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radioactivepeasant · 1 year

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Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

Someday I'm going to finish writing this story. It would help if I could actually remember where I put my notebook that had the outline and third chapter in it lol

This is a bit from the first chapter, setting up the main character, Dantes. For context, rulers in the kingdom of Hieracium are elected, and each takes the family name of the very first ruler of the kingdom -- an unlucky woman who was volunteered for the job because she knew how to do math related to switching currencies and nobody else did. So the Ulfric Clan isn't a bloodline, it's more of a title.

His father and mother had raised him to work as hard as any farmer or farrier or fisherman. Their particular branch of the ever-growing Ulfric clan had not always been rulers, the late Queen Mother had reasoned, and there had been no guarantee that Dantes would be elected as Maya's successor when she retired. Better to be a Jack-of-all-trades than to find yourself out of work with no practical skills.

But Dantes was more than happy to pull his share of the weight in both the capitol and the city. Perhaps his advisers did tend to gently poke fun at his habit of treating the staff like housemates rather than employees trying to do their jobs. And perhaps some foreign dignitaries looked down on Hieracium a little for having a ruler who was willing to scrub flagstones and scatter reeds with the scullion staff. But the Hieracia people loved him for it. It was a reminder to those within their kingdom and those watching from without that rulers were only mortals, like their subjects.

Dantes had just finished setting a cauldron of water to boil when the head cook shuffled into the kitchen. He smiled at her, dusted off his hands, and began to measure tea leaves into an enormous pot.

“Morning, Mrs. Bolton,” he said cheerfully, “Were the dormitories warm enough last night? I saw frost on the windowpane this morning.”

The elderly woman wrapped her pink wool shawl a little tighter around her shoulders and sucked on her teeth thoughtfully before pushing past the king to add several cups of dried oats to the cauldron. Her hands were not as steady as they once were, and she looked altogether too pale.

“Here, give me that,” Dantes said, trying to take the next cup of oats from the cook. “Sit down and warm yourself before you freeze!”

“Leave off, you!” The cook retorted, gently batting his hand away, “I’m a grown girl, I can handle it well enough.”

She made a face as the last of the oats for the porridge disappeared into the water, and held her hands out to warm them over the steam.

“Truth be told,” she admitted, “Twas a mighty cold night. I can’t speak for the others, of course. But me and Mr. Bolton, we do chill easier than we used to.”

Dantes tutted sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear it,” he said. “I’ve heard that in Nermorn they’ve begun using little coal stoves to heat rooms without fireplaces. Shall I order some for the dormitories? I’ve heard they’re a little messy, but efficient.”

Mrs. Bolton patted his arm with the bold familiarity of one who had known him for most of his life.

“You’re a dear, your majesty,” she told him fondly. “Now you seat yourself! And, and, take some breakfast while you can, afore the rest of my kitchen miscreants wake to scrape the pot clean! I’ll not have it said of me that I let a king go hungry.”

“Yes marm,” Dantes chuckled. He let her push him to a stool by the fire -- no mean feat for a little old woman half his size -- and hand him a steaming bowl of porridge.

It was bland stuff. Dantes waited until Mrs. Bolton’s back was turned, and tossed two handfuls of nutmeg into the pot. He swiftly brushed his hand off on his trousers, lest the traces give him away, but his attempt at concealment failed anyway.

The instant the cook smelled the nutmeg, she crossed her arms and sighed. “Now sire, you know we need that for baking! You can’t turn every staff breakfast into something fancy.”

“I can try,” the king retorted, with a most unkingly pout.

A few of the other cooks, bakers, and kitchen staff trailed in as the fire warmed the stones. They each greeted the king respectfully, then collected their bowls of porridge and drifted away to begin their morning routines. There was bread to be baked, turnovers to be filled, and enough food to feed a castle to be prepared.

“Colin, get another pot of porridge going,” Mrs. Bolton ordered one of her assistants, “Tis cold enough to freeze the marrow this morn. Make up ten bowls for Jemmy to bring up to the night watch -- and mind you don’t let certain individuals meddle with the recipe!”

“We’re down to one more sack of oats, marm,” the flustered man warned, “All the rest went into the oat farls last night. For the upstairs’ breakfast, remember?”

“Nevermind,” Dantes interjected, pointing his spoon in Colin’s direction. “I’ll see to it that we buy more the next time we ride through Ainselv.”

The king visited the city of Ainselv often. It was only four hours’ ride from Iconos, the capital of Hieracium. As it was a little newer than Iconos, and a little larger, it had a much nicer library, and much nicer merchant stalls. Being so close to the shores of Lake Striga, they had first pick of the goods shipped across the lake from Nermorn. Being further east, Iconos often got what was left over.

“Ordering food is the cellarer’s job, your majesty,” the Assistant Head Cook said in mild reproof.

“Well I’m in charge of all the jobs, aren’t I?” Dantes defended himself, “I can give the cellarer less work today if I like!”

“Sure, and you’re not only looking for new tomes of frightful tales, your majesty?” Mrs. Bolton’s assistant teased.

“Now see here, Mrs. Poppy!” Dantes laughed, then spent an embarrassing two seconds cleaning bits of porridge out of his beard. “See here! That was one time! Heavens, come home with a book instead of a bull once, and you never live it down!”

“Who forgets an entire cow?!” Mrs. Bolton called from the dough table.

“A bookwyrm, that’s who!” Dantes retorted. “I’ll make that oat order, never you fear. Besides, I may as well find something new for the court intendant to read.” He made a face. “She’s up all hours like an owl with those tawdry war romances. May as well find her something with a little more substance, eh?”

“I...don’t know that the Lady Hawksbit is the sort who would care for your tales of knights and monsters, sire,” Mrs. Poppy muttered, but said nothing more about it.

Dantes poured himself a mug of hot mint tea, wished the kitchen staff a pleasant morning, and excused himself. “Off to work!” he announced, “It’s Thursday: out-of-doors work today.”

“Ooo! Mind you wear lots and lots of coats, sire!” squealed a scullion's child on the way to breakfast, “Mother said it’s wicked cold today!”

“And she’s quite right!” Dantes answered. “Oh, Charley, tell the butler I’m requiring a rotation of breaks by the fires today, won’t you? We want no frozen fingers here! Laundry will keep until the sun is properly up.”

“Yes sire!” the child chirped, “If there’s to be lots of breaks, will we get to play in the snow?”

“That’s a question for your mum, not me!” the king called over his shoulder. He took the stairs two at a time and came out in a cozy parlor that had once been an office.

Dantes had never really relished the idea of doing his share of the kingdom’s bookkeeping in the same windowless room his mother had favored. He found it unbearably stuffy in the warmer months. Upon taking the throne, one of the first things he’d done was to make sure his private office had windows that could be opened in the summer. That did incur the risk of pigeons coming to investigate the budget, but there were worse things in life.

Dantes hastily sipped his half-cooled tea as he backed out of the study and made his way up the north stairs to the grand hall. On Thursdays, instead of hearing from advisers all day, Ulfric Dantes was more accustomed to holding court for only four hours. Ministers of agriculture, water control, public health, and other departments related to the kingdom’s overall environment would present their reports to the king during this time. If anything was amiss, the king would ride out to personally contact whoever had been placed in command over the town named in the report. Married rulers usually delegated this sort of thing to their spouses, as that was the job of the vice-rulers. But Dantes remained cheerfully and stubbornly single, and liked to take care of things himself.

Thursday afternoons were generally spent in one of Hieracium’s six cities, holding town hall meetings with city government and civilians alike. They usually had much more specific ideas of what the royal court could improve upon than the advisers in Iconos did.

And, thus far, none of the civilians had tried to badger the king into some kind of political marriage. That was another point in their favor.

#folklore friday #fic prompts #writing prompts #original characters #original story #king and coven #ulfric dantes maximilian #clearly i was in a Redwall mood when I first wrote this #Dantes' main issue is that he wants to retire and adopt a bunch of kids but he's contractually obligated to find a successor first #his would-be first pick for a successor Does Not Want To Be King and will scream if both Dantes AND the population elect him #in Hieracium the people select a couple candidates and they intern with the ruler to see if it works #then the council does electoral votes to pick which one replaces the former king or queen #one of the main candidates would do anything to be chosen. the other wants nothing to do with it. the rival does not know this #original worlds

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