#Garrison Forces | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

briefinquiries · 4 months ago

Text

Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 7

Tommy Shelby x Reader : Chapter 7

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you’ve seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby’s) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: After an unsettling night at the Garrison, you begin to understand that Tommy Shelby’s bad moods are rarely without reason. When a familiar face confronts you outside the pub, you realize you’ve drawn the attention of someone dangerous. Forced to tread carefully, you play your part, but the encounter leaves you with more questions than answers.

Word count: 7k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, gore, and open wounds, brief PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language.

The party was still in full swing when you slipped out the back door– the warmth and noise of the Garrison fading as soon as it swung shut behind you.

Your boots clicked softly against the damp pavement as you started walking.

Your hands were still trembling. You clenched your fists, trying to shake it off. But the weight of Tommy’s words, the sharp, cutting way he had looked at you, like you were an inconvenience, a problem that needed to be corrected, still clung to your skin like an ugly bruise.

The thing was… you hadn’t even fucked up. At least, you didn’t think you had. Arthur took a swig of the whiskey you’d poured him right there at the bar– he even toasted to you.

But even if you had given Arthur the wrong whiskey, did that really warrant a public dressing-down?

Harry had taken one look at you after Tommy stormed off, muttered something about “Fuckin’ Shelby moods” and told you to take the rest of the night off.

You hadn’t argued.

You didn’t want to be there anymore, didn’t want to stand behind that bar and pretend everything was fine when the weight of Tommy’s words still sat heavy in your chest.

So you left.

And now, as the damp night air curled around you, you tried to shake off the feeling of humiliation still burning beneath your skin.

You were so caught up in your own head that you almost didn’t notice the figure stepping out from the shadows ahead of you.

Your breath hitched slightly, your pace slowing on instinct.

The man was standing just off to the side of the road, hands clasped behind his back, posture upright and intentional. Not a drunk stumbling home. Not a lost traveler.

He had been waiting.

And when he took a step forward, the dim light of a nearby lamp caught his face– Your stomach twisted.

You knew him.

The same man from the market, who had slipped into the Garrison without being noticed.

Your pulse picked up, and you forced your expression into something neutral.

He offered a polite, almost cordial smile. “Evening, Miss.”

You swallowed, shifting your weight slightly. “Can I help you?”

His head tilted slightly. “I hope you can.”

Your brows furrowed.

He stepped forward again, slow and measured. “I couldn’t help but notice you at the Garrison tonight. You’re new there, aren’t you?”

Your stomach tightened, but you kept your expression even. “Been there a few weeks.”

He hummed, like that was something of interest to him. “And before that?”

Your spine stiffened slightly.

You hesitated for only a second before responding, voice careful. “Before that, I wasn’t working for the Shelbys, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The man’s smirk was brief, but pointed. “Is that so?”

You exhaled, crossing your arms. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you’re asking, Mr…” your voice trailed off as you waited for him to offer his name.

He did, though not without a small, knowing smile. “Campbell.”

You swallowed. “And what exactly do you do, Mr. Campbell?”

Campbell studied you for a long moment, then gave you another one of those polite, curt smiles. “I look into things.”

Your pulse jumped, but you kept your expression neutral.

Campbell took another slow step forward, hands still clasped behind his back, posture as stiff and calculated as his words. “And tell me,” he continued, voice smooth, almost pleasant, “what exactly have you seen in your time working for the Shelbys?”

“I pour drinks,” you said simply. “I wipe down the bar. I keep the books when Harry needs an extra hand.” You tilted your head slightly, feigning confusion. “Is there something specific you’re hoping I’ve seen?”

Campbell exhaled sharply through his nose, the ghost of amusement flickering across his face. “Come now, Miss. I think we both know that the Shelbys deal in more than just whiskey.”

Your stomach twisted, a slow coil of unease, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You met his gaze, willing your expression to remain impassive despite the prickle of sweat at the nape of your neck. You couldn’t let him see you waver. Couldn’t let him pick apart the cracks in your carefully constructed armor.

“I know Mr. Shelby keeps horses,” you said evenly.

Campbell’s smile was slow, condescending. “Yes, and the devil wears his Sunday best, but we both know what he really is.” He took a step closer, the air between you growing thick with unspoken threats. “I’ll ask you again– what do you know about their business?”

Your jaw tightened. Tommy had been a right bastard earlier, cold and cutting as ever, but still, there was something in you, some irrational, unshakable instinct, that made you want to protect him. Protect all of them. The Shelbys had a way of pulling you into their storm and making you feel like you belonged there, even when you knew better. Even when it was dangerous. Even when Tommy made it impossible to forget that you were expendable to him, that he could push you away whenever it suited him.

And yet, here you were, standing in front of Campbell, lying through your teeth for a man who just berated you in front of the entire pub.

“I wouldn’t know,” you replied evenly. “They don’t exactly tell the barmaid their business, funny enough.”

Campbell’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t let his irritation show. Not yet. “Do they talk about the horses?” he asked.

That, at least, was an easy answer.

“Yes.” You nodded, careful to keep your expression neutral. “They’re betting men. Own a few racers.”

Campbell tilted his head slightly. “That all?”

You shrugged. “That’s all I know.”

He let the silence stretch between you, his sharp eyes watching, searching. You didn’t waver.

Finally, he gave you a small, unreadable smile.

“Very well,” he murmured. “I appreciate your time. Goodnight, Miss.”

You forced yourself to offer a polite nod. You didn’t thank him. Instead, you turned on your heel, before walking away at an even pace. Not too fast. Not too slow. And the entire time, you felt his gaze lingering on you.

Watching.

Waiting.

You couldn’t get home fast enough. Your heart was still racing by the time you reached your front door, breath uneven, pulse thudding in your ears. You fumbled with the key for a moment before finally shoving the door open, stepping inside and shutting it firmly behind you, twisting the lock into place.

Then, for what felt like the first time since leaving the Garrison, you exhaled.

Your mind raced, replaying every second of the encounter with Campbell, dissecting every word, every shift in his expression.

Who the hell was he?

You had no idea if he was police, if he was working for someone else, if he was just another enemy in whatever war the Shelbys were waging. But the way he had questioned you, the way he had watched you, searched you, made your skin crawl.

Then, as if on command, your mind flickered back to the bar, to the way Tommy had stood too close, his voice cutting sharp as a blade.

The words had cracked like a whip, dragging everyone’s attention to you whether they wanted it or not. Because it wasn’t just what he had said. It was the way he had said it– like you were foolish, like you were insignificant, like you hadn’t earned your place in their world despite everything you had done to prove otherwise.

You shook off the thought, pushing your coat from your shoulders and setting it on the hook. Your hands were still shaking slightly as you moved through your usual nighttime routine, lighting a candle and placing it on the small table near the window.

You needed to calm down.

You moved through the motions, grounding yourself in ritual– setting out a glass of water, washing your hands, brushing the dust from the windowsill. Little things. Familiar things.

Tea. Candlelight. Wash the day away. You reminded yourself.

But then–

Bang.

A fierce knock at the door.

Your stomach twisted.

Your eyes flickered toward the candle, the only source of light in the room, the flame dancing wildly from the sudden jolt of sound.

Another knock. Harder this time.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to move.

Slowly, cautiously, you approached the door, wondering if you should even entertain asking who was there. What if Mr. Campbell had more questions that you couldn’t answer?

Just before you reached for the handle–

A voice, low and familiar, rang out. “Open the door.”

You hesitated for only a second before undoing the lock and pulling the door open.

Tommy Shelby stood on your doorstep, coat damp from the lingering mist in the air, eyes sharp, unreadable.

His gaze flickered over you, scanning your face, before settling on your wide-eyed expression.

His jaw tightened.

“What did Campbell want with you?”

Before you could even offer a response, Tommy pushed his way inside.

You stepped back on instinct, barely catching the door before it could slam into the wall. He moved past you without hesitation, shaking off his coat and tossing his flat cap onto the nearest chair.

You stared at him, still gripping the edge of the door, your pulse racing from the way he had stormed in like he owned the place.

“What–” You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. “What the hell are you doing?”

Tommy exhaled sharply through his nose, ignoring your question completely. His jaw was clenched so tight you thought it might crack.

“What did he ask you?” he demanded, still pacing. “What did he say?”

You hesitated, your fingers twitching at your sides.

“Who is he?” you asked instead, your voice careful, despite the tangle of emotions raging inside of you.

Tommy stopped pacing just long enough to pin you with a sharp, cold stare. “He’s a problem,” he muttered. Then, after a beat, “And I need to know exactly what he said to you.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, but the weight of the entire day was pressing down on you.

You were so tired.

Tired of being snapped at. Tired of being humiliated in front of an entire pub. Tired of Tommy Shelby acting like you were a problem one second and something worth his time the next.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you exhaled slowly, trying to push past the sting in your chest.

“He asked how long I’ve been working at the Garrison,” you said, voice quieter than before. “Asked what I know about your business.”

Tommy’s eyes darkened. “And?”

You lifted your chin slightly, fighting to keep your emotions in check. “And I told him the truth. That I know nothing. That you deal with horses. That’s it.”

Tommy watched you closely, like he was picking apart your words, searching for something unsaid. “Did he ask you anything else?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Tommy cut you off before you could get a single word out.

“Did he mention any names?”

You frowned. “No, but–”

“Did he threaten you?”

Your frustration spiked. “No–”

“Did you–”

“Jesus Christ, will you let me fucking talk?” The words exploded from you before you could stop them, your voice sharp, breaking through the tight space between you.

Tommy’s mouth snapped shut.

You could feel the heat behind your eyes, the sting of everything, the exhaustion, the frustration, the way he had been so cruel– only an hour ago, and spent the past week pushing you away, only to show up at your door demanding answers like you owed him something.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, your voice raw when you finally spoke again.

“I am so fucking tired of you talking at me.” Your hands trembled as you jabbed a finger toward him. “You either ignore me or snap at me or decide when I’m worth speaking to, and I am–” you exhaled sharply, shaking your head, “I am so done trying to figure out what the hell I did to piss you off.”

Tommy didn't speak right away. Instead, he just stood there, watching you, his eyes dark and unreadable, his breath coming a little heavier than before. You hated that silence. That cold, infuriating patience of his.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply through his nose. "You didn’t do anything."

You let out a hollow laugh, disbelieving. "Really? Because you’ve spent the last week acting like I did."

Tommy inhaled slowly, dragging a hand over his face, before exhaling just as deliberately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, lower, more measured than before. “I was trying to keep any of this from happening.”

Your breath was still uneven, your chest still tight from everything that had boiled over moments ago. “What are you talking about?”

Tommy didn’t answer right away. He rolled his shoulders, almost like he was trying to shake something off before meeting your gaze again, calmer now. “Campbell’s got his eye on us– on me. He’s looking for any reason to dig deeper. The last thing I needed was for him to think you had anything to do with our world.”

Your brows pulled together. “I don’t have anything to do with your world.”

Tommy’s expression didn’t change. “You patched up James.”

Your brows furrowed. “And?”

Tommy let out a slow, measured breath, watching you carefully. “James isn’t… he isn’t just a Blinder,” he explained. “He’s wanted. By Campbell.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. “Wanted for what?”

Tommy exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “He’s been running jobs for me. Big ones. Campbell’s been after him for months.”

You swallowed hard, something cold settling in your chest. “So Campbell knows?”

“He knows someone patched him up. I think he’s making connections.” Tommy’s voice was steady, but there was an edge to it now. Tommy must have seen the panic in your face because his expression shifted, his voice lowering. “Listen to me.”

You met his eyes, the steel in them keeping you from unraveling completely.

“I know what Campbell’s capable of,” he said, his voice even but firm. “Because I work with him.”

You blinked. “What?”

Tommy’s jaw tightened.

“I don't have a choice,” he said. “He has leverage. Things he can use to break us. So, I play his game.” His gaze flickered, as if the memories had sharp edges. “I do what I need to do to keep the family safe. To keep them alive. Campbell’s the kind of man who doesn’t let go of things,” Tommy continued. “Not grudges. Not power. If he thinks he can use you, he will. If he thinks you’re in his way…” His voice trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish.

Tommy watched you for a moment before speaking. “I think he’s trying to figure out where you fit into all of this.”

Your stomach twisted painfully.

“I didn’t want you anywhere near this,” he said, and for the first time since he’d stormed through your door, his voice didn’t carry that usual edge of control– it almost sounded like he meant it. “I thought… if he saw me talk to you like you were just a barmaid, he might actually think that was true.”

“So you humiliated me on purpose.” You huffed a humorless laugh, crossing your arms.

Tommy’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t look away. He didn’t deny it. “I needed Campbell to think you were nothing,” he said plainly, voice low. “That you weren’t involved, that you didn’t matter to any of this.”

“Well, congratulations. You did a hell of a job making me feel like I was nothing.”

His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t immediately reply.

You took a step back, exhaling through your nose. “Christ, you could have told me.”

“I thought it would look more genuine if you didn't know.”

“You don’t get to treat me like that! Like I’m some disposable piece of shit you found on the street,” you snapped, voice raw with emotion. “Like I’m just another thing to be used when it suits you and tossed aside when it doesn’t. I’ve spent the last week trying to figure out what I did wrong,” you went on, your voice rising. “One minute, you walk me home– act like you give a damn, and the next, you’re humiliating me in front of a bar full of people. Acting like I’m some incompetent idiot you barely tolerate to hang around.”

Tommy held your gaze, steady and unwavering. “I do give a damn,” he sighed, voice lower now, rougher. “More than I should. That’s why I did it. You weren’t supposed to get involved… not like this. You were supposed to stay on the outside of all this.”

You froze, blinking at him, your breath still heavy, your pulse still thrumming in your ears. Finally, you let out a slow, uneven breath, your anger slowly fading. “Well, it’s a bit late for that, don’t you think? I mean, you don’t get to treat me like that, Tommy. You don’t get to decide when I matter and when I don’t. I’m here– I stitched up James, I just lied through my teeth to Campbell. I'm pretty far from the bloody outside. But I know what I bloody signed up for. So stop using me like a pawn in your little game without at least giving me the courtesy of telling me about it, first.”

His expression didn’t shift, but something in his eyes flickered. You knew he was used to control, to making all the choices, to moving people around like chess pieces without them even realizing it.

Tommy exhaled slowly, cigarette still balanced between his fingers. His sharp gaze flickered over your face, his jaw tightening just slightly, like he was weighing his options, deciding what move to make next.

Then, after a long pause, he simply said, "Okay."

You blinked. "What?"

Tommy sighed, rolling his shoulders as if this conversation had worn him out. "Okay," he repeated.

Your arms stayed crossed tightly over your chest, your pulse still thrumming in your ears. "That easy?" you asked, suspicion creeping into your voice.

Tommy exhaled another slow drag of smoke, tilting his head slightly. "Would you prefer I argue with you about it?"

You let out a short, humorless laugh. "I’d prefer you actually mean it."

Tommy’s brows pulled together slightly. "I do."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Forgive me for not entirely believing you, but you just spent the last week acting like I was worse than the scum under your shoe. And now, what? You just say okay?" Your voice was sharp, unwavering.

His jaw tightened, but this time, you saw it– the flicker of something in his eyes, something unguarded, something that told you he wasn’t as composed as he wanted you to think.

You huffed a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "You’re such a bastard."

His lips twitched, his face unreadable. “Aye. That I am.”

You gazed at him skeptically, slightly taken aback by his submissive stance to the situation. Tommy Shelby didn’t strike you as the type of person to admit he was wrong. And the fact that he was doing exactly that… in his own way, made the armor in your chest soften the slightest bit.

Tommy shifted slightly, rolling his shoulders, his cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. He glanced away for a brief moment, exhaling smoke, before his gaze flickered back to you. Then, finally, he sighed. "Look, if it helps… We run racecourses– legal ones and the kind that aren't. That’s where the real money is."

Your breath hitched slightly. You'd known there was more to their dealings, but hearing him say it out loud? It made it real.

Tommy continued. "We take protection money from businesses that want to keep their windows intact. We run bets. Move goods. Some of it’s clean. Some of it’s not." He tilted his head slightly. "Campbell wants to make it sound worse than it is. But you’re clever enough to know that corruption runs in every part of this city– including the ones he works for."

You searched his face, trying to make sense of this version of Tommy Shelby– the man who wasn’t arguing, who wasn’t pushing for control. "Why tell me all this now?"

His jaw clenched slightly, and for a second, you thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then, his voice came low, rough. "Because I don’t want you looking at me like that."

Your brows pulled together. "Like what?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Like I broke something I can’t fix."

Your throat felt tight, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze.

Tommy watched you carefully, measuring your reaction. "Look, if you’re in, you have to trust me," he said. "That’s the only way this works. But I want you to know the kind of fight you’re walking into. As well as the kind of men Campbell answers to."

You exhaled slowly, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. "And what kind of men are they?"

Tommy’s expression darkened, his blue eyes turning to ice. "The kind that don’t leave loose ends."

He took a step closer, his voice quieter but no less firm. "Campbell isn’t just after me. He’s after control. He wants to crush the Blinders and make an example out of anyone who stands in his way." He paused, jaw tightening. "That includes you now."

You held his gaze, searching for any sign of deception, any hint that this was just another manipulation. But all you saw was truth. Hard, unflinching truth.

The worst part was– you believed him.

You sighed. “I had a whole speech prepared– Reasons why you should tell me more… reasons why you should let me help.”

A brief flicker of amusement, gone as quickly as it had appeared, flashed across his face. He took another slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the dimly lit room. “That so?” he murmured, voice low, steady. “Well, by all means, let’s hear it.”

You exhaled, shaking your head, your arms still folded tightly across your chest. The tension between you had thinned, but it wasn’t entirely gone– still lingering beneath the surface like embers that hadn’t quite burned out.

“That’s alright,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “I think I’ll save it.”

Tommy arched a brow, waiting.

“I never know when you’re going to start acting like a bastard again. I might need it later.”

That time, he exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he flicked the ash from his cigarette. “Right,” he muttered dryly. "If you do save it, make it a good one."

You let out a small, tired chuckle, though the exhaustion still clung to you. “I will.”

His lips twitched, just barely.

"Does that mean you’re finally going to be honest with me?" you dared to ask.

His jaw tightened, and for a long moment, he simply looked at you– measuring, considering.

Tommy inhaled slowly, letting the silence stretch between you, his sharp gaze locked onto yours. "Yeah," he murmured. "Suppose it does."

Tommy’s gaze flickered over your face, searching, waiting for hesitation, for regret. "You stay now, there’s no running away later,” he said.

Your breath was tight in your chest, but your voice was firm when you finally spoke. "I wasn’t planning on running."

For a second, something in his face shifted. Not surprise, but something else. Something almost like... admiration.

Then, just like that, the flicker was gone, replaced by that cool, unreadable expression again.

Tommy nodded once, slow and deliberate. "Alright. Get some rest, then."

You hesitated for just a second, watching him walk towards the door. He didn’t say it like a suggestion. He said it like a command.

“Goodnight, Mr. Shelby,” you replied.

You caught the way he paused at that, the way his cigarette lingered between his fingers, his head tilting just slightly.

Then, after a beat, he said, “Stop calling me that.”

You lifted your brows in amusement. “What?”

Tommy sighed, “Anyone brave enough to call me a bastard to my face can call me by my first name.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “Alright then,” you said, voice quieter now. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

His lips twitched again– just slightly, but it was there.

“Goodnight,” he murmured.

…

You had spent the next few days turning over your last conversation with Tommy, picking apart his words, the way his voice had softened, just barely, when he admitted you weren’t nothing to him. The way he had let you in, even if only a fraction.

True to form, he hadn’t mentioned it again. He hadn’t tried to explain himself further or reassure you. He had simply gone on being Tommy– stoic, calculating, always one step ahead of the rest of the world.

But something had shifted.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know him. But you did, or at least, you were beginning to.

He still kept his distance, still carried that sharp edge of authority wherever he went, but there were moments– fleeting, barely-there moments, where you caught him watching you like he was waiting for something. Like he was measuring this new version of your place in his world.

And while he hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to make things easier, you hadn’t missed the change in how others treated you, either.

No more cold shoulders. No more skeptical glances.

It started small– checking the books, keeping an eye on deliveries, noticing when numbers didn’t add up, but it had grown into something else entirely. Now, you weren’t just counting crates of whiskey; you were keeping tabs on who came and went, who talked too much, who looked nervous when Tommy’s name was mentioned. You had learned that a missing shipment wasn’t just a mistake, it was a message. That a man running his mouth about the Blinders one night often ended up with a bruised face the next. Tommy hadn’t sat you down and explained the rules of his world, he had let you figure them out on your own. And the worst part? You had. You weren’t just a barmaid anymore, not really.

You knew it. And so did Tommy.

And now, as you wiped down the last of the glasses in the near-empty Garrison, you felt it again– the weight of something hanging in the air.

You glanced up just in time to see Tommy approaching, his movements slow and deliberate. His coat was already off, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows– like he had settled in, like he had time.

That was rare.

He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the counter, reaching for the glass you had just cleaned. He turned it over in his hands, running his thumb along the rim, his expression unreadable.

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. "Alright. What is it?"

Tommy arched a brow, finally looking up at you. "What?"

"You never just... sit," you said, nodding toward him. "Not unless there’s a reason."

His lips twitched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he tapped a cigarette from his pack, lighting it with a slow drag before speaking.

"I need you to do something for me," he said, exhaling smoke into the low-lit room.

…

Later that night, the Garrison was nearly empty, the low glow of lanterns casting flickering shadows across the bar. You wiped down the counter, letting the hum of the quiet night settle around you.

Which was why you weren’t surprised when the door creaked open and a new kind of tension settled in your chest.

You didn’t have to look up to know who had walked in.

Mr. Campbell.

His heavy boots echoed against the wooden floor as he approached, a picture of cold confidence in his perfectly pressed suit. He didn’t belong here—not in the way the usual men did. The Blinders carried violence in their hands, but Campbell carried it like a quiet threat beneath his skin.

"Evening, Miss," he greeted smoothly, settling onto a stool in front of you. His voice was controlled, measured.

You forced your grip to stay relaxed around the cloth in your hand, offering him a polite nod. "Mr. Campbell."

He hummed as he pulled off his gloves, setting them neatly on the bar. "I’m looking for Mr. Shelby.”

You nodded, reaching for a glass. "He should be back soon."

Campbell hummed again, slow and thoughtful, like he had all the time in the world. "Then I suppose I’ll wait."

You forced a neutral expression. “Whiskey?” you asked. You waited for him to nod before you poured him a drink.

The liquid sloshed softly in the glass, the only sound between you as he watched you too closely– assessing, searching for something.

“How have you been enjoying your time here?” he asked.

The casual question made your pulse tick up, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you shrugged, placing his drink in front of him. "I like it enough.”

Campbell smiled– tight, knowing. "I imagine you see some things."

Before you could respond, the doors to the Garrison swung open, letting in a gust of cold air and the heavy sound of boots against the wooden floor.

Tommy.

He entered with purpose, slow and deliberate, his coat unbuttoned, cigarette already in hand. His gaze swept the room once before locking onto the two of you at the bar.

And something flickered inside you.

It was quick, unexpected. A brief, unsteady jolt in your chest, something that had nothing to do with fear, nothing to do with the plan.

It was the way he carried himself, the quiet authority that demanded attention without needing to ask for it. The way his eyes, sharp, calculating, found yours first, even if only for a second, before flicking to Campbell.

You swallowed hard, shoving whatever this feeling was, down, forcing yourself to keep your posture neutral.

"Campbell." His voice was flat, unreadable.

Campbell barely turned his head. "Mr. Shelby."

Tommy strode forward, settling beside Campbell at the bar like he had all the time in the world. Like he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see him sitting there.

He glanced at you once– brief and fleeting, before tilting his chin toward the bottle. "Pour me one."

You moved without hesitation, sliding a glass in front of him as he took out his cigarette case. His movements were calm, measured, as he tapped one out and lit it, exhaling smoke through his nose.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Inspector. Campbell?"

Campbell took a slow sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down neatly. "Just checking in. Making sure you remember our… arrangement."

Tommy smirked faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Hard to forget when you keep sniffing around."

The tension stretched between them, coiling tight like a wire about to snap.

Campbell turned slightly, eyeing you again before speaking. "Your barmaid here was just keeping me company."

Tommy exhaled smoke, leaning against the counter with calculated nonchalance. "That right?"

Your stomach twisted, but you stayed steady, busying yourself with straightening bottles.

Campbell hummed again. "It’s a shame, really. Being in a place like this, working for a man like you."

Tommy’s gaze lingered on Campbell for a moment longer before he exhaled a slow stream of smoke, tilting his head slightly. "No sense in talking business out here, eh?" His voice was casual, but the weight behind it was anything but. "Why don’t we step into the back?"

Campbell hummed, swirling the last of his whiskey in his glass. "Lead the way, then."

Tommy nodded, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray before pushing off the barstool. He adjusted his coat, already turning toward the hallway.

That was your cue.

You reached for the glass beside Campbell’s, fingers just slightly unsteady, just careless enough. As Tommy turned, you made a sudden, deliberate movement, just enough to send the full glass of whiskey spilling forward, drenching the front of his shirt and coat.

"Shit!" The exclamation left your mouth before he could react, and you snatched a rag off the counter, reaching toward him in a hurried, useless apology. "Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Mr. Shelby. I–"

Tommy jerked away from your touch sharply, his jaw clenching as he stared down at the spreading stain, his fists twitching like he was deciding whether to hit something or walk away.

When he looked up, his eyes were cold, cutting.

"Fucking useless," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Campbell to hear.

You flinched. Trying to sell it.

Your hands tightened around the cloth as you stepped back, bowing your head slightly like you were expecting worse.

Tommy scoffed, shaking his head in disgusted dismissal before exhaling sharply, straightening his coat. He turned back to Campbell with a forced smirk, like this was just another inconvenience in a long list of them.

"Apologies, Mr. Campbell. I hate to waste more time, but I’ll need to change."

Campbell chuckled under his breath, casting you a side glance that made your skin crawl. "No need to apologize, Mr. Shelby. I quite enjoy the entertainment."

Tommy didn’t acknowledge Campbell’s remark, just let out a sharp breath, muttering something under his breath before striding toward the back, shoulders tense with barely-contained irritation.

You kept your eyes down as he left, hands still gripping the cloth, still playing the part.

The moment the door swung shut behind him, the air shifted.

Campbell exhaled slowly, leaning back against the bar, stretching out his fingers like he had all the time in the world. "Cruel man, isn’t he?"

You hesitated, just for a second– just enough to make it believable, before shaking your head weakly, giving him the reaction he was looking for. "I spilled a drink on him," Your voice was quieter now, unsteady. “That’s just how Mr. Shelby is.”

Campbell hummed, eyes sharp, calculating. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice like he was sharing some great truth you hadn’t yet realized.

"No, my dear," he said smoothly. "That isn’t just how he is. That’s who he is."

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching around the cloth. "It’s fine."

Campbell’s lips curved into something between a smirk and a sneer. "Ah, you wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what he was truly capable of.”

You hesitated again, just long enough for him to notice. That was what he wanted.

“What’s he capable of?” you asked quietly… weakly.

Campbell tilted his head to the side daringly. “Things that would give you nightmares, my dear.” His voice softened, becoming almost coaxing. "I’ve seen the way he treats you. Like you’re nothing. Have you ever thought about getting back at a man like Tommy Shelby?"

Your breath hitched.

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his, blinking once, as if the thought had never crossed your mind, until now.

The hook was set.

Now, all you had to do was let him reel you in.

…

The air inside Watery Lane was thick with cigarette smoke and whiskey, the dim glow of the fireplace casting long shadows against the walls. You sat at the worn dining table, the weight of the evening still pressing into your chest as you recounted every detail of your conversation with Campbell.

Arthur let out a sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head as he tipped back a drink. "Christ, love– you're a proper fuckin' spy now, ain't ya?"

You scoffed, shaking your head, but your fingers tightened slightly around your glass uncomfortably.

Polly, sitting across from you, wasn’t laughing. She had that sharp, knowing look in her eyes, the kind that made you feel like she was peeling back your skin, searching for cracks.

"I don’t like it," she said, voice clipped as she tapped ash from her cigarette. "This game you’re playing with Campbell– it’s dangerous."

Polly flicked her gaze to Tommy. "And you? You’re just lettin’ her walk right into it, aren’t you?"

Tommy, who had been silent up until now, just listening, finally spoke, his voice low, certain, final.

"It’s the best plan we have. This is the only shot we have at getting ahead of Campbell for once."

A hush settled over the room at that.

You exhaled slowly, your shoulders relaxing just slightly, but not completely. You were still trying to feel like you belonged here.

Arthur, still grinning, smacked his hand against the table. "Reckon we should give you a razor cap next, eh?"

John snorted. "Make her a proper Blinder, aye?"

"Enough!” Polly’s sharp voice cut through the room, instantly silencing John and Arthur’s amusement. She leaned forward, stubbing out her cigarette with more force than necessary, her gaze locking onto Tommy.

"I mean it, Tommy. I don’t like this. It’s too dangerous."

Tommy exhaled slowly, fingers pressing against his temple before he finally met her eyes. "We’ve been over this, Pol."

"And I’ll keep sayin’ it till you listen." Her voice was firm, unwavering. "You’re putting her in the middle of something she has no business being in. You think Campbell won’t see through this? You think he won’t turn it back on her the second he gets the chance?"

Your chest tightened at her words, but you stayed quiet, watching the exchange between them.

Tommy’s jaw tightened. "We’ll handle it, Pol." His voice was calm, but there was an edge beneath it– the kind that meant the conversation was over.

Polly’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t push further. Instead, she turned her gaze to you, her expression softer but still carrying that same weight. "Be careful."

You swallowed, nodding once. "I will."

Tommy leaned back slightly in his chair, letting the tension settle before he sighed, rubbing his temple. "It’s late."

You took that as your cue, standing up. "Right. I should go."

But before you could even push your chair back properly, Tommy stood up as well. He didn’t say anything, just reached for his coat, shrugging it on like it was second nature.

Arthur smirked into his glass. Polly just watched Tommy closely, her fingers laced together on the table. John raised a brow.

Tommy ignored them all, tilting his head slightly toward the door.

You hesitated before falling into step beside him.

As you moved toward the door, Arthur leaned back in his chair, smirking over the rim of his glass.

"G’night, Doc," he called, amusement laced through his voice. "Try not to get into any more trouble, eh?"

You huffed a quiet breath, shaking your head as you pulled the door open.

Arthur’s chuckle followed you out, but you barely heard it as you stepped into the cold night air.

Tommy was already a step ahead, hands tucked into his coat pockets, his stride easy, unhurried but deliberate.

For a moment, you considered saying something, asking why he kept doing this, why he kept walking with you even when he didn’t have to.

The night air was crisp and quiet, the distant hum of the city settling into the darkness around you. Tommy walked beside you, his steps measured, thoughtful, but there was a weight in the way he carried himself tonight– like something was pressing against his ribs, like he had something to say.

Finally, after a long silence, he exhaled sharply, his breath curling in the cold. "You know this plan is dangerous."

You didn’t hesitate. "I know."

Tommy’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept walking, his gaze fixed ahead. "Campbell isn’t a fool. If he figures out what we’re doing–" He stopped himself, shaking his head slightly.

You swallowed, your fingers flexing inside your coat pockets. "I know."

Tommy scoffed lightly, shaking his head as he took out a cigarette. "He won’t just throw you in a cell and be done with it. He’ll make an example of you."

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers pressing gently against his shoulder, stopping him mid-step.

Tommy’s entire body stilled. The shift in him was immediate, his breathing slowed, his posture tensed, like he wasn’t used to being touched like that. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

"I know," you repeated.

Tommy shook his head, muttering something under his breath before looking at you again, his voice lower, more measured. "You don’t know what he’s capable of–”

“You’ve told me."

Slowly, he looked at you, the sharpness in his expression cracking– just for a second.

You swallowed hard, voice steady. "I know the risks, Tommy."

His lips parted slightly, but you didn’t give him a chance to interrupt.

"And I still want to help."

Tommy’s throat bobbed with a slow swallow, his gaze flickering between your eyes.

You let your hand drop, taking a breath. "I care about your family. About what happens to them. And I care about what happens to you."

His shoulders tensed beneath his coat, his expression shifting.

You weren’t sure what he was thinking, what calculations were running through that sharp mind of his. But after a long moment, he exhaled slowly, turning away slightly, running a hand over his face.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.

"I wish you didn’t."

<< Previous Chapter

Next Chapter >>

#peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders angst #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x y/n

356 notes · View notes

theplotmage · 10 months ago

Text

Medieval Nobility: Ranks, Titles, Authority

Reference for Historical Fantasy Setting--Writers save this!

1. Emperors and Empresses

Rank: Supreme

Territory: Vast empires, often comprising multiple kingdoms.

Titles: Your Imperial Majesty

Authority:

- Ultimate sovereign power over multiple regions or kingdoms.

- Capable of enacting laws and decrees that influence entire empires.

- Commanders of large, imperial armies and navies.

- Oversee administration across vast territories, managing both justice and taxation.

- Engage in high-stakes diplomacy with other empires and realms

2. Kings and Queens

Rank: High

Territory: A single kingdom.

Titles: Your Majesty

Authority:

- Absolute rule within their kingdom, capable of legislating and decreeing laws that impact their entire realm.

- Lead the kingdom's military forces and are the highest judicial authority.

- Oversee administration, including management of the kingdom's justice system and tax collection.

- Conduct diplomacy with foreign powers such as neighboring kingdoms and empires.

3. Princes and Princesses

Rank: Royalty, often next in line for the throne

Territory: Varies, often given duchies, counties, or smaller regions to govern.

Titles: Your Highness

Authority:

- Dependent on position; typically serve as advisors to the king or queen and govern specific territories.

- Can command military forces, administer justice, and oversee taxation within their assigned lands.

- Play significant roles in court politics and are often key players in diplomatic missions or alliances.

- As heirs, princes and princesses are groomed for future rule, receiving responsibilities that prepare them for kingship or queenship.

4. Grand Dukes and Grand Duchesses

Rank: High

Territory: Large regions, often exceeding standard duchies in size and influence.

Titles: Your Grace

Authority:

- Command significant regional power, governing over numerous counts, barons, and lesser nobles.

- Ability to enact regional laws, oversee justice, and manage estates across vast territories.

- Command regional military forces, often pivotal in defending or expanding the realm.

- Conduct regional diplomacy and maintain relationships with nearby territories.

5. Archdukes and Archduchesses

Rank: High

Territory: Large, often strategically or ceremonially important regions.

Titles: Your Grace

Authority:

- Hold considerable sway in both local and imperial court politics.

- Exercise legislative power, control estates, and command military forces within their territories.

- Responsible for the administration of justice and collection of taxes in their lands.

- Engage in diplomatic negotiations at both the local and imperial level.

6. Dukes and Duchesses

Rank: High

Territory: Duchies.

Titles: Your Grace

Authority:

- Exercise significant influence, overseeing the administration of their duchies.

- Govern large estates, enact local laws, and command regional military forces.

- Oversee justice, taxation, and maintain order within their lands.

- Engage in diplomacy, often acting as key regional liaisons with neighboring nobles and the crown.

7. Marquises and Marchionesses

Rank: High

Territory: Marches or border territories.

Titles: My Lord/My Lady or Your Lordship/Your Ladyship

Authority:

- Tasked with defending frontier regions, holding vital military responsibilities.

- Oversee the administration of law, justice, and taxation within their border territories.

- Command border garrisons and protect the realm from external threats.

- Often engage in frontier diplomacy, managing relations with nearby foreign powers.

8. Counts and Countesses

Rank: High

Territory: Counties.

Titles: My Lord/My Lady or Your Lordship/Your Ladyship

Authority:

- Govern counties, ensuring law and order, tax collection, and justice administration.

- Oversee estates, command local military forces, and implement local laws.

- Conduct regional diplomacy and manage relationships with neighboring lords and the crown.

9. Earls and Countesses (Primarily British Context)

Rank: High

Territory: Counties.

Titles: My Lord/My Lady or Your Lordship/Your Ladyship

Authority:

- Similar to counts, earls govern counties, overseeing local governance, law enforcement, and tax collection.

- Command local military forces, often participating in regional defense.

- Engage in local diplomacy, managing relationships with surrounding nobles and the crown.

10. Viscounts and Viscountesses

Rank: Intermediate

Territory: Sub-regions within counties.

Titles: My Lord/My Lady or Your Lordship/Your Ladyship

Authority:

- Act as deputies or assistants to counts or earls, managing smaller estates and overseeing local justice.

- Enforce laws, collect taxes, and maintain order within their territories.

- Command smaller local military forces.

- Manage local diplomacy, often representing higher lords in negotiations.

11. Barons and Baronesses

Rank: Lower Nobility

Territory: Smaller estates.

Titles: My Lord/My Lady or Your Lordship/Your Ladyship

Authority:

- Govern their lands, maintaining local law and order, and providing military support to higher-ranking nobles.

- Responsible for the administration of justice, tax collection, and estate management within their lands.

- Command small local forces and contribute to the defense of the kingdom.

- Engage in local diplomacy, often representing higher-ranking nobles in smaller disputes or agreements.

Medieval Gentry

The gentry represented the upper-middle class of medieval society, often possessing land, wealth, and influence, though they were not part of the nobility. They held important local roles and contributed significantly to governance, military, and economics at the regional level.

1. Knights

Rank: Upper Gentry

Territory: Typically smaller manors or estates.

Titles: Sir/Dame

Authority:

- Sworn military service to a higher noble or the crown, responsible for local defense and enforcement of law and order.

- Managed estates granted to them, overseeing agricultural production and local administration.

- Often served as local judges or sheriffs, ensuring justice in their regions.

- Held significant status in society due to their martial role, often participating in tournaments and other chivalric events.

2. Esquires (Squires)

Rank: Upper Gentry, typically below knights

Territory: Often managed smaller estates or served as aides to knights.

Titles: Esquire

Authority:

- Served as apprentices or attendants to knights, gaining experience in military tactics and estate management.

- Held responsibilities in local governance, such as collecting taxes and overseeing the workforce.

- Managed the day-to-day affairs of estates, particularly if the knight or lord was away in service.

- Held potential for knighthood, depending on service and recognition by higher nobles.

3. Gentlemen and Gentlewomen

Rank: Gentry, below esquires

Territory: Often owned small estates or managed properties for wealthier lords.

Titles: Mister/Mistress

Authority:

- Possessed land and wealth but did not typically hold titles of nobility.

- Often served as local officials, such as justices of the peace or mayors, contributing to the administration of justice and local governance.

- Acted as stewards for larger estates, managing agricultural production and tenant relations.

- Enjoyed a degree of prestige due to their education, wealth, and societal position, often involved in trade or finance.

4. Yeomen

Rank: Lower Gentry, often wealthy commoners

Territory: Small farms or lands, usually worked by themselves or with hired labor.

Titles: Yeoman

Authority:

- Owned or leased their land, making them independent farmers who were economically stable.

- Often served in the militia or as archers in times of war, providing military service in exchange for protection and privileges.

- Held responsibilities in local governance, such as acting as jurors or local officials.

- Represented a prosperous middle class, often rising in status through hard work and successful management of their lands.

5. Merchants

Rank: Lower Gentry, wealthy commoners with commercial influence

Territory: Based in towns and cities, owning shops, warehouses, or trade routes.

Titles: Master/Mistress

Authority:

- Held economic power through trade, commerce, and banking, often becoming influential in local councils or guilds.

- Managed extensive trade networks, both locally and internationally, playing a crucial role in the economic life of the region.

- Acted as benefactors, sponsoring local events, religious institutions, and sometimes even providing loans to the nobility.

- Often accumulated significant wealth and influence, sometimes enough to purchase land and enter the gentry class through marriage or royal favor.

6. Clergy (Higher Ranks)

Rank: Gentry (non-noble but influential)

Territory: Managed ecclesiastical estates or served in key positions within the Church.

Titles: Father/Mother, Brother/Sister, Reverend

Authority:

- Held power over church lands, overseeing agricultural production, taxation, and local governance.

- Served as local religious leaders, offering spiritual guidance and administering sacraments to the community.

- Often involved in local and regional politics, acting as advisors to both nobility and commoners.

- Collected tithes and other forms of ecclesiastical income, contributing to both church and community projects.

People could gain nobility through various means in medieval society, though the process often required the favor of the monarch or other high-ranking nobles.

1. Birthright (Hereditary Nobility)

- Inheritance

The most common way to become a noble was by being born into a noble family. Titles and lands were typically passed down through generations, with the firstborn son often inheriting the majority of the family’s wealth and title (primogeniture). In some cases, titles could also pass through female lines if no male heirs existed.

- Titles Inherited

Children of nobles inherited their parents' ranks, becoming dukes, counts, barons, etc., upon their death or abdication.

2. Royal Favor or Granting of Titles

- Ennoblement by the Monarch

A king, queen, or emperor could grant titles of nobility as a reward for loyal service, significant achievements, or contributions to the kingdom. This could include elevating a loyal knight to a baron, a wealthy merchant to a count, or a successful general to a duke.

- Acts of Valor or Service

Displaying extraordinary bravery in battle or performing a critical service to the crown, such as negotiating treaties or managing crises, could result in ennoblement.

- Financial Support or Gifts

Wealthy individuals who provided substantial financial support to the crown or military might be rewarded with a noble title.

3. Marriage

- Marrying into Nobility

A commoner could gain noble status by marrying someone of noble birth, although this often depended on the consent of the noble family and the monarch. Marriage alliances were key to both maintaining and enhancing noble status, as they could bring new lands, wealth, or military alliances into the family.

- Dowries and Alliances

In some cases, wealthy or influential commoners could arrange marriages with lesser nobles by offering a substantial dowry or political alliance, which could lead to their family entering the nobility over time.

4. Military Achievement

- Knighthood

A commoner could be knighted for bravery, loyalty, and exceptional service in battle. Knighthood was a step towards nobility and often the gateway to further titles. Knights who distinguished themselves could be granted estates or titles, eventually rising into the nobility.

- Military Leadership

Successful generals or commanders could be rewarded with noble titles and lands for their leadership in protecting or expanding the kingdom.

5. Clerical Elevation

- High Church Positions

Bishops, archbishops, and other high-ranking clergy often held noble titles or lands. While clergy were technically separate from the lay nobility, the church wielded significant power. Clerics of humble origin who rose to positions of influence within the church could gain noble status through church appointments or by receiving land grants from the monarch.

- Influence over Secular Affairs

Clergy who played key roles in advising or assisting the crown could be rewarded with lands and titles, blurring the lines between ecclesiastical and secular power.

6. Wealth and Land Ownership

- Accumulation of Wealth

Wealthy commoners, particularly merchants, financiers, or landowners, who accumulated significant land or financial influence could sometimes purchase noble titles or secure them through royal favor. This was more common in later medieval periods and into the Renaissance when wealth became increasingly influential in determining status.

- Purchasing Titles

In some cases, particularly in financially troubled realms, noble titles could be outright purchased from the monarch. This was controversial but became more common in later periods.

7. Legal and Political Achievements

- High Office

Serving in a high office, such as a chancellor, treasurer, or other key political position, could lead to ennoblement. Those who proved their loyalty and effectiveness in governing could be rewarded with titles and land.

- Diplomatic Success

Successful diplomats who negotiated critical treaties or alliances might be granted noble titles as a reward for securing peace or expanding the influence of the realm.

8. Adoption and Favor by Nobles

- Adoption

In rare cases, a noble without heirs might adopt a commoner or relative, raising them to noble status and making them the heir to the title and estates. This required the consent of the monarch and was often done to preserve the family name and estate.

- Favoritism

Individuals who became favorites of the monarch or powerful nobles—such as courtiers, artists, or scholars—might receive titles, estates, and positions in return for their service or companionship.

9. Conquest or Seizure

- Conquest

Nobility could also be gained through conquest. A warlord or leader who seized land and power could eventually claim a noble title, often through negotiations with the crown or by force of arms.

- Seizing Titles

During times of turmoil, individuals who rose to power by overthrowing or displacing existing nobles could claim their titles, provided they gained the monarch’s recognition or solidified their power through force or alliances.

10. Elevations through Legal or Social Changes

- Social Mobility

In later medieval periods, legal reforms and social changes allowed for some mobility between the classes. Wealthy or influential commoners could leverage their status to gain noble titles, particularly in times of economic or political upheaval.

- Inheritance Laws

Changes in inheritance laws, such as the decline of strict primogeniture, sometimes allowed for non-traditional heirs to rise to nobility.

Gaining nobility typically required a combination of wealth, land, military service, and favor from the existing nobility or monarchy. It was a complex process, often intertwined with the politics, wars, and social structure of the time.

Medieval Clergy

The medieval clergy held a significant place in society, balancing religious duties with political power. The Church's hierarchy mirrored that of the nobility, with various ranks conferring different levels of authority, responsibility, and influence. Unlike the nobility, positions in the clergy were not inherited but achieved through devotion, education, and sometimes political maneuvering.

1. The Pope

Rank: Supreme Head of the Catholic Church

Territory: The entire Catholic Church, with temporal power over the Papal States.

Titles: His Holiness, Holy Father

Authority:

- Spiritual leader of all Christians in Western Europe, regarded as Christ's vicar on Earth.

- Held ultimate authority over religious doctrine, canon law, and church governance.

- Had the power to excommunicate kings, issue decrees, and call for crusades.

- Acted as a temporal ruler over the Papal States, wielding political and military power.

- Appointed cardinals, bishops, and other high-ranking clergy, guiding the direction of the Church.

2. Cardinals

Rank: Princes of the Church, directly below the Pope

Territory: Often governed major dioceses or held high positions within the Church's central administration.

Titles: His Eminence

Authority:

- Advisors to the Pope, often serving as administrators of the Vatican or as legates to foreign courts.

- Participated in the election of new popes in the College of Cardinals.

- Held considerable influence over church doctrine, policy, and political matters.

- Governed large dioceses or regions, exercising authority over bishops and the clergy within their jurisdiction.

- Acted as intermediaries between the Church and secular rulers, negotiating treaties, alliances, and policies.

3. Archbishops

Rank: Senior Bishops overseeing an archdiocese (a major ecclesiastical region)

Territory: Governed an archdiocese, often encompassing several dioceses.

Titles: His Grace, Your Excellency

Authority:

- Supervised the bishops within their archdiocese, ensuring adherence to church laws and doctrines.

- Held authority over religious matters in their region, including the appointment of clergy and the administration of sacraments.

- Played a political role, often advising kings and princes, and sometimes held seats in royal councils.

- Presided over religious courts, dealing with matters of heresy, marriage, and church disputes.

- Held significant wealth and land, often rivaling secular nobility in power and influence.

4. Bishops

Rank: Senior Clergy, overseeing a diocese (an administrative district of the Church)

Territory: Governed a diocese, typically including several parishes.

Titles: His Grace, Your Excellency

Authority:

- Responsible for the spiritual welfare of their diocese, including the ordination of priests and the administration of sacraments.

- Managed church lands, finances, and estates within their diocese, acting as landlords and administrators.

- Held power in local governance, often serving as advisors to local rulers or acting as judges in ecclesiastical courts.

- Built and maintained cathedrals, the central church of the diocese, which served as the bishop’s seat of power.

- Engaged in diplomacy and politics, often involved in regional power struggles between the Church and secular rulers.

5. Abbots and Abbesses

Rank: Heads of Monasteries and Convents

Territory: Governed a monastery (for monks) or convent (for nuns), with control over large estates and communities.

Titles: Father Abbot/Mother Abbess, Your Reverence

Authority:

- Held authority over the monks or nuns in their care, enforcing the Rule of their order (e.g., Benedictine, Cistercian).

- Managed extensive lands and estates, which provided the monastery or convent with food, wealth, and resources.

- Oversaw religious and educational activities within their communities, including copying manuscripts, teaching, and providing charity to the poor.

- Acted as local powerbrokers, often wielding influence over surrounding towns and villages.

- Abbots, in particular, sometimes sat in local councils or parliaments, representing the interests of the Church.

6. Priors and Prioresses

Rank: Deputies to Abbots and Abbesses or Heads of Smaller Monasteries/Convents

Territory: Managed priories (smaller religious communities).

Titles: Father Prior/Mother Prioress

Authority:

- Assisted abbots or abbesses in managing the affairs of the monastery or convent.

- Sometimes acted as the head of smaller religious houses, with similar responsibilities to abbots and abbesses, but on a smaller scale.

- Enforced the religious discipline of the order, ensuring that monks and nuns adhered to their vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience.

- Managed the lands and resources of the priory, often engaging in agricultural production or other economic activities to support the community.

- Provided spiritual guidance and performed religious services for the local community.

7. Priests

Rank: Parish Clergy

Territory: Governed individual parishes, typically one or more villages or a small town.

Titles: Father, Reverend

Authority:

- Responsible for the spiritual care of their parishioners, including administering sacraments such as baptism, marriage, and last rites.

- Served as the primary religious authority in the local community, providing sermons, religious instruction, and guidance.

- Managed the parish church, often the center of community life, and oversaw local charities and events.

- Acted as mediators between the church hierarchy and the laypeople, relaying messages and collecting tithes.

- Held some political influence in their communities, often serving as advisors to local lords or as scribes for legal matters.

8. Monks and Nuns

Rank: Lower Clergy, members of religious orders living in monastic communities.

Territory: Lived in monasteries or convents, often removed from secular life.

Titles: Brother/Sister

Authority:

- Dedicated their lives to religious contemplation, prayer, and service to God.

- Engaged in various activities depending on the order, such as copying manuscripts, teaching, farming, or providing charity to the poor.

- Took vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, living according to the rules of their religious order.

- Held little secular power but wielded significant moral and spiritual influence in their communities.

- Monks and nuns were often seen as holy individuals, respected for their devotion and service to God.

9. Friars

Rank: Itinerant Clergy, often belonging to mendicant orders (e.g., Franciscans, Dominicans).

Territory: Did not own property or reside in monasteries; instead, traveled and preached.

Titles: Brother/Sister, Friar

Authority:

- Preached to the public and lived among the people, relying on charity and alms for sustenance.

- Focused on poverty, humility, and missionary work, often in contrast to the wealth and power of the established Church.

- Played a significant role in evangelizing, educating, and caring for the poor in urban and rural areas.

- Held little formal power within the Church hierarchy but were influential in spreading religious reform and charity.

704 notes · View notes