• Mature • Cause of Cousin [Daliane]

[Peake]

6th of Saun, 716

“… and if so my heart
Is to be torn in two
One half for the Kingdom
The other one’s for you.”

It was beautiful.

That was Peake’s official conclusion every single time he read the Veteran of Venora’s poetry. Having stumbled upon his literature all the way back in his university years, Peake had grown very fond of the author’s work, perhaps even obsessing with it. Baron Blackbeard had read the entire bibliography of said mysterious figure at least thrice, which was not really a great achievement as there were only two books with his name – a book of rhymes, and a book of short stories. Both he enjoyed again and again, and kept re-reading throughout the arcs. Despite not considering himself a romantic, or a sentimentalist, something in that author’s work drew him to it, nibbling at his heart and causing melancholy and romanticism to arise within him.

The Veteran of Venora was a rather hidden author, whose identity was never really discovered as they were always signed with the same pseudonym. His two books were published posthumously, and so the hints towards his true identity were forever lost. It was believed that the morose rhymes and sad sceneries painted with that individual’s words were product of a former lord of Venora, as a common theme in his work involved the unfairness of the caste system towards the second and third sons of a ruler. Peake agreed with said thoughts, as he was extremely lucky not only to be a part of a noble house, but be the one man with the exclusive right to claim Andaris’ duchy.
Of course, Peake’s liking of said author, one who used the name Venora to sign his work, was kept secret. A personal distaste had grown against the Venora by Peake’s part, be it because of their pompous attitudes or their unearned arrogance. After all… they were nothing but artists. Art meant nothing in a world shaped by war, and despite everyone trying to tell him otherwise, Peake was obviously biased towards House Andaris’ brutal and merciless occupations. Rallying slaves, collecting taxes and forming strategies would always be more important than paintings, sculptures, or whatever shite the Venoras liked to do with their lady-like hands.

The arid Saun day had barely started, and Peake already felt tired. As he closed his small book of rhymes, his bearded features looked around at the ablaze skins of the peasants as they marched miserably down the street. If all the horses, voices, and footsteps were to cease, and everyone froze in their spots for just a mere moment, Peake was certain he would hear the loud sound of the flesh twitching and searing, scorching almost the work force of this great city. Despite the heat, Peake had no chance to remove his armor, as his shift was going to begin in less than half a break, and the war-time crisis had to be resolved by him – the most competent man in the entire political force, apparently. The lack of a Lord Commander meant a distribution of his function to everyone else that held a piece of the King’s trust, which meant Peake had to have pretty steady hands in order to carry all the tasks the Boy King threw at him. Peake still looked older than he was because of the stress, and his sleep schedule was alarmingly scarce, which only made him question his decision to directly serve the King. Even if it was hard, Peake would endure it.
A lot of dirty looks flew towards Peake, the only man sitting outside the pastry and refreshments shop no matter how many free chairs and tables were available. Perhaps the only difference between his seat and the others was that Peake’s had an umbrella, thus sitting in the shade while everyone else had to endure the sun’s rays if they chose to sit. The alternative was to enter the shop itself, where the heat was even greater as, at least out in the street, the breeze that came from the sea could be felt for an increased ability to cool down. Being not only the Commander of the Ouroboro Guard, but also holding the port-side Barony of Andaris city immediately granted him more privileges – or rights, as Peake would call them – which the peasants did not really appreciated. Not because of that any of these peasants would dare say something to Peake, or even dare meet his own gazes. The power Peake wielded was seen by the invisible barrier that separated the common men from the extraordinary men. There was no need to guess to which belonged Peake, as his beard itself was a visual representation of grandeur.
Intermittently sipping either his glass of white wine – needed to quench his need for alcohol to avoid withdrawal – or his glass of water, Peake yawned as he enjoyed… well, his own company. It was then when his eyes, sneaky knaves with an evil agenda, began closing ever-so-slowly. Leaning back on the chair and extending his oversized legs below the table was certainly not very proper, but it was very relaxing. The sounds of the day served as the lullaby that gently guided Peake into the temptation of sleep, which the tired nobleman had no intention to chase away.

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[Daliane Andaris]

"But if you could be an animal, what would you be?" He asked once again, clutching the script ever so tightly in his soft hands. The actor's voice hinted that he was flirting with the older gentleman and not just making smalltalk. He gave his friend an endearing smile and occasionally brushed up against him as the two walked side by side. Daliane's intentions were obvious; it should always be obvious. A man will not know if you're seducing 'em, if you don't seduce 'em. Those were the previously puzzling words of Bianca Venora -- coming to mind. He understood what she meant now, never hesitating to approach his prey and let them know that he was being flirtatious. Actions, words and specific changes would always hint that he wanted you. The way his lips curled into a smile or moved a certain way when he talked were signs. How he walked and carried himself differently than usual also. You would have to be a fool not to notice.

Luckily for the lord, Daniel Stone is not a fool. The talented bastard recognized the change in Daliane's behavior and got a thrill out of it. Well, he did not necessarily enjoy it as much as he did the fact that the naive young boy is much more into him than he was into him. "I told you already, Lord Daliane, there are many I would like to morph into." Daniel's eyes turned to Daliane, who was beginning to show disappointment. Daniel took his disappointment terribly and after a pause that felt like a lifetime to Daliane, he gave a final answer."If I had to choose one, it would be a songbird. Like you, my lord, songbirds are prominent and enchanting."The males stopped and faced each other. Daliane's heart started to beat fast and his blessing was feeling icy. Excitement was growing within-- he felt like he was going to burst!

Daniel raised a hand and delicately rubbed the bottom of Daliane's chin, causing him to turn red. It was quiet for the time-being, nothing was said by Daliane or Daniel. The mixed race basked in the moment and wished it would never end. All wishes do not come true though."I must go back to the theatre. If I could walk you home, m'lord, I would but I am not exactly done working." Daniel lowered his hand and touched the script Daliane was holding. It was the play they both star in."Practice your lines."

Daliane did not get a chance to assure him that he would practice, Daniel had run off. He let out a breath of air while watching Daniel take off. The romantic interest disappeared amongst the crowd and when he did, the intimate feeling began slipping away from him. Soon, he would feel like himself again.

He continued walking without anyone by his side. When the feeling was gone, the half Sev'ryn did what he was told and began practice his lines. Daliane read his lines to himself quietly. He practiced these lines in different voices, trying to figure out which one sounded more convincing. Daliane also tried acting out certain parts of the play and this made people passing laugh. The boy looked sort of ridiculous trying to sword fight and dance (with no music) by himself. In a hushed voice, some people called him an odd child. No one would ever dare to make nasty comments to the grandson of the Duke's face, even the least important one.

In no time he was done practicing and had a notion about going over the script again. While contemplating whether or not he would take a shot at it, he saw a familiar face. Daliane's cousin Peake was sitting at a table, reading a book and he was very much into it. From afar, he watched Peake turn pages like a madman. The heir made faces Daliane never recalled seeing before and when he finished reading the book, Peake leaned back in his chair and began closing his eyes. He must be exhausted.

No longer was Daliane contemplating if he should go over his lines again. Should he say something to his cousin was the real decision. Daliane never really spoke to his cousin and the Andaris nobles were not very close. A factor of this is the age difference. Peake was what? Ten, eleven, maybe twelve years older than the teenager. Conversations could have never been held in the past between them. Then there was Daliane's complicated behavior around other Andaris men. He had always been much more secure around women. That is why he knew Peake's sister, Celeste, to a greater extent.

Peake's eyes were completely shut now. Daliane's decision was easier to make now for some reason. He decided to approach his cousin and greet him. Moving in on Peake, he noticed his fine armor and grinned. It told of his status here in Andaris like the embroidered house sigil on his own shirt. Yet Peake was much more important. He also noticed how much Peake looked like their grandfather and stifled a laugh. "You look like grandpa after a hard day with the King." The sound of his voice came out of nowhere for Peake, Daliane hardly reached his table just yet. "I have witnessed him falling asleep in his office a few times." He was on the opposite side of the table now, standing behind the chair.

Common-Xanthea

[Peake]

Peake awoke violently as the Young voice reached his ears. Releasing a loud snort unconsciously, Peake’s body leaned forward as if about to stand, draw his sword, and fight the entire rebellion on his own. Thankfully, he did not, as instead his eyes fell upon his cousin. Sighing deeply, Peake leaned back once again, as one of his feet harshly kicked the chair opposite of him in order to move it, offering it to his cousin with an open palm.
“…no wonder. Cassander needs constant babysitting.” Grunted Peake, not bothering to hide his bad mood, made obvious by the impressive depth of his frown. “Join me, Daisy.”

Perhaps a bit mocking with the given nickname, Peake couldn’t forget that Daliane was raised in Venora, a topic his father had often brought up in family dinners. It is from those dinners that Peake had learned of Daliane, relative that otherwise would be a complete stranger to him. It is because of this notion of growing in Venora that Peake couldn’t help but to feel that Daliane’s stay with that feminine house had turned Daliane into a feminine version of a man – something in between that Peake couldn’t help but hate. Not only Daliane lacked height, made obvious as Peake ran his brown eyes down Daliane’s limited frame, but also because he lacked girth in his body. Muscle and height were the ingredients of every man, and a good bushy beard was the final condiment to create a magnificent creature. Yes, said creature was often obsessed with sticking their manhood into everything that moved, but perfection was not one of the guaranteed results. Daliane, in that sense, lacked every ingredient.
Peake made himself comfortable once he retrieved his legs, leaning forward as he rested his armored arms on the table, making sure the delicate daisy before him had enough space for his status. Yes, he may be lacking muscle, height, or facial hair, but he was still an Andaris. That was the base of the recipe, of course.

“Want to eat or drink something? I’m buying.” A lie. Peake wouldn’t pay even for his own drinks. That’s the advantage of being powerful, and so he looked over his shoulder and whistled to call the attention of the woman inside the shop. Afterwards, he’d turn to face Daliane again. “How are you, cousin? Enjoying life as a civilian?” Peake chuckled.
Unable to hold it back, Peake rose a hand to cover his mouth as a yawn escaped him. Baron Blackbeard was unsure what he yearned most for: a woman, or a bed. Surely a bed of women, which was the perfect solution for his problems – if it included Cassander’s decapitated head in a nearby spike. Certainly, he had no love for the King’s questionable sense of strategy. Moments after, the tavern wench came along, glancing down towards Peake with obvious distaste.

Peake pointed to Daliane, the girl ready to take his order, if any.

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[Daliane Andaris]

The biracial noble was almost faster than his cousin. The much larger Andaris was petrifying and awoke like an angry bear, causing Daliane to quickly jump back. Dumbfounded, he stared at Peake with his mouth slightly open. The Andaris heir's reaction was so unexpected and the first for him. Never has he been greeted in such a way. He did not know exactly how to respond to such aggressive behavior. Surely, he would not return it but he did not know what else to do. "Thank you." That was all he could utter after the chair had been kicked out in such a terrible manner. Daliane's body shook a bit as he sat down, placing his hands on the table and turning his look of horror into one of pleasure, even though he was not quite feeling it.

The little nickname was something new to him, he had not been called a Daisy before or ever until now. Daliane did not really care either. However, he did care about Peake's tone of voice as he said it. This was very much notable and one too familiar.

He recognized it since it was used numerous times before by others. Specifically, men he shared the same blood with. The tone was one the lords used very often when they would hold a conversation with him. Sadly, it showed their disappointment with the outcome of Daliane, who was not the man most hoped he would be in life. In his opinion, men of Rynmere were held to ridiculous standards and expectations. Every man was expected to know how to fight, protect and take charge of situations. If you knew the pampered Andaris, you'd know that he could not fight -- Daliane refused to learn and even if he could, he would not be very good at the sport. If he cannot fight, that also means he cannot protect anyone and most definitely take charge.

"Oh, no I-" Peake had already beckoned for someone before Daliane could get another word out. He did not try to finish his sentence either, the young lord was so intimidated by his cousin, he did not want to speak up or even go against his orders. He is the heir after all. "I am very well. I do not exactly live the same life as a civilian, Lord Peake but I do enjoy my new job as an actor. It suits someone like myself." Peake's laughter made it almost easy to talk. The bearded man may was definitely laughing at him and he did not mind that. So long as he did not display the same attitude as before, everything was fine. "How are you, Peake?" He asked and around the same time, the barmaid appeared ready to take his order.

"I've changed my mind, I do not want nothing at all." He told her blatantly, soon returning his attention to his cousin.

"I've heard things..." Daliane's voice trailed off. He wanted to ask Peake about the Civil War and the decisions being made by the King. Daliane did not know how to go about it though. "The war..."

Common-Xanthea

[Peake]

“And you’ll keep hearing them, cousin, because we’ve yet to bury whatever is left of it.” Said Peake, as he looked over his shoulder at the swaying hips of the tavern keeper, which Peake wanted to bite and suckle upon like a child on a lollypop. Returning his gaze on Daliane, Peake would grin. “We’re taking care of it. Or I am, by whipping the Dukes into reason. You cousin is in charge of pulling this Kingdom together, once and for all!”
Raising his glass, Peake would offer a silent toast to his cousin’s honor with the use of a slight bow of his head, before whatever remained of his wine disappeared between the bearded maws of the Baron. It didn’t take long for Peake to start feeling tipsy, as alcoholics often got drunk with minimal quantities of alcohol. That was a blessing and a curse both, because you either accepted the need for alcohol, or you had to go through violent withdrawals to neglect it. Peake accepted it.
“I’m fine. Tired, overworked, stressed out, and a bit annoyed, but I’m fine. It’s been a hustle organizing everything in case the Burhan don’t back down, but I’m convinced they won’t take long to surrender. Hey, maybe you can teach me to act as if I cared about them!” Peake laughed, surprisingly slowly. His head was spinning already. “It’s in times like these when I wish I was just another ignorant peasant and have someone else do this shit for me. You know?”

Peake now took the glass of water and finished it two, releasing a loud burp afterwards. Not a very noble or refined burp, that is, as drunk Peake did not quite aim to please anyone but himself. And his other self, which hanged by his chin. And his third self, which dangled between his legs. Grunting as he rotated his shoulders in order to prepare them for the weight of the pauldrons, Peake would sigh and lay his eyes on Daliane for more than just a moment.
“My shift is up soon. I’ve got this one house nearby I must go to collect some taxes. Come with me!” Not asking, demanding. Peake chuckled, as he pushed his chair back with his mighty arse and stood up, his gigantic height and the width of his armor madding him quite an imposing figure. “Come on! It’s fun. You’ll see what you’re missing by being an actor. I’ve got a ton of facts about Rynmere’s finances, and I’ll even tell you about the King if you want me to.”

Partially trying to bribe him and partially trying to drag him along, Peake has been working alone for the past two seasons, and he felt he wanted to share something with his family. Syhera didn’t bother to visit him, Celeste was probably still angry with him…

His cousin Daliane would be enough.

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[Daliane Andaris]

That's not what Daliane wanted to hear from his cousin. He was fishing for anything but Peake's praise of his own duties as an Ouroboro Guard. Peake's claim is a complete fabrication in Daliane's opinion anyway, who believed in many things being an impressionable boy and all. Thanks to Bianca Venora and other noble women of the Venora duchy, he was able to hide what he was really feeling behind an imitation of a genuine look.

"The Kingdom is in good hands. Who else but an Andaris can take on such a job?" The last sentence was a phrase Daliane heard his father say almost a handful of times. The Andaris were so heavily involved with Rynmere's politics, he was surprised his family wasn't taking over by now and proclaiming themselves the royal family of Rynmere. The first queen was an Andaris, he couldn't help but think. He did not understand how the monarch could change so many times. Every great house had to be in power at least once. The Andaris held the throne twice, he believed.

He laughed too with his cousin. Daliane was still learning himself, the half Sev'ryn could not teach anyone even if he wanted to. Acting looked easy, everything is on paper and it's sort of like playing a child's game of pretend. Daliane thought he would be an expert after his first day. Jane was still correcting him though and held him back after every rehearsal to critique his skill. Daliane had never been criticized and sometimes what she said hurt his feelings. Still, it helped.

Daliane did not take offense to what Peake said last nor did he agree with it. Daliane knew nothing of the lower class or what they did. He did not think of their lives often and the only lower class citizen he acknowledged was Mary. Daliane has a gentle soul, he was nothing like his older cousin. But he's lived such a luxurious life, not having to lift a finger or even pay for his own things that he paid no mind to others.

"Okay, okay." Daliane was a bit alarmed by his cousin's excitement to collect taxes. He'd take being an actor over being a tax collector any day. He raised out of his chair, making less noise. "That's what I wanted to hear." He bluntly stated. "I have no interest in the king, I do not even know what to think about him but this Civil War has caught my attention. I want to know what he'll do about it and how he'll bring peace back to the region."

Daliane is a follower of the god, Ziell. He cared about war-- not in the same way other man care about it. Daliane just wanted to know how to end it and solve everyone's problems.

"Tell me about this house you're collecting taxes from. Then tell me what houses have sided with the rebellion." He walked beside his cousin, scared to get too close.

Common-Xanthea

[Peake]

As Peake and his cousin, order of words also establishing the order of importance and the order of procession down the cobblestone streets, advanced, something in the Baron was starting to shine. Perhaps not literally, in spite of his quite shiny and extravagant armor, but in a more figurative sense: his attitude was changing. Perhaps unbeknownst to Daliane, Peake was a chronic alcoholic for almost three arcs now, dating back to the sudden death of his mother Mary. Although Peake was no stranger to casual drinking before that, throughout many binges and emotional dysfunctions it had become a necessity for him to drink to even function. There was not a trial in which Peake skipped wine or beer, in fact needing several doses of it throughout the same trial to avoid the alcohol withdrawal that plagued his life. Now, the glass of wine he had ingested a few bits back was slowly filling that need in Peake, and his extreme sensibility to alcohol was awakening a completely different male.

Not so different from what people often perceived, Peake and his stride was turning more and more aggressive as they walked. A strange form of frenzy was taking over the man, a mixture of anger and excitement that tainted every motion and every word from the seemingly self-pleased man. It was as if the joy in him was so intense his own body was becoming aggressive under the desire to experience the emotion to its fullest. Combined with the position of power, the elegance of his armor, and the entitlement that came from his social status, Peake was becoming a real danger – mostly for others.
“Bah! I’ll tell you about the war first. As for the house, you’ll see when we’re there.” Peake said, chuckling afterwards as he ferociously glanced towards Daliane, hoping to find his cousin as excited as he was. “This war, cousin of mine, is a big farce. It’s very unlikely that any big conflict is to arise, except perhaps some skirmishes in which some generals try to compete for the largest manhood. Ha!”
Making their way down the street was quite easy, or at least it was for Peake. A certain swagger had taken over him, which was arrogant enough that the peasants surrounding him moved aside without Peake needing to shoulder-bash them away. It was very satisfying.
“And I’ll tell you why, too. You see, this rebellion was very, very sudden. Like, the first report we have about the Burhan uprising was dated on the 32nd of Ymiden. Ever since, their rebellion has been dangling on a rope, to be honest.” Peake said, quite jolly. Afterwards, he spat to the side, and winked to a blonde with a nice cleavage. “At first it was the Burhan, Endors, and Warrick, I believe. Warrick fell through thanks to our intervention, details I can’t discuss, so the Burhan fellow sought out the Venoras. The Venoras, according to my now brother-in-law Alistair, heir of the Duchy, will remain neutral to it despite his sister having married the rebel Burhan, and in turn I gave away my sister to marry Alistair to consolidate the Andaris-Venora front. Hopefully, that can win us some much needed warriors if we ever need them. Again, we most likely won’t.”

Politics and such delicate affairs were surprisingly present in Peake’s demanding job. The Ouroboro Guard was mainly conceived to guard the Royal Family, but as time passed it had become an extention of the King’s arm. Where the laws and honor of a Lord Commander or other military branch of the Iron Hand could not reach, the Ouroboro Guard was sent. Peake, being a diplomat and politician first and a warrior later, found himself at home in the King’s Court, where most of his tasks revolved not on protecting the King, but protecting his realm. Knowing, predicting and performing are what the Ouroboro Guards truly did – be it for the good of the Kingdom or the good of the King. Unfortunately, those things were rarely the same thing.
“So currently we have the Burhan, which want to crown themselves as the Royal Family because of this Veljorn man, who was the Captain of the U’fek Sailors of the Iron Hand. The whole family is into that, apparently, so we might as well kill them all and remove their dishonorable stain from our history. Then we have the Krome, which are basically along in the carriage because Markus or whatever, some low-life Baron, wanted to. Then we have the Endors, which if you recall, were dishonored greatly by Thomas, the Lord Commander that died in the arena last season after he and the now dishonored Queen had been plotting against the King. And, of course, we have Zvezdana Venora… a bitch that nobody really cares about. Still, she being a Venora has inspired some thoughts of greed and that shite into her dumb mother’s head.” Peake laughed, shaking his head.

“As you see, it all changes so fast in that rebellion it seems it was built on sand. And all points out to that, indeed. So I’ve been personally pushing a strategy of waiting and observing how the Burhan’s allies fall apart by themselves, so we don’t have to give them an army to fight against and a reason for them to unite. I don’t want to spill innocent blood.” Peake grinned to his cousin.

Peake turned at the next right, where two city guards were hiding in a shade, sharing stories of how awful their wives treat them. Peake snapped his fingers to call their attention.
“Guards, with me.” Plain and simple, and the guards, recognizing the faction Peake represented by its armor, followed. The Ouroboro Guard was not very liked by the Iron Hand, and had no authority over it as the latter served the realm as a whole, not a family. However, the city guard was employed by Andaris as a city, and the city was sponsored by the Bank of Rynmere, which was branched to the Treasury of the Realm, thus connected closely to the Crown. Because of this, the city guard and the Ouroboro Guard often worked together, as they served the same employer. They were also more likely to turn a blind eye to injustice, which was another reason tax collecting was as infamous as it was. Everything was connected.

Twenty feet away and the quartet stood before a wooden door of a residence of Mid-town, which was clearly housing economically solvent citizens.
“You get the honor of knocking, cousin. Go on – put some force into it!”

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[Daliane Andaris]

He was right to keep his distance from his absurd relative, it seemed that with each step Peake took he became more reckless. A noble no longer, the armor he wore could have belonged to anyone since Peake did not carry himself like the heir of their great house nor a guard of the king. Compared to his behavior earlier, Daliane's cousin was starting to look like a buffoon. A drunken one at that with an attitude both cheerful and bizarre. Daliane could only recall his cousin having one drink yet he was not clear on whether or not it was alcohol. Daliane could careless too since he liked the new behavior Peake displayed. A little eased-- he did not fear his cousin as much but showed a little gratitude to his existence at the moment. A little pep in his own steps, he nearly mirrored Peake the way a child did their guardian. He is seventeen arcs, after all.

Somewhere deep within Daliane, there is someone concerned with politics and the safety of his family's territory along with those who helped it strive each day. Often, this being hides behind a bubbly personality and a trusting soul-- he is still there though and when he becomes concerned, he'll arise and break free. He'll break free and show some sort of intelligence to the people he converses with. Today, that person will be Peake.

"How sure are you of that, cousin? Gossip tells me houses are choosing sides, I'm sure that'll cause some sort of tension." He was sure and it did not take someone well informed in politics to understand what the war will do to Rynmere. There is a possibility the king will win and if that is to happen, what will happen to the houses that sided with the rebels? Vice versa. Better yet, what will happen to the system the nobles before them worked hard to establish. Daliane has little knowledge on the houses' tribute to Rynmere. He knows that whatever the others trade is a necessity to all of Rynmere.

"I remember seeing many wearing a blue cloak the day the queen was shot. Could that have also be an indication of the war?" A hectic day that was; Daliane witnessed a man take out a group of men without witnessing him lifting a finger. Rah'lyn noticed the odd number of blue cloaks of the same color and then both Daliane and his mother witnessed the King's wife being hit by an arrow. The only safety available was Daliane's grandfather and his guards, who escorted Daliane and his mother out of the arena. "You did well, I'm not too sure about the Warricks but the Venoras are a easy house to influence. I love Duchess Ebony and her family very much but I have to say, they need us as much as we need them. Being on the side of those that rebel would be of no use to them too. Not even if a Venora married the one leading it." Daliane was wrong about his cousin. Peake really does take charge. "You should've sent me, I know how to persuade a Venora." He was joking. He did know a way to a Venora's heart but he dislike war and being involved in it.

Daliane did not carry on, pausing while his cousin continued to move forward. "Brother-in-law? Lord Peake, did you have something to do with that?" He rushed to his cousin's side, slightly grinning. The Venoras and Andaris unite, how exciting! Celeste is betrothed to Alistair, that lucky girl. Daliane thought she would fit in with the family well, being pretty and all. He imagined the Venora would be happy about that, their blood would remain untainted.

"So I guess each family has their own reason for siding with the rebel king." Daliane shook his head. It was all beginning to make sense, though the only reason that seemed somewhat valid were the Endor's. "This is terrible. I'm disappointed in Zvezdana too, such a beautiful woman who could do so much better. She'll be very unforgiving once she finds out her family is against her."

Daliane did not want to see any blood, not even Vlejorn's. If there was a way to avoid this war, he would suggest it to his cousin. It's not like he would take it but it did not hurt to try.

Peake called on a few guards and no attention was given to them from Daliane, being accompanied by them was a bit of a norm for many nobles. Daliane moved forward and he could feel the people's eyes watching him, more likely Peake who intimidate them. For the very first time, Daliane felt prideful in his house and the business they took care of. A new respect for his cousin too, who had become a very powerful man with much influence.

Daliane and his cousin came across a house, a small one with a simple door most citizens had (or could afford). "Uh...okay?"

The mixed blood approached the door with much grace, fixing the collar of his shirt once he reached the door. Daliane was a little nervous, excited too. He cleared his throat and did the exact opposite of what Peake would do. Daliane lightly tapped the door with his knuckles a few times, "Excuse me! We're here to collect." He looked back at his cousin and gave him the thumbs up. "Please open up." His voice was as smooth as silk and did not sound so demanding.

Common-Xanthea

[Peake]

Daliane’s more than questionable knock and demand caused an expression of distaste to appear in Peake’s livid features, a wide grin donning his face. In a way, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for his cousin, heir to nothing, responsible for nothing but to wave his last name around the city. Although Peake respected his family with unquestionable zeal, being witness to the weakness of the family links was like a kick in the groin. Whereas Peake had given up every ounce of joy in his life to accomplish almost impossible goals, boys like Daliane were more concerned with how good their reflection looked. Quincy, Peake’s younger brother, was in a similar way, although at least he had a respectable business, even if the drunkard spent half the time draining his own product. Leeson was a similar case, a diplomat that only spoke, hindered by vague concepts of democracy that accomplished almost nothing. Celeste, Peake’s youngest sibling and only sister, had given up her life to marry the heir of the Venoran Duchy, which of course was a big sacrifice for the sake of the family. Anyone who did not squirm and ache for the good of the family was nothing but a parasite. However, Daliane was young still, and he could still be educated into the reality of the world.
The mid-town’s residence reacted to Daliane’s soft petition, the door creaking open very slightly, an eye peeking from the crevice. It was then when Peake took over, a harsh punt smashing against the door, pushing the resident back as Peake barged in. Taking Daliane by the arm, he forced the boy inside the residence so that Peake’s lesson could begin. The two guards followed, Peake moving to close the door behind them.

Now, it was time for a lesson.

Inside the two story residence stood two females, a mother and her daughter, both still young enough to show their beauty but old enough to be considered women instead of girls. Both were very attractive, two brunettes with full lips and innocent features that would sell well in a whorehouse. The mother, perhaps bordering her thirties, was elegant, a beautiful dress covering the curves of her body. The daughter, perhaps in the second half of her teens, wore a dress similar to her mother’s, her curves softer but firmer due to her age. It was the mother the one had answered the door, the female now backing away from the uninvited guests, the daughter standing up from the chair in which she embroiled a piece of cloth with the design of a rose.
“What do you want!?” Yelled the mother, panicking already. “We’re not giving it away!”
Whatever she was referencing, Peake apparently knew about, but ignored her words as instead he turned to his cousin.
“See, cousin. It’s not about which side each family takes.” Said Peake, his tone menacing and devilish as his intentions were certainly not friendly. “It’s about not exposing your back to those you deem your allies.”
With that, and after leaving his book with the guard, Peake turned around and made his way towards the daughter, whom tried to retreat into the corner of the room. While the daughter was nothing but a lure, the mother nonetheless jumped towards Peake in defense of her daughter. She was met with a harsh, armored backhand that sent her to the ground, the daughter screaming at the sight of her mother splattered on the floor. Peake shut her up with a merciless punch onto her abdomen, her lungs emptied and her body bending forward.
As she fell, Peake came to the rescue, taking her by the hair and tossing her to the middle of the room, to lie beside her crying mother. He eyed Daliane, and proceeded with the lesson.
“You see, everyone that claims to be on your side is lying. You believe them, and they find your back, the gap in your armor, and they try to backstab you. It’s the way of the world,” Moving to the center of the room, Peake placed his armored foot on top of the young girl’s ankle, pressing down and hinting towards a possible fracture if he wanted for it to happen. “Even whores like these, that would suck you dry for a copper, can betray an entire kingdom. Do you want me to tell you what they did, cousin?”
The girl squirmed in pain, her cries mixing with her mother’s, a chorus of despair singing its beautiful song for the room to hear.
One of the city guards turned around and moved to the door, exiting the residence and closing the door behind him, unable to witness the cruelty without his conscience being wounded. The other guard, however, remained on the spot, and his tired eyes stared at the spectacle with apathy.
“These whores have a barn they refuse to sell to the Iron Hand.” Continued Peake. “It’s in an important strategic location, one that could save hundreds of soldier’s lives, thousands of civilians, and even the entire Kingdom. However, they won’t sell. Tell them why, you whore!” Peake removed his foot and instead used it to painfully stomp the mother’s thigh.
“Our horses…!” She cried between sobs. “Our business would die…!”
“What about the men that fight for you!? Are your horses’ lives more important than the life of the soldiers that fight for your life!?” Peake, rabid from these sort of actions, kneeled and took the female by the hair. With his other hand he pointed towards the guard. “Tell him why he should risk his life to protect someone like you!”
The guard remained apathetic to it all, supporting himself with his spear. One could see he was unhappy with his situation and the possible imminent death.
“You see, cousin?” Said Peake. “You see what this war is doing to the people? It’s turning them into monsters of greed, of avarice, and selfishness. It’s not about the side you choose, nor in how many vows your allies swear to you. It’s about how bad it gets and how loyal you remain to your word.”

Finally, Peake moved behind the mother, sitting her up against his chest as his armored hands undid her cleavage, her breast exposed for the room to see. The female tried to cover herself, but soon enough her hands were found occupied trying to halt Peake’s own hands, which were crawling up below her dress towards her groin. With her legs and wiggling, he resisted Peake’s indecency.
“Open them up, bitch.” Growled Peake as he shook her. “Or we’ll take your daughter.”
Between sobs of utter despair, the mother’s legs stopped resisting, her daughter crying next to her as she witnessed it all, unable to do anything but twist on the floor like a worm.

And so Peake’s hand crawled to her core, an utterly disgusting expression overcoming his face as he looked up at his cousin, the evil grin exposing his even teeth. He was truly a rabid dog without a leash now that alcohol had invaded him.
“Look at this, cousin. Some nice tits and a warm, juicy cunt.” Peake said, chuckling. He beckoned to his cousin with his head. “Want to fuck her? You can go first this once.”

Thanks to Lazuli for this amazing template!

[Maltruism]

Come and get your Loot!

(There's plenty more where that came from)

PEAKE & DALIANE:

Rewards:

• Story: +0
• Collaboration: +0
• Structure: +0

Knowledges:

• No Grade

Loot, Loss, Injuries, Fame, Devotion: 0

No Grade

Comments:

Sorry, but Peake and Daliane both recently retired.
If either of you return, I will go over it.
For now, though, I will not be taking any bank points for this "review"
PM me with any comments or concerns