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18th of Cylus, Arc 717
Journal,
Things are not as they seem. Despite the recent complications in Rynmere's political affairs, I am doing well. Today, I am off to investigate the local businesses, as I've heard tales of looters and lusty fiends prowling the area. Maybella is a marvelous woman, for the most part, but moreso are her children -- I'd have loved an opportunity to come to the Garden earlier, if only to see the smiling faces of Venora's future.
I often wished to be an orphan in my youth, of course, as per the abuse I faced. Would I have been happier if I had been sent off to an establishment like that, away from my nobility? Perhaps. I can only imagine myself now -- a slummy accent, a ridiculous bounce in my step, a life of crime and searching for more. Perhaps my lack of father would have led me to desire to be one, rather than constantly swatting away marriage proposals and breaking the hearts of Ladies all lined up to meet me in a mid-Saun cathedral.
Regardless, I go on tangents. I've done well, lately. Sincerely well. I've met a man named Fridgar, and I love him. I'm a bit worried for him, and the way things will change when others know of us, but I'll stride through it. I've come to accept that maybe I'll never be the Lord I wanted to be, because of my deformity, as some would call it. My inability to simply marry a noble woman and go on with it all. My will for freedom, to pursue what I want.
And I want Fridgar. I'm supposed to be seeing him now. I'll have to make myself look nice.
Alistair, 18th of Cylus, 717
- - -
It was a cruel morning. The warmth of Fridgar at his bedside had receded, the man disappearing from the Duchy to pursue the end of his relationship with Rey'na. Alistair shivered in his room, and occupied himself in writing, surrounded by blankets and books. He read one such book now, opening it shortly after the last stroke of his pen in writing into his personal journal.
The book was titled "The Complexities of Change, and the Cycles of Public Interest". It was about the changing of regimes and styles of government, typically led by a waning of public approval on current systems. It was a book every nobleman in Rynmere should have read by now, already, as it strongly related to their current situation. Written by Charles van Joeberg. That was a familiar name. Some political writer from a few centuries ago, by his recollection? Maybe.
"They say," he began to read aloud, "that the secret to maintaining public support is of maintaining support within. Not just at the top, but additionally, in the places that ripple below. If you have a man who declares, such as a town crier, ensure his loyalty. Seek to affirm his biases, and if not, create them. Contact his employers, apply pressure, see that they apply to him that same pressure. Utilize ideology. You must see that others directly around you believe of your right to rule, before those far beneath you will ever imagine it. It is a spatial connection - the lowest among your spatial connection will, if loyal, relay your positive reputation to those around them, rippling downwards until the common man or even the common slave hears of your excellence and productive leadership." He read intently, following the words with a nod.
So what, then, was the issue with the current nobility of Rynmere? In all likelihood, he believed it was their usury, their greed, their primadonna behavior, their inability to acknowledge the merit in those below them. The nobles of this Kingdom would rather work upwards than downwards, and so those below them, rippling their prestige downwards, only saw an enigmatic if not malevolent entity. It was time, then, for them to return to their roots - of communing with the people. Of being like common men.
He nodded his head, and closed his book, standing up to straighten out his clothes and prepare to see his mate. He waited. He watched walls, and said nothing. Fridgar would come. He'd eventually come.
