In a realm of struggle and hardship, little good is often vocalized. Regardless of the hardship we face, nothing is stronger than the true love that finds dominance in our auspicious hearts. To all those who read this, you are cordially invited to attend the union between Rowanna McGregor and Edric “Witchslayer” taking place on the 9th of the Grand Harvest, 1804. The union will be authenticated under the Red Faith, and as such will commence at the Hearth Temple located next to the Palace in Varhelm, Norland. Celebrations will take place in the Ashwood Tavern located in the city center. As this is a formal occasion, please dress formally and be sure to bring gifts!

[OOC]

-1837 165 -2644

January 23rd (Saturday) | 3:00pm EST 

All Are Welcome To Attend

Taking Aim

A Norlandic Day of Revelry and Sharpshooting

~

Since its Founding, Norland has had many esteemed archers throughout its history. From a young age, Norlandic children train in many forms of combat, one of those being archery, and thus, Queen Ancelie of Norland has decided to host a competition for the archers of Norland and its esteemed allies. 

The competition will consist of five rounds. Each participant will aim and shoot at a designated target during each round. Whoever has the most accuracy overall will receive a grand prize of 75 mina, and a bow specially crafted by King Halvar of Norland. Second and third place winners will receive medals to signify their placement on the podium.

To sign up, one must include their name and the nation, settlement, or charter they represent. Bows will not be provided, so it is highly suggested that each participant bring their own!

This contest will take place in the arena behind Varhelm, the capital city of Norland.

Signed, Ancelie Edvardsson de Astrea, 

Queen-Consort of Norland

[OOC]

This competition will be roll based!

To sign up, use the following format:

IGN:

RP Name:

Nation/Settlement/Charter:

 Saturday, January 30 at 6 PM EST

Coords to the arena are: X: -1707 Z: -2964

A Challenge of Strength and Stamina

Norlandic Triathlon

With its peaking mountains and unruly sea, navigating Norland is no easy task. Only those with strength and stamina have the ability to conquer Norland’s rugged terrain. As such, we, the Queen’s Committee, would like to provide all those who embody these traits to take part in Norland’s first Triathlon competition.

The competition will involve three parts: running on foot, swimming, and racing on horseback. 

The event will take place in Elysium, but all those of the Realm are welcome to take part. The route for the race will be marked; using shortcuts is strictly prohibited and will grant immediate disqualification!

Participants will begin in the Maple Forest on foot, then alternate between swimming and running before mounting their horse at the base of the mountain range across Elysium’s banks (horses and saddles will be provided, but participants will be liable for both). Competitors will then find their way to the peak of the indicated mountain. The first place winner will receive a grand prize of 75 mina, as well as a custom item, while second and third place winners will receive medals to signify their placement on the podium. If a member of the North Guard, Rangers, or Crows wins the competition, they will receive an additional 50 mina prize.

To sign up, one must include their name and the nation, settlement, or charter they represent.

As previously stated, the Triathlon will take place in Elysium - all those who plan to take part must meet at the edge of the Maple Forest, where the race will begin.

A map of Elysium is drawn, indicating the route for the Triathlon.

[OOC]

The race will involve game mechanics, NOT rolls!

To sign up, use the following format:

IGN:

RP Name:

Nation/Settlement/Charter:

Saturday, February 6 at 7:30 PM EST

Coords to the starting line are: -764 / 87 / -2830

8th of Snow's Maiden, 11 SA

Multiple copies of the letter are placed around Leumont's streets and houses.

Courageous people of Leumont, allow me to first begin with a word of thanks. When I first came to Norland I found myself with nothing to my name except a handful of companions and a sword at my side, I did not even share the same faith as the populace. It is the people of Leumont who welcomed a man foreign to them into their lands and allowed my companions and I to stay under no conditions, and without them I fear I may have fallen into a dark path of criminal activities. These past four years I had the honor to serve as the appointed Colonel and right-hand man of Commander Methas and Jarl Jolfrey of Leumont, and I did my best to devote my life to the people who welcomed me so warmly. In the many trainings and battles I have had alongside the Guard, I must say there is no better force I would rather fight beside in my entire life.

In recent months I have found myself overly stressed in military leadership, seeing many of my friends be cut down from one battle or becoming crippled in another. The weight in which I carry as Colonel of the Guard is a heavy burden, and I feel now is the time to be relieved of it. I am aware the matter of my succession may be one to cause worry, however I have decided to nominate the one whom I wish to succeed me should Jarl Jolfrey allow it. For many months Lieutenant Daniel, more commonly known as 'Rusty Dan', has shown her devotedness to the Leumont cause. In many trainings and battles she has shown leadership skills beyond what I have seen before, and she has never once cowered in the face of death. It is this and more that I nominate Lieutenant Daniel as my official successor as Colonel of Leumont. Together, I pray Leumont may strive to achieve glory never seen before in our lives.

Signed,

Heinrich Argos, Former Colonel of Leumont.

The Skittering Beneath the Pavingstones 

♪♪♪

           It began quietly, as most things do. There was no warning, and there was no reason to suspect it. Those who found themselves in the sewers under the streets of Varhelm were often greeted by glinting eyes in the shadows and the sound of tiny claws against the stones. Rats, of course; the famed residents of the world’s dark, soiled corners and tunnels. The sort of men who spent their time hidden away in sewers- smugglers and outlaws- were not often the type to think much of such creatures. Foul to be sure, but common and weak. Pathetic, even. They posed no real threat, right?

“Hurry the hell up, I don’t want to be down here longer than we have to be,” a man muttered with anxiety in his voice, roughly shoving his accomplice further down the dark, damp passageway. Soon after, a shuffling sound echoed from one of the branching corridors to his left. Immediately, he raised the lantern in his hand, his heart jumping at the sound. Nothing. Before him was nothing. A silent, empty corridor with naught but atramentous darkness to be seen beyond the lantern’s reach. “Bloody sewer rats. Makin’ me jump at shadows.” the outlaw complained.

            Rats are peculiar creatures. Despite the repulsion they have always inspired in people, they are fairly intelligent creatures. With the right combination of training and reinforcement, they could be trained to do simple tasks, not unlike a dog or a cat. Some might even call them clever or crafty. Especially when food is involved, rats have a way of navigating just about any obstacle. Like most creatures, rats would do just about anything if it meant the difference between food and starvation.

A deal gone wrong. One man lay dead, a second on the edge of death’s embrace, and the outlaw’s lifeblood quickly poured from a wound across his abdomen. He cursed under his labored breath as he listened to the footsteps of two others fade into the darkness of the passages beyond him. They had been lucky, he thought, the two that got away. He was left there, on the slime-covered stone, bleeding to death, and they had taken the money and the goods both. The outlaw spent his last minutes cursing his rotten luck, even as the man who lay beside him expired and his own vision began to dim. The last thing he heard was the scampering of tiny claws against wet stone drawing nearer.

            In the outlaw’s place, the rats left little more than chewed, scratched bone. The starving colony had been treated to a veritable feast. Food was what this growing horde had sought, and it was food they had found, much to the misfortune of the fallen man. Unfortunately, that would not be enough to support the colony’s unsustainable growth. The rats required more, and now they had a scent to follow; A scent that led them towards the surface.

[!] The following invitation would be sent to all residents of Elysium, Varhelm, Leumont, and the children of Haense in particular.

A Norlandic Children’s Picnic

16th of the Deep Cold, Year 11 SA

To the children of Norland and Haense,

You are hereby invited to attend a picnic held in Elysium, hosted by Duke Eugeo de Astrea’s niece, Amicia de Astrea of Elysium!

Fresh fruits and vegetables harvested from Elysium’s rich fields will be provided, as well as pastries and other delightful refreshments.

The afternoon will also consist of a game of hide and seek and a scavenger hunt!

Special invites are specifically addressed to:

Arjen Jan Vanir

Analiesa de Astrea

Adalia de Astrea

Absolon de Astrea, my papa

Lola, my step-maman

Uncle Eugeo and Auntie Delilah

Auntie Rosalind and Uncle Visant

Harren var Ruthern

Tatiana var Ruthern

Granny Brynaelda

Robbie Ludovar

Ruslan Baruch

Edmund Barclay

Otto Baruch

The Rangers of Elysium

[!] A map is displayed, directing attendees to the general location of the picnic.

Signed,

Amicia Eloise de Astrea

[!] An artist’s lovely depiction of the event is rendered on the back of the invitation.

[OOC]

Saturday, February 20th

3 PM EST

Coordinates: X: -1122, Y: 131, Z: -2857

"A peculiar One,

Lead by memory of

The Moon."

Talon's Port
 Main Street #3

The first business in Almaris entirely focused on the art of word, offering an ever-growing selection of writing supplies and, most importantly, books and poetry, all at the best prices in all of Almaris!

Moonshine Grimoires seeks writers and poets who are looking to earn some Minas, while also aiding in expansion of the literary collection of the store.

~☽ Come visit us, and see Moonshine Grimoires' goods for yourself! ☾~

Signed, Aver'velulaei

☾

[ Contact Coennrad/Coen#3822 in case of any questions! ]

INAUGURATION OF ANTONIO DE RIVERA

Issued in the 15th of Suns Smile, Twelfth Year of the Second Age

It is the wish of the Realm of Hyspia to officially invite its citizens and allies to the inauguration of Antonio de Rivera as Jarl of Nueva Tierra and Protector of the Hyspian People in the aforementioned village of Nueva Tierra. Following the ceremony, it is the wish of Antonio that the attendees then be invited to the following Festival that is to be hosted within Nueva Tierra to celebrate Hyspian tradition and survival throughout these trying times in their history. Now is the time to prosper under the guidance of the All-father and the new Jarl, and a time for the mending of past wounds.

Viva a Hyspia!

INVITATIONS TO THE FOLLOWING

Special Invitations sent to the following:

The Mendez Family,

The Altamirano Family,

The Mirthsense Family,

The Chieftain of Clan Edvardsson, Caedric Edvardsson and his kinsmen,

The Chieftain of Clan Freysson, Vane Freysson and his kinsmen,

The Chieftain of Clan Eiriksson, Vilko Eiriksson and his kinsmen,

The Chieftain of Clan Camian, High Keeper Alisa Camian and her kinsmen,

The Duke of Elysium, Eugeo de Astrea,

The Duchess of Eastcliffe, Aramis Lavigne,

The Jarl of Hethnar, Aisling af Orvar,

The Jarl of Leumont, Jolfrey,

The Baron of Osanora, Felipe de Medina,

The Baron of Cartagena, Theophilos,

Additionally, invitations are sent to the following:

The citizens of the Kingdom of Norland and all its allies,

The citizens of the Barony of Osanora,

The citizens of the Barony of Cartagena,

The citizens of the Duchy of Eastcliffe,

Signed,

Antonio de Rivera, King of Hyspia, Jarl of Nueva Tierra, Protector of the Hyspian People

(OOC)

Date: Februrary 26th, 8:00 PM EST

A JARLS STATEMENT

Issued 14th of Sun's Smile, Thirteenth year of the Second Age

It is the wish of Jarl Antonio de Rivera of Hyspia to issue a public statement to all citizens of Nueva Tierra, Varhelm, and all other Norlandic territories. On the date this missive has been written, the 14th of Sun's Smile year Thirteen of the Second Age, an assassination attempt on the life of Antonio de Rivera has taken place by one of his own guard. As the Jarl was taking a leisurely trip to the local tavern of his village He was set upon by a guard by the name of William Santiago, a member of his own guard force. With the help of the All-Father, the Jarl was able to fight off the assassin until he was disarmed and seized by the Jarl himself. The Jarl then proceeded to knock the defeated Assassin cold, calling in his Guards to tie the man and remove his Armor. Luckily Jarl Antonio sustained no considerable wounds with the exception of minor cuts and bruises. This Assassin now hangs from the Ashwood tree along with the others that have foolishly challenged Norland and the Red Law.

An Artist's depiction of the failed assassination attempt

15th of Sun's Smile, Thirteenth year of the Second Age

While the Assassin hangs dead from the Ashwood, it is the wish of Jarl Antonio to petition the Norlandic crown to launch an investigation into this attack. It is also the wish of Jarl Antonio to state that this would-be assassin had close connections with the Imperial State Army, and it is a possibility the two could be linked in this attempt on the Jarl's life. Nonetheless, Antonio de Rivera wishes to reassure the populace that Hyspia shall not cower in fear even in the light of these assassination attempts, and shall instead wok to increase its productivity and strength as a people. He has also stated that the Guard shall be doubled under loyal Hyspians and shall no longer accept those of suspicious backgrounds. With the unity of the inhabitants of his village, the Jarl plans to bring forth a new age of Hyspian productivity and strength.

Viva a Hyspia!

Signed,

Antonio de Rivera, King of Hyspia, Jarl of Nueva Tierra, and Protector of the Hyspian People.

THE UNION OF ANTONIO AND SOFIA OF HYSPIA

Issued 11th of the Amber Cold, year Thirteen of the Second Age

It is yet again the wish of the King of Hyspia and Jarl of Nueva Tierra to extend a hand of hospitality to all whom receive this invitation. It is on this day that both Antonio of the de Rivera house and Sofia of the Mendez family wish to formally invite all residents of the Kingdom of Norland and its subsequent Vassal-states to their union in the sight of the All-Father. In this time of political strife, it is again paramount to his Grace that the people of Hyspia and its allies are reassured that the realm shall not falter in both its duties to the All-Father and the Crown of Norland. With this union between King Antonio and Lady Sofia, the notion of Hyspian Endurance shall be put on full display for all of Nyrheim to see.

Viva a Hyspia!

INVITATIONS TO THE FOLLOWING

Special invitations are sent to the following:

The Chieftain of Clan Edvardsson, Caedric Edvardsson and his kinsmen,

The Chieftain of Clan Freysson, Vane Freysson and his kinsmen,

The Chieftain of Clan Eiriksson, Vilko Eiriksson and his kinsmen,

The Chieftain of Clan Camian, High Keeper Alisa Camian and her kinsmen,

The Duke of Elysium, Eugeo de Astrea,

The Duchess of Eastcliffe, Aramis Lavigne,

The Jarl of Hethnar, Aisling af Orvar,

The Jarl of Leumont, Jolfrey,

The Baron of the Rhine, Alexander du Casse,

The Baron of Osanora, Felipe de Medina,

Additional invitations are sent to the following:

The citizens of the Kingdom of Norland and all its allies,

The citizens of the Barony of Osanora,

The citizens of the Duchy of Eastcliffe,

Due to the recent risks for the life of the Jarl and his loved ones, the following are barred from entering the wedding:

The citizens of the Barony of Cartagena,

The citizens of the Holy Orenian Empire and any members of the Imperial State Army,

The Altamirano Family and any who hold allegiance to them

Signed,

King Antonio de Rivera, King of Hyspia, Lord of Nueva Tierra, and Protector of the Hyspian People

Lady Sofia Mendez, Soon-to-be Queen Consort of Hyspia, Lady of House Mendez

(OOC)

Date: March 5th, 6:00 PM EST

Location: Nueva Tierra, north of Varhelm

[!] A depiction of the bride preparing for the ceremony.


Wedding of Rosalind Amador & Visant de Astrea.
St. Henrik’s Basilica, Karosgrad, 20th of December at 5PM EST.

The Denizens of Norland and Haense are Welcome to Attend!


 After the ceremony close friends and family are invited back to the Amador Estate on Koenastriet I for celebrations!





   
It has been years since the respective estates have been inundated with such activity, it's usually quiet halls were bustling; a number of employees planning and preparing at a haste. Numerous flower bouquets and lavish, bejewelled décor transported out of sealogged crates having undergone their respective thalassic journey to Almaris making way to a ceremony upon which no expenses had been spared. The modest display had attracted a sizeable crowd from the surrounding abodes of Karosgrad – people upon their balconies or flocking to their streets to inspect the vast fuss. A single room of the Amador estate within Karosgrad however, told a different story. 

Almost silent aside from the emanating noise from beyond, its patterned walls filled solely with the presence of a pair of ladies. While both were well dressed, one definitely stood out. Vast waves and layers of pristine white flowing silks and taffetas forming an intricate gown upon her body; pleated hems of ivory, and a bodice tight-fitting and interwoven with sparkling gems – a sheer squared neckline draped with delicate, translucent textile. 

The younger brother of the Lord of Elysium could only watch transcendent proceedings of an aurora in bloom with an intense bout of trepidation as he gazes to the horizons illuminated in brilliant and radiant  lights of strange green, purple and blue as he decides on his resolve. He feels the crevices in his hand, formed out of a single bracelet that has become a timeless accessory of the man, as for once, with the aid of a lubricating agent, he removes it and gazes through the inscription.

Sworn by words; Improvidus, Apto Quod Victum.

He could only let out a hastened sigh, gazing back to the glowing echoes of lanterns throughout the county of Elysium with a swirling happiness about his person as he nodded to himself and affirmed a conviction. It was a love to last a lifetime.

He dispatches the niggling thoughts on the back of his mind, letting the looming storm clouds over his person be replaced by emotions and cheer, as he decides it was the right decision and that was to be confident in his choice and his winded response through the convoluted mental tunnel, and out into the light as he thinks of it all, to be lady he had became so fond of, with an unimaginable delight. He decides that everything else be damned, from that day until the end of days, they would remain together in harmony.

[!] With couriers hired from both the Kingdoms of Haense-Ruska and Norland, invitations were dispatched for the wedding held on the next Saint’s Day. 

House of Amador

House of Barbanov

House of Baruch

House of Barclay

House of Kortrevich

House of Vanir

House of Ruthern

House of Alimar

House of Ludovar

House of Vyronov

Clan Edvardssons
Clan Freysson

Clan Camian
Clan Faretto
Clan Nria
Clan Astasel
Clan Orvar
House of Ambrose
Clan Grandaxe
 

A Norlandic Krugsmas Celebration

~

[!] The following missive would be displayed upon numerous notice boards and delivered by couriers across the continent.

"‘Twas the night before Krugsmas…"

In honor of the nearing Krugsmas holiday, Queen Ancelie of Norland has decided to host a grand Krugsmas party in which guests will enjoy a warm feast, finely brewed Ashwood Spirits, a few rounds of gambling, and a night at the theater. 

This momentous evening of revelry will take place in the palace of Varhelm.

-

Holly Jolly Drinking Contest

Each guest in attendance is welcome to participate in a Krugsmas themed drinking contest. The last participant standing will receive a prize of 40 mina and a free drink voucher for the Ashwood Tavern (also located in Varhelm).

The Luck of the Krugsmas Miracle (Gambling)

Test your luck against fellow party-goers by participating in a few rounds of gambling! Rounds of Blackjack and other various gambling games will ensue while the feast is underway.

A Night at the Theater: A Krugsmas Spectacular

Directly after the feast, party guests will be directed to the theater located within the palace. Bards present at the party will perform a few Krugsmas-themed carols! A selected cast of actors will also perform a Krugsmas-themed comedy for those in attendance. 

[!] Those who are listed below are specially invited to attend.

The Citizens of Norland

The Citizens of the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska and its Leadership

The Citizens of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan and its Leadership

The Citizens of the Village of Bramblebury and its Leadership

All are welcome to attend! Please join us on this evening of merry-making.

Signed, Ancelia Edvardsson de Astrea

Queen-Consort of Norland

[OOC: Wednesday, December 23rd, 7 PM EST]

Coordinates to the palace:

X: -1836 Z: -2722

A Feast for the Ashen Folk

A Warm and Open Invitation to All

♪♪♪

The past years in this new land have been eventful; new homes have been made, tears shed, and bonds made. And now the festive season is upon us, and the time for feasting and celebration has come. In such spirit, the Indoren Trading Company has decided to put on just such an event: A feast, a celebration of culture, togetherness, and, most importantly, good food and drink. In four Elven Days, the Mali’ker of the realm are invited to join us in the Ashwood Tavern in Varhelm, the capital of Norland, for this great celebration of our people and our culture. We invite all to partake in this feast, and we encourage the Clans to bring dishes of their own unique designs and styles. The entirety of the Tavern will be ours for the evening, so let us together make this a night of great merriment for all.

Signed,

Velsyni Indoren, Matriarch of Clan Indoren, Proprietress of the Indoren Trading Company

 Direct invitations are sent to the following groups and individuals:

• The populace of Norland
• Clan Yl’Asath and their Patriarch, Alyndel Yl’Asath
• Clan Velulaei’onn and their Patriarch, Vival Velulaei’onn
• Clan Morvayn and their Patriarch, Olithe Morvayn
• Sevrel Valin’dar and the denizens of the Evarsae’ker 

OOC:

Date: 5:00 PM EST Saturday, 26 December

Location: Ashwood Tavern, Varhelm

Year 4 SA

-=+=-

   Lady Alli Ambrose Freysson laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The green had consumed her skin, reaching all the way from under her eyes to her fingertips. She was sick, but not sure with what. Maybe this was just what happened after 95 years.

   She thought back to when she was a little girl in Haense, growing up to become a part of the Brotherhood. Her best friend and her shared a bunk bed, would go out drinking, just generally having a good time as teenagers. During an attack on Haense, Alli saw her friend get struck by an arrow and die on the floor. People trampled her body trying to escape the heavy fire. Alli’s hands flew to her mouth to cover a scream as she herself was dragged inside to be used as collateral damage later. 

(Alli "Amadeo" preparing for battle in Haense)

   Alli decided to leave Haense after that. She followed the road for as far as she could until her feet were calloused and her head was dizzy. She fell asleep on the road, right outside of the druids, only to be picked up and escorted to Ruswick by some passing criminals. There, she met the first love of her life, who taught her how to bandit and survive on her own. She was absolutely entranced with him and the life of living in an underground close-knit community. She remembered the turtles they used to grow, the nights playing chess at the casino. The blood and notes that were left behind when he was brutally murdered by vengeful enemies.

(Teenage Alli - by TSAL)

   Again, she ran. Another man who claimed to be her first-love’s comrade-in-arms took her to a completely new community, one where the setting was cold, but the people were warm. This was Lorraine. After two years and the leader’s disappearance, Alli’s husband, the man who had saved her, came into power. They moved to Rubern to protect themselves from the Great AIS vs ISA war, raising their two children with the help of her sister-in-law, Emilliene. Or, what most people called her, Yule.

(Alli and her family in Rubern)

   When Alli heard news of her husband’s death - killed in a marketplace in by Orenians - she packed up yet again and moved back to Lorraine. She was the only one left, her children Avian and Willow looking to her for guidance as they grew older. Luckily, Yule was there to assist yet again, bringing her own husband as well. It wasn’t long until Alli met and befriended Ser Jolfrey, who helped her move the cattle from the stronghold to the new farm. He helped her introduce new people to Darrowmere, the renamed and completely changed Lorraine. This was around the time that Avian left to continue his academics. Willow followed not long after with his adopted son. He was eventually killed in Haense, leaving a suicide note behind for his family.

(Adult Alli - by Arron)

   The King of Norland, who had changed ruling while Alli was gone, employed the Grand Architect to rebuild what was lost. After years of strain and construction, the walls of the fort were raised and protective of the small town inside. Alli remembers gazing over the groups of people who settled below her balcony. By this time, Yule had passed and her husband had vanished, leaving her only biological child to fend for herself. Her name was Athri. 

   Alli was now in her 40’s and antsy to find purpose to her life. She went off to the halflings, walking through Brandybrook with a smile as the citizens loaded into boats and sold fresh bread at their shops. She wandered through the dwarven territory, amazed by the architecture lining the walls, the depths of the cavern and the communication between leadership and commonfolk. It all reminded her of what used to be Ruswick, now just a flooded cavern.

   While Alli was travelling, she realized that her stomach had started swelling. She contacted the man who she assumed had to be the father, and he promptly moved into Darrowmere to help raise the child. Unfortunately, he soon fell ill and passed, leaving her behind to parent alone yet again. Around this time, with Alexios swaddled and held tightly to her chest, Alli adopted the Maddox-clan (Cain, Asher, and Avern) and Estelle, who was just a young girl when she became a part of the family. 

   Years after, with Cain Maddox and Estelle Ambrose settled down with their own individual families, Avern killed by his estranged sister, and Jolfrey and Asher taking care of the family, Alli once again met a man who had caught her interest. This one was...fun, to say the least. Unlike the others had been. He was relaxed and concerned for her and her family. He cracked jokes and cruised in a wheelchair. He was loved by everyone for exactly how crazy he was. At the ripe age of 90, Alli fell pregnant once again to twins; Vera and Vane.

(Alli and Olaf's wedding)

   The world was thrown into chaos by Great Evils, forcing Norland to escape on their boats just like everyone else. On the new land everyone had settled upon, Alli grew more depressed. She walked the trails of Leumont with a hunched back and weary expression. She smiled at her children with empty eyes and half of a heart. She was...empty. A shell of what she once was. Her husband treated her well and made sure to take care of her, but something felt off to her. She was convinced he was like the rest of them, the rest of the blood-thirsty men in her life who went off to destroy and pillage and die.

   Ser Jolfrey was called into the room, left alone to grieve when Alli let go of her last breath. Her eyes fluttering closed, a small smile playing along her chapped lips, Lady Alli Ruse Ambrose Freysson finally stopped running and decided to rest.

The following are letters that Alli requested Jolfrey to write before she die. 

-=+=-

The hour was dark, the night air crisp and cooling to the bone.  Jyor Volaren stood by his lonesome on his vessel, “The White Dagger,”  gazing out into the distance as the shoreline of Nyrheim began to appear.  Thoughts assaulted his mind constantly upon this journey, all of the things he had done to get back home to this very moment.  All the trials, as daunting as they were, that impeded his homecoming.  All of that was finally over.  “No more bloodshed,” he thought to himself with doubt as he scanned the shore.  He had heard of his people’s resurgence and news that his father had been among them.  As is the sacred charge of all Volaren, his duty was to be both shield and blade in the darkness for the Norlandic people.  His clan long since pledged loyalty to the infant race’s protection. It was time he returned to ensure that charge was held.

“These people have suffered for so long… if only I could shoulder more of their burden.” He recalled these words spoken to him by his father as he tightened his grip around the vessel’s rail, a spray of saltwater beading down across his weathered face.

Having dealt with his mission charged by Artyom Ruric . . . his long journey was finally drawing to an end.  Jyor’s eyes darted over to the sealed ornate chest that stood at the furthest point of his longboat.  “How many lives were lost in the search for this, your grace.”  He shook his head, moving his leather glove across the surface of the chest.  “How many more will die once your people have this . . .”  He turned his back again to the sealed artifact, his gaze now again on the foaming seawater bearing down upon his ship.  The sound of seagulls could be heard as his ship finally embedded into the sands of the shoreline.

“It took over a hundred years, but my fight is finished.”  Jyor spoke aloud, his words plagued with doubt.

Jyor Volaren has returned.

Potential Suitors are to be aware that only Humans, Elves and Half-Elves will be considered by her person. She’s also only looking for men of similar age, approximately 5~ years give or take from 29. 

Ashera measures 6' with doleful hazel eyes and cascading brown hair. She is in her late twenties and could be described easily as petite through her toned build.
 

Interested individuals may send their letters to the post office within Elysium. 

OOC:

Contact Half_Neflin through a bird or dm your letter to Crines#2975

The Father’s Flame Medical Guild of Norland

~

Established by Queen Ancelie Edvardsson de Astrea on the 12th of Snow’s Maiden, Year 7 SA

It is with a jovial spirit that I announce the founding of the Father’s Flame Medical Guild of Norland, a medic’s guild dedicated to building a stronger and healthier nation.

 Norland has been in dire need of medics, hence why I ultimately decided to establish such a guild that will teach new recruits the ins and outs of medicine and surgery.

If anyone would like to become a member, simply send a bird to me!

The guild gathers at the beginning of every year during the month of Snow’s Maiden in Varhelm, the capital of Norland.

[OOC: Every Wednesday at 5PM EST]

 Current Members of the Guild

Solomon Takezo

Rowanna Mcgregor 

Kretz’Ox 

Elėonore O’Hara de Astrea

Dramyr Edvardsson

Lorrick Al-Wahdi

Ancelie Edvardsson de Astrea

Signed,

Ancelie Edvardsson de Astrea, Queen-Consort of Norland 

Head of the Father’s Flame Medical Guild

A Tourney For the Mighty

~

[!] The following flyer would be tacked to various notice boards and passed out by many couriers within the coming days.

To the mightiest fighters of the realm,

You are hereby invited to participate in a tournament hosted courteously by the Lunner Clan of Norland in which you will be able to showcase your skill, wit, and strength. After the tournament concludes, attendees and participants alike will be directed towards the tavern in the capital (Varhelm) for celebratory drinks.

A Test of Strength, Skill, and Wits

Those who sign up to fight will be put into a bracket-like system and engage in combat through a series of spars. The victor that rises to the top of this bracket will receive a prize of 300 mina and a medal made of the finest aurum to signify their victory.

~

The tournament will take place in the Arena, located just outside of Varhelm.

[!] Groups who are listed below are specially invited to attend.

The Citizens of Norland

The Citizens of the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska and its Leadership

The Citizens of the Grand Kingdom of Urguan and its Leadership

The Halflings of Bramblebury and its Leadership

All are welcome to sign up and participate in the tourney!

Signed, Ancelia Edvardsson de Astrea

Queen-Consort of Norland

[OOC: Sunday, January 10th, 6 PM EST]

Coordinates to the arena:

X: -1707 Z: -2964

To sign up, please use the following format:

RP Name

Minecraft Username

Nation

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fI9QzlD_sm0

Introduction    

Now these ashes have grown cold, we open the old book. These oil stained pages recount the tales of past continents, of frayed empires, words without warmth. The hearth has ebbed, its gleam and life's sparks are but memories against dimming eyes - what cast their mind, what hue their thoughts as they find relics of the past  and breathe deep the scent of history? Listen then, to these words carried on that breath. These tales are the tales of us all, again yet again. We are history relived and that is all, without end that is all."

Formerly known as Lunsbeck of the Aedellands, the Country of Elysium or Elys rests by the lake and river of Norland. The sweet waters give the grounds ample enriched soil allowing various crops to grow as well as endowed life for various animals and plants. Though it was known as Lunsbeck, Elysium has its own culture and ways of life due to the leadership that it was passed down to. The de Astrea family rose up to catch the falling bits and formed what was left into what we know today as Elys or Elysium. Some of the olden ways still live though, such as farming and hunting as well as fishing.

Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast. The County of Elys was made with the mindsets of being an easy place for the common layperson to call home, and to find a town with a welcoming community with undertones of prosperity and adventure to enable new ways and successes that could not be achieved individually..

Perhaps most of all, its residents are not taxed….and instead uses its vantages of location and altruistic contributions of its leading family and people to sustain itself and fulfill its commitments.

The People

The de Astreans are Savoyards-Auvergne Heartlanders adapted in the ways of persisting within the northern reaches of the realm, a robust and ardent family that believes itself to endure hardships with a skyward gaze as they still hold some of their ways of living in finer southern ways. Being cultured after working a long hard day, interacting with family and friends, and making time for those precious moments. Adventure and hard work is encouraged with terrifying and gruesome beasts to be hunted across the realm and the means of production to be seized through farmwork and mercantile work both within the county and foreign lands. Various ethnics and races coming together in a melting pot of enriched cultures and traditions that enhances the daily life of a citizen in Elys, with a prominent rural feel exemplified within the coastal town. 

Work & Professions

Implemented by the Count of the realm, Eugeo de Astrea, there is ample basic work with jobs such as farming, blacksmithing, tailoring, carpenting, botanists, fishermen, miners, hunters and alchemists. A curious initiative implemented under the grind initiative in which produce will be rewarded and compensated by the realm fairly. .Furthermore, the formidable Order of the Boreal Forest more locally known as the Rangers along the Jackalopes Order with a more distinctive mercenary approach.  Secondary and advanced tier of support roles, such as medics, guards and scholars are also sought, and a stipend provided for such services. Furthermore, for residents, gradual opportunities in local government such as aldermen and senior positions will be made available with time. It is with such hope, that a general approach to recruiting will encourage honest and earnest workers to arrive with intentions of making honest coin. 

Cuisine Culture

Culinary Elysian food is a gourmet’s paradise to be relished afresh wherever one goes as the menu in addition to a modest number of all kinds of regional imports. Together with typical auvergne, waldenian, savoyard and highlander cuisine, institutionalized a rough boundary between everything as it is up to the liberties of one to choose their own favourites.  Some examples include...
 

Cheese fondue

Melted cheese with bread cubes. The bread cubes are picked up on the fork and swivelled in the melted cheese, which is served in a traditional ceramic fondue pot called ‘caquelon’.

Raclette

Melted cheese served with "Gschwellti" (jacket potatoes), cocktail gherkins and onions as well as pickled fruit.

Älplermagronen

A kind of gratin with potatoes, macaroni, cheese, cream and onions. And most importantly, stewed apple on the side.

Rösti

A flat, hot cake made of grated, cooked jacket or raw potatoes and fried in hot butter or fat. The dish is bound by nothing apart from the starch contained in the potatoes.

Birchermüesli

Developed around about 1520 by the Savoyardic doctor Maximilian Oskar Bircher-Brenner, it contains oat flakes, lemon juice, condensed milk, grated apples, hazelnuts or almonds.

Jaffa Cakes

Light buttery biscuits with marmalade of orange or even sweet berry topped with dark chocolate. Usually served with coffee or any choice of drink. 

Elk Steak with Roasted Roots

Venison thinned out into steaks with goat cheese and spinach rolled up and roasted with honeyed carrots and potatoes seasoned with rosemary and butter.


How to get to us!

It is a rather quick journey to get to us from foot through the Cloud Temple, about two minutes.

 

Where we can be found within the Kingdom of Norland, featured prominently under the marker. From the Northern Cloud Temple Hub, and follow the road signs towards the Kingdom of Norland. You will know when you found Elysium through the rolling wheat fields, windmills and prominent thatch roofs for its homes.



Our public discord can be found here! [Discord Link]

Ingrid's Seamstress Stall is open at Square Stall #6 in Varhelm!
Full Outfits: 50-100 mina

To order an outfit from the stall, come find Ingrid in Varhelm!

A Norlandic Tea Party
13th of Sun's Smile, 7 SA

You are cordially invited to a tea party, hosted by Analiesa Hervor De Astrea. Tea will be served, as is customary, as well as snacks. Dolls are highly encouraged to be brought, though they will be provided if you have forgotten to bring yours. The tea party will be held at the palace in Varhelm where a big table will be provided for seating both dolls and friends alike. Please come in proper tea party attire. 

Special Invitations go out to:

Mister Franz 
Auntie Ancelie & Uncle Halvar
Mama & Papa
The Amador Family
The De Astrea Clan
All of my cousins

Signed, 

Analiesa Hervor De Astrea

Rosalind Amador De Astrea

[[ OOC: Party will be held on Tuesday, January 19th @6:00 PM EST]]

1895

__________________________________________________________________________

To celebrate the Archduchess Renilde's coronation, the Commonwealth of Petra is to host a Grand Tourney. A joust & spar will be held upon the freshly erected festival grounds on the road just South of Valfleur. All men and women who care to compete in this well intentioned scrimmage are welcome to join us. 

__________________________________________________________________________

          For the Joust

                            Each rider shall bring their own mount

                             Lances will be provided to Competitors

          For the Sword

                            Each Combatant is to equip themselves

                             Two rounds will be fought, a winning & losing bracket

A prize will be awarded to the winning man or woman of each contest, and those two will also earn a Champion Title of their respective sport.

__________________________________________________________________________

SIGNED

Lady Livia Elena, Baroness of Montreux

The Petran Lakeside
c. 1894

It was a day like any other for Dame Catherine of Furnestock. The middle aged woman, her strawberry hair now graying, found herself out of her armor for once as she sat by the edge of the lake south of Valfleur.

She wore a flowing dress of fine gold and scarlett, one which had been gifted to her by the Baroness of Acre some years ago. She had decided to take her wards, the young Archduchess and her brother, out to enjoy a lakeside picnic that day. Her head was uncovered as she laid on her back in the sun, her head uncovered she stared out at the clouds in the skies above.

As they played in the waters beyond, she had taken this first slow moment since her retirement as Chancellor to dwell upon the past.

It had been nearly twelve years to the day since she had first come to Petra. There had been little to work with at first upon her return from the Furnestock Islands. Indeed, there had been naught but a few derelict buildings and a makeshift senate chamber for meetings during the early days of the Republic.

But everything was different now. The Commonwealth of the Petra was now a thriving realm, independent and proud. Its success had surpassed even her wildest expectations, this state founded on the principles of chivalry, liberty, and justice.

Truly, she had done well for herself. Catherine bemusedly thought about the old Heartlander wives’ tale regarding “cats” and their nine lives for a moment, before her thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

“Cat!” A girl’s voice had cried out in the distance. “CAT, he’s- He’s doing it again!”

Immediately sitting upward, her eyebrows knit as she beheld Renilde and Alexander before her. The two were fighting over a rubber ducky of all things, the teenager clinging to it whilst her young brother cried.

“I wanna play with Francis!” He cried out mournfully.

“But it’s mine!” She retorted. “It’s my ducky, Alex, and I shan’t let you have it!”

“Children!” Catherine spoke commandingly, glaring at them with her pale gray eyes.

Both of them immediately ceased, turning to face their guardian as she offered them a stern gaze. They grew silent.

“Return to shore,” She ordered, gesturing for them to rejoin her.

They compiled, Renilde dutifully taking Catherine’s hand as she returned with her brother to the picnic blanket.

The eldest orphan looked away for a moment. “Sorry, Cat…” She began. “I-”

“-You were arguing with your brother again, weren’t you?” The weathered woman interjected, raising an eyebrow. “You know that I don’t like it when you do that, youngling.”

“But why?” The boy suddenly piped up. “Rennie NEVER lets me play with Francis!”

“Only because you might lose her!” 

“STOP!” Catherine suddenly thundered, in a voice which would have eluded her not two decades ago.

With her commandment, the children once again went utterly quiet. For a moment, she felt guilty for having spoken to her wards in such a manner. But she knew that Paul, their father, would have wanted her to instill some discipline in them.

Finally, she said after a moment’s pause, “Please… Sit down, younglings.”

The two looked confused. They might have expected to be punished, but they compiled regardless as Catherine spoke. She passed a pair of towels over to them, so that they might clean their muddy feet and dry themselves off.

 

“That’s better…” She muttered at long last. “Now, allow me to tell you a story. One of the past struggles in our family’s history.”

“Our family?” Renilde inquired innocently, blinking as Catherine said this.

“Aye,” She said. “Our family.”

She and Alexander exchanged blank looks, ones which compelled Catherine herself to raise an eyebrow.

“Did you not know?” The aging princess then said to them. “You are my cousins, younglings. We share the same blood.”

“I…- We do?” Renilde blinked.

“We do,” Catherine replied curtly, retrieving a warm loaf of bread and a small wheel of cheese from her basket as she set them before the children. She began to cut both into slices, their lunch for that afternoon.

“Your father did not have time to tell you of our past before he left us, nor did your mother. But it is now my duty as your guardian to do so,” She spoke, before she began her tale.

It had been a while since Catherine herself had dwelled upon that which she imparted to her wards, but she liked to think that her time spent in hiding as a bard in the Cragenmarch had well prepared her in the art of storytelling.

She began with the conflict between her father and her great-grandfather in which her parents had returned from the Furnestock Islands, the land of her birth, to take the throne.

Thereafter, she told them briefly of the war between the Holy Orenian Empire and the Tripartite Alliance, but this was a story with which they were already accustomed.

It was the Brother’s War which she focused the most on, a conflict between her two younger siblings which had resulted in the disbandment of the Empire and the deaths of thousands.

“...You see, the disparate branches of our family have been fighting for a very long time,” She finally concluded her tale as the children finished their meal.

“It is a curse, younglings. One which I would not wish to see manifest in yourselves.”

“But…- Are we not from the House of Temesch et Moere?” Renilde tilted her head, Alexander still baffled by the tales which Catherine had to tell.

“It is merely a different way of denoting our separate branches. But the Temesch branch of the Novellen family descends from a Prince of the Holy Orenian Empire,” Catherine replied rather simply. 

“Your father merely adopted a new surname after the Revolution to distance your family from our troubled, troubled history. Yet, we do share the same blood. We are kin, younglings.”

“Does that mean that we’re…- Um…” Renilde paused, thinking for a moment. “...Oh! Related to that nice man in Balian?”

Catherine thought for a moment, before finally replying with a smile. “Yes, youngling,” She replied.  “He is my uncle.”

“I know that!” Renilde huffed, crossing her arms indignantly. “Is that then why he said that we would all be ‘living within the same palace, in another life’?”

“Aye,” Catherine then nodded curtly. “And at one time, we did. We all did. But then, we began to fight…”

“...And- That is why me fighting Renilde is bad?” The young Alexander finally spoke, his mouth stuffed full of cheese.

“Quite!” The weathered princess snorted, unable to contain her laughter as she beheld his food-stuffed face. 

“But it is my hope that one day, the various branches of our family might no longer be so distant. After all, a heart full of love is greater than stronger than one filled with hatred.”

“So…-” Renilde thought for a moment, trying to digest everything she had been told. “-...We are not all so different, then? We are all…-”

“-...Though disparate, we are all Novellens,” Catherine affirmed. “And I love all of my family, child. And you should as well. Though our name may be cursed, it is who we are. It is where we came from.”

“Kitty?” Alexander suddenly spoke up. By now, he and his sister had begun to lace up their shoes again.

“Yes, Alex?” The Dame had begun to pack away their things, their lunch having come to an end.

“Do you love us?” He asked with wide, hopeful eyes.

For a moment, the woman paused. Her hands rested atop the picnic basket as she considered the question posed to her by the younger of the duo.

“Yes, child…” She finally answered with a smile, basket now in hand as she moved to pick the six year old up in her other. Slowly, the trio moved along the road to return to Valfleir, Renilde taking Catherine’s hand in her own as they did so.

“...I do love both of you, with all of my heart. And I always will.”

Wayward Crossing

Oh Hymns I hear from across thy wayward sea
I embark on my journey, a fate only the gods may foretell
Throughout the globe, and the seven skies and hell
I shall search for you with an undying might
How I long to see the glow of your everlasting light

Oh Hymns I hear from across thy wayward sea
How long and daunting a voyage I foresee
I will not rest nor will I stray from your everlasting light
But the winds begin to shift, and we cannot see through these dark nights

Oh Hymns I hear from across thy wayward sea
Dark clouds, and dense fog plague our passage
We continue our voyage until your heart is with me
Heavy rains, and high winds being to ravage
With torn sails, a thousand miles from shore 
I only desire to feel your tender embrace once more

Oh Hymns I hear from across thy wayward sea
Our ship is nearly sank, and we begin to pray
That the Lord grants us solace for the errors we have made
The end is seemingly near, and we have lost all our might
Now I drift through the sea and towards thy everlasting light
 

                                                                                  Ser Ludwig von Preussens, 1890

A Sailor's Plight, Unknown Artist, Circa 1884

“DEAD!” Yelled one sailor to another.

“DEAD!” Yelled another.

A man awoke from his unconsciousness, dazed and confused. He found himself laid upon the sweat-soaked bed of his cabin, miscellaneous objects strewn about the room. He’d gone to stand onto the floor beneath him which creaked with every step. 

At the same moment, a man opened the door of the cabin, and watched in awe as the man stood on his two feet. “S-Ser Ludwig.” He stuttered. “You are finally awake.”

“What in God’s name happened?” Asked Ludwig. He’d place his palm against his aching temples as he sat down onto the bed.

“Well to start,” He paused, taking a piece of parchment from his coat, “what do you last remember?”

“Not very much, it is all quite hazed. I remember the storm, and the rain. The downpour was dreadful. We began to bail the water off the ship. An-And the winds. I remember the howling winds. They were so very loud.” Ludwig began to ramble, depicting his last memories before it all went blank. “What happened, Augustin?”

“Well, my Lord, many have come forward with accounts that you were struck in the head when parts of the mast began to fall with the heavy winds. That is, before the ship was struck with a gargantuan wave and rolled.” The physician began to detail the events during his unconsciousness. “You were quite lucky, m’Lord. A blow like that to any other part of the skull is quite surely instant death.” Augustin began to scribble on the parchment once more. “Do you feel any pain? Nausea? How is your vision? Do you hear a pitched ring?” He asked, quickly noting his responses.

“I feel as good as one can in such a state, Augustin.” Ludwig assured the man. “Now, please, tell me of our voyage. Are we close to The Eastern Mar?” He went to stand, but was quickly ushered to stay put.

“Please, m’Lord, rest. You have been comatose for quite a while, you may lose your balance and hurt yourself in a fall once more. We shall speak more once you have had your due rest.” Augustin insisted. He folded the parchment once more, placing it into his jacket.

Weeks went by, and Ser Ludwig was far into recovery. In that time, he’d heard of the state of chaos he and the crew were subject to. Once the ship had rolled after being struck by a rogue wave, the mast had toppled over, taking the sail with it. For months they drifted across the sea, surviving on stowed wine, rainwater, and fish. From the thirty-two on board on the day of embarkation, to the day of their rescue, only 15 remained aboard. After 293 days adrift at sea, they were rescued by a merchant ship who took the remaining crew and Ludwig to Atheran Salvus.
 

The heart-broken Archduchess discovered dead by her husband, 1894

“He will be dead by sunrise,” The physician concluded grimly as packed his delicate surgical equipment into a trunk.

The gaunt Archduchess stared down at the sickly Paul, her broad eyes filled with disbelief. The love of her life, sentenced to die soon… she could not bear the thought. With a shaky, breathless voice, she dared to query,

“A-Are you sure there is nothing else that can be done?”

Paul Salvian Temesch et Moere, the revered Archduke of the Petra had fallen ill after suffering an infection that began in his amputated hand. His haggard appearance made a drastic difference, he bore the look of a dead man– a look Carolina was all too familiar with. The man she loved, the loud, jovial Count she met at a  festival in Vienne all those years ago… was dying. She knew the answer to her own question already, but the naive child inside of her wanted nothing more than the truth to be false. 

“There is nothing that can be done, no. My deepest apologies, I did all that I could…” The Doctor bowed his head respectfully towards Carolina before taking his leave. As the door closed, the Archduchess was encased in a room of darkness, alone.

Her weak knees crumpled as she took to the floor by Paul’s bedside, her limber hand extending to take Paul’s clammy palm. Tears stung her cerulean eyes and streamed ceaselessly down her porcelain cheeks as she gazed upon the sullen figure of her husband, “Why you? Why does it have to be you? GOD should take me, not you. You have so much to live for… so much left to do,” She sobbed pointlessly to the bedridden man who was not conscious enough to listen, “Were we not happy enough, living isolated in Temesch- isolated from the rest of the world… alone… together…” The ginger continued to ramble on with her woes, venting to the only man who ever listened to her.

This continued on for hours, until the light of the moon steeped in and began its slow pace across the wooden floor- this light blanketed the tear-ridden Carolina with a welcoming embrace, which felt like the sky was beckoning her. She knew what had to be done then, she knew that even with everything that her husband had built and the life they created together with their children, she could not live fully without him. The Archduchess reluctantly withdrew her hand from Paul’s before she ascended to her feet unsteadily. She cleared her throat awkwardly, then addressed her husband, evidently hysterical after receiving the news, “The children. I must say farewell, I will tell them for you as well. Stay here and rest, my dear,” She gently cupped Paul’s cheek and planted a tender kiss upon his forehead before slipping out of the dark ducal quarters, and into the looming halls of Temesch.

Carolina visited each one of her children that night, in the order of youngest to eldest. Charlotte, Alexander, Adrienna, Anne… then finally Renilde. Each child was bid goodnight and received a soft peck on the cheek from their mother– but guilt overcame Carolina as she addressed her eldest, Renilde.

“What is the matter, mother?” Queried the adolescent, Renilde, her youthful eyes broadening with concern at the sight of her pallid Mother. She sat up frantically, her layers of blankets bunching up around her waist as she leaned forth to embrace Carolina.

The compassionate gesture from her kind daughter caused the Archduchess’s false demeanor to break. Carolina dipped her head and buried her face into Renilde’s ginger locks of hair, hiding her broken display as best as she could, “Nothing is wrong, dear,” She cooed reassuringly, her bony fingers brushing through Renilde’s hair to comfort her, “I came to wish you goodnight, like I always do. I… also wanted to add that I l-love you so much, I love you and your siblings more than anything in this realm… always remember that, dear.”

“Oh,” The eldest of the Temesch children dipped her head, not pressing the issue further, “Goodnight then, mother. I love you too…” A skeptical tone laced her soft voice as she eyed Carolina. Nonetheless, she leaned back into her bed and allowed her Mother to resume her nightly routine.

The trembling Matriarch of Temesch bobbed her head as well, then slowly treaded out of the room– her gaze lingering over Renilde a moment longer before she shut the door.

Carolina had never been familiar with the pommel of a sword, let alone a dagger. The Archduchess returned to her stead at Paul's side.  High on adrenaline and hopeless, she drew upon her weapon-- a fine dagger with a decorative base-- a gift from her husband, a gift that was probably never intended to be used. Hesitantly, she laid herself next to Paul, finding comfort within her last moments as she took his sallow hand, “I love you, Paul…” She uttered bleakly. With one final breath, a sharp inhale, the woman of Preussens descent plunged the dagger into her chest. Loyal until the very end, Carolina Temesch et Moere expected to meet her husband in the Seven Skies.

Yet by morning’s light, the Archduke of the Petra had recovered - enough, if only briefly, to drag up himself, a hand moving to his right that he might rouse his wife as so long ago had become their routine. “Carolina,” he intoned, wearily, weakly. The man felt it then; her warmth, normally nearer to a furnace, now barely matching that of the room. It jolted him awake, his one good eye focused immediately onto her - and he saw then the love of his life, the woman that had so caught his eyes, and soon after his heart, upon his return to Oren - her last breath already taken. 

To others she may have looked at peace, asleep beside her partner of well over a decade. To him, he saw only his world collapsing. “...No,” was the aging lord’s muttered disbelief, leaning over, clutching her in his arms. A long, shaking caress; the salt of tears that had not flown to injury nor death before it. Then the archduke laid her back down, in her sleeping position. His hand reached over; clutched at the dagger that she had given him upon their first daughter’s birth. Paul, too, knew what must be done.

Before the first bells of the day rang out from Saint Emma’s Chapel, both members of that regal couple laid permanently at rest, fingers interlaced.