(1312-05-15) Favourite of Avignon
Summary: A bipartite wedding ceremony for Jehan-Pascal and Favourite— in two distinct flavors.
RL Date: 15/05/2020
Related: Any introducing the next Comtesse.
jehan-pascal favourite-npc 


Just south, below the bustle of Avignon, and midway to the village Barbentane, a charming vale nestles in against the winding bank of the River Rhodane, and on the morning of May 15th, 1512, a goldenrod canopy decked with garlands of red roses gleams in the sun's new dawn, while two ranks of seating are being set seat by seat and made sure of on the raw ground.

Hither, at an hour almost unprecedented to the nobility, gather the Comte and Comtesse Baphinol to one side, the Comte and Comtesse Tremaine at the other, the Lord Dior Baphinol no Rose Sauvage and others of close family and friends and those of the nobility ambitious enough to wake so early to see the event proper.

And, for truth, there isn't much to see. A canopy, some seating, the dulcet rumble of the Rhodane and the calls of its nesting birds singing for their springtime sex. A priestess, a scribe, some guards in fine livery, and the couple, dressed with relative plainness, all things considered, crowned in rose-wreath and joining hands.

The guards, far from warding off the natural interest of the commons drawn to such an open spot, seem ready for their arrival and are at duty to guide them closer into areas designated for viewing the wedding on foot, between the two banks of seating which then would flank the crowd, which grew until the excess was to be guided around to the back of the canopy for possibly a less profitable view, but still within range to see and hear the words of the Priestess and those exchanged by Bride and Groom, until by the time the proclamation of the wedding is made, a new wreath, now grown up around the canopy, of Avignon's own commons, blossoms into cheers and applause to see their next Comte and Comtesse kiss.

A procession, next, and the guards are on hand to make sure a path for both families and friends; a line of carriages await at a road to take them back in pairs or threes to the palace. But the couple themselves make no move to leave. Instead, from below the table erected for the scribe's benefit, a chest is drawn by two of the guards, and with a gesture of invitation one of the spectators is beckoned closer.

Her name is Belanne, and she's nervous to step below the canopy with Jehan-Pascal and Favourite. Their clothes may have been plain in comparison to what is expected at a wedding of this caliber, but hers are another level of magnitude more so. She only works in a mill in Barbentane, after all, and yet, here she is, with Favourite, a daughter of Tremaine, trained of the Mont Nuit in Elua, and wedded a Baphinol opening up a hand to encourage her to join them. Introductions. Congratulations. Tears. And, from the chest now newly opened, one of a great pile of small velvet pouches, Baphinol Red pulled taut with a Yellow-Gold cord, is given to her in thanks for her congratulations, a token of the wedding day to take away with her which, on leaving, she opens to discover a somewhat substantial sum of monies.

Another from the fore of the crowd is summoned next, and soon enough there is a steady file of the commons of Avignon making their way under the canopy, greeting Lord Jehan-Pascal and the Lady Favourite each in turn and being gifted a pouch for the occasion. Cordial conversations bubble up here and there— this young Mademoiselle is about to be wed, herself, and Favourite wishes her all the happiness she has had as a bride to be— and soon the atmosphere is rather more jovial than timid and demure as it started out.

Naturally, word spreads, and more will make their way to the vale in a festive mood, not only to receive their wedding-day gifts, but also to give them, in turn. The local economy has been in flower in the aftermath of the tax holiday and the various infrastructural improvements that accompanied it and more than several families turn up with bags of their best ground barley, wheels of cheese, jars of pickled radishes tied in pretty bows by children's hands, simple cards of congratulations and even some livestock, several geese, a pig in a halter (now being sent ahead by a guard on its leash to the palace to be prepared as part of the wedding feast), and three just-weaned puppies born of good hunting stock in a basket.

The groom, of course, has long been known for his personable ways, and now his chosen bride is shining at his side, out-shining him, even, in beauty and charm— and he doesn't mind it at all. This is the peoples' introduction to she who will lead them and care for them in future, and Jehan-Pascal is happy to let her shine, to make of her a true Favourite of Avignon. She is a wonder; she rushes no one, and yet keeps the reception line moving; she is open and caring and calls everyone by his or her name on wishing them fare well, while her husband asks insightful questions and makes frequent notes to the scribe to mark especially in their wedding-book for him, when he is told of the peoples successes and their struggles.

The scribe, too, takes names in a quick shorthand to expound upon later, with occupations, family size and village in which each family is established, along with any other notes she finds pertinent or ones that Jehan-Pascal marks out to her for especial note. Never waste an opportunity; a wedding is as good as a census, sometimes.

When the sun begins to sink low once more and the bags of coin in the chest begin to dwindle, a general sense of wrapping-up and the guards begin to form a perimeter, asking that no new well-wishers approach but sending them away with individual coins and the thanks of the bride and groom. The last of those in line are seen to just in time for the exhausted couple to embrace and laugh with one another and kiss in the reddening sunset. Then they, too, to their carriage, and back to the palace to change.

Yes, their day is but half done. In the daylight for the commons, in the nighttime for the nobles. They dress out in what would have been their wedding outfits proper, resplendent and fashionable, unlike their rather more approachable outfits of earlier, and make their appearance at a banquet already underway, announced by a herald and entering to the raised chalices of everyone in attendance. Speeches, toasts, drinking, dancing; everything a Comte's wedding reception should be.

They retire to their suite in the palace as newlyweds almost a full twenty four hours after waking to prepare for their wedding day. The work on producing an heir will have to wait— they are already asleep in one another's arms.

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