[center][h2]Lord Aldwyn Gerantius
[sub][i]"The Heart of All"[/i][/sub][/h2]
[hr][hr][/center]
[indent][indent]The short ride from Marethia felt longer than normal, burdened by the weight of rain and sorrows as if the heavens themselves weeped at the passing of King Timault. In a covered cart, ornate with carvings and paint pulled by two magnificent, muddied steeds, the Duke of Marethia rode to the capital, one Lord Aldwyn Gerantius. As wooden wheels bounced and jittered along the stone roads that marked the beginnings of the Highlands, the aged man recalled all of the times he had been on this same exact journey. 

Between his position and the location of the two provinces, the Duke of Marethia had found himself going to Tythmas more times than he could care to count. When he was younger he travelled here with his father with his duties and the occasional visit to the archives or a college where he immersed himself in arithmetics and people. When he was gravely wounded, it was the chirurgeons of Tythmas who had preformed the most delicate operations. And as Duke of Marethia, he obviously came here for important matters of state.

Behind his cart was another, flanked by of armored riders who acted as escort for the entire convoy; a personal detachment of foot guard knights acted as Aldwyn's personal escorts for this. Twas a light contingent, but these were safe roads and bore little chance of any true danger, just protocol really. The second cart had brought along a bounty of Marethia's prestigious harvest to help in the feeding of men and women of such importance as the ones going to this meeting, a rather boisterous display of personal bragging rights when it came down to its core but Aldwyn would have never called it as such.

Once his caravan and guards made it to the great halls of the meeting place, servants carried his gifts out of the dreary weather and towards the storehouse or kitchen as guards escorted him down the magnificent stone halls to the table. Sitting down, Aldwyn took note of the others in attendance. He noticed one James Conrad, Duke of the Summit had put forth his own claim. Duke James Conrad was just as the others of House Conrad, giving off an uneasy air about him that stank of shadows. Aldwyn's own father had once told him that "Conrads are extremely reliable at one single thing: keeping themselves alive". Wither that was for better or for worse was not the most pressing issue. Standing up out of his seat with a booming voice, his battered and worn armor shinning proudly in the lighting the Duke of Marethia gave his own announcement:

[color=CCCCCC]"I, Lord Aldwyn Geratnius, the head of the most noble House Gerantius and Duke of Marethia, would also like to press a claim to the nomination of the position of High King of great Osteria! The blood lineage of House Gerantius runs deep and true with loyalty to not only the Kings of Osteria, but her people too! Marethia feeds many of your peoples and her riders are second only that of Tythmas! I do commit an oath to not only protect the lands of Osteria but to see them prosper as well. All in attendance knows the ever increasing prosperity of Marethia due to the work of House Gerantius and I can assure you that I can preform the same results as High King to every man, woman and child for the good of all!"[/color]

A well time parade of servants flooded the room with good food and drink, serving everyone in attendance, even the guards were offered servings. Aldwyn had delegated the choreographing of such an act to one of his most trusted servants and wasn't disappointed. He had a feeling that the lords and ladies must have been the tiniest bit peckish and a happy belly of Marethian delicacies was never an offer one with a sense of taste and a good tongue should deny themselves the pleasure of.

[color=CCCCCC]"Should I not be granted the nomination however."[/color] Aldwyn's voice resumed to resonate loudly in the chamber, [color=CCCCCC]"I would like to humbly request a position on the King's counsel where I do believe my skills can be best put to use. I do not demand a position for the glorious role of High Marshal and lead troops for that is a role best left for more martially skilled men than I, but I do proclaim to be a very respectable steward and chamberlain in my own right if I do say so myself."[/color]

Picking up a glass of fine spirits from a passing servant, Lord Aldwyn rose it in remembrance of the past king, [color=CCCCCC]"Let us never forget the passing of our beloved King Timault. May Osteria prosper once more under the next ruler, whomever it may be!"[/color][/indent][/indent]