NPC Focus - Marquise Désirée Fournier
Mayor Marquise Désirée Fournier, widow of the late Mayor Marquise Gaston Fournier, now stands as both the heart and voice of Ville des Marai. Though she was never formally elected, the city embraced her without hesitation - lifted into power by equal parts public adoration and shared mourning. What began as sympathy has since transformed into genuine loyalty, for Désirée has proven herself a ruler not of title, but of presence.
Under her guidance, the city has taken on a more generous rhythm. Most notably, she has granted the working class a weekly day of rest - an unheard-of indulgence in many lands, yet here it is celebrated as an extension of the city’s deeply rooted culture of revelry and resilience. Even the nobility, ever watchful of their own interests, have accepted this decree - not as a loss, but as a contribution to the living spirit that defines Ville des Marai.
Unlike many who govern from balconies and behind closed doors, Désirée walks her city.
She drifts through lantern-lit streets and river-worn alleys alike, speaking with dockhands, merchants, and aristocrats with equal ease. One evening she may be found beneath silk-draped balconies, trading pleasantries with nobles; the next, laughing openly in a crowded tavern, powdered sugar clinging to her lips as she enjoys fresh beignets and leads a chorus of sailors in song. Her dignity never falters - it simply adapts, as fluid and natural as the waters that cradle the city itself.
She is rarely alone.
At her side stands Timothée, her towering half-ogre bodyguard - a silent, immovable presence. Clad in a subtly enchanted breastplate and bearing a heavy war pick, he is less a man and more a warning made flesh. Where Désirée invites, Timothée ensures.
Gaston Fournier, in contrast, was a man remembered more for absence than action.
Known derisively as Gaston le Gris, his rule was marked by stagnation and indecision. The city endured him rather than followed him, and in the end, it was that very lack of presence that sealed his fate. He was found dead in his chambers, poisoned by an unknown hand.
What shocked the city more than his death, however, was the message left behind.
Two lead coins had been placed over his eyes.
A cruel inversion of tradition - where nobles are sent to the afterlife with gold to pay Le Passeur, Gaston was given the fare of a commoner. The implication was unmistakable.
The nobility howled for justice. Many demanded swift and brutal retribution, convinced the act must have been carried out by a peasant emboldened by resentment. Désirée, newly elevated and not yet crowned by time, refused them.
“No soul will pay for a crime born of ignorance,” she declared.
No arrests were made.
In the weeks that followed, seven peasants were found murdered under mysterious circumstances. Whether vengeance, silence, or something more calculated, no culprit has ever been named - and Désirée has never spoken publicly on the matter again.
Since Gaston’s passing, many have sought her hand - nobles, merchants, and opportunists alike - but all have been turned away.
“What my husband gave me in our life together cannot be recreated,” she has said. “I will not diminish it by pretending otherwise.”
The two bore no children, yet Désirée is rarely without them.
She is often seen in the streets, crouched to meet a child at eye level, speaking to them as though they were dignitaries. For the “honor” of their conversation, she gifts the child a silver piece, and their guardian a gold. What might seem extravagant elsewhere has, in Ville des Marai, become something more - an unspoken ritual of goodwill.
Through these small, deliberate acts, Désirée has achieved something few rulers ever do:
She is not merely respected.
She is beloved.