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On the Loyalty of Vassals
May. 14th, 2018 06:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iodhadhA folded note, left on the desk of Ellar Oake, husband to Iseult Antyre.
Brother—
I know you are angry with me, so I will say what I have to say in writing rather than force you to endure my presence any longer. Complain of my bull-headedness to Iseult if you must; I am sure she would agree with you. Hopefully by the time we see each other next we will both have been able to set our tempers aside.
Here it is, then: you deserve better. Your house—if they are anything like you—deserves better. I do not know your precise relation to the man who answered my challenge, but I will grudgingly admit that even he, likely, deserves better, for all that I am disgusted at him for answering an insult intended for the family that has mistreated him (that Dillestoné allowed this, I can only assume was born of a cruel sense of irony. My estimation of them has never been high, but it will be decades in recovering from this). You say Oake has a long tradition of service and loyalty. Perhaps so. I say long years of service should be recompensed, not used to demand you beggar yourselves to further that service. You have already given enough, and you deserve more. You are owed more.
Reading this, I know, you will be angry with me again. You always are, when I tell you that you are worth more than you have been paid. It infuriates me, the way you have been taught to abase yourself, though I will grant it's one of your more charming character flaws.
When you joined our clan you agreed to live by our ways, and in nearly all respects you have succeeded admirably. I am proud to call you family, and of the children you are raising with my sister. It is only on this subject that I ever find myself disappointed in you. The weight of tradition does not make it a virtue to bow, brother. I would rather see you stand, alongside my unconquered kinsmen.
You are no fool. You know that war is coming. The house of your ancestors will bleed itself dry to prop up the claim of an infant, or it will look its masters in the eye and say, no—we've done enough. I will make an effort not to take it as a personal affront that this has not yet come to pass. But I will not be silent. Even aside from my preexisting political opinions, I love you too much to watch the abuse of your kin and say nothing.
And, Iseult, since I know you're reading this—yes, I am as much an obstinate boar as ever, and yes, there is no doing anything with me, and yes, I am aware that this means I have rescinded my invitation to dinner for the week and a half to come. You know I am right. Please do try to convince your husband of that.
Your sister,
Idony
Brother—
I know you are angry with me, so I will say what I have to say in writing rather than force you to endure my presence any longer. Complain of my bull-headedness to Iseult if you must; I am sure she would agree with you. Hopefully by the time we see each other next we will both have been able to set our tempers aside.
Here it is, then: you deserve better. Your house—if they are anything like you—deserves better. I do not know your precise relation to the man who answered my challenge, but I will grudgingly admit that even he, likely, deserves better, for all that I am disgusted at him for answering an insult intended for the family that has mistreated him (that Dillestoné allowed this, I can only assume was born of a cruel sense of irony. My estimation of them has never been high, but it will be decades in recovering from this). You say Oake has a long tradition of service and loyalty. Perhaps so. I say long years of service should be recompensed, not used to demand you beggar yourselves to further that service. You have already given enough, and you deserve more. You are owed more.
Reading this, I know, you will be angry with me again. You always are, when I tell you that you are worth more than you have been paid. It infuriates me, the way you have been taught to abase yourself, though I will grant it's one of your more charming character flaws.
When you joined our clan you agreed to live by our ways, and in nearly all respects you have succeeded admirably. I am proud to call you family, and of the children you are raising with my sister. It is only on this subject that I ever find myself disappointed in you. The weight of tradition does not make it a virtue to bow, brother. I would rather see you stand, alongside my unconquered kinsmen.
You are no fool. You know that war is coming. The house of your ancestors will bleed itself dry to prop up the claim of an infant, or it will look its masters in the eye and say, no—we've done enough. I will make an effort not to take it as a personal affront that this has not yet come to pass. But I will not be silent. Even aside from my preexisting political opinions, I love you too much to watch the abuse of your kin and say nothing.
And, Iseult, since I know you're reading this—yes, I am as much an obstinate boar as ever, and yes, there is no doing anything with me, and yes, I am aware that this means I have rescinded my invitation to dinner for the week and a half to come. You know I am right. Please do try to convince your husband of that.
Your sister,
Idony
