PAUL CHAUVELIN
French Government
Spymaster
Posts: 200
Joined: Jan 25, 2013 11:17:51 GMT -5
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Post by PAUL CHAUVELIN on Mar 23, 2013 23:33:52 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background: #000000] chauvelin when worlds collide and days are dark - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Chauvelin was an atheist, and had been all his life. His parents -- his mother continuing even after his father died -- had corresponded extensively with a number of Enlightenment philosophers. There had been Deists like Voltaire as well as atheists such as d'Alembert, but few had exactly met with the approval of the Church. Though they'd largely been elderly and many had passed away while he was still a boy, Paul had been a precocious child and well aware of the currents flowing around him.
Despite not believing in the existence of God, Chauvelin had no such doubts about the existence -- and power -- of faith. He'd seen it inspire the best in men, and he'd also seen it used to try to excuse the most appalling atrocities. Still, he was glad to hear that Henri didn't have any of that Divine Right nonsense in his head. He'd seen with the former King and Queen just how much harm it could do to everyone, including those who believed it.
On the other hand, not believing you were sent from God didn't necessarily mean you believed in religious freedom. Nor did knowing your Locke, as Henri clearly -- and very surprisingly -- did. And thinking of that, Paul tilted his head thoughtfully, gazing down at the boy King.
"Why do I have trouble seeing the Chouannerie as regarding the Treatises on Government as approved reading material for you?"
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HENRI D'ARTOIS
Aristocrat
King of France
Posts: 110
Joined: Feb 27, 2013 1:40:40 GMT -5
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Post by HENRI D'ARTOIS on Mar 24, 2013 14:32:30 GMT -5
[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;] 407 WORDS FOR CHAUVELINNotes here: None now. SECRETS [/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri took a couple of deep breaths to keep his composure while he waited for Chauvelin to weigh over everything he'd said.
He could sense that the tables were quickly turning on him. Oh, yes! He'd certainly been able to uphold his end of the conversation without too horribly much trouble. that wasn't the point. He was starting to understand the true mental genius and power of this man who called himself Chauvelin. This man could be a formidable foe or a powerful ally depending on how he chose. He was certainly someone for Henri to keep a close eye on - regardless of whether they became friends or elsewise. Henri had the disettling feeling that Chauvelin was single-handedly smarter and more able than all of the men in the Chouannerie together. This, unfortunately, did not excite him as much as he'd expected the times he'd dreamed about someone coming in and upsetting the balance of power in the Chouannerie. In fact, it made him nervous. He wasn't sure he wanted someone he wasn't sure he could trust filling that role, but it didn't look like he was going to have any choice. He knew well enough to know that this man was not just going to disappear into thin air. No.. he was here to stay and he and Henri needed to learn to work together - for their own good as well as the good of France which was a far more important reason for this to work. However, he was not foolish enough to realize he was quickly losing ground as far as being the alpha out of the pair. It made him uncomfortable given .. but he also had a healthy enough humility to understand that realistically that's how it should be - even if theoretically it was wrong. That didn't stop his wondering and worrying.
Henri looked back up at Chauvelin once he voiced his question. "Who says it was approved?" He inquired, trying to keep his voice as light as possible - as if he did things like going against what the Chouannerie would want, secretly, all of the time - no big deal. "-I- am the king of France. Why should they dictate my reading choices? I think I'm quite capable of making those kinds of decisions for myself." He stated, drawing himself up to his full height.
Nevermind the fact that they dictate about everything else. [/style] |
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PAUL CHAUVELIN
French Government
Spymaster
Posts: 200
Joined: Jan 25, 2013 11:17:51 GMT -5
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Post by PAUL CHAUVELIN on Mar 25, 2013 23:25:50 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background: #000000] chauvelin when worlds collide and days are dark - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Chauvelin raised an eyebrow at Henri's reply, his expression one of sardonic amusement. "Why indeed?" he murmured, though he was willing to wager that if he were to pay a visit to the palace library, he would find nothing by Locke there. Nor would names such as Rousseau, Voltaire, or Montesquieu appear on any of the books or folios. There was doubtless some Aquinas and probably some Aristotle, but it would have been purged of any of those 'heretical' Enlightenment thinkers. The boy developing ideas of his own was not in the Chouannerie's best interest.
Which raised the question of just how Henri had come by his familiarity with Locke. Either someone -- likely one of his young group of spies -- had smuggled it in, or he'd read it before the Chouannerie had gotten their hooks into him. And thinking of that made Chauvelin realize just how little he really knew about the boy. He had the basic information -- parent's names, the absence of siblings, where he'd grown up -- but nothing about the child as a person.
He'd viewed Henri just as the Chouannerie had, as merely a gamepiece. A king on a chessboard was important, even vital, but ultimately was simply a carved bit of wood or stone to be moved as the player wished, with no will or choice of its own. That had been a profound moral lapse on his part, and if he'd dared to look within himself, he'd find the reason why. The last thing he'd wanted was to see another boy King as a person, with hopes, dreams, loves, and fears of his own.
It was also a profound professional lapse, which was what the old spymaster told himself really mattered. He had an opportunity here to show a bright young mind the virtues of republicanism. Granted, Henri's political views were essentially irrelevant -- the boy would be extremely lucky just to survive to eighteen, let alone remain in power. But it was far less painful to think about that than the other, so that's what Paul did.
"So," Chauvelin continued aloud. "You have no trouble acquiring whatever books you want on whatever subjects interest you?"
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HENRI D'ARTOIS
Aristocrat
King of France
Posts: 110
Joined: Feb 27, 2013 1:40:40 GMT -5
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Post by HENRI D'ARTOIS on Mar 29, 2013 14:22:15 GMT -5
[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;] 506 WORDS FOR CHAUVELINNotes here: He's feeling pretty good about himself right now. Please don't dash his young boy's ego LOL. SECRETS [/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri considered it thoughtfully for a moment, the question Chauvelin had asked him. was an interesting one. It could, he supposed, be some kind of a trap - get him to admit things and then take what he said and go to the Chouannerie with it. This whole thing could be a trap. However, Henri was hoping that was not the case. If he really and truthfully had wanted to go to the Chouannerie with this information.. it wouldn't have been too hard to break by Henri and Chasse... so.. if he'd really wanted to do that then -why- was he still here? Henri thought that didn't entirely make sense so... he must not want to tell too horribly bad. No.. the man would likely have some other motive. He said he was in service to France but not, quite clearly, with loyalties to the Chouannerie. Henri supposed it might be the same situation he was in. He was desperately loyal to France, his country.. but that didn't mean he was going to be loyal to its attempted destroyers who were pretending to be its saviors! Perhaps Chauvelin was the same way. He knew he kept going back to doubting, but what else could he do? This was a very serious situation and he would be crazy if he didn't admit he was afraid. He was. But he was determined not to let that cripple him.
"Well.." He said thoughtfully, biting his lower lip slightly. "I wouldn't say no trouble.. it's very difficult to get books like that nowadays. I have certain connections which I find useful. I do tend to have much more interesting and educational reading material than the Chouannerie supplies - but I wouldn't say that it's with no trouble at all." He paused thoughtfully.
"All I can gather from what you've told me so far is that your loyalty is to France first and foremost. Not to any person. If that is truly how you feel, then we should talk because I'm in agreement with you on that matter. If I'm to speak plainly - seeing as how you already know enough to doom me if you wanted to. I despise the Chouannerie and their ways. I despise that they let me have no power. I could be a good king - but they don't listen to me. I refuse to abdicate, though because I do -want- to be king. Desperately. Just.. king with power to actually make changes for the good of France rather than sit in my apartments like a fool as the world falls apart about my ears. Suppose I did abdicate? What then? They would merely replace me with another puppet who might more willingly do their bidding. So if you truly want to be in my service.. in what I'm doing ...then we must speak urgently." He drew himself up tall with that last bit - feeling proud and rather pleased with himself as fairly normal for a boy of his age feeling a tad bit important. [/style] |
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PAUL CHAUVELIN
French Government
Spymaster
Posts: 200
Joined: Jan 25, 2013 11:17:51 GMT -5
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Post by PAUL CHAUVELIN on Mar 31, 2013 23:21:59 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background: #000000] chauvelin when worlds collide and days are dark - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Chauvelin considered that for a long moment. Revealing his true feelings about the Chouannerie and his awareness of his figurehead status had been a risky move by the boy King, and bold because of that. Granted, neither was exactly a huge surprise to the old spymaster at this point, but actually speaking the words aloud must have been a difficult step. Acknowledging reality openly like that meant letting go of the blanket of denial which, however tattered, still let you pretend you weren't freezing to death.
Henri was teetering on a tightrope, and Paul realized he could at that moment either steady the boy or knock him off. He also knew it wouldn't take much of a jostle to do the latter, even if he didn't intend to. The old spymaster knew was going to have to choose his next words with great care, and so he took his time doing so. He had to walk a tightrope of his own, the fine line between lifting with false hope and crushing with despair.
Chauvelin sighed. "In my experience, very few men set out deliberately to do evil … and yet they do," he said at last. "They do it through ignorance, or folly, or weakness, or for some other of a hundred reasons, but they do it. And precious few of them realize that they have even then, even when it all falls apart around them."
He looked at the boy levelly. "I'm not seeking to enter your service any more than the Chouannerie's. Wait," he continued, holding up a hand to forestall any protest. "Hear me out. You believe you would make a good ruler. Fair enough. But I'll tell you, so did Louis XVI. And Victurnien. And Bonaparte. And Louis XVIII. And Hebert. I knew all of those men, and every last one of them believed to the very bottom of his heart that he would make a good ruler. And every last one of them believed to his dying breath that he was a good ruler. Now," he spread his hands, "we have the Chouannerie. And they, too, believe they're good rulers."
With an eloquent shake of his head, Chauvelin expressed his opinion of that assessment, but said, "I'm old and tired. You believe you would be a good King. Perhaps you're right, perhaps you're wrong. I don't know.
"Yet."
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HENRI D'ARTOIS
Aristocrat
King of France
Posts: 110
Joined: Feb 27, 2013 1:40:40 GMT -5
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Post by HENRI D'ARTOIS on Apr 13, 2013 22:40:30 GMT -5
[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;] 2117 WORDS FOR ChauvelinNotes here: Sorry this post grew a bit out of control on length LOL. SECRETS [/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri was astounded when, at that exact moment, two seconds after the 'yet,' his stomach had the audacity to let out a growl of hunger - which, given that the boy was thirteen, felt more like -famine-. Something he hadn't even noticed before now so intent had he been on their conversation. He would have been tempted to look at his pocket watch except he felt that would be extraordinarily rude and give Chauvelin the feeling that he was taking too much of Henri's time - which was the last thing the boy wanted to make his guest think - any - guest.. He wasn't that kind of person. However, he did have a feeling that they'd been talking for an inordinately long time. Not that he had anything he'd -rather- be doing. He understood that this conversation was very important. Somehow he suspected it would either make him or break him - so to speak. However, if the conversation were to continue much longer, he probably couldn't ignore the roaring in his stomach. It made his face red. He didn't appreciate his body's interference into more mundane needs like food when he was thinking about broader matters of state. He hesitated for a moment before deciding what he was going to do.
"Come with me. I'd like to discuss all of this with you. However, it's dusty and chilly in here. Let's go back to my apartments. You're welcome to have tea.. and there will be sandwiches and other things by now I expect." It was the most gracious invitation he could extend.. given the circumstances. He also hoped walking to his chambers would buy him a little time to think of his response.
At first, he'd been put off slightly when Chauvelin didn't want to be in his service. No.. not because he thought so highly of himself that he thought Chauvelin was being disrespectful; it was nothing like that. It was more of a reminder of how alone he was and how no one seemed to -want- to help him. It was a reminder that he might spend the rest of however long he had on the throne be it a few months or the rest of his life (however long that might be - a thought which struck him as queer and worrisome) - alone. Or mostly alone. He loved his small group of friends, and their loyalty was refreshing.. but sometimes he thought they couldn't understand them and he could not them. He knew that they often enjoyed the missions he sent them on and that they understood the solemnities of their tasks, but after that they went home and were just normal teenage boys in normal teenage homes... and that existence was far removed from his. He would not have refused someone - would have even welcomed someone.. who would maybe understand due to age and experience... someone who could help him even more to straighten things out... But he wasn't to get it, apparently. Chauvelin didn't want to be in his service 'anymore than he did the Chouannerie's.' - at least that was an interesting bit of information. Perhaps if he wouldn't be in Henri's service, at least he wouldn't be in Henri's oppressors' services -either-.
Henri's rooms were decorated to his taste - though the furnishings were still befitting of a palace, he'd been able to mostly choose what to place in them. Most of the furniture was cherry wood gilded in gold, the floors were hardwood with various woven rugs, and the walls - which were typical cream colored and gilded in French Rococo style were covered in paintings and large carved bookshelves holding everything from Biblical tomes to adventure novels - each of the shelves having in common that it was stuffed full. Of the paintings, a lot of sea-faring voyagers, soldiers, landscapes of France especially. There was a large fireplace with a hearth and mantle covered in a few family photos and trinkets. Overstuffed couches, arm chairs, and little tables surrounded the fireplace. Across the room there was a picture window with gauzy white curtains. The cushions had been pushed down and were sliding - a sure indication that the window seat had recently been sat in. A door stood open to show the foot of Henri's bed but not much more could be seen. By the slightly billowing curtains there was an odd instrument - at least odd for a boy's room - perhaps if Henri had been a girl... it wouldn't have been so odd.. but for boy it was definitely odd.. - a grand harp - concert style, large enough that it was almost taller than the boy still. It sat by the window's natural light, a music stand in front of it splayed open with music sheets spread across it. The neck and body of the harp were made out of brilliant golden wood which shone from polish and was trimmed with silver - a contrast to the cherry and gold in the rest of the room. Around the floor of the room - which obviously doubled as a playroom - there were hundreds of toy soldiers set up in very keen battle formation, and a chess board left in mid game with the white pieces winning. There was a blanket on the couch where he'd been sitting, and near it was a coffee table with a tray of tea sandwiches, some soup, and a few cookies as well as the tea. "Welcome." He said simply, moving across the room with little ceremony and pouring both himself and his guest some tea and using his fingers rather than the prissy tongs to put a sandwich on each of their plates. "Have a seat.."
He sighed vaguely, brow furrowed as he tried to put together his mind enough to make an educated response. "With all due respect, Monsieur. I am neither ignorant nor jovial enough to fail to understand that follies must have their place after more serious concerns - One must pay the piper - so to speak. I have plenty of my own faults which I freely admit to. I am not proud of any of them. I am stubborn - I don't like to take no for an answer. I sometimes have a fast temper, and I hate to admit that patience is not a virtue I have perfected. I think about girls far too much in ways I should not, and if that sort of dream is a sin then I'm going to hell for sure. However, of all of my faults, turning a blind eye to a problem while it falls apart around me is not one of them."
He paused thoughtfully for a second before he rose and paced to the window, his shoulders seeming surprisingly weighted down for a boy of his age. "You think that I do not understand the situation outside my own palace window. But you're wrong. The plight of the workers is awful. The conditions they work in are appalling. Their children have little hope of turning out as anything other than menial laborers as well because an education - let alone time to attend it - is not afford for them, and they go to bed at night with tongues of firey hunger in their bellies while their parents wonder how they will feed and clothe the next babe God sees fit to 'provide' them. I can't even begin to say I understand, for I have never experienced anything like that - but I can say I understand that things must change if France is to come out of this and recover, grow strong again the way she has been - the way I imagine bringing her into the future. Things must change. Only a fool would fail to see it and, upon one thing I suspect you and I are agreed; I do not suffer fools well." He said this as he faced the light from the window, his arms crossed over his chest like an army general making battle plans.
"To everyone who is entrusted power, is a choice. And the choice is this - how they are going to use that power and whether they are going to let it go to their head. There's a Biblical parable not meant to talk about power but winning souls to Christ- though I think it fits nicely anyway. It is said that a rich master went away for a time, and to three of his servants he gave five, two, and one talents, each according to their ability. The man who had received five talents immediately put his money to work and earned five more. The same with the one who gained two. But the man who had only one put his talent in the ground. After a time, the Master returned and went to settle accounts with his servants. 'Master, you entrusted me with five bags of gold. See, I have gained five more.' and the Master replied 'Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many. Come and share your master's happiness!' - and it was the same with the servant to whom he'd given two talents. Then the man who had received one talent came forward and admitted what he had done with his talent. He said 'I know that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sewn and gathering where you have not scattered seed. So, I was afraid and went out and hid your talent in the ground. Here it was belongs to you.' And the Master replied 'You wicked, lazy servant! You should have at least put my money on deposit so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest. So take the talent and give it to the one who has ten. For whoever has will be given more and they will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them. Throw that worthless servant outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.'" He continued to look out the window.
"Truthfully, I say to you. Louis, Victurnien, Bonaparte, and especially the Chouannerie.. they all have the same problem. They want to do things how they want and are blind to anything else. They had the -chance- to make something amazing.. like the story of the five talents. And for a time maybe they did.. but they chose not to see it falling apart.. not to intervene when they needed to.. because they didn't want to man up and admit they did something wrong. It wasn't the people who did something wrong. It wasn't the country that did something wrong. It wasn't that they had bad or incapable advisors even.. - it was in part the circumstances.. but also in part choosing not to see it 'falling down around their heads' as you so keenly put it earlier. So.. this much I will promise you. I'm not blind and I shall never be. I see it falling down right now, Monsieur. And I understand that if some changes don't take place, I'll be lucky to retain the throne for a few years - let alone until I'm old enough to wrest power from the Chouannerie and fix this disaster they've created in my name. I understand that the plight of people in Paris has -got- to change.. that.. they need to be able to hold their head up and be able to be -proud- of themselves for once in their lives. This is the beginning of a new era - or it could be.. with the right opportunities. If I got one hell of a fighting chance... I'd make good on what I'm promising you now. I love France.. I want what's best for her. I don't know that there's one right answer about what's best.. I don't even know if a king is for sure best.. But I -do- know that's what I understand.. that's what I know how to be.. and I think I'd be a good one at that.. if someone ever gave me the chance.. because I would put France first.. I already give almost entirely all of my pocket money to people who need it more than I do. And still it will never be enough to make a dot of change in that sea of need.... Not unless I get more of a chance than I've got right now."
He paused, drawing up his shoulders. "You give me a chance.. and I'll prove it to you." [/style] |
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PAUL CHAUVELIN
French Government
Spymaster
Posts: 200
Joined: Jan 25, 2013 11:17:51 GMT -5
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Post by PAUL CHAUVELIN on Apr 18, 2013 14:10:32 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background: #000000] chauvelin when worlds collide and days are dark - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Chauvelin hid a smile at the sound of the King's stomach speaking up, and the boy's obvious embarrassment at it. Though he'd raised no children of his own, and rarely came into contact with them in the course of his job, he'd been a young man once himself. Even decades on, he remembered well the seemingly constant hunger. He'd raided the kitchen several times a day, and more than once in the middle of the night. Fortunately, the cook had had five boys of her own and knew what to expect. There was always something available, and usually something portable like bread and cheese, a pickle or two, apples, or a sandwich.
The old spymaster still liked to eat, as the extra flesh on his stocky frame attested, and one didn't refuse an invitation to tea from the King at any event, so he followed along behind the younger man. The dog went as well, sticking close to its master's side, casting frequent suspicious looks over its shoulder at the stranger/guest. It still didn't trust him, but then animals often were good judges of character.
He'd glimpsed the boy's room when he'd peeked inside earlier, but his attention had been focused on the unexpected sight of two actual living human beings rather than the furnishings and decorations. Now, able to take a long and comprehensive look at it, he found it surprisingly spartan. While it was obviously a chamber in a royal palace, with gilding and decorative moldings and a general excess of adornment on the walls and ceiling, otherwise it was fairly simple and uncluttered. Louis' room, the old spymaster remembered, you'd barely been able to navigate for all the furniture.
Here, the dominant impression he had was one of books, though there were some other things that caught his eye and his interest. There was a large harp, not a musical instrument he would have expected to find. The paintings on the walls were landscapes and similar panoramas, with no portraits in evidence. On the chessboard, the white side was winning and, as white was played by the visitor, he wondered who was daring to beat the King – and how easily it was going. It was also a sad room, in a way. While there were plenty of toys, and they were all expensive and of high quality, they were also all of a solitary type. As a child, Chauvelin himself, despite being a marquis, had always had plenty of playmates to call upon, from the children of servants to Jean, the daring village boy he met in the caves. That clearly wasn't the case for Henri.
Having not only been raised to know proper etiquette and protocol, Chauvelin had apprenticed with that master of it, Charles Talleyrand. Taking the seat indicated, he went through all the polite tea motions without having to think about them, while he listened to the boy King speak. Henri was eloquent and determined, and clearly had at least some grasp of the problems and issues involved. He was perhaps a bit long-winded, but then he was also little more than ten years old. And Chauvelin had spent a great deal of time with republican lawyers and politicians, he was inured to verbosity.
When Henri was done, Chauvelin put his cup aside, the fine china making a soft tink against the saucer. "Passionately argued," he said with a nod. "But there are some things you need to understand. I never said I wouldn't help you or give you a chance, I said that I wouldn't serve you, and that remains the case. Always and ever, to my dying breath, I serve only France. I'll be your friend, I'll be your teacher, and I'll be your secret connection with the world outside, but I won't be your servant. If I come to believe that you're right, that you'd be good for this country, then I'll do everything I can to see you get the chance to prove it – but you must also remember that I'm just a single old man, and one with no great power, wealth, or station." Arching his eyebrows slightly, he regarded the boy King levelly. "Nevertheless, I will try."
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HENRI D'ARTOIS
Aristocrat
King of France
Posts: 110
Joined: Feb 27, 2013 1:40:40 GMT -5
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Post by HENRI D'ARTOIS on Apr 22, 2013 18:34:06 GMT -5
[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;] 578 WORDS FOR ChauvelinNotes here: such a determined young thing. SECRETS [/style] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Henri was still breathing rather rapidly after he finished his impassioned argument for why he would make a good ruler of France and not be as foolish as those that had come before him. He could make a good argument for sure - he knew he'd be able to defend his points, but of course.. he had to be able to do more than defend them. He had to be able to back them up with actions so that they became more than words. He was still unsure he'd be able to do that - especially with the Chouannerie hanging their gloom and doom and stratification and aristocratic leanings over his head - not to mention their extreme conservative tendencies. He sighed.. he was walking up against a proverbial mountain with little more than a good head on his shoulders and some determination. But yet he knew he was going to do it - knew he -had- to do it because he felt he'd been born for it. Like he was called to it - to save France and bring her back into a good nation - one they could all be proud of once again. He knew it wouldn't be as easy as he was saying - but that didn't mean he was willing to shirk his duty to France or just give up because it was hard. No.. those were unacceptable, cowardly ways of dealing with the situation. He would stick it out no matter what. Even, he realized, at the price of his life.
"Merci." he murmured in response to the praise about the passionate argument. Though his confidence did fall slightly as he heard the 'but' coming. He sat back into the chair he was in and took a drink of tea, waiting with as much of a grown up air as he could for news he wasn't sure he wanted to hear - especially if it was bad news. However, he would listen and accept it as best he could even if he didn't like it.
He was relieved to see that it turned out not as badly as he'd feared. Chauvelin would not serve him, but that was understandable - Henri could see that the man was something of a free spirit. He served the greater cause - things like France.. not specific people. He was all right with that - could accept that. As long as he and Chauvelin were both serving France, they should come out on the same team - at least he hoped. Of course, there was that nasty little thing called perspective which meant that might not be so. After all, he thought the revolutionaries probably believed that they too were serving France - and, truthfully, who was he to say they weren't. They just had a different ideal than the one he has. It didn't make their ideal worse, he supposed.. but.. it still wasn't what he hoped for. not the one he wanted to apply himself to.
"I can accept that. Ultimately, I serve France too. Not even myself. I'd give my life to make this country great again." There was a long pause before he continued. "But how can I prove to you that I'll be good for this country? Especially with the Chouannerie running things..." he sighed softly. "What proof can I give you I'm the type of person you would want to support and help and that I'd be good for France?" [/style] |
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PAUL CHAUVELIN
French Government
Spymaster
Posts: 200
Joined: Jan 25, 2013 11:17:51 GMT -5
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Post by PAUL CHAUVELIN on Apr 30, 2013 23:38:52 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding-left:16px; padding-top:0px; padding-right:0px; padding-bottom:0px; background: #000000] chauvelin when worlds collide and days are dark - - - - - - - - - - - - - - When Henri had finished speaking, Chauvelin dusted imaginary crumbs from his fingertips. Folding his napkin carefully he set it to one side. His movements weren't hurried, but neither did he dawdle. While he had no watch and wouldn't have checked it if he did, the old spymaster had a good sense of time and knew that his for this visit was running out. Someone would be coming soon. King or not, Henri was still a child, and thus still had lessons. Paul smiled inwardly. Lessons which were about to at least double, if the boy really was willing to live up to his claimed aspirations.
"You prove yourself by doing exactly what you just said," he answered Henri's question. "You give your life for this country. I don't mean dying for her, though I have no doubt if that were the price you would gladly pay it." The old spymaster shook his head. It was ironic that the young, with so many years ahead of them, were so willing to give them all up. Leaning closer, he dropped his voice to a near-whisper. "I'll let you in on a secret -- dying is easy and it accomplishes nothing. If you want to save France, the life you give up will be the life of ease you could have had, the life with all the things great and small that other men and boys take for granted. It means what you want, or even need, comes second. It means thinking when you'd rather be drinking, working when you'd rather be playing, and studying when you'd rather be sleeping."
Holding up a silencing hand to forestall any youthful outbursts, Chauvelin fixed the boy with his grey-green eyes. "Make me no promises. Words are cheap and there are no guarantees in this. You might try your damnedest and still fail. Passion is a vital thing, but it isn't everything. It's not enough to want to be a good King and make this country great, you have to know how." He gestured toward one of the bookshelves, where the dozen volumes of Les Mille et Une Nuits, Contes Arabes Traduits en Français* sat. "Gallard won't help you. Others such as Voltaire, Paine, Smith, Condorcet, Locke, even Machiavelli will." He smiled a cruel-to-be-kind smile. "They'll certainly do for a beginning. I'll bring them within the week."
TAGGED: Henri || NOTES: *Thousand and One Nights, Arab stories Translated into FrenchTEMPLATE BY OH SO COOPERNATURAL ! @ CAUTION. |
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