Le Coq, at length (part 1)

As dictated to Katia Rache—

The Le Coq household: 

Guillaume (Father) and Zizi (Mother) 

Maximilien (oldest) 

Crespin 

Franck 

Rodrigue 

Richard (youngest) 

The general scope of most Brettonian childhoods is one of etiquette. From a very early age, my brothers and I were tutored each morning on posture, attitude, table manners, art, music, military strategy, cooking, weaponry, spirituality, chain of command, seniority, and of course, chivalry.  These lessons are the core fundamentals that make up every Brettonian citizen. What isn’t taught, and central to this account, is what should happen when something extraordinarily unexpected occurs. 

My father was a humble man, but he believed in the Brettonian ideal. He and my mother wanted the five of us to be perfect examples of deep-rooted Brettonian standards. All five of us did not succeed equally at these lessons. Maximilien, my older brother, was great at most things. He sat straighter than the rest of us, was rigid and stubborn but could fake a correct attitude, and he truly knew his table manners. He sneered at us secretly as the rest of us struggled to keep up with him. His mind was not as sound as mine, however, and when I overtook him in lessons of strategy, it infuriated Maximilien. He always held it against me. 

My other brothers were varied in their strengths. Franck was incredibly charming, and could persuade even the local priests and officials to acquiesce to his ideas. He had a way of making you want to help him even if he was presenting you with the craziest schemes. Franck was also the best chef of all of us. Rodrigue, or Rod as we called him, was thick-headed but also the most well-rounded of us. He especially enjoyed weapons training, and none of us ever enjoyed being paired against him. Richard excelled in being chivalrous, but was the runt and he always felt even more behind than we felt about following Max. Richard distracted himself by raising pets, particularly birds, and it became a common joke in our home to say that “Richard flew the coop” when we couldn’t find him.  

As I mentioned, my father was humble. He was an amazing artist, focusing on painting portraits of the family and our neighbors. His work seemed mystical to me, there was a way that he could instill the best of each of us into those portraits and they almost felt alive, or that part of our souls were forever enshrined within them. My current situation leads from these facts. I was never successful at learning humility, and it agonized me that my father would not seek out a greater station on the strength of his work. He seemed content to give my mother a basic lifestyle, and not the grand life of parties and dresses and cocktails that I imagined the nobility must partake in. For her part, she never vocalized her desire to join such ranks. But I could see in her eyes a longing to join them when the nobility would travel past our estate. 

I wanted to find any way that I could to show my parents that it was acceptable to earn a larger income without sacrificing their Brettonian ideals. I wrestled with the ideas for years, how to accidentally cause a nobleman to stumble across a family portrait, or possibly stowing my own portrait into a wagon that seemed headed toward the capital. Maximilien would not help me with writing our estate address down, he scolded and teased me for not learning my letters and refused. I pleaded with both my father first and then my mother, imploring them to allow themselves more dignity and earn the respect and recognition the Le Coq family deserved. In turn they each turned me away. My father became upset, and in front of the family gave me a scolding I will not forget soon. He yelled that his place in life was secure, his family was happy and heathy, and I would not understand why I was wrong until I learned my place, not only regarding chain of command and seniority, but that I was also a failure of attitude and strategy. I will never forget the smirk Max made at me in that moment. He had finally witnessed a downfall he would take advantage of. He did not relent. 

Speaking with my mother privately went equally badly. I spoke eloquently, passionately, and at length about how I saw her desire to join the upper class. I told her that if Father would just see his worth that she could attain her wishes. I pleaded with her to speak to him. When her arguments relented, I saw she was willing to listen. I became imbued with a heightened sense of purpose, and spoke more and more fervently about how we could finally make a greater impact on the whole of Brettonia and enshrine the Le Coq name to the annals of history. I spoke quietly, but quickly and with a zeal I had never felt before, or since. Alas, this was the beginning of the end. 

My father and brothers Maximilien and Richard, burst into my mother’s study. My father had a cudgel with him, and Max was smirking that shithead smile of his. Richard was concerned, and frightened at the scene. He rushed to my mother’s side. My father did not speak before he struck. He gave me a crushing blow across the jaw, and roared at me for yelling at my mother and for frightening her. Maximilien mockingly explained how they could hear me across the house. I (mumbling at that point) tried to explain I had been speaking quietly, and my mother wonderfully agreed in my defense. I could tell Richard was quite concerned by this. My father did not listen to either of us. Maximilien poured gasoline on the fire by mentioning that I had not acted chivalrous by yelling at our mother, and my father agreed. In anger he yelled at me for this and yelled at her for defending me. Glancing again at Richard, I knew he was quite angry at this idea of chivalry coming from them. I locked eyes with him, winked, and said that I spat on their notion of chivalry. Richard understood my intent, and knocked me out with a single punch. 

I came to in my own bedroom. I had a massive headache, and felt particular pain on the left side of my face where my jaw had been whacked. Richard sat in my room. He apologized profusely, and I waved him off and told him to forget about it. I wanted him to remain in a good grace with my father, and had hoped he would do what he did to prove his mettle. Luckily, my brain for strategy was greater than my father or Maximilien, and they took Richard’s action to mean that he also meant to punish me. Richard again began to apologize and explain that their notion of chivalry was outdated and chauvinistic. He was concerned that I seemed to be yelling at our mother, but the things I was yelling were not abusive nor abrasive toward her. He was possibly the only one in my family who was able to understand my desire to give her a better life. To his eyes, I sacrificed my body, and my family standing, to give her a shot at happiness. He told me that he believed this to be a true example of chivalry. I felt a strange sense of pride from this compliment delivered from the youngest in my family. I told him to protect himself and leave me; it would do him no good to stay in father’s good grace to be seen talking and laughing with me for a while.  

To me, it didn’t add up. I was quite lucid while speaking to my mother, and remembered truthfully that I had been speaking quietly. I also believed Richard, and to an extent my father and Max, as they must have been far enough in the house to not have been able to hear me under normal circumstances. How could they have heard in such detail the things I was discussing with our Mother? 

We all of course know the answer. The zeal and belief I had in convincing my mother toward pushing my father to gain status manifested a magical spark within me. This was the first time I ever made my voice bigger than it actually was. I did not know it at the time, however, and it took another incident before I realized what power I had stumbled into. Unfortunately, that incident was the end of my time at home.