The End of an Age
One of the many bastard children of Jacques Poinsois, Hand to Queen Dominique Malister and King of Southron, and half-sister of Pavel
A young, naive, inexperienced woman who is shunned for her existance. Recently, Faux was drafted into the Great Southron Civil War to fight for the King’s Army.
Sigil of Faux
Being Hand to the Queen has its perks. All the roasted duck you could eat, a fire crackling in its marble tomb, and the women… oh the women. Blondes, brunettes, auburn, short, tall, always thin, Always beautiful. You would be amazed at the beauty that Southron held in its bosom. Such commoners but gorgeous. I still remember them all, maybe not their names, definately not their names, but their faces. Beautiful faces, sleek slender bodies, thier eyes. Sure some of those eyes were piercing me with sheer hatred, but they were piercing with fire. Something to be tamed. Those were my favorites. Ah. It’s great to be the Hand.
Liliandra Briston, daughter to the late stableman Jayson Briston in the slums of Justicar. Her father was taken to serve the royal family. He mysteriously never came home. Liliandra was left to take care of the stables while her mother whorred herself to put bread on the table. Her mother. God rest her soul.
Life was never easy in Justicar. Barely enough money to eat, let alone have enough money to feed the horses. But the horses were her livelyhood. Sell them to the few travelers willing to come into the slums, buy new ones from the sketchy breeder from Aaronville, rent them to local farmers to plow the royal family fields. The horses were thin- but strong. Much like the woman who took care of them.
One late evening, a member of the royal guard came to Liliandra’s stable. Liliandra was excited- perhaps one of her horse could serve the royal family and she would have enough coin to feed the rest for a month! Not to mention get some better hay to sleep on. She ran to greet the guard only to be mortified at what she saw in the distance. A carriage full of women she knew. A caged carriage. She tried to turn away as fast as she could, but it was too late. The guard grabbed her dress and pulled, draggin Liliandra to the ground. She clawed at the ground feverishly trying to get away. Another guard approach pinned her to the ground. One tied her hands while another bound her feet. “Looks like we got the requested ‘lively’ one,” one guard said with a laugh. “Lively?! I’ll show you li—” The guards gagged Liliandra with a piece of an old shirt. Liliandra struggled to break free of her bounds. The guards laughed at her struggles. “Knock her out. We don’t want our mare running loose.” Liliandra snarlled just as anouther guard hit her in the back of the head. And the world went black.
Liliandra awoke in one of the most lavish rooms she has ever seen. A warm fire crackled and popped in an intricate marble fireplace. Red arm chairs sat around the fire with gold plateware on small end tables. She felt the softness of bearskin under her fingers. She tried to get up expecting much difficulty being bound. What is this? Her arms were no longer bound, neither were her feet. She sat up. She felt her face. The gag was removed. She ran her fingers through her coffee colored hair. A rather large bump had grown on the back of her skull and it stung as she touched it. She picked herself up off the floor. She felt a little light headed. ‘I got to get out of here,’ Liliandra thought to herself. She made her way to the door. “Leaving so soon are we?” Liliandra spun around to see a very handsome man sitting on the foot of the four post bed. He was thin, with well groomed black hair and a goatee. He was dressed in a purple smoking jacket and silk pants. He arose from the bed and walked towards Liliandra. “My you are simply beautiful. I will have to scold my guards for bruising such a delicate flower.” “My lord.” Liliandra bowed to her knees. Jacques approached Liliandra and ran his fingers through her hair. “No need for such formalilites my dear.” He carressed her face and lifted it. “Do you know how beautiful you are? Arise.” Liliandra stood. Jacques began to kiss her neck. “Very beautiful indeed.” Liliandra stiffened. “Oh does much touch offend?” Liliandra trembled. “No… my lord.” “Good girl.” Liliandra wept.
“You may take her, her fire was not like you described.” Jacques slapped the guard who grabbed Liliandra. “I’m sorry My Lord.” He grabbed Liliandra and dragged her back to the caged carriage. Upon returning to the stables the guard threw her into a pile of horse shit. “There you go you piece of shit. Right where you belong.” Liliandra picked herself up just to see the other guards taking all of her horses. “You can’t take my horses without pay!” “The Hand can take whatever he wants shit. Now sit in your shit or I’ll beat you like the whore you are!” Liliandra went after the guard, just to have another blow to the back of the head. And the world was black once more.
Nine months had passed. Liliandra gave birth to a baby girl in the Liar’s Cup Brothel. She had nowhere else to go. No man would ever take her as a wife- she had no dowry, not to mention she was pregnant. Just like her mother, she went to live with the whores. Liliandra gazed into the face of her newborn daughter. Liliandra was determined not to let her daughter follow in her mother’s and grandmother’s footsteps. She deserved better. She deserved better than the name Briston. Faux Redevance, fake royalty. She is after all, the daughter of the Hand, albeit a bastard one.
Faux was like her mother- strong willed; however, Liliandra tried to shield her daughter from the world. Faux had her mother’s hair but Jacques piercing eyes. She was beautiful and Liliandra did not want her to become just another brothel girl. Faux was always playing with the other children of the whores. Mainly the boys. She would sword fight with sticks, jump into mud puddles without any thought for her clothes and always had skinned knees. She was a tom boy if there was ever a better definition.
As she matured, Faux never became a lady. Always one of the boys. But she was 17 now and Liliandra worried she would become an escort once 18. However, Liliandra’s fear was more than she could have ever imagined. One evening as Faux and the boys sparred out behind the brothel, the King’s Army recruiter arrived. He held a scroll in his hand. “All able bodied men are hereby enlisted to be Men at Arms to serve King Jacques Army.” Upon finishing the decree, more guards poured into the brothel and began searching for any men. They took them all. They opened the back door to see Faux and the other boys sparring. Faux was wearing a leather helmet she found in one of the storage rooms of the brothel. Probably some drunken soldier who misplaced it after a night of revealry. The guards took Faux and her friends, not realizing Faux was a woman. Liliandra watched in horror as she saw Faux being loaded into the same cagged carriage as she once was, but there was nothing Liliandra could do. Her daughter was strong, and perhaps her life would be better off being away from the brothel…