Ilium RPG

I arrive back from the hunt shortly before seven, and waste little time in going to my rooms and shedding my fine dress coats and britches. Once more in casual robes, and with still an hour before supper I make my way quickly along the corridors of my father's palace to Helene's rooms. Lit by candle and lamp light I can hear servants scurry around the floors beneath. Occasionally a long shadow will pass the stairwell, but none come to this floor.

As I approach Helene's door, I draw back. The man Aeneas is leaving her door, and now walking towards me. I continue on, cautious. As we near, he doffs his head towards me, as he should. And we all but pass.

"Aeneas." I want to spit his name. He stops, and turns to face me. What is his game I wonder, and why is he leaving my sister's rooms at this hour?

"How is Helene?"

A good day's sales, all in all... much of Ilium's fine citizenry were out and about today, shopping after a rousing hunt. I heard snippets of conversations about what occurred there... some foul deed, perhaps, or some intrigue or indiscression. I paid no more than cursory attention to all that- no longer my concern, any of this... I am concentrated on finance, and finance alone.

Well.. perhaps not solely finance. I did notice a handsome young man or two amongst the crowds, and I could have sworn one of them was giving me the eye. Perhaps I am not as entirely disinclined to make new friends in my new life as I might have first thought. I will leave the possibility open, surely...

As I was packing up my wares for the evening to put them all away, I noticed a young lady who had been selling quilts doing the same. As I was quite in need of a new bedspread, particularly with the chill air in these parts- I decided to stop in to purchase one on my way home. I hastily closed for the evening, and made my way towards her...

New Year's Day

Technology is a wonderful thing. From my position on the hilltop I can watch everything that goes on with a telescope. The dogs are off, the riders following leisurelily after them. My man is in place behind the Achilles party, whom he has been cosying up to of late. He is carrying a perfect replica of a Hector arrow in his quiver, which is disguised by illusion as a plain one. Just so long as the fool picks the right arrow to shoot with, the Achilles are about to be seriously affronted...

New Year's Day: before noon

The hunt has just begun, but even so, my mind is racing with thoughts of other things. It has just come to my attention via a good friend of mine that the Privateer is back in town. I owe him at least eighty-thousand gold pieces, though with interest it's probably more. No doubt he will be seeking my company in the near future, and I will only be able to pay half of my debt at most and not go bankrupt.

Before I saddled up, I caught a glimpse of Catrionia conversing with a lady I have not seen before. She did not look like a noble, however there was a regal beauty about her. When I later had the chance to talk with Catrionia alone, I found out her name was Faustina and that she is a trader who just moved to Ilium. It has my curiosity stirred, I must say.

I see a good sized steer not twenty meters away from me. I reach for an arrow as inconsipcuously as I can, and pray that nobody else slays him before I do. I release my arrow and I close my eyes, asking the steer forgiveness as I hear the life drain out of him.

New Year’s Day, afternoon

I descended the stairs this morning, fully dressed and coiffed, to find Marcellus in his dressing gown, picking at his breakfast plate. He wrote some things out on paper with his other hand.

"My lord," I said, sliding into the chair across the table from him, "surely you won’t be watching the hunt dressed like that!"

He barely looked up from the china and replied, "I haven’t the time for that sort of nonsense."

"Whatever do you mean? We attend every year. What will people say?" I asked, my disappointment growing by the second. The hunt itself isn't really all that exciting to me, but I enjoy the spectacle of young men in tight-fitting breeches, riding about on beautiful horses.

"Frankly, my dear," he said, the sneer evident, "I don’t quite give a damn."

"Well, I want to go! And I cannot go alone, for there shall be even MORE talk about us in town than if we don’t go together."

Marcellus waved his pen wielding hand in a general manner and went back to his figuring. This made me rather furious.

I pressed on, "Well, I am in need of an escort!" More numbers appeared on the paper to the accompaniment of the quill scratching against it.

"Of course, my LORD. Ignoring me helps things rather well, doesn’t it?" I took up my water goblet and tossed its contents at him. The droplets rolled in haphazard courses down his face and beard. He rose up from his chair, glaring at me as he spat, "You BITCH!"

I stood up as well, smirking at him. He grasped my wrist and twisted it. "Give up," I whispered. "Everyone knows you are ineffectual as a man!"

He picked up his plate, remnants of food still clinging to its center, and threw it at the wall. I heard feet running towards the dining room. Hermes appeared in the doorway, and our tableau gave him pause: my husband's face dripping with water, his big-knuckled hand grasping my delicate wrist, both of us with angry countenances.

He broke the silence. "Mother!" Hermes shouted, and he stood at the head of the table, crying out, "I shall take you to the hunt; just, please, don’t do this!"

Marcellus disengaged my hand, and stalked out of the room. There was a faint rosy mark on my wrist for the rest of the day, and it twinged every so often, but I wasn't too concerned. I knew I had hurt him far worse than he let on.

Hermes and I set out a little later to the centre of town. In a few minutes, we are joined by my other children. The traders and food vendors are still setting up their stalls. Through a throng of people, I think I spy Clayton, but by the time it disperses, he is gone. A moment of apprehension, then it dissipates.

"Look," Hermes says, pointing us in the direction of the square proper. "The men are mounting; they must be almost ready to start."

We make our way towards them.

New Years' Day

I deal in that which is not dealt, the underworld, illegal, the dead and the dying, limbs and tongues, spells and potions. I am the Privateer. If you need something in Ilium, I am the one who can get you it.

I hope to continue to play the Hectors and Achilles off against one another to keep myself in business. Arms dealers only make money during wars, naturally. Cold wars tend to be my speciality. That Hector boy already owes me plenty of money, so he is at my beck and call should I wish. I've seen the Achilles brat sniffing around my turf recently too, I shall have to find what's going on there.

Meanwhile, I've drugged one of the weakling councilmen to cause an escalation at today's hunt. It could be messy, we shall see...

January 1st, Afternoon

Everyone has gone to the hunt, even some of the servants. The house is very quiet, so still that I can hear someone coughing several rooms away and the sounds of footsteps in the street below. I decide to see Helene; I need to find out how she is, and if she intends to hurt herself again. I need to know for my job, but I have to admit to myself that I am worried for her, too.

I am soon outside her chambers. I cannot just go into her bedroom, so I slip into her drawing room. The adjoining door to her bedroom is slightly ajar, and I hover beside it. I cannot see Helene, but there is a servant girl busying herself by the wardrobe, hanging up clothes.
"Can I get you anything, my lady?" she says. I strain to hear Helene's soft and cracked reply:
"No thank you, Lucy. You are dismissed."

The girl curtseys and leaves by the other door. I wait until her footsteps have faded down the corridor and then I knock lightly on the panelled wood. "Come in" follows, and I step inside.
"Do not be alarmed, lady," I say, as Helene's eyes open wide and she pulls the sheets up to her neck. "I just wanted to see how you are."
"I'm - it's - Gentlemen aren't allowed in my chamber," she finished in a stammer, her face flushing the same shade as her hair. I sit down in a delicate chair next to her bed.
"You are quite safe with me, Helene. I was just worried about you."
"Worried?"
"You know what happened last night, Helene." I look at her gravely, trying to see signs of madness or wickedness, but her face is all sadness and sighs. "I want to know what possessed you to do such a thing."
She turns her face into the pillow and says nothing. I stay still, waiting for her reply.

New Year's Day, afternoon

Helene is sick today, and confined to her room. Even my father has forbidden me speak with her. I am worried for my sister. And now I am here, in the market square waiting for the hunt to start. Father is already on his horse, preparing to lead the hunt. I find the whole idea distasteful. I have never enjoyed New Years Day for this reason, and this year, with Helene surcumbing to some mystery illness, I am enjoying it even less.

Still, there are stalls and tradesfolk here with their wares to peruse, and I wander amongst the throng idly looking at the goods on sale here.

I saw the Lady Penelope with her three children earlier, talking to some purveyors of antiques. I hid my head and moved away quickly. Tomorrow, will be soon enough to meet with that family again.

I find myself at a stall of shawls and needlework - I have little idea why - but I am standing there feeling the soft and delicately woven fabrics beneath my fingers when I look up, and into a face - her face. I fluster and splutter and say her name eventually. She looks back at me, saying my name, "Charles?" I feel Elisabeth's eyes interogate my formal attire - questioning who I am...

I am about to reply to her when, across my shoulder comes the crisp call of my father's cleric, addressing me by my full name. I stop. Elisabeth looks on at me...

January 1st, morning

I sat up most of the night, sleepless and thoughtless, my mind a grey blank. I decided to fill the time by writing my report to Sir Hector. I fill it easily enough, but when it comes to the topic of Helene I rest my quill and wonder what to say. I have a duty to tell Hector what has been happening; he is my master, after all. But to tell him that Helene attempted suicide? For him to know that she is capable of such a wicked crime? I cannot, for Helene does not seem very wicked to me, and I do not wish her to be destroyed. Perhaps it was a mere moment of madness, the sash and the chair, but I cannot be sure.

Eventually I scratch down a few words and send the letter off with a messenger. An hour or two later, the whole household turns out for New Year's Mass. All save Helene. When I ask after her, Achilles tells me curtly that she is sick in bed. Does he suspect anything? I am all at once afraid for her, trapped in her bedroom, alone with her thoughts. As I kneel in the church, my knees pressed into the hard wood, I pray that she may do herself no more harm.

January 1st, afternoon

Many people are at the New Year's hunt, but I have no time for such sport. My darling lady wife nagged at me to take her, for of course she cannot go alone. I think she wishes to look at the young men riding; I have seen the expression in her eyes. Lascivious bitch. So I told her no, and she raged and stormed at me until Hermes came in and offered to escort her. Now the house is silent, and I can relax in my study. I do prefer it when my family is away.

I have received Aeneas' first report. It is quite brief, but then, he has only been in the household a few days. Still, I will be expecting more of him if he wishes to receive the generous sums he has been promised. Let's see, what does he have to say?

...Hmm, a homosexual chef, how interesting... I doubt that Achilles knows he is harbouring a sodomist. And po-faced Clayton has been seen with a girl of ill repute! Well, well. I smile to myself as I read the next line: "you may like to know that your younger son has been blackmailing the young gentleman, though for what purpose I have not yet ascertained." Ah, Mercutio. He reminds me of myself in my youth. Ordinarily I would be forced to reprimand him - I have not spent all these years cultivating a respectable reputation for him to ruin it through wildness - but I decide against it in this case. Anything that unsettles the Achilles family makes me happy. My jaw tightens as I think of all the wrongs Achilles has done me, and I realise I have scrunched Aeneas' report up in my fist. I smooth out the paper and read his last comment. The ink is a little darker, as if he was disturbed in the writing and came back to finish the report later, or as if he had sat for some time thinking of what to write.

"Lady Helene is, I think, somewhat disordered in her mind."

What does that mean? It is not like Aeneas to be cryptic. Still, if I read it right, he is suggesting that the girl is a lunatic.

How marvellous.