Answer

The Fool was asking questions of love.

These days, I’m much more interested in…

Romance

 

 

 

She steps into the room and every set of eyes turns her way, as expected. They all want to see what she’s wearing tonight. Daro stands behind her, to the left, like a shadow of muscle and iron. It’s the first knight she’s worn the sword belt. Everyone’s eyes fall a little lower than usual.

The silence breaks. Conversations resume. An older woman approaches, smiling wide and friendly.

“Lady Shara,” she says, and they touch fingertips. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Only the Gods themselves could keep me from one of your parties, Duchess.”

More pleasantries are passed, and one by one, they approach, giving their regards. Most only touch her fingertips, the most polite greeting. A few allow her fingers to rest in their palm. The most daring give a gentle squeeze. She remembers their faces and their names, those that dare an invitation to Romance.


 

In medieval courts, poets were put to death for writing of it. Men and women alike were punished horribly for believing in it. Church officials condemned it, calling it a mortal sin.

That crazy little thing called love.

Europeans were thunderstruck by this motion of personal love; their social structure completely unequipped to handle it. In a world of arranged marriages—where the bride and groom rarely met before their wedding day—such a notion undermined the entire social order.

Imagine for a moment a world devoid of the notion of love. Not saying love didn’t exist, but our current notion of romantic love is a foreign and alien concept. Love at first sight, falling in love, flirting, dating, the first kiss—all of these notions we take for granted—simply not exist.

SIDEBAR: “Is this a kissing book?”

Go to your bookshelf. Go pull down your favorite fantasy novel. One hundred years ago, a book like this wouldn’t be called a “fantasy,” it’d be called a “romance.” A work of romantic notions like heroes, heroines, acts of daring-do, swashbuckling and something called “true love.” Romantic notions. Alexandre Dumas’ novels were romances, the Arthurian myths were romances, and yes, the War of the Ring was called a “romance” in the time the Professor wrote them. Not a fantasy, but a romance.

And with that in mind, look through the pages of that fantasy novel of yours. Look at the passion of the characters, willing to throw their lives in the way of danger for romantic ideals. Romance can be silly, but it can also be dramatic, subtle, and even tragic. Romance can be an adventure in itself, or it can be the springboard for adventures, giving your noble a reason to act as he does. Greed only carries a man so far; what happens when he collects his 100,000 gold pieces? He retires from the dangerous profession of adventuring, gets married and has a few kids, opens a blacksmithy and spends the rest of his life in relaxed luxury. But a man in love will do just about anything, even don that armor one more time, kiss his wife and children goodbye and go out into the wild world to protect everything he’s built. Love is the greatest motivator in the world, and it can provide a hero with powers he never knew he had. As we’ll see later in this chapter…

In the medieval mindset, there are only two kinds of love: love for God and love for they neighbor. Anything else is lust: a deadly sin, for which you go straight to Hell.

Why this reaction to romance? How did it undermine the system? One reason: birthright.

Marriage existed to preserve the bloodlines of noble families, to secure rightful heirs. The system ensured the first-born son inherited the family’s lands and titles, preventing (or at least, discouraging) dynastic war. If the rules were clear and everyone agreed to them, no one could dispute the claims of a rightful heir.

Unfortunately, the system relegated a woman to the role of breeding machine. Her duty was to make children—preferably male children. If she had sex with anyone but her husband, the threat of producing an illegitimate heir was too great. Men could sleep with unmarried women—there was no threat of producing an heir, but married women could not wander from their wedding bed. Out of this lopsided arrangement, the first thoughts of romance began.

The Very First Romantics

Romantic notions started nearly eight hundred years ago, inspired by the mingling of Norman nobles and Celtic bards. These two cultures created the first Arthurian romances, tales of knights and ladies, experimenting with thoughts of courtly love. When noble men went off to war, they left their wives at home, alone with those Celtic bards. Having a bard in your court was like having a television set: everyone had one. Left alone with an articulate, skilled, exotic man, these women—who were forced into a marriage with a man they hardly knew—began exploring Celtic notions of love as personal expression. The bards, of course, were happy to help them explore new ideas.

Many of the early Arthurian romances were expressions of romantic theories. What is love? What is the proper procedure for lovers? When has a man gone too far in expressing his love? These stories told tales of knights wooing ladies’ hearts, their successes and failures. Some ended well, but most ended in tragedy—reflecting the culture’s view of this new idea. Men and women openly discussed the stories, debating the nature of love and its place in the world. All the discussions were theoretical, of course, and the bards never used real people as models for their characters in their stories. No, nay, never.

Every court had its own opinions, its own rules. Eventually, love became a kind of game, with lovers finding ways of openly declaring their love in complicated codes. The courts were distracted by the elaborate games, trying to identify couples by their riddles and codes.

In the beginning, these affairs were completely chaste—a kiss was a daring gift, and if discovered, could lead to banishment, or even death. Then, as the concept of courtly romance became more popular, the lady’s rewards became more… rewarding.

Eventually, romantic sentiments overcame the need for dynastic purity, and we have the beginnings of what we have now: flirting, dating and courtship as tests to finding your one true love. But in the realm of feudal fantasy, love is still a dangerous philosophy, practiced at risk, in secret, away from the eyes of those who would ruin the greatest game ever invented.


 

 

SIDEBAR: “Isn’t this all adultery?”

As long as no sex is involved, the answer to that question is a definite “No.”

Well, maybe. Ah, actually, yes. Perhaps.

As said above, if dynastic lineage is not endangered—in other words, as long as there’s no chance of a bastard child—most consider courtly love a harmless pastime.

There are others, however, who view such activities as spurious at least, and in extreme cases, dangerous. In the romantic ballads, the husband is often referred to as “the jealous one,” and he’s depicted as the villain, standing in the way of true love.

Romance causes men and women to doubt the authenticity and authority of their marriages, putting a dangerous strain on this all-important social contract. Defenders of romance argue love is jus as important as marriage, a vital relationship marriage can not provide. Love is choice. Marriage is force.

The Rules of Love

Every court views romance differently, approving of some, disapproving of others. A romance is born out of impulse, lives through the energy of immediacy, and fades when the fires burn too low. Let’s take a look at how a romance is born, lives, and eventually dies.

Beginning the Affair

It begins with a glance, a single look. A pretty face, or wide shoulders. If the glance lingers for more than a breath, something has happened. A chance for romance.

It is the man’s role to initiate contact, approaching with hints and signals. The woman, then, must either encourage his flirtations or discourage them, letting him know her intentions. All signs of romance must be subtle, a gesture of respect for marriage. Those who do not show such respect, flaunting their affairs in the site of the Gods and man, show contempt for the holy institution, and thus, show contempt for all married persons, as well as the Goddess of Hearth and Home.

If she accepts his offer of romance, Shara determines how far the affair will go and to what degree she tests her lover’s devotion. After all, she must know his affection is true, and not just some randy brute looking for a roll between the sheets. Each test has a reward, called “merci.” The degree of merci depends on the test, the lovers and the court. For some courts, an appropriate reward is a piece of clothing, a lock of hair or even a kiss on the back of the hand.

SIDEBAR: Seven Kisses

There are many kinds of kisses, each more intimate than the last. The courts determine what kisses are appropriate and which are considered “too romantic.” The first kiss is to the hand, on the fingertips. The second kiss is to the wrist; kissing the inside of the wrist is considered a more intimate reward. The third kiss is to the inside of the hand. The fourth is to the chest, just at the breast bone. The fifth kiss is to the neck, just under the chin. The sixth kiss is to the nape of the neck, just under the hairline. Finally, the last kiss is to the lips.

The delivery of each kiss is also important, and a matter for debate. Some courts insist the kiss be what is called a “quiet kiss,” delivered with closed lips. The “willing kiss” involves lips and tongue. Finally, the “cruel kiss” employs the teeth.

Continuing the Affair

As the affair continues, the tests become more demanding. They also test the lovers by putting them in situations requiring each other to acknowledge the other in a public way. Each lover continues to trade challenges, the romance becoming more serious with each test. Gifts become touches, touches become kisses, kisses become caresses. Most romances end here, with both parties unwilling to take the next step. It’s a threshold that turns the romance from a flirtatious game into a treasonous crime.

The Rules of Romance

Characters with the Romance skill may participate in the Game of Love. It is not a skill that may be used untrained.

The First Game

A Romance begins with a flirtation, a test of wits to see if a potential lover has the required skill. This is called “the First Game.” The flirtatious banter begins and continues in a kind of sing-song, with each trying to keep up with the beat of the conversation. The loser is the first to miss a beat. The winner sets the level of the tasks for the Romance.

Now, for our example, let’s watch Lady Shara as she sees a potential lover and approaches…

Shara knows his name, this man standing close to the fire. The man with eyes like the fire, with black hair spilling over his shoulders. His wide, wide shoulders. His name is Valin, and he is the prize of the court. She approaches him, touching his hand. Her fingers close over his, and she squeezes. She meets his eyes and smiles. The game has begun.

To initiate the First Game, Shara must make a Romance check. The DC is 10 + Valin’s Charisma bonus. Also be sure to include any other relevant bonuses (Reputation, Status, etc.).

If her roll is successful, her flirtation impresses Baron Valin, and he may choose to reciprocate. If the roll fails, her words fall flat, and he’s not impressed.

“I see you carry a sword,” he says. “Can you use it?”

“As well as any man,” she replies. Then, her gaze lowers to his hips where his own sword rests. “”Can you use yours?”

“As well as any woman,” he says.

Shara makes her Romance roll, adding her Status, her Charisma bonus and her Reputation bonus. The total is 22. Her roll is successful. Now, to continue the game, Valin must make a Romance roll of his own. His DC is also 10 + Shara’s Charisma bonus, plus any appropriate modifiers. If he succeeds, the verbal duel continues, with Shara and Valin continuing to roll until one of them misses the check.

“I’ve heard many women have trained with that blade,” she says, reaching forward, touching the pommel. “I hope it hasn’t gone dull from over use.”

“Quite the opposite,” he says, looking down at her. “And the quality of the blade is only one factor.” He touches her fingers resting on his pommel. “The fingers are the true test of a swordsman.”

The tests continue, with both Shara and Valin testing each other’s verbal skills until one of them fails. In this case, its Shara who misses the roll…

His fingers touch hers and she hears a little gasp escape her lips. She misses a single beat, and the first round of the game is over. She breaks away, withdrawing her hand quickly. “Perhaps you are not ready for my training,” he tells her.

“Perhaps,” she whispers.

“Perhaps I need to see your skills first.”

She looks up. “A test?” she asks.

“A test.”

Because Shara lost the First Game, Valin gets to set the first task, thus setting the level and pace of the Romance. If she accomplishes the task, she’s permitted to continue the game, returning the favor of setting him a task.

Beginning tasks are simple favors. A woman may drop a fan, look at the prospective lover and ask him to retrieve it for her. Likewise, most men ask for a drink from the cask or misplace a glove. Shara and Valin have different ideas about starting tasks…

“That man,” he says, pointing across the room. Shara looks. A bloated beast of a man from a minor house.

“I see him.”

“He carries a sword.”

Shara nods, understanding. “I see.” She bows slightly and retreats, crossing the room, drawing the sword at her side. The noble sees her at the very last minute, just before her hand slaps his face and she takes her defensive stance.

She walks across the room, words are exchanged and steel meets the air. A few thrusts and parries pass, everyone holds their breath, and when it’s done, there’s blood on the floor. He’s holding his wrist, looking at her, his sword on the marble with his blood.

She walks back across the floor, her heels clicking on the floor. The blood on her blade drips behind her. She steps up to him, holds the sword out before her… and with a dramatic pause, drops it. It clatters loud on the marble floor.

“I dropped my blade,” she says. “Would you mind picking it up?”

His eyes never leave hers. “Of course,” he says, kneeling down, his hand on the pommel of the blade. “Most women would have dropped a handkerchief,” he says.

She almost laughs. “’Most women.’”

Assigning Tasks

A lover must take care when assigning a task. If her task is too simple, she’s implying she doesn’t have much confidence in her lover’s ability to perform. If the task is too difficult, she’s setting him up for failure, implying she isn’t interested in playing anymore.

A beginning task should be simple, but relative to the skill of the lover. If uncertain, keep the task to something that can be accomplished quickly, to test the lover’s skill.

If a lover is successful in his task, he’s awarded merci. Merci depends on many factors, including the lovers involved, the court where the game takes place, and the degree of difficulty of the task. At the beginning of an affair, merci can be a small gift (“Oh, no. You can keep the handkerchief.”) or the right to use a kiss as a greeting. A kiss on the hand, of course. As the tasks become more difficult, the merci also becomes more rewarding.

There is another reward for Romance: Reputation. Lovers gain Reputation (Lover) with his first Romance. Roll 3d6 and add his lover’s Status + Reputation to determine the starting score. Both lovers roll, using their partner’s Status and Reputation. Yes, this means one lover’s Romance score will be higher than the other. That’s part of the game, you see.

When a lover accomplishes a task, his Reputation increases, but only if the task is more difficult than the previous one. Also, a lover can lose Reputation if he performs tasks poorly or refuses to award appropriate merci. Finally, a lover may gain the Reputation: Savage if he does not play by the rules. A savage lover refuses to grant merci, sets impossible or inappropriate tasks, ends or abandons the affair abruptly, or otherwise abuses the rules of love. Having the Savage Reputation makes it harder to gain new lovers. Everyone knows your Reputation and doesn’t want to enter into a dangerous affair. Not a lover with a sense of self-control or self-worth, that is. There are all kinds of men and woman who think they can tame the savage heart. Let them think that, let them try, and let them learn.

Granting Merci

If your lover accomplishes the task you set for her, you are obliged to grant her merci (see Sample Merci Table, below). Granting proper merci allows the relationship to grow and the game to continue. It also grants your Romance an additional d4 in points.

If your lover accomplishes her task and you grant inappropriate merci (too little), you are implying she failed the task or could have done better. The Romance loses d4 points.

Ending the Affair

There are many reasons an affair ends. Some end sadly, some happily, some in tragedy. There are also honorable ways to bring an affair to an end and less-than-honorable ways to do it.

The most honorable way to end an affair is to accomplish a task and not ask for merci. This informs your lover the affair has run its course and cannot continue. By refusing merci, you have accomplished her request and graciously bow out of gaining the fruits of your labor.

The second honorable way of ending the affair is by not assigning a task. Once again, you feel the affair has gone far enough and any merci granted by a further task would be inappropriate for the romance.

A third way of ending the affair is by refusing to grant merci. This earns the lover the Reputation: Savage equal to the score of the Romance.

Finally, the most abrupt (and rude) way to end the affair is a public display of scorn or choosing the favor of another over your lover’s favor. Not only does this end the affair and gain you the Savage Reputation, but it can bring bloodshed to your household.

Most husbands do not take kindly to Romance, but no husband ever takes kindly to a lover who unceremoniously drops his wife in favor of another. Such behavior is just cause for a duel (see Chapter X: Duels).

Dangerous Liaisons

By the strictest definition, adultery is engaging in activity that could cause an illegitimate heir. Until that line is crossed, all of this romantic talk is relatively harmless—as far as most nobles are concerned. But once that line is crossed, it ceases being a romance and becomes a liaison. The romance has become a danger to the marriage. Most nobles understand this and end a romance before it gets that far. Others, however, are so caught up in the passion of the affair, the lovers are willing to risk anything—even their lives—to continue to the passionate conclusion.

Lovers who are discovered in such a compromising position risk much. They risk loss of Reputation, loss of Status and—depending on the severity of the court—loss of life.

Being discovered in a liaison gives your character the Reputation: Dangerous equal to the score of the liaison. This damages your opportunities to begin new Romances and effects your interactions with anyone with the Romance skill. A liaison is also grounds for divorce in many courts (but not all). The adulterer loses any titles gained from the marriage as well as land and moneys. Finally, most courts punish adulterers in some fashion. Some are branded on the back or legs. A few courts are more sympathetic to the rights of lovers and punish them with banishment. The challenge of a duel most surely will follow any such discovery, from either the wife or the husband; this is high fantasy, after all.

 


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