Jacques Fontaine was technically a prince, and could have taken the throne -- if he'd been willing to try taking over a court that passionately hated his entire bloodline and likely would have seen him assassinated within the year. His parents had understood that, and arranged for Jacques and his siblings to inherit their grandmother's titles and estate in Caristhium instead. The lands and titles carried a comfortable income, and if the dukes were content to leave him alone, he was more than willing to return the favor.
At the moment, he was busy in the library, composing a bit of poetry for the young lady Fiona Silvercliff, daughter of the baron, who'd taken to writing to him. It was pure silliness, about a paladin who'd sworn a mighty oath to recover an escaped hog for a poor farmer, and found himself in progressively more embarrassing positions as the quest progressed; it would end with him being hauled out of a lake by his cloak by the hog itself, he thought. Lady Silvercliff wasn't his only correspondent, but she was one of his favorites and he enjoyed sending her these little amusements.
The library door opened and his younger sister Yvette came in, focusing on him immediately. "Jacques," she said. "Whatever you're working on, stop it. We have a problem."
"What kind of problem?" he asked, masking his irritation by habit. He hated being interrupted when he was composing things, but it wouldn't be right to take that out on Yvette. Especially if there actually was some sort of emergency.
"An armed group just appeared outside the gates -- gave the guards a proper scare. Julien went to look them over, but we should get out there just in case."
Indeed we should. That was the other reason Jacques had hidden his reflexive irritation: Yvette was not in the habit of interrupting him with trivialities. He hesitated for a moment, but this was the library after all; he rose, and pulled an antique rapier off the wall, carrying it with him as he followed his sister out the door.
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