and was both upset that her years of service were being overlooked and concerned that the king's reputation would suffer. (The lady may have been especially upset because she hoped the king would choose her.)

And here's where it gets weird

The caravan was attacked by two vampire women. As they fought with the king, infecting him with their blood via injuries, the advisor suddenly stabbed the boy in the back. She revealed that she was the youngest of the "sisters" and that if they could not have a vampire on the throne, they'd make the king suffer. They left the king and the mortally wounded boy alone in the dungeon, so that his new bloodlust would force him to feed on his adopted son.

   (I was a passive, but present, observer in the dream, and inexplicably I kept addressing the vampires as Morrigan, Birgit, and Deirdre, because it visibly disturbed them. Clearly they deserved it.)

I saw the advisor, the one I called Birgit, leave the dungeon with a large bundle wrapped in bloodstained cloth. I (and the king) both assumed that  the boy was dead.

     The king embarked on an epic quest for revenge, almost The Count of Monte Cristo in scope. He killed Morrigan during a grand ball by poisoning her wine with holy water. She burned as if it had been acid and the last thing she saw was the king's cold stare.

     I don't know how he tracked down Deirdre, but I have an image in my head of a muddy battlefield, with a vampire staked to the side of a chariot. The chariot was still moving.

     He tracked Birgit to a ramshackle cottage across a swamp. As he was preparing to brave the crossing and the horrible monsters Birgit summoned to stop him, another monster broke out of the shed attached to the cottage.

    Oddly, it was a Final Fantasy cactaur. And out of the cactaur comes the voice of the boy we'd mistakenly thought was dead.

     "Hi Dad!" The cactaur boy shouted, "Look at me! I'm a little cactus!"

     Birgit, bargaining for her life, explained that the king had actually turned the child, refusing to kill him. She spirited him away to use as a bargaining chip if the king stepped out of line. He'd been hunting the Three Sisters not just for revenge, but to rescue his heir, and he hadn't even known it.

     I didn't see the final battle with Birgit, but I saw the king embrace the boy, now restored to human form. So I assume Birgit met a richly deserved fate.

The aforementioned heir had apparently learned to shapeshift before any of the usual vampire tricks.

#folklore friday #original works #original story #original characters #weird dreams #the scene in the ballroom was chilling #someday I'll find a way to convey it in words or images #tw blood #tw: blood #vampires #king and coven #ulfric dantes maximilian

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

This is a snippet of what I've been working on for NaNoWriMo this year! It's the first three pages of chapter one.

The kingdom of Hieracium was not a large one. Nor was it an especially rich territory. It sat between a range of hill country and an enormous lake that stretched all the way to Hieracium's nearest neighbors. They exported fish, and imported most everything else, and got along quite comfortably. Things were not perfect, but nobody went hungry, and there had been no wars for the last two generations.

Most people said that was because two generations ago, King Ulfric Gawain Maximilian had a brilliant idea: he decided to replace the old noblemen on his council with people who actually had administrative skills. The hue and cry about commoners in office only lasted until the kingdom's budget was suddenly more balanced than it had ever been, and everyone's taxes were lower as a result!

Hieracium putterrd along in the histories of Fareco, neither at the very forefront nor at the tail end of progress and discovery. And perhaps it might have stayed that way for many years to come, had it not been for one event during the reign of Ulfric Dantes Maximilian that nearly brought Hieracium to a screeching halt.

The king always rose before dawn. He was the first to unlock the doors, and the first to light the cooking fires in the morning, so that the staff could eat first. It had been tradition since Hieracium was no more than a collection of huts on the shores of the lake. In those days, being king only meant that your lodge was the largest, and your household the best cared-for. After all, you could not have a large lodge if you were wasteful or careless with resources, and you could not have a healthy household if you were callous or careless with people.

As the saying went, "It's a pretty poor king who won't even rise to feed his house."

As centuries passed, and Hieracium grew, the symbolic duty remained tradition. Some rulers, of course, were less enthusiastic than others about carrying out this particular duty. But for his own part, Dantes had never minded it.

His father and mother had raised him to work as hard as any farmer or fisherman. Their bloodline had not always been rulers, the late Queen Mother had reasoned, and it was not guaranteed that they would always be rulers in the future. Better to be a Jack-of-all-trades than to find yourself out of a kingdom with no practical skills.

#nanowrimo #original works #original characters #original story #king and coven #folklore friday #ahhh Dantes is a nice boy. too bad the author is putting him on the Angst Train. #I'm sorry Dantes it's for a good cause