Danaan Commonwealth
07-10-2006, 19:16
Naoley, Wintermore
Her Most Esteemed Highness, the Princess of Wintermore was dressed in an elegant black gown. It reminded her almost of what she’d worn to funerals in the past. But Princess Eleanor, her predecessor, wasn’t dead, not exactly. She had just gone into the Dreaming during the Shattering, perhaps forever. And this was not a formal ceremony for the lost Princess. This was the Palace Correspondence Storeroom. It was here that mail sent to the Palace was sorted. Only a very small portion ever went directly to the Princess and that was normally sent through special channels. A lot of the rest went to specific other people for a formal response. This room, however, was full of mail that had never had a hearing, the sort of things people had written to Princess Eleanor as though they were writing a letter to Santa Clause.
Chrysanthemum had never been a great admirer of her predecessors. She had always found Eleanor cold and arrogant. Still, she felt her absence now and was growing to understand a lot of what she had done for the people of Wintermore and more so what she had meant to them. So she had let herself be talked into this last act in tribute to the Sidhe royal.
With her were people little known outside of Wintermore. They were not leading politicians, prominent nobles, powerful captains of industry, celebrities or other people who might have been recognized international as prominent Danaans. They were, however, Knights of the Cup and trusted friends of the Princess. And that was enough.
Lady Diana Caron was the first to drift from Chrysanthemum’s side and open one of the bags of mail. “It’s amazing how much ordinary people seemed to look up to her. There must be millions of letters here.”
Chrysanthemum nodded mutely. She didn’t like to admit it but Princess Eleanor had been one of the most important figures in Danaan politics during her day. In her head, Chrysanthemum understood that with the flowering of democracy, the formation of the Commonwealth and the expansion of the High Kingdom, the role of the Prince of a principality had shrunk. Ten years ago, by default, the Princess of Wintermore had been one of the seven most powerful people in the High Kingdom and there had been no Commonwealth. That could no longer be the case. But, in her heart, she still couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps it was she who had caused the decline in the prestige of her position. She hadn’t done much in the past. Perhaps that would chance after this.
Sir Carl Conway, a muscular blond in his early thirties, sniffed lightly as he opened one of the letters. “Most of these are just people asking for things. The Government of Wintermore gives out enough hand-outs. This man is going so far as to ask Her Highness to finance an expedition to find hidden pirate treasure, promising to split the profits.”
“Maybe…” Sir Carlton Michaels, the youngest of the knights present conceded as he opened another one of the letters. “But look at this. This woman has cancer and she hasn’t seen her son in thirty years. She couldn’t afford a detective and the police won’t help since he didn’t exactly go missing. She wanted Her Highness to pay to have him tracked down so she could talk to him again before she dies.”
Her Most Esteemed Highness, the Princess of Wintermore was dressed in an elegant black gown. It reminded her almost of what she’d worn to funerals in the past. But Princess Eleanor, her predecessor, wasn’t dead, not exactly. She had just gone into the Dreaming during the Shattering, perhaps forever. And this was not a formal ceremony for the lost Princess. This was the Palace Correspondence Storeroom. It was here that mail sent to the Palace was sorted. Only a very small portion ever went directly to the Princess and that was normally sent through special channels. A lot of the rest went to specific other people for a formal response. This room, however, was full of mail that had never had a hearing, the sort of things people had written to Princess Eleanor as though they were writing a letter to Santa Clause.
Chrysanthemum had never been a great admirer of her predecessors. She had always found Eleanor cold and arrogant. Still, she felt her absence now and was growing to understand a lot of what she had done for the people of Wintermore and more so what she had meant to them. So she had let herself be talked into this last act in tribute to the Sidhe royal.
With her were people little known outside of Wintermore. They were not leading politicians, prominent nobles, powerful captains of industry, celebrities or other people who might have been recognized international as prominent Danaans. They were, however, Knights of the Cup and trusted friends of the Princess. And that was enough.
Lady Diana Caron was the first to drift from Chrysanthemum’s side and open one of the bags of mail. “It’s amazing how much ordinary people seemed to look up to her. There must be millions of letters here.”
Chrysanthemum nodded mutely. She didn’t like to admit it but Princess Eleanor had been one of the most important figures in Danaan politics during her day. In her head, Chrysanthemum understood that with the flowering of democracy, the formation of the Commonwealth and the expansion of the High Kingdom, the role of the Prince of a principality had shrunk. Ten years ago, by default, the Princess of Wintermore had been one of the seven most powerful people in the High Kingdom and there had been no Commonwealth. That could no longer be the case. But, in her heart, she still couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps it was she who had caused the decline in the prestige of her position. She hadn’t done much in the past. Perhaps that would chance after this.
Sir Carl Conway, a muscular blond in his early thirties, sniffed lightly as he opened one of the letters. “Most of these are just people asking for things. The Government of Wintermore gives out enough hand-outs. This man is going so far as to ask Her Highness to finance an expedition to find hidden pirate treasure, promising to split the profits.”
“Maybe…” Sir Carlton Michaels, the youngest of the knights present conceded as he opened another one of the letters. “But look at this. This woman has cancer and she hasn’t seen her son in thirty years. She couldn’t afford a detective and the police won’t help since he didn’t exactly go missing. She wanted Her Highness to pay to have him tracked down so she could talk to him again before she dies.”