COMMUNITY - FORUMS - FAN FICTION & ROLEPLAYING
The House of Farrant: Iron-Grey

The House of Farrant: Iron-Grey

The Family History

Bleak-grey painted the glass as drops from the sky splattered, dying against the cold surface of the pane. On looked weary eyes, a hue vaguely brown and almost black, illumined only by the light of a fading candle: an island in a pool of wax. The desk he sat in front of was middling in quality: a sturdy mahogany lacking any finer adornments. Tilted atop a slanted reading stand, rising in the midst of the clutter of papers, scrolls, and volumes that wantonly glazed the desk—there stood a tome of ancient quality. Its leather thick—the hide of a large buck—and its pages worn about the edges with age, archaic script from the tip of a turkey-feather pen dripped down its length. Illuminated by the candle and the nearby hearth, the letters, grey in hue, curled with exquisitie penmanship, growing out of the natural fibres of the sheets with their own botanic splendour. And the man seated there dipped his finger into such a garden, holding his place on a particular leaf as he lost his mind amidst the rain and thunder.

He was a man in the early stages of his middle age with an all too furrowed brow. Indeed, any farmer would be concerned that furrows were plowed so deep, and that such a wild mess of hair grey from his skull. Long, ink-black locks rose from his head like a midnight wave, only to descend, cascading down the back of his neck to rest with curled ends on his shoulders. His well-kept beard, trimmed to the shape of his jaw, matched the tone of his mane, and the whole of his visage, outlined as such, centered upon his elegant nose and deep, black eyes. Eyes which soon turned down to the page and began again to read:

"The House of Farrant arose not, as some would think, from the mines and forges but from the page: appearing as a phantom from myths and fiction. For how else do the illegitimate gain legitimacy: some illegitimate endeavour must be taken. Adelard was the first catalyst of this family trend. His origins are unknown, save that he came from humble origins. He was an orphan, and, at a tender age, found himself employed as a household servant in the house of a lord by the name of Farimond. Possessing a quick wit and a knack for business, he was taught to write and employed by the family as their legal contractor, drafting contracts for the family which Lord Farimond would then sign.

As the documents—the mediums of the lord’s power—passed through Adelard’s hands, he began to see that with a sly flick of his pen, with a shift of some wording, he could bend the matters of the land to his own will. Lord Farimond, thinking the scribe an excellent servant—for indeed he played the part well—gave to Adelard increases in freedom, granting him a parcel of land, a house, and further leave to pursue his own designs and plans. And Adelard did, though at the cost of his master. He brokered underhanded deals with merchants, providing loopholes in the law, loopholes Lord Farimond was too careless to spot, that provided these clients with a way to avoid taxes on their sales. Adelard likewise provided a more effective, yet more complex tax code, skimming a healthy sum off the top each month. When he had secured enough wealth to rival all in the land save the lord, he made his final move.

Lord Farimond was an upright man who lived by a chivalric code of honor, and he was generally liked by all save for a more unsavory merchant: a particularly successful merchant thanks to Adelard. Often, when Adelard had purchased enough drink to get the merchant talking, had he heard of his nefarious plans to oust the current lord: how he would rule much more effectively and how always the ends justified the means. Adelard drafted a decree from the lord effectively placing a trade embargo on this merchant, and, having honed his deviant skills in secret, Adelard forged the lord’s signature, making the decree a law. He sent it via courier to the captain of the guard along with a request for the captain and his lieutenants to come to the lord’s estate before scurrying off to the merchant’s house. There he told him all that had supposedly happened: how the lord finally decided to oust him, how his business would be shut down.

The merchant would have none of it, and, fueled by his rage, he sent for his thugs who, forming a haughty band of knaves, went straight to the lord’s house and there put an end to his lordship. But the captain of the guard and his lieutenants arrived in time to find the thugs exiting the house, bloodied, just after the act. A fight ensued, the thugs were dispatched, and the captain, having interrogated one of the thugs, now knew from whence they came. Thus, the captain and his men arrived at the merchant’s house, and, finding him drinking at his table, arrested him. Now it may be wondered why Adelard set these things in motion.

Deft with the pen, he had, the day before, changed the lord’s will to favor him as the last of all his heirs; thus, if all of the lord’s children were to die, and they did, then the estate would go to Adelard. Of course, part of the estate includes the taxes of the people, and, having skimmed off the top, Adelard created a nice, little hole in the numbers. But documents did not point back to Adelard; no, they pointed back to the merchant, and, unfortunately, the amount the merchant owed to the lord was more than his estate could afford. Adelard, being the now-apparent heir, received the benefits of the merchants estate and came off a wealthy man. But Adelard did not press his political position; no, writing to the count, he expressed his desire for a new baron to reside over the town. For Adelard, and the Farrants ever since, are middling in their desires. They do not desire absolute power, for they enjoy the nuanced game far too much. They do not desire absolute passivity, for they have a secret pride that fuels them. No, the precedent Adelard set was one of devious moderation: of residing, like grey, between the opposites of white and black.

The House of Farrant has since taken up scribing as is art, and thus has it served many a count, duke, and baron. They are happy to serve, and, indeed, are entirely faithful and persistent in their duties, but not, as it were, without cost. They, like demons, serve, but not without some kind of contract: that at any point which suits their fancy, they might try to devour your soul.”

The man seated at the desk slid a long tassle between the pages and carefully closed the book, the heavy lid of the tome closing with a soft thud. Wringing his wrists to free his hands from the sleeves of his night-gown, he licked his forefinger and, reaching the candle, extinguished the flame with a swift pinch. Descended into darkness save for the dull light of the hearth, he trudged along the floorboards to his bed, and in peace the descendant of Adelard Farrant laid his head upon his pillow, closing his eyes to the sound of the grey rain.

To be continued…


11/11/2016 4:59:19 PM #1
Saved for later additions if needed...

2/8/2017 11:54:46 PM #2

If you're interested in being a part of the House, you can find more info here.