"She's no' fer ye."

Garen Baruch reading over letters

"Ah don' kno' why she won' listen tae me," - "Ah'm nae bein' lazy... ah'm tryin'!" 

"Yer no' those things. Anehone who claims such deserves tae find themselves withou' eh tongue. Nae tutor shall enter this keep tha' would ever wrap yer knuckles, er call ye names. Ah cannae promise ets easeh.... Bu' Ah promise tha ye'll be respected."

Faint red marked her knuckles. Her face was wet with tears, her breath broken by hiccups and sobs she could not command into silence. She had tried, of course. Briana always tried.

He had no authority to fire Miss Reed.

That was the trouble of it. He was no Duke. No master of the household. No keeper of seals and salaries. In the language that governed tutors, stewards, and all the polished little mechanisms of a noble house, Garen Baruch was only a son returned late.

Only a brother.

So he found Miss Reed in the room where she kept her papers, her quill, and the brass-lined ruler that had taught Briana pain before letters.

"How maneh times did ye strike meh sister with tha'?"

Miss Reed called it correction.

He called it what it was.

He did not shout. He did not touch her. He did not break the ruler, though power and desire to do so rested so willingly in his fingertips. He only explained, softly, that he could write. Enough to send letters. Enough to tell every courtly mother, every steward, every respectable house from Adria to Alba what Miss Alma Reed did when a child did not learn quickly enough.

"You would ruin my livelihood over childish complaints?"

"Nae, Ah would ruin yer livelihood over meh sister's blood."

He left her there with the ruler untouched upon the desk.

“She's no' fer ye.”

Briana was not for Miss Reed's pride. Not her record. Not her little empire of correction. Not a lesson to be struck until it behaved.

She was his sister.

"She's no' fer ye."

Alek had asked for bluntness.

Garen gave him cruelty.

"Briana will be married tae eh Lord ef some such. As es her duteh. 'Er value..." his face contorted hearing himself speak of his sister this way. "...can be impacted simpleh by association with ye."

"Cruel, so yer gonna sell ya own sistah fur a favour like a cattle?"

"We all must sacrifice fer duteh, Alek."

"So where's duty t'yer own sistah? Where's duty t'yer own conscience?"

Garen did not stop. That was the worst of it. He heard the ugliness in his own mouth and kept dressing it in honor, family, duchy, purity, strategy. He made Alek stand for every imagined future insult, every whisper, every man who might someday call Briana lesser because she had dared to be happy where others could see it.

He angered an enemy who was not real by wounding the boy in front of him.

"Gott would be disgusted fur such a slave trade wrapped in silks," Alek spat.

“She’s no’ fer ye, Alek”

The words followed Garen home. Not because they were elegant. Because they were true enough to draw blood.

Duncan's voice had long since become a whisper in the house, but somehow, on Garen's worst days, it still knew where to stand. At his shoulder. Behind his teeth. In the careful cruelty of inherited duty.

Garen had protected Briana from Miss Reed because someone had made her small with cruel words and a ruler. Then he stood before Alek and made Briana small with careful words and a family name.

Not with a slap.

With love.

That made it worse.

When he told Alek she was not his, some hidden part of him had meant that she was theirs. The family's. The duchy's. A bargaining chip in a game where everyone called the board sacred so no one had to admit there were people beneath the pieces.

That was the betrayal.

Briana was not a lesson.

Briana was not a bargain.

Briana was not a family's breathing coin.

Briana was Briana.

And Garen had known the cost of his words while he spoke them.

He spoke them anyway.

"She's no' fer ye."

"Endure and Prevail. That must be a lot of responsibility."

Then, gently:

"Are you scared?"

Anger crossed his face first.

It was easier than fear.

"Ah'm so scared. Ah'm scared Ah'll dae eh bad job. Ah'm scared Ah'll fail. Ah'm scared ef wha' Ah 'ave tae dae, what Ah'll 'ave tae sacrifice."

For one honest moment, he was only a frightened boy on a wall with someone kind enough to ask. Then he killed the moment before it could ask anything of him.

"Ah cannae... Ah cannae see ye anehmore."

She laughed at first, as if waiting for him to join her, as if this were some cruel joke. It was not.

"What? W-why?"

Then realization. Then coldness.

"I see. Well, Mr. Baruch. Good luck with your Duchy."

Her answer came through muffled sobs.

"Go, just please go."

It would have been simpler if this were repentance.

It was not.

Briana had not asked him to bleed. Briana had not asked him to make her cry. Briana had not asked for another girl's heart to be spent proving that her brother had learned what sacrifice meant.

No, this was uglier than repentance.

It was a test.

If duty mattered enough that Briana's heart could be threatened for it, then duty had to matter enough to threaten his own. If the family name could stand above his sister, then it had to stand above him. Above her. If sacrifice was more than a weapon he used when someone else paid the price, then he had to be willing to burn, too.

That was what he told himself.

It sounded almost noble.

It sounded like a boy trying to prove he was not a hypocrite by becoming something worse.

Garen wished the lesson had arrived kinder.

He wished he had learned it before Briana's trust broke in his hands, before Alek's and his family’s disgust was earned, before her last words to him came muffled through sobs.

But wishes were easy.

The work was in what came after.

To protect Briana without owning her.

To honor duty without hiding cowardice inside it.

To become the sort of man whose sacrifices were not merely cruelties with noble names.

And, someday perhaps, to know the difference before he spoke.

Issued by the

DUCHY OF VALWYCK

On the 10th day of Harren’s Folly of 2083

TO THE PEOPLE OF THE MOUNTAINS AND THE LAKES,

The Duchy of Valwyck announces joyous news: that the eldest son of the Ducal couple, GAREN BERNARD BARUCH, has reached his eighteenth year, and is ready to be welcomed into adulthood to serve his family and Empire. Additionally, many years away from home and his subsequent return has brought all of Valwyck and Tarnavon to celebration, and invites all to partake in the festivities.

I. CONQUERER OF THE MOUNTAIN

The activities shall begin with a game of Conqueror of the Mountain, or more commonly known as King of the Hill. Players shall make their way to the top of a hill and brawl other participants to maintain his standing atop the peak. The winner will be decided by whoever is closest to the center of the peak by the sound of the horn, and will receive a prize of 100 mina.

II. THE BEAR’S TOURNEY

Festivities will continue in the town of Tarnavon, where all are invited to participate in a jousting tournament. Ladies are encouraged to provide favors to their cherished, or predicted victor. The champion of the tournament will receive a prize of 200 mina, with the runner up receiving 100 mina.

Fill out the form below:

III. FEAST OF CELEBRATION

To conclude the evening, friends and family are welcomed to the Castle Barden for an extravagant feast in honor of Lord Garen. Ayrikiv delicacies and drinks shall fill the tables, and merriment shall overflow the halls. At this time, gifts, well wishes, and other introductions may be made to the young Lord. 

IV. INVITATIONS

The Duchy of Valwyck cordially invites…

H&HIM, Marcus I & Valentina of Asturias, Emperor & Empress of Man, and their Imperial retinue

HSH, Willem van Aert, Prince of Blackvale, and his pedigree

HSH, Edward II Alstion, Archduke of Alba, and his pedigree

HH, Caerine Mareno, Duchess of Myrine, and her pedigree

HG, Lothar d’Amaury, Duke of Lorraine, and his pedigree

HG, Marlon d’Asturia, Duke of Asturias, and his pedigree

HG, Remus Helane, Duke of Valmont, and his pedigree

TMH, Arya Altwegg, Margravine of Avistra, and her pedigree

TMH, Parzival von Augusten, Margrave of Schwyz, and his pedigree

TRH, Ezra de Senna, Count of Edessa, and his pedigree

TRH, Robert Montalt-Rovin, Count of Aesterwald, and his pedigree

TRH, Volker van Hurst, Count of Totenpfalz, and his pedigree

TRH, Nuvilta Whitewood, Countess of Silasia, and her pedigree

TRH, Constance Devereux, Countess of Trier, and her pedigree

TH, Florian Enswerp, Viscount of Rethel, and his pedigree

HL, Anastasia Basileus, Baroness of Cascanova, and her pedigree

HL, Phoebe Malory, Baroness of Sternfell, and her pedigree

HL, Franz Galahar, Baron of Ghaestenwald, and his pedigree

HL, Henri Halcourt, Baron of Artois, and his pedigree

And extends personal invitations to…

THE GOOD FOLK OF TARNAVON

Our cousins, HSH, Rodimar Barclay, Prince in Reinmar, and his pedigree

Our cousins, TRH, George VI Aldersberg, Earl of Dover, and his pedigree

Our cousins, HL, Dorothea Helvets, Baroness of Owynsburg, and her pedigree

HIH, Caius Tiberias, Imperial Crown Prince

HIH, Hannibal Valerian, Duke of Myrfield, and their pedigree

HIH, Drusilla Isolde, Duchess of Rosemoor, and their pedigree

HRH, Sîdhiel Arthalion, Princess of Idunia, and their pedigree

HRH, Astarmë Arthalion, Princess of Idunia, and their pedigree

HH, Napoleon Temesch of the Petra, Count of Valfleur

HH, Circe Mareno

HL, Eirene Mareno

HL, Romhilda van Aert

HL, Vesta Tiber

H&HL, Ledicort & Cyrene de Senna

HL, Cosette Carnelle

HL, Pierre Halcourt

HL, Elenydd Glennmaer

H&HL, Altáriel & Nilûphêl Mithrenion

The House von Rhoswald

The House of Ruthern

The House of Radovanic

Laura of Ayr

Lajka Weiss

Ithmere Aldor

Audemar & Matyas Amador

Eira Penrhyn

Naoise Faelsîr

AN AMENDED NOTICE TO ALL ATTENDEES:

The war between the Vassals of Valmont & Hartwell and Avistra is not welcomed in the Duchy of Valwyck and Castle Barden, and aggression of any kind outside of celebration games will not be tolerated. Should any raiding party attempt to disrupt the festivities, they shall be removed and face consequence at the purview of the Ducal House.

ENDURE AND PREVAIL,

HER GRACE, Constantina Regina of Dover,

Duchess-Consort of Valwyck, Countess-Consort of Ayr, Viscountess-Consort of Voron,

Baroness-Consort of Laval, Riveryn, and Gant, Lady of Barden and Tarnavon

HIS LORDSHIP, Garen Bernard Baruch

[!] Please do not metagame any contents in this post. No one knows anything of what’s happened unless they were informed in rp!! [!]

“You should never have come back. You need to leave… Now.”

“But how can I not stand by your side in your hour of need, when we are otherwise alone?”

“Forget I exist, for who you see standing before you will surely die the moment she says ‘I do’.”

“If you die, then surely I will too, and we will either find peace in the Heavens or wander this miserable world as phantoms, but always together.”

Clementine & Constantina Aldersberg, c. 2061

“. . . Maybe we did die.”

What a monotonous day in Valwyck it had been. The weather, even this late into the Spring, remained chilled, and the sky was overcast as it typically was. The land’s Duchess, Constantina, was returning to her quarters in Barden after a brief conversation with Anastasya Ruthern. Despite her sour demeanor, Constantina had found her almost pleasant. She could at least say the Lady was refreshing in her honesty.

It wasn’t but a few minutes after she had changed into something more comfortable and sat at her vanity that a courier knocked. Constantina bid him entry, and peered back at him through her mirror. Despite having kept this particular servant all the years she had lived with the Baruchs, she could never quite remember his name… all she knew is that he was amongst the most trustworthy of her entourage, so she kept him close.

“Your Grace, I hope I am not distu–”

“I’m in no mood for your pleasantries or excuses,” she called behind her.

“What news has brought you to me at this hour?”

“...It is about the girl, Your Grace.”

Ah, yes. The girl. An illegitimate child, made known to Constantina only through her own daughter. The bastard was younger than any of the legitimate children Constantina had borne. With no word from her husband in years, she could only imagine where he had gallivanted off to, but she never cared enough to write letters or send the Greyguard to ensure his return.

“Whatever you have must be important, 

unless my ire has become your colleagues’ new source of entertainment.”

“Never, Your Grace! 

It is only that one of the stewards has confirmed the address of the child and her mother!”

“Is it?

Tell me then. You’ve piqued my interest.”

A modest cottage, on the foot of one of the surrounding mountains in the edges of the Baruch territory. Certainly nothing to be proud of. Constantina couldn’t help but even wonder how Duncan might’ve stumbled upon its inhabitant, let alone come to bear a child through her. Though, it would explain how the child had remained unknown for so long. Why was it that, only now, she had been allowed to emerge? After so many years, Constantina was so close to reaching true peace. With no obstacles or burdens–her children were old enough to be self-sufficient, her husband’s absence had allowed her to roam free, and her father’s death removed nearly all expectations her maiden family held her to. Ignorance was bliss, as some say, and the knowledge of her husband’s infidelity made privy to those in the Rittersburg Square shattered that fragile haven. She could only pray that news would not travel so quickly, as it had a way of doing across the Imperium.

“And what else?” The longer the conversation continued, 

the longer Constantina’s ruminations dragged, and the more ire filled her voice.

“...‘What else’, Your Grace?”

“And what else do you have?! Are you daft?

I do not care about where that wench and her brat live

if you have nothing to do about it!”

“Oh!– Of course, Your Grace. Well, eh…

We’ve found a supplier of arsenic.”

“Arsenic? And pray tell, what will a cosmetic do to aid me?”

“It is just that…– arsenic can be fatal, Your Grace. Especially in high amounts”

“...Fatal, you say?”

At last, something eased in the Duchess. Something that contrarily caused her servant to tense up. She turned to fully regard him with her attention, and offered but a chilling smile. It was some years ago that Constantina realized something had shifted within her. She had always been calloused and was prone to harboring contempt, but in her youth she had never been prone to the thoughts of violence that she carried with her now. She acted on it rarely–she knew better, if only for the sake of image alone–but the fantasies haunted any who might make the smallest misstep. A haughty noble’s snide comment, a kitchen maid’s error in the dinner preparations, a mere passerby’s ignorance of her standing–it caused her blood to burn hot; it caused her to see an inexplicable red.

Never could she fulfill those urges of bloodlust. Not to any higher birth, or a civilian, or a foreigner in public. Whispers would spread too quickly, and rumors would become the death of her as well. But a farmer whose name had never come up in almost twenty years? Who had no family? Who lived in a run-down shack hidden in the Garenwald? No one would miss her. There would be no investigation, not even a funeral. And that child borne of her homewrecking would have no one to support her.

“..Your Grace? You, ehm– you were lost in thought. Is all well?”

With a blink, Constantina snapped from the trance of her thoughts.

“Ah– yes, I am well. You have been helpful tonight.”

“Of course, Your Grace. But, if I might ask…

What do you plan to do now?”

“What do you think? You’re a smart boy, are you not?”

“You will… you’ll kill them?”

“You catch on quick.” Constantina turned back around, 

looking into her mirror to take down her hair as if it were nothing.

“Even… the child?”

“The child?”

Dammit. The child. Briefly, Constantina had to think. She knew she was not above killing the bastard girl and erasing the problem entirely, but… what new problems would sprout in the wake of her blood? Her children and several others knew of the child’s existence. They knew of Constantina, of her unhappiness. What risks would be posed, if any even guessed it to be her? Her previous crimes were barely escaped. Would the public believe that she did not commit this one too?

“No. Leave the girl alive. 

Surely with no other kin, she will not survive on her own for long.

There is no need to bloody our hands further.”

“What if she attempts to investigate or bring out the truth, my Duchess?”

“Do you not hear yourself?” She nearly laughed. “What authority would believe an orphan born from wedlock over a Lady of our grand Empire? Do you forget I serve Her Imperial Majesty herself?”

“I… suppose you would be correct..”

“Of course I am.” Constantina couldn’t help but roll her eyes. 

She waved a hand, quickly dismissing her courier. “Go, then. Nothing will get done if you stand there dawdling.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” With a hurried bow, he retreated from the Ducal quarters.

“I do not ever think I will stop hating you.”

“Hate– is just what families of our standing do. I tried my best, I cannot change it now.

But I tried.”

“You did try, and you failed, and you only feel remorse once it is far too late.”

“And how I am punished. If it makes thee feel better, I shall surely suffer in the next life.”

“...It does bring me relief. Even more so that it will be so soon.”

George V & Constantina Aldersberg, c. 2075

Several days had gone by. Constantina’s routine remained unchanged–she managed Valwyck’s lands, she oversaw her children’s tutors, she entertained Garen, Duncan W., and Briana’s affections, and she traveled between cities. She was almost bored, but something almost akin to excitement bubbled in her chest. 

A knock resounded from the door. Constantina had been combing through her opulent and excessive jewelry collection when she granted the familiar courier entry. She smiled at him; a chilling thing.

“Pray, you bring me good news this afternoon?”

The man stood solemn, but firm. “I do, Your Grace.”

“Tell me.”

“The man we sent… he managed to break into the house and spike her ale.”

“And?”

“...And the woman did not survive the night.”

Oh, what relief washed over Constantina’s body–it was nearly euphoric! To picture the woman who had ruined the peace of the Baruch Household, who uprooted their family. She would be severed from her own ilk permanently. She imagined it wouldn’t be long before her daughter would be abandoned to die, or something of the sort. There would be no sympathy for her predicted demise either.

“You’ve done well,” She hummed eagerly, 

her smile reflecting in the precious metals and jewels laid across her setting table. 

Constantina picked up two brooches: 

one set with heather and thistle flowers, and another with a rearing steed.

“Which brooch do you think I might wear to celebrate?”

Instead of answering, the servant dared speak up, 

“Might I ask something, Your Grace?”

“Speak.” She held up the floral brooch, 

forged in an Ayrikiv style and gifted to her by her husband.

“...What will you do about the Duke, once–if– he returns?”

The query brought Constantina to a pause. 

After a moment of deliberation, though, she set the floral brooch down, 

and brought the second brooch–Alban in design and gifted to her by her Father–to her chest.

“I believe I shall wear this one today.”

The courier’s brows furrowed. “But Your Grace–”

Her head snapped to him irritably. 

“What? I’ve had about enough of your ramblings.”

A hand gestured to the pin of ivory and gold.

“There is blood still uncleaned from that one.”

“.          ..”

“Yes?”

“I killed my Father.”

“How...– what happened, Constantina? Why did you do it?”

“He found a peace he did not deserve. It was something I had to do myself.

It had to hurt.”

“I can only imagine that as closely related as you two were… this will hurt deeply.”

“I am not hurt about what I did.

I hate that this was not enough. It never will be.

I hate that he turned me into this, and I hate that it is not undone.”

.          . & Constantina Aldersberg, c. 2076

Baruch’s Bears founder Duncan W. Baruch and minority owner Dorothea M. Helvets showcasing their finest plushies ahead of the Owynsburg Festival of Flowers, where Pauline the Penguin and William the Whale debuted.

They may tell you that bears have gone extinct, but that is only half true, for Baruch’s Bears are still around, and better than ever!

Do you tire of buying the same old generic plushies, mass produced by tired and underpaid workers in factories, and without an ounce of joy?

Then Baruch’s Bears is the solution for you! At Baruch’s Bears every bear is handcrafted by our most talented artisans, and made from finest materials found on the continent. Our plushies are full of love and life, and are sure to put a smile on your face!

Baruch’s Bears is open for business across three* different locations across Azuras, which all carry our current stock.

RITTERSBURG FLAGSHIP STORE

MARKET STREET 2

Newly opened, the Baruch’s Bears flagship store in Rittersburg is the pride of the company, and a sign of the ambitions and goals for the years to come. The flagship store is run in collaboration with Forager’s Flask, and thus you will not only find the finest quality plushies Azuras has to offer, but also a variety of freshly pressed juices and lemonades, along with general goods such as ores and horses.

ORIGINAL TARNAVON STALL

STALL IV

This stall, located in the Town of Tarnavon within Valwyck, is the original home and location of Baruch’s Bears. Here you will find the finest quality teddy bears and plushies, while taking in the warmth of the quaint village that inspired Lord Duncan W. Baruch to open Azuras’ finest plushie company.
 

ALDUUN STALL

STALL 12

Alduun was the first home of Baruch’s Bears outside of Tarnavon, and it is with great pride that we have acquired a larger stall there. We will miss Cart 4, but the ambition of Baruch’s Bears is to be the biggest and the best, and our new stall is a sign of that. We hope there is more to come yet in Alduun!**

*Baruch’s Bears is in the process of opening a stall within the principality of Tir-Glas.

**It is the ambition of Baruch’s Bears to open a flagship store in Alduun in the future.

CURRENT PRODUCT LINES

Baruch’s Bears locations across Azuras are currently stocking the following product lines:

THE BEARS COLLECTION

The only bears you’ll be finding on Azuras! The Bears Collection includes the original three plushies made by Baruch’s Bears, consisting of Becca the Bear, Greyson the Bear, and Percival the Polar Bear. With the recent demise of Bearkind, it is the ambition of Baruch’s Bears to honour more of these and expand the Bears Collection in the near future.

THE CREATURES OF THE WORLD COLLECTION

A collection of the rarest, cutest, and most unique animals that reside upon the continent of Azuras. An ever expanding and changing collection, the Creatures of the World Collection currently consists of William the Whale and Pauline the Penguin. The talented designers at Baruch’s Bears are actively in the process of creating more designs for this collection.

Interested in learning more about Baruch’s Bears and its products? Perhaps you desire a Baruch’s Bears location within your own demesne? Contact founder Duncan W. Baruch [garentoft].

For inquiries about the company structure of Baruch’s Bears or the ownership circle, consisting at present of Baruch’s Bears Inc. (40%), Duncan W. Baruch (50%), and Dorothea M. Helvets (10%), or should you wish to inquire about purchasing a share in the company, contact founder Duncan W. Baruch [garentoft].

Founder and majority owner, Duncan W. Baruch, displaying the newest of Baruch’s Bears products, William the Whale and Pauline the Penguin, in front of the new Alduun location.

Today is a good day for Baruch’s Bears. As of today, Baruch’s Bears has acquired a new commercial property in Alduun, tying into the general rapid expansion the company has since with its rising popularity in recent months.

Baruch’s Bears is constantly striving to improve and deliver the people of Azuras the highest quality teddy bears and plushies, and are working actively on new products, as well as some to-be-announced collaborations!

This new property within Alduun is a great sign of the ambition of Baruch’s Bears, and we hope that our ever-loyal customers continue to support the company as we move forward with new products. 

For those unaware, William the Whale and Pauline the Penguin have recently debuted at the Owynsburg Festival of Flowers and the Harren Day Market. They will now available in our flagship store in Rittersburg and our new stall in Alduun.

Baruch’s Bears announces the opening of a new location in Alduun, replacing the previous Cart 4 location. Rittersburg and Alduun now carry two first products of the Creatures of the World Collection.

ALDUUN STALL

STALL 12

The new Baruch’s Bears stall in Alduun, a true testament to the business’ rapid growth. The Alduun Stall carries all the same stock as the Rittersburg Flagship Store. We view our customers in Alduun and Idunia with great adoration, for they are what made this growth possible.

Interested in learning more about Baruch’s Bears and its products? Perhaps you desire a Baruch’s Bears location within your own demesne? Contact founder Duncan W. Baruch [garentoft].

For inquiries about the company structure of Baruch’s Bears or the ownership circle, consisting at present of Baruch’s Bears Inc. (40%), Duncan W. Baruch (50%), and Dorothea M. Helvets (10%), or should you wish to inquire about purchasing a share in the company, contact founder Duncan W. Baruch [garentoft].

IN THE VILLAGE OF TARNAVON

- Duchy of Valwyck -

Nestled in amongst the largest forest of the Empire there is a warm and inviting place where one can seek respite from the beasts and dangers therein. In Tarnavon, a village at the heart of the Imperial highlands and the Duchy of Valwyck, lies a snug tavern where any law-abiding citizen is welcome and doubly so if they can keep up with the locals and their drinking prowess. Come and savour in a tavern like no other and without peer with specialty food and drink perfected over generations of Highlander peoples. 

Enjoy yourself in The Bear Trap Tavern & Inn, drink and eat your fill and utilise our top floor of fully furnished rooms available for rent when you inevitably never want to leave.  

MENU

DRINKS:

BARDEN RED - A bottle of red wine but not a grape-based one as one might expect. Due to the climate of Tarnavon and the surrounding duchies, the brewers instead found a more ready supply of ingredients for wine in the forests around the village. Thus this wine is in fact a bramble wine. It has a tangy, fruity flavor similar to some lighter reds given that it is made from the local blackberries that grow at the foot of castle Barden. - 2 mina

CARRION BLACK - The principal drink amongst highlanders with its origins dating back nearly six hundred years ago to the Kingdom of Ruska. This dark ale-like drink is popular despite its strong taste and effect or perhaps because of it. Cheap, requiring an acquired taste, and alcoholic in the extreme. It is best drunk quickly and in great quantities.  - 2 mina

OTTONIAN HONEY MEAD - One of the oldest drinks in existence. This semi-sweet and naturally sparkling beverage can trace its origins back to the ancient north, before even the Atheran Nord Lords’ time. The version bottled herein has a particularly rich, almost smoky taste owing to the Ayrikiv heather honey used in the fermentation process. This product is made by the priests, monks and nuns of the Priory of Saint Otto in Tarnavon, a stone’s throw away from the tavern it was purchased from.  - 3 mina

PETYR PEAT WHISKY - A single malt whiskey containing a smokey, earthy, and maritime notes caused by the peat fires used to dry the malted barley and stored for a minimum of ten years. Brewed at the behest of the Dukes and Duchesses of Valwyck, it is widespread within their lands and is enjoyed by their family, friends and people far and wide. - 3 mina

ALE - It’s ale. Just ale. Bog standard run of the mill cheap ale. - 1 mina

- - -

FOOD:

AYRIKIV PORRIDGE - Dating back centuries comes this hearty breakfast dish made from oats, milk, and a pinch of vanir salt. This meal is nuttier and chewier than other porridges due to the stone ground oats that are crushed between millstones rather than oat flakes. It also has fewer lumps owing to its careful and attentive stirring while it cooks on the stovetop. Filling and robust, it’s a cheap and tasty start to any morning. - 2 mina

CULLEN SKINK - A traditional Ayrikiv soup, one on the thicker side. Created initially by local fishermen as a way to use up their plentiful catches of fish it has since become immensely popular. Made from haddock cured with the smoke from peat, it also contains a healthy portion of potatoes and onions. This chowder-like soup is smokier, heartier and more assertive than your southern counterparts. - 2 mina

HAGGIS, NEEPS & TATTIES - Loved amongst the Ayrikiv and originating with them, haggis is a savoury pudding containing minced sheep meat and fat with chopped onions, oatmeal, local seasonings and vanir salt. Served alongside neeps, a type of turnip, and tatties (potatoes). Both of these are boiled and mashed separately before being added to the side of the plate. A hearty and rustic dish with a savory, peppery, and earthy taste. - 3 mina

MARIZBRUD or MARIAN BREAD - A traditional form of bread, tracing its roots to the earliest days of the bygone Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska. It differs from other variations for its distinct use of local honey and a pinch of vanir salt in the bake but is also served with a side portion of them too for making it more savoury or sweet to the person’s preference. - 1 mina

PERPETUAL STEW - A pot into which whatever one can find is placed and cooked continuously. The pot is never or rarely emptied all the way, and ingredients and liquid are replenished as needed. Such foods can continue cooking for months upon months or years even. [The customer rolls and the number determines the quality of that day’s stew] - 1 mina

EVENTS & TRADITIONS

The Bear Trap boasts a wide variety of traditions from northern taverns that have spanned and remained popular for centuries as well as newer ones that bring a liveliness and constant buzz to the atmosphere at the tavern.

Some of our more famous and frequent events are, but not limited to:

BARE-KNUCKLE BOXING - Whilst a perfectly legal sport it is certainly not a high brow one and often frowned upon. Here at the Bear Trap we see it for what it is - entertainment! Taking place in the fight pit beneath the tavern, wrestle and punch your night away for the chance to win a monetary prize and the admiration of your peers if you prevail in the much anticipated fight nights. 

COMING OF AGE DRINKS - Though we in the Empire do not have an official drinking age it is generally accepted as being in the 16-18 years old range. We Highlanders have long held the belief that the best way to celebrate it is with alcohol. When someone comes of age we offer a discount package of all our drinks so that the newly minted adult can test each and every one so they can determine where their tastes lie early.

[Roll when you try each drink and the result determines which drink is the favourite, middling or a down right terrible choice to your character]

DRINKING COMPETITIONS - A long standing tradition and popular event the world over. Competitors take part in the tavern run contest for who can finish their drink the quickest in subsequent back to back rounds. The slowest participant in each round is eliminated until there are only two left. From then on the final two will each drink from a coveted bottle of DUKE BARUCH’S BRANDY until only one is left standing. The drink itself is a devilishly strong apple-based fruit brandy aged in whisky barrels that gives it a unique Ayrikiv take. This bottle can only be obtained by winning an official Bear Trap drinking competition and comes from the local brewery’s private reserves ordinarily reserved exclusively for the Ducal family in the region. It is stamped with the year of the victory when presented to the victor.

PUB QUIZ - With the challenges of physical and drinking prowess also comes the nights where one’s knowledge and intellect reigns supreme. The self explanatory pub quiz is thus the answer! Join us on one of our quiz nights as a team with one or more of your friends or with complete strangers if you can blag your way into forming one with them. All topics will be covered from history to politics to the natural world. If you think yourself a smart one, prove it and join us at the Bear Trap Tavern.

THE INN AND ITS ROOMS

The Bear Trap is aptly named as once you’re in it you’ll be stuck. Unlike with its namesake it won’t be because you can’t leave it’ll be because you never want to. We at the Bear Trap have just the thing to help with that little problem. Rooms! Come and stay as long as your heart desires by making use of one of our many rooms for rent. Fully furnished and comfortable. 

We also offer subsidised terms for renting if you are a new worker or citizen of Tarnavon where we offer a discount or even temporarily free lodging until one can find their footing and a source of income in the busy village. 

Feel free to contact any tavern employee or the tavern’s owners, the Baruch family, to arrange a stay in this picturesque place.

Issued by the

DUCHY OF VALWYCK

On the 6th day of GODFREY’S TRIUMPH of 2073 A.H.

TO THE PEOPLE OF THE MOUNTAINS AND THE LAKES,

The Duke and Duchess are pleased to announce the birth of their sixth child: a vibrant baby girl, with tufts of fiery red hair and bright blue eyes. Despite arriving nearly three before her expected due date, she was delivered successfully and, along with her Mother, is being tended to by Valwyck’s most skilled physicians. The House Baruch rejoices at the news of their growing family, and asks friends and loved ones to keep the Duchess and the babe in their prayers until their recoveries.

She has been given the name,

A depiction of mother & child in the likeness of 

Helaine of Leuvaarden & Milena of Ruska

ROSLIN CAUSTANTINA BARUCH

@Kholibrii

ENDURE AND PREVAIL,

HIS GRACE, Duncan G. Baruch, 

Duke of Valwyck, Count of Ayr, Viscount of Voron, Baron of Laval, Riveryn, and Gant, 

Laird of Barden and Tarnavon, Guardian of the Garenwald

HER GRACE, Constantina of Dover,

Duchess-Consort of Valwyck, Countess-Consort of Ayr, Viscountess-Consort of Voron, 

Baroness-Consort of Laval, Riveryn, and Gant, Laidy of Barden and Tarnavon

Issued by the

DUCHY OF VALWYCK

On the 1st day of Harren’s Folly of 2074 A.H.

TO THE PEOPLE OF THE MOUNTAINS AND THE LAKES,

The Coming of the Hare is first described in writings of the Sixteenth Baron of New Prarth, Garen Litearra, who wrote a detailed account of the Ayrikiv Calendar and its celebrations and festivities. Of the Coming of the Hare, he writes that it is likely Morgenic in origin, as the return of the hilltop hares and rabbits from their burrows marked the beginning of spring for the Morgenic people. Upon their assimilation into the Ayrikiv, this were one of the many traditions adapted by them.

To honour this celebration of the Ayrikiv of Yore, the Duchy of Valwyck announces that a Coming of the Hare festival shall be held within the town of Tarnavon and the castle of Barden, with all of the Realm welcome to attend. We should be especially gracious to see the honourable and esteemed friends of the Ayrikiv people in attendance.

To celebrate, we shall engage in two of the Ayrikiv traditions from the Coming of the Hare:

HUNT OF THE HARE

An archery contest shall be held in the honour of the Coming of the Hare. In the days of old, in the hilly inland lands of the Ayrikiv, the Coming of the Hare would mark the beginning of springtime, for their native hilltop hare would burrow itself into the hills of Old Morgen during the winter, and would only return when spring had sufficiently improved the weather to its liking.

In these days, the hunters would rejoice at the Coming of the Hare, for such would mark the beginning of the springtime hunting season, and the first hunt of hare was most treasured among the Ayrikiv of old.

To celebrate, an archery contest (primarily directed at the children of the Realm, though adults can partake) shall be held. Faux and plush hares shall be moved around on wooden sticks to give the feeling of the true hunt. These hares shall be filled with sweet treats for the children, and the one who manages to shoot the most hares shall be rewarded with a GOLD-PLATED EGG (we had initially intended to host an egg hunt, and had already commissioned the egg). The runner-up shall be granted a lifetime supply of whale blubber, a local Ayrikiv delicacy.

FEAST OF THE HARE

It was customary during the Coming of the Hare, that when the hunters had brought back the first game, that a feast would be held in their honour with the rewards of this first hunt. All attendants of the Coming of the Hare shall be welcomed into Castle Barden, where the Barden Kitchens shall prepare a delightful feast inspired by those of old, and to display the great and fortuitous uses for hare in Ayrikiv cuisine.

During the feast, craft stations shall also be open in the Barden Garden, allowing children (and whimsical spirits) to create their own varieties of hares. From plushies, to wall decorations, to … well you name it! Materials will be provided by the Duchy of Valwyck, though if you are particular about your silks it may be wise to bring some from home

ENDURE AND PREVAIL,

HIS GRACE, Duncan II Baruch, 

Duke of Valwyck, Count of Ayr, Viscount of Voron, Baron of Laval, Riveryn, and Gant, 

Laird of Barden and Tarnavon, Guardian of the Garenwald

HER GRACE, Constantina of Dover,

Duchess-Consort of Valwyck, Countess-Consort of Ayr, Viscountess-Consort of Voron, 

Baroness-Consort of Laval, Riveryn, and Gant, Laidy of Barden and Tarnavon

HIS LORDSHIP, Duncan W. Baruch.

Issued by the

DUCHY OF VALWYCK

On the 7th day of HOREN’S CALLING of 2074 A.H.

TO THE PEOPLE OF THE MOUNTAINS AND THE LAKES,

His Grace, Duncan Eirik Baruch, Duke of Valwyck has met an honourable end and his countrymen mourn his loss after his recent funeral. His titles and estates were in good order and his Grace prudent enough to appoint his heir according to the Valwyck laws of tanistry. His third son and namesake, Duncan ‘the Younger’ Baruch, was lawfully and in the presence of multiple witnesses chosen as the late Duke’s sole heir. The members of House Baruch present, including all the children of the late Duncan, swore on the hallowed coronet of their virtuous progenitor Saint Otto the Bald to abide by his decision and give their full loyalty to the duly selected next patriarch. Thus Duncan Garen Baruch has, in due manner, become the twelfth Duke of Valwyck as Duke Duncan II of Valwyck. 

DUNCAN GAREN BARUCH

12TH DUKE OF VALWYCK

With such an occasion there are traditions to be observed. His Grace has deemed it apt enough time since his Laird father’s passing to arrange his official investiture as Duke of Valwyck with the itinerary listed below:

I. CEREMONY OF ASCENSION

The series of customs begins with the baptism of the Duke with the traditional prayer spoken at such time in the Church of the Ward Father in the village of Tarnavon. Afterwards the gathered will move to the home of House Baruch, Castle Barden, and bear witness to the bestowal of the regalia, each item ancient and history filled to impart the importance and legacy the incumbent is privileged to carry. Once complete the Duke will be anointed and a final, sealing prayer spoken.

II. RECEPTION

Guests will be invited to join the Duke and his family within the halls of Castle Barden to celebrate alongside them after the completion of the procession. Ayrikiv drinks will be served and a symphony of bagpipes and fiddles about to bless our companions' ears. It is the Duke’s wish to make this more interesting by instituting a new tradition; a walk through Baruch family history. Art, sculptures, and interactive scenes portraying the highs and lows of the grand flowing tapestry that is the history of the long and enduring House of Baruch will be presented.

All royalty, nobility and citizens of the Empire are invited to join the Ayrikiv people and partake in the time honoured traditions of the Duchy of Valwyck.

[SATURDAY, THE 28TH OF MARCH @3:30PM EST]

ENDURE AND PREVAIL,

HIS GRACE, Duncan G. Baruch, 

Duke of Valwyck, Count of Ayr, Viscount of Voron, Baron of Laval, Riveryn, and Gant, 

Laird of Barden and Tarnavon, Guardian of the Garenwald

Issued by the

DUCHY OF VALWYCK

On the 6th day of GODFREY’S TRIUMPH of 2073 A.H.

TO THE PEOPLE OF THE MOUNTAINS AND THE LAKES,

His Grace, Duncan Eirik Baruch, Duke of Valwyck has met his untimely and tragically early end at the tender age of eighty in the year 2073 A.H. He died on the field of battle upholding, as he did throughout the majority of his life, the integrity and honour of the Empire and Emperor he served faithfully even with his dying breath. A man born to a Haeseni Count of some minor note. Wise beyond his years and with a mind for advancement, both for his family and his people, the leal and fortuitous Ayrikiv. Fortuitous, for they had the finest man in generations of the House Baruch as their guide. He made use of his birthright and not only preserved it, but enhanced it and rose to the position of Duke when sagely swearing his loyalty to the Emperor Tiberias. A fortune maker. A stalwart warrior. A champion jouster. A veteran of dozens of battles. A father who loved his children and grandchildren without reservation. The famed Duke leaves behind three sons and four grandchildren to carry on his legacy and oversee his final well deserved hallowed rites.

The bells will toll within the Church of the Ward Father in the village of Tarnavon where the Ayrikiv, the people of Edelmark, and those visiting from afar are invited to offer their condolences and farewells. Anyone wishing to pray for his swift ascension to the Seven Skies are welcome to travel to the Church and give their final farewells for the dearly departed Duke.

The funeral service, kindly managed by the Priory of Saint Otto, will be held during the month of the Sun’s Smile, 2073 A.H.

DUNCAN EIRIK BARUCH

DUKE OF VALWYCK

1992-2072 A.H.

[SUNDAY, THE 22ND OF MARCH @2PM EST]

ENDURE AND PREVAIL,

HIS GRACE, Duncan G. Baruch, 

Duke of Valwyck, Count of Ayr, Viscount of Voron, Baron of Laval, Riveryn, and Gant, 

Laird of Barden and Tarnavon, Guardian of the Garenwald

HER GRACE, Constantina of Dover,

Duchess-Consort of Valwyck, Countess-Consort of Ayr, Viscountess-Consort of Voron, 

Baroness-Consort of Laval, Riveryn, and Gant, Laidy of Barden and Tarnavon

“Good day to die.”

The southern wind gently caressed Duncan’s face as he turned to his side. “What?”

“Good weather, clear sky, fertile land, this,” the sergeant coolly continued. The man seemed like a veteran; his armor did not appear new and dappled across it were dents where steel had struck it. “If I had to pick a spot, this’d be it. Perhaps a tree would sprout from me.”

Duncan could do little more than blink at the man’s words as he reached down to pat and calm his horse beneath him. “Ye should know better than tha’, lad. It’s bad luck to speak o’ death before a battle. Scares the horses, ‘n a scared horse brings death to its rider.”

“You northerners and your superstitions,” the man scoffed as he urged his own horse forward. “You could do with a bit of humor, old man. Not every old wives’ tale has a lesson.”

The Baruch did not respond, watching silently as the sergeant rode away. He was superstitious - he couldn’t deny that. He’d made sure to pin white heather to his chest for good luck, and whenever he walked past the hospital tent he scratched his jewels to pass a little fortune to those being treated inside. He never taunted Death, remembering well how his friend Dmitry once claimed no “enemy” could kill him, only to be found stabbed in the back by a “friend”.

He was old too; there was no hiding the toll time had taken on his body. His once-thick brown hair had grown thin and white, his forehead broader than it had been in his youth. His hearing had dulled, and his fingers ached when he held a sword too long. Sigismund’s mark - crow’s feet as the southerners called it - spread from the corners of his eyes, joining the many other wrinkles that lined his face.

Eighty years, he thought to himself as the wind dandled his few remaining hairs. Nearly three times what Karl got. I wonder what he’d have looked like if he got to this age.

His thoughts of his old king were quickly cut short as the war horns sounded through the Imperial lines, men shouted orders and boots thundered across the grass below. Darren - his oldest comrade and captain of his guard - pointed with an armored gauntlet out to the golden field before them. “There, yer grace. Th’ dwarves are advancin’. Seems th’ time has come.”

Duncan nodded; there was little use for words at this point. He glanced at the faces of his men - cold, unamused, veterans of many battles and sieges - and to his son, Duncan ‘the Younger’. He had not been the father the boy deserved in his youth, yet he quietly hoped the years ahead  would grant him a chance for atonement. In silence he slipped his helmet upon his head and brought his visor down. The wind rose suddenly, pushing back against him and through the slit in his helmet as it cut across the field, tugging faintly at his armor.

“Best get to it, then.”

The battle was quick.

An imperial victory was never in doubt - the dwarves had neither the manpower nor the equipment for a winning defense - but the proximity to their capital made them fight all the harder. An unexpected rain had turned the field to mud, softening the imperial charge and drawing out the melee. The mire did little to change the day’s outcome however, and the imperials still took the ground. Engineers set to work near instantly, ordering nearby trees felled for trebuchets and battleworks dug for the cannons. 

Distants blasts echoed through the camp as Darren guided a limping Duncan back to his tent, but the old man’s thoughts were not on the bombardment. “Ah loved tha’ damn horse, Darren.” Duncan grunted with each word, his boot sloshing with each step in the mud that the pair took. “Sigismund curse the dwarf tha’ killed ‘er.”

“They had t’ kill it, yer grace. Bringin’ ye down t’ their height was the only way the bastards could try t’ kill ye.” The old man chuckled softly at that, as much as his aching ribs would allow. A lucky pikeman had stuck his horse in the muddy brawl and brought the Duke low, the weight of his armor and the force of the fall bruising his chest and arms and trapping him in the mud. He shuddered as he remembered how close he’d come to death and tried to push the memory aside.

“‘ere we are, yer grace.” Darren lowered his voice as they reached the tent, where a servant stood ready to doff the Baruch’s armor. “Ah’ll go check on the other men, but ah didnae see any o’ them fall.” He lingered near the entrance as the servant struggled with the buckles on Duncan’s armor. “Dinnae be so rough lad, er ye’ll rip the lord’s arm off,” Darren snapped. Startled, the servant jerked his hands away and abruptly removed Duncan’s pauldron from his shoulder.

A grunt escaped Duncan’s lips as a small steel-tipped shaft struck the floor with a dull thump. The servant picked up it then - a half-broken quarrel, most of its wooden length snapped off, leaving only the sharp head that had lodged itself in Duncan. Of course the halfmen use half a bolt. There was little time to inspect the projectile. Blood began to flow from the hole in his underarm and stained the grass below.

The calm of the tent shattered at once. “Yer grace! Ah’ll fetch a physician, ye run ‘n fetch Lord Duncan - the younger!” Darren and the servant shouted over one another as they rushed out of the tent, nearly slipping in the mud outside in their haste. Duncan, meanwhile, brought his hand against the wound as best he could, though his breastplate made the motion awkward, and he could not remove it alone.

He sank slowly onto his straw mattress with quiet acceptance, keeping his hand clamped over the wound in a vain attempt to hold in his life's blood. You old fool. He hadn’t felt the bolt when it struck him, and the pain had now dulled to something distant. Outside, the boom of the cannons rolled across the fields like thunder, reminding him of the rainy hills of his home. His blood quenched the thirst of the grass beneath him, spared the rain until now by the shelter of the tent.

His mind wandered, as though it knew the path ahead better than he did. He thought first of his sons, Amos and Hamish, how happy he’d been at their birth. Hamish was the first, with his fiery red hair; then came Amos with his dark spruce-brown locks. Duncan remembered how he held them, one babe in each arm, how he sang to them in their youth when thunder frightened them in the night. He thought of the last time he had seen them before coming south, and how he would not see them again.

Next came his namesake and heir, Duncan. He thought of his son’s birth and how near it had come to killing his mother. He thought of the lad’s wedding day, nearly ruined by his arriving drunk. A faint chuckle escaped his pallid lips then, costing him a trickle of blood. He’d seen the boy become a man and, more recently, a father. He thought of his daughter-in-law Constantina, whom he had come to see as his own daughter. The poor woman carried many burdens; he hoped he had done something, at least once, to ease them.

His thoughts drifted to his grandchildren - Garen the beast, Henry the gentleman, and Duncan the glutton, third of his name. Then to the youngest, little Brianna, whose golden hair he’d grown to love. With the last of his breath, he whispered a quiet prayer for their wellbeing. His vision dimmed. His breaths grew shallow and close together. His hands and legs felt numb. Somewhere outside the tent, he could faintly hear the sound of a lute being played, and of soldiers laughing and dancing to celebrate their victory.

A good day after all.

REQUIESCAT IN PACE

Duke Duncan Eirik Baruch

1992 - 2072

Issued by the

DUCHY OF VALWYCK

On the 17th day of HARREN’S FOLLY of 2071 A.H.

TO THE PEOPLE OF THE MOUNTAINS AND THE LAKES,

After a great period of wait, does the House Baruch announce the birth of a healthy and thriving daughter. Born to the Lady Constantina and Lord Duncan the Younger, the girl was delivered in the late hours of the evening. Quickly was she noted to resemble her mother greatly, with golden curls and vibrant blue eyes. The labor, however, was arduous for both mother and child and left the Lady Constantina bedridden, and the babe with weakened lungs. Both are expected to make a full recovery, but friends and family are implored still to pray for both their wellbeings.

Thus, it is announced the newest daughter of Valwyck’s name:

BRIANA AILEEN BARUCH

@MotherLay

ENDURE AND PREVAIL,

HIS GRACE, Duncan Eirik Baruch, 

Duke of Valwyck, Count of Ayr, Viscount of Voron, Baron of Laval, Riveryn, and Gant, 

Laird of Barden and Tarnavon, Guardian of the Garenwald

HIS LORDSHIP, Duncan Garen Baruch

HER LADYSHIP, Constantina Regina Baruch

Issued by the

DUCHY OF VALWYCK

On the 12th day of HOREN’S CALLING of 2068 A.H.

TO THE PEOPLE OF THE MOUNTAINS AND THE LAKES,

The Duchy of Valwyck brings joyous news: the Younger Lord Duncan and Lady Constantina have welcomed more children into the growing family of Baruch. Two boys, the elder of golden hair and the younger of auburn, grace the bustling halls of the Castle Barden. The first has been given the name HENRY JOHN BARUCH, and his younger brother DUNCAN WILLIAM BARUCH.

However, with great happiness, there also come times of great sadness. In the later hours of the evening, a baby girl was delivered, frailer than her brothers, and was returned to the Skies within days of her birth. In memoriam, she is dubbed MARGRAIT HELAINE BARUCH, and it is made known now that the short light and love she brought into the world will not be forgotten so easily. Due to the strenuous labor, the Lady Constantina remains in ill health. Prayers for her and the babes are welcomed.

A depiction of Duncan the Younger with 

Henry ( @Lalosia ) and Duncan the Youngest ( @garentoft )

In these times of war and grief, the baptism of Henry and Duncan will be held privately, as well as a funeral for the late Lady Margrait. May GOD bless the lives of the two Lords Baruch, and keep close His departed daughter.

ENDURE AND PREVAIL,

HIS LORDSHIP, Duncan Garen Baruch

HER LADYSHIP, Constantina Regina Baruch

Issued by the

DUCHY OF VALWYCK

On the 11th day of GODFREY’S TRIUMPH of 2066 A.H.

TO THE PEOPLE OF THE MOUNTAINS AND THE LAKES,

With great joy, the Duchy of Valwyck announces a blessing from Godan, that the Heir to House Baruch, Duncan the Younger and his wife, Constantina of Dover, have been blessed with their firstborn child late this eve. The babe, a hearty and healthy son, bears the green eyes of his Father, and fiery red hair. Both he and his mother remain in good health while recovering, and we pray for the boy’s long and prosperous life.

He is thus given the name:

GAREN BERNARD BARUCH

@iSmooch

The boy will be baptized in the Church of the Wardfather in Tarnavon, with a celebratory hunt taking place thereafter in the forests surrounding Valwyck to celebrate the young boy’s birth. The one who returns with the most impressive game will be awarded 150 mina, as well as a custom weapon made from the finest of Valwyck steel of their choosing to be forged by the renowned Tarnavon smithy, the Molten Claw. Afterwards, the game will be roasted in the village square for all to enjoy.

ENDURE AND PREVAIL,

HIS GRACE, Duncan Eirik Baruch, 

Duke of Valwyck, Count of Ayr, Viscount of Voron, Baron of Laval, Riveryn, and Gant, 

Laird of Barden and Tarnavon, Guardian of the Garenwald

HIS LORDSHIP, Duncan Garen Baruch

HER LADYSHIP, Constantina Regina Baruch

The Union of Baruch & von Leopold

Issued on 11th of the Amber Cold, 260 S.A.

Lord Charles John Baruch and Lady Annika Konstanze von Leopold are pleased to announce that they are to be joined in holy matrimony and you are hereby invited to the ceremony. The wedding shall be held in the Church of the Wardfather in Tarnavon, Valwyck. Here, before the sight of God, his prophets and his saints, their union shall be solemnized in accordance with the Canonist faith. Afterwards, the bride and groom invite all to share in the merriment of their marriage with celebrations in the Bear Trap Tavern & Inn.
 

Special invitations go out to:

His Grace, Sir Heinrik Ludovar, Duke of Kvasz, and his Noble Household.
The Right Honorable, Konstantin von Augusten, Earl of Constans, and his Noble Household.
His Lordship, Josef Galahar, Baron of Ghastenwald, and his Noble Household

His Lordship, Leopold de Anjou, Baron of Cleves, and his Noble Household

His Lordship, Arturas Whitewood, Baron of Silasia, and his Noble Household

Signed,
Lord Charles John Baruch & Lady Annika Konstanze von Leopold
 

TARNAVON BURGESS ELECTION

11th of the Deep Cold, 259 SA

Issued by: THE DUCHY OF VALWYCK

THE FIRST MUNICIPAL ELECTIONS ARE AS FOLLOWS,

Let it be proclaimed to all denizens of the village of Tarnavon that the ballots have been duly cast and counted. After a brief yet spirited campaign, the will of the townsfolk has been rendered clear. 

The final tally stands as such:

I. Holly Rodham - First in the count.

II. Fergus of Tonnebriste - Second in the count.

III. Darren Dartongue, Annika Konstanze and Nikolas Kovachev - tied for third place.

By right of receiving the largest share of the vote, Holly Rodham is hereby declared Burgess of Tarnavon, securing a second term of office following the dissolution of the interim council.

By virtue of placing second in the tally, Fergus of Tonnebriste is duly elected as Vice-Burgess.

ALDERHALL APPOINTMENTS, SECOND SESSION

In accordance with municipal custom, the newly elected officials have named their Aldermen as follows;

APPOINTED BY BURGESS RODHAM

• Annika Konstanze, Alderman
• Nikolas Kovachev, Alderman

APPOINTED BY VICE-BURGESS FERGUS

• Malcolm Glenroth, Alderman of Dissent

May Exalted Sigismund bestow clarity and wisdom upon the Alderhall, and may Saint Otto watch over Tarnavon with his enduring protection. May God bless the Duchy of Valwyck and the Imperium.

NIKOLAS KOVACHEV FOR BURGESS

To the residents of Tarnavon,

Under the guidance of His Grace, we find ourselves as a leading hub under the vast Empire’s tutelage. The village of Tarnavon has provided each and every one of us a community and life worth defending and honouring. We stand as a contrast to the heavily urbanised centers of Imperial settlement down south, as a people who have embraced the new continent’s wild rather than tamed it. We have grown our own identity, one that each of us can stand proud to be part of.

As such, I, Nikolas Kovachev, announce my running for Burgess of this admirable community. I believe that a Burgess should stand as a figure for all to look to, regardless of background or profession. As such, I have laid out three key promises to benefit an array of people within our diligent society;

MILITARY WAGES

From my first day within this town, I have served dutifully under His Grace’s Greyguard. I have fought firsthand alongside my brothers in arms, and risked life and limb, and yet I see no relief for those who would lay their life down for our Haven in the Woods. As Burgess, I swear to push for an official payment system to be granted upon our diligent soldiers, so that they may receive adequate compensation for military service rendered.