08-29-2014, 12:21 AM
Comte Marcel de Frontenac was the Winter Court's indisputable embodiment of shameless hedonism. Regardless of what anyone said about him, Marcel always did what he did best--what he wanted. And that was precisely what the Winter Kingdom admired about him. He'd had nearly four hundred years of life with which to build up such a reputation. In fact, the Unseelie constantly gossiped about his antics. "Why, once while in mortal lands, he seduced the nun of so-and-so convent" one story said, and "he defeated the champion of someplace just so he could go back to bedding the champion's wife without interruption" said another.
Unfortunately, these days Marcel found it increasingly difficult to concoct schemes to surpass past escapades. This coming week in particular, the millennial anniversary of Le Mascarade de L'Automne, he would have to think of something nearly insurmountable by Unseelie standards. But what? Nights of tireless contemplation passed without resolution. Time was running out...Until it dawned on him one evening, while lounging in his grand mahogany chair with a gilded glass of blood wine: he would overthrow the Summer Court without an army, relying entirely on his own wit and guile.
The Summer Kingdom was composed of hordes of disgusting daydwellers, otherwise known as the Seelie. The Summer and Winter Kingdoms had existed side by side for millenia in a state of chaos. They squabbled with one another over everything-- from the Court alignment of common fae to the extent of each Kingdom's land. It had only been one thousand years ago that the two Courts pieced together a flimsy agreement to abstain from conflict. Every one hundred years, Le Mascarade de L'Automne was held night and day for the duration of a week, in order for the members of both Courts to fraternize with each other. To remind themselves that "they are all the same", even though the Seelie preferred the day and the Unseelie preferred the night.
While political tensions between the Kingdoms still existed, Le Mascarade had managed to keep the peace for one thousand years. On this, the millennial anniversary of its creation, Marcel de Frontenac would deliver the Summer Throne to the Winter King's hands. He knew just how to do so...But his plan required the assistance of the Winter Court's best trickster. And so, springing from his seat, the vampire accosted one of his servants. They were to send out a message for him straight away.
"Summon the demon, Dorian Arnoult," he said, "To dine with me here at my castle tomorrow night."
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