Sunday, January 20, 2008

À votre plaisir...

It is I, Louis-Baptiste Sardanapalus Bouillon-Cantinat, 10th Marquis de Sangfroid, Comte de Roué. Chevalier of the Order of the Golden Stirrup, and Hereditary Prince Ecclesiastical of the Bishopric of St. Vignobles (having been ordained priest of the Church of Our Lady of Vignobles soon after taking Holy Orders at the tender age of twelve).

My lineage is that of an honorable house, one that has served and upheld the rights of France, and of the Holy Catholic Church, ever since the time of Charlemagne.

In addition to my services to the Almighty through the saving of souls, I felt it only appropriate that I would also choose to devote much of my life to bringing forward the time that men would meet face-to-face with the Almighty. Hence, at an early age I decided to take up the noble profession of arms as had generations of my family before me.

As a soldier, I have been privileged to have enjoyed the inestimable honour of serving His Excellency M. Le Marechal Maurice, Comte de Saxe, throughout his many campaigns in the Low Countries in the name of His Serene Highness Louis XV, King of France- called le bien aime.

The victories of the Good Marechal were built, not merely by his own genius, but upon that of his officers of Quality who accompanied him on the field of Honour. These being gentlemen who have proved themselves to be amongst the greatest soldiers of France since the apogee of the Sun King.

It is with appropriate humility and thanks to the Lord our God that I may count myself amongst the top tiers of that fellowship.

Allow me, then, the pleasure of entertaining you with the martial stories of my youth; before age, the frailty of memory, and mortality (as is His will) accomplishes that which the musketry, balls and broadswords of the King's enemies were never able to achieve whilst I stood fearlessly amongst the shot and shell upon the bloody fields of Mars.

And indeed, I may touch on my adventures with Venus when relevant to the tales I am about to relate. For a good soldier wishing to reach old age must soon learn to avoid wounding at her gentler, but no less fatal, hands.

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