Absence: The Prelude to The Long English Night

[Master Claramae St. Laurence]

Absence
A Prelude

Time passed strange to she who'd lead the party that would advance off to England. To be born on English soil and to fathom English life should have made supressing a riot a simple thing to do. Albeit, nothing was simple of the mission at hand: A woman who had been born in to English nobility as a baron's daughter, given the gifts of an eschelon's rearing for the St. Laurence posistion as a royal favorite, was now overseeing England from the same place that she along with the other courtiers bowed in reverance to the King. The head of state was now gone. His children were lesser entities in a place with a new, startling future ahead of it. In a matter of decreasing days, the Mo'r Triath, a Duke in the absence of a former King, would ascend that King's throne to become Adam I, King of Scotland and England, and Mann, Protector of Ireland and Wales. Of these, it was a half English, half Scott that assumed his Gaelic roots were the better causing the stir in every street of the country.

No less than twelve days ago, she left on a boat bound for the Northeastern shore of England to meet with the land's adjoining Earl, one of a few men whom took to the denotion of his rank with no care so long as he maintained what had always been his. Seeking favor in the new court by holding together what was left of the traditional, monied peerage, he would meet the Lady Governess, soon to be one of several new Duchess', to discuss what was so far ensued. Behind her, in the keeping of Lord and Lady Voltaire would be this letter for those who did not follow her on the vessel sailing towards history:

To Whom Might Read This, Noble Comerade:

Royalists in England are split in two categories: Some called for Edward III, son of Edward II, to announce his reign, or surrender to his sister Joan, who was called Joan I, much to her dismay. Both Edward and Joan are under heavy guard due to the fact of constant threat of safety and the evident belief that if left unattended, they may not live long in the hands of their captors. The ransom offered for each by their seekers is staggering. The Royalists are not also English, but Scottish citizens enraged that David I will not ascend the throne, and worry that the English will either rise to power once again or that the reign of Adam I will bring about corruption and sin. They still hope to carry forth a marriage of David unto Joan and kill her elder brother. A lesser, third group seeks to coherese the mindset of the former Princess Elenore to the throne, but regress due to her evident mounting madness.

Each category of Royalist is responsible for insighting the now visible signs of uprising in England. The common man is but disposable resource to the monied man whom drives him to these means. There are those whom support the Griffin, Our Lord and Sovereign, whom hold their lands. Others have paid a price, at least two of his closest allies have paid with their lives. It has come to my attention that their bodies were left to hang over the Tower Green, at London. This is not known unto the Aberdeens nor should it be. There is nothing to be gained in inspiring the King to tame the wolves at his gate, go to meet them, or to give the Queen cause to consider more than she already must. You, should you read this, are to hold this secret under thy tongue. Why do I ask this of you, unable to see your face? If the Master has entrusted you the ability to read this, or has read it to you, you are a holder of one of the most coveted and dangerous places in all of the nations: The side of trust unto your sovereigns in so far as to command shadow, and perhaps a place then with those in Ebony Hall.

Should you seek to come, it is my advice that you sail not straight for England, but make for Scotland and come across the border for your prolonged voyage would be to your better safety.

Bring with you the necessity to masquerade among the peerage and the weaponry required when that masquerade will make no difference, for soon it will not. You will follow a requistie path first towards the West, and then into the heart of London there after. The East is too questionable at this time. Assume for yourself a name of English stature, and speak nothing of heading towards the estate of the Govenor nor the Duchess at London. By the time you read this, Baroness will be a title conjoined to the lesser of our troubles. Listen and learn, remember and report only to those you find who are talon baring. It will not be obvious, but if you here, you are not among the obvious.

Once in London, seek not the rose of my standard, but one within the griffin's Golden Talon's, with a crown above the flower. When you find this, you will find your way to me. You may see me one hundred times and I you, but you will not have access to me until you find this door. Begin your search in the King's Castle.


God Save the King,

Master Vincere St. Laurence