ISSUED BY THE DUCHY OF LORRAINE

On the 13th of Harren’s Folly, 647 AA

Penned by the hand of HL,

Eirene of Myrine

His Imperial Excellency, Sir Lothar ‘the Mustang’ d’Amaury,

Grand Knight of the Empire and Duke of Lorraine

Her Ladyship, Eirene Mareno,

Lady of Myrine

Her Ladyship, Olympe Amalia d’Amaury,

Lady of Lorraine

ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴄᴀʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ

↢ ⊰ ☼ ⊱ ↣

↢ ⊰ ☼ ⊱ ↣

Thereupon, the lush glades of Lorraine did a young man-at-arms rest beneath a golden-leaf tree, his sword leaning against the trunk as his solitary muted eye gazed at the high blaze… but as the sun’s rays peek through the canopy of that golden brush, that Eshænveurd would grace his face with that leather of his gauntlet, contemplating the past. The war has ended, and his time with the retinue of Lorraine has been long, his sword claiming many foes, but still he thinks about the day six years ago that prompted him to enlist under the magnificent Duke, Lothar d’Amaury…

It was six years ago,

That youth was even younger, a boy of ten, and three years earlier who washed up on the shores of the Burgundian Empire of Azuras. Still, he ventured to an event in the capital, in Little Lorraine. He was a child, unscarred, simply hoping to attend a festival. However… that day changed his life forever. The festival was small, with only a few in attendance, though the resident guards of Lorraine stood around, after the contest of archery finished in the borough, a flood of bandits attacked Little Lorraine and those who partook in the festivities of Saint Julia… 

↢ ⊰ ☼ ⊱ ↣

Upon that Dwed’s death, 

That Savoyard would surge forth upon the other brigands, that youth having slain his first descendant, invigorating his very being, rushing within the fray towards that Druscan knight and their great-axe-wielding huscarl, who joined in the defense of his knight. Both did those brigands fight with the ferocity of caged animals, fending off against that claymore-wielding Trostine Stormguard and that Automaton Behemoth, their armaments biting against each other as that ear-writhing screech of metal upon metal would sound within the streets of Little Lorraine. 

The Holy Ser, finding themselves within a bind against their own foe, wrestling within the mud of those streets, however, through it all… That Savoyard spotted that blade, that fearsome blade, that legendary blade, that killer of his kin, that Gloire Drusque- and he sought to kill the one wielding it despite his youth. Vengeance was all that coursed through this boy’s veins at that very moment, and such was seen in his charge, for he lept over the table to bring his simple sword upon his target, that Druscan. Though… As violence is one with those of the Eshænveurd yoke, so is that of hubris, and that simple boy proved such. For in his folly, in his ire, that Druscan turned towards that raven-haired youth and made a simple motion to cleave that boy’s very head in twain…

For one of the final fledgelings of the line of Ashford de Savoie. . . all was near lost.

But a miracle was loosed from the heaven, that Lucis grasping upon that Druscan, that Holy Ser sending forth a blade to inhibit that Druscan, it trifled with that Robber Knight’s aim, and that Gloire Drusque aimed for that boy’s head, instead struck that very blade he held aloft to attack with- breaking it to splinters, a clean cut forming upon that youth’s face. He would die lest given immediate care, but with such care, he would live… That brigand soon was dispatched, his huscarl fleeing with his axe thrown unto the ground… 

The battle was won, 

But the only injured was that very child, Cesári Ashford de Savoie, with his face bearing the trail of a cleave from carbarum… Though once again, through a miracle, an angel shot from the heavens, flaxen of hair, the blessing of health coursing through their very fingers, all to simply nurture this boy to stability… and healed he was, brought back to the safety of the capital, where he would live to fight another day… and upon his recovery one would find that very youth fighting within the south, the the black flag of Savoy within his grasp, fighting under the green banners of Lorraine. And at the top of his lungs did he scream aloud that infamous warcry…

BLOOD FOR ASHFORD!

Union of

Carnelle & Varoche

In a matter most formal, we hereby proclaim the joyous news of union. With a humble sermon, the souls of His Lordship Henri of the Baronial House Carnelle and Her Ladyship Lucrezia of the most storied House Varoche were joined as one. It is said they exchanged rings within a small parish church on the outskirts of our most glorious Imperial City of Rittersberg. Thus was marked the first day of their devoted service to one another as husband and wife.

As the roots of this merry union sprung, so did the fruits. For the youthful House Carnelle welcomes its newest generation. A blessing made twice as we proclaim the birth of  two boys at the nearing end of the year 642 of the Tiberian calendar. Great was the joy in the twilight of that year and greater still the promise of years to come.

Therefore, we confirm their names of these sons of Carnelle:

A N   I N V I T A T I O N   F O R   B A P T I S M

It is in our intention to invite those who may find interest in this ever so special matter to witness the baptism of both Raymond Marcel Carnelle and Dante Felipe Carnelle. With that said we invite the following Houses and their pedigrees alongside our family and friends:

Imperial Majesty, HADRIAN I, Emperor of Man, and his Imperial Retinue

His Princely Highness, MARTIUS I, Prince of Blackvale, and his Princely Retinue

His Princely Highness, CASSIUS I, Prince of Myrine, and his Princely Retinue

His Royal Highness, EDWARD II, Archduke of Alba, and his Royal Retinue

His Grace, LOTHAR IV, Duke of Lorraine, and his Noble Pedigree

The Honourable, JEAN-BAPTISTE I, Viscount of Joyeuse, and his Noble Pedigree

His Lordship, ANTONIO I, Baron of Rosalervo, and his Noble Pedigree

Don Niccolo di Rosavena e Montelliano, and his Noble Pedigree

Lord Mayor of Rittersberg, Sebastien Jean-Chastel 

A L L   C I T I Z E N S   O F   T H E   E M P I R E   O F   M A N

His Lordship, Equyer of the Golden Oak, Henri Dante Carnelle

Her Ladyship, Lucrezia Varoche-Carnelle

- A Celebration of Devotion, Bonds & Quiet Affection   -
- Held Within Little Lorraine, of Rittersburg -                                   

Music

St. Julia and the people of Little Lorraine invite all to pause and cherish what they hold dear.

St. Julia, often called the “Mother Saint,” embodies motherhood, humility, and faithfulness. Though her prominence has faded over time, she remains remembered in the Scrolls as the wife of Horen - wise, steadfast, and far from docile. One verse tells how she entered her family’s holy tabernacle and gathered her three sons, bidding them remain while she walked the camp in search of Iblees. Observing Horen’s absence, Iblees entered the camp to tempt the people, but Julia, recalling her husband’s warning, revealed the Denier and cast him out, leaving him wroth. She is thus remembered not only for care and devotion, but also for courage and discernment.

In her honor, the streets of Little Lorraine will be adorned with festive colors, lined with shops and vibrant displays. Visitors may wander through stalls offering exotic foods, delicate desserts, sweet candies, and warm, spiced drinks. Games and small amusements will be scattered throughout the quarter, encouraging friendly rivalry and shared joy.

The Burning Crow Distillery will host its open hookah lounge, providing a place to gather, unwind, and share conversation beneath soft candlelight and drifting smoke. Music, warmth, and celebration will fill the streets as Little Lorraine welcomes all who wish to join in the festivities.

St. Julia’s Day will also offer a feast of flavors from both Qali and Lotharingian traditions. Hearty, spiced dishes meant for sharing mingle with delicate sweets and comforting treats, filling the air with tempting aromas and inviting guests to linger, savor, and enjoy the company of others.

Festival Activities

The Joust Of The Fair Maiden - (A Joust - Held Within The Rittersberg Jousting Arena) (500 Mina Prize  & Trophy) 

Cupid’s In Training (A short archery range using bows & targets) 
Rose Toss (Dice Game/Ring Toss)

Lovers River (Lazy River Ride)

Lover’s Wall (Lovers may inscribe their names upon a wall within Little Lorraine.)

The ST. Julia’s Day Festival is funded and backed by the IBA (Imperial Business Association)
 

Interested in running a stall, or booth at the festival? Send word to Sebastien Jean-Chastel to join the celebration! (Discord Starfelt)
 

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Lorraine, where the echoes of ancient steeds and the whispered counsel of knights still linger, every stone, river, and forest holds a tale. The people of this proud place have, for centuries, lived by the twin pillars of honor and faith, shaping a culture steeped in chivalry, devotion, and courage. From the hallowed halls of noble courts to the mist-shrouded villages of the commonfolk, stories have always been the lifeblood of Lorraine, binding its people across generations and time.

It is to these stories, myths, and heroes that The Storytellers Treasury is devoted. Here, we gather the epic tales of knights and errants, the whispered folklore of fae and saints, and the lyrical verse of troubadours who have long celebrated love, valor, and virtue. Our pages seek to illuminate the grandeur of Lothringian heritage, to preserve the sagas of those who upheld the Cross, the lance, and the honor of their people, and to ensure that the songs of their deeds echo far beyond the forests and hills of Lorraine.

In the Treasury, you will find more than mere chronicles. You will find the legends of chevaliers who rode against impossible odds, the secrets of pilgrimage and relics, and the vibrant tapestry of a people who prize art and literature as fiercely as they prize valor on the battlefield. Here, the line between history and myth blurs, for every tale carries the heartbeat of Lorraine itself. The Storytellers Treasury is a place for all who seek to step into this world, whether as readers, writers, or chroniclers. We offer a haven where the legacy of Lothringian chivalry, faith, and artistry is not only remembered but celebrated, inviting you to lose yourself in the timeless dance of courage, honor, and wonder.

For those who wish to hold these stories in hand, physical copies of the first tale, and future works of the Treasury, may be found at our stall in Rittersburg, Little Lorraine.

Authors, poets, and chroniclers who wish to see their works kept, sold, and shared beneath the seal of the Storytellers Treasury are invited to reach out. If you carry a story worth preserving, there is room for it here. Many tales yet remain untold. All business inquiries may be directed to Sebastien Jean-Chastel.
 

 
 A Story By - Sebastien Jean-Chastel

The first story kept within the Storytellers Treasury is a romance of oath and quiet wonder. It follows a Lothringian knight sent to guard what his vows did not name, and the presence he finds waiting for him in the deep woods of Lorraine. Beneath gold leaves and watchful stone, duty softens into devotion, and faith is tested not by force, but by mercy. What passes between them is not claimed, nor spoken aloud, yet it binds all the same.

This is a tale of vows made where no court stands witness, of love that lingers rather than conquers, and of a knight who rides on changed, carrying something truer than glory. Thus begins the Storytellers Treasury, with a promise kept in shadow and remembered in silence. 

The Storytellers Treasury does not close with a single tale.

More stories of Lorraine, and other realms will follow- romances and legends, myths half remembered, and the lives of heroes whose names deserve to be spoken again. New voices and new hands will soon join the Treasury, each adding their own telling to its growing shelves.

(A Business of the Rittersburg Business Association)

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The Golden Oak Grows: Round Table Chronicles I

‡

The Krak des Châtaigne

Dawn broke above the mountains that loomed over Alba, its light climbing toward the Krak des Châtaigne where Sir Lothar d’Amaury, Count of Metz, stood upon the battlements. His gaze rose from the squire, ward, and men-at-arms that ran their morning laps and to the streets of Little Lorraine below whose businesses began to bustle with activity even in the early hours. The Dragon-Knight smiled, for he had come from nothing to this.

Yet still he yearned for more

From the Chronicles of Lorraine, as recorded by Count Lothar d'Amaury

Those who knew me as a squire understood ambition. Those who stood beside me as a Knight of the Dragon learned its cost. Those who stand with me now as Count of Metz know that this – all of this – is only the beginning.  

When my brothers and I landed in Grense, we had nothing but each other, and the years ahead of us as we gave our blood and sweat to the Militarum. Launfal and Morgause came first, believing in this vision of mine. They stood at my side when I confronted my cousin, Elis d'Amaury, then Countess of Rhoswood, and declared that I would be the future of House d'Amaury. It was not what I possessed that decided my victory, but the future I would build.

Years of service followed , marches, musters, the quiet work of proving ourselves where the Empire needed us most. For that service, the Crown granted me the Krak des Chantaigne while I yet remained a Knight. A meager keep, fit for a captain and his retinue, but stone enough to build upon.

At the Round Table, I told the Châtillons – a family of chevalliers, warriors to their core – what I will tell any who ask: I will not build a Lorraine of feasts and pomposity, nor one that forgets what forged it. Our people are warriors; they will remain warriors. The Golden Oak will rise to the standards once set by the Golden Spur. When they heard this, Rafael and his brothers did not hesitate. They swore themselves to a Knight with nothing but vision and a borrowed keep - not to promises of comfort, but to a standard worth upholding.

The Pour House's Effect

Though my banners rose, a realm cannot be made of warriors alone. Victory secures land; it does not make it live. I met Gennad var Vigo during his hunt for eggs and learned to see past the mustache and eccentricities to the passion beneath. Where Gennad dreams, his brother Jannis ensures we can afford them. Together, the var Vigo brothers became Lorraine's economic engine, breathing life back into the Capital's neglected quarters.

For this – the bannermen who swore themselves, the coin that began to flow, the proof that a vision could take root – Emperor Hadrian granted me the County of Metz.

Lady Cassia Mareno arrived at my table as an advisor. She remained as my betrothed. Where I saw vision, she saw structure. Where I pushed forward, she ensured we did not overextend. The Mareno name carries weight in this Empire, but it was her mind - sharp, calculating, unflinching - that earned her place at the Round Table. As the future Consort of Lorraine, she does not simply stand beside me. She shapes what Lorraine will become.

The Krak was a beginning. Little Lorraine, a foundation. But foundations are meant to be built upon. New lands await, places where the Lothringian people may plant roots that cannot be uprooted. When that time comes, Lorraine will rise not as a county, but as something greater: a realm built by those who bled for it, a shield for the Empire, a home for those who refuse to settle for survival when they could claim legacy.

I do not need men who kneel. I need men who build.

Lorraine offers no easy path. There will be no idle feasts, no titles handed out like festival favors. What I offer instead is this: a place to forge something that outlasts us. Recognition earned through deed, not purchased through bloodline. A seat at a table where your voice carries weight if you have proven it worthy of being heard.

I sit among my men, not above them. I have bled beside them, eaten beside them, planned beside them. This is not charity, it is the price of building something real.

In return, I require action over words. Loyalty proven through sweat and steel, not promised in flowery oaths that evaporate when tested. Ambition will find fertile ground here, I reward those who earn it, but ambition without discipline builds nothing but ruin.

Dawn had given way to morning when Lothar turned from the battlements. Below, the work continued, hammers on stone, voices in the marketplace, steel ringing in the training yard. Little Lorraine lived, and with it the promise of something greater.

The Golden Oak grows. Its roots run deep, its branches reach toward the sky. Lorraine rises – not in isolation, but as part of something larger. A shield for the Empire. A home for those who refuse to settle.

The question is not whether Lorraine will rise. The question is who will rise with it.

 

The Count of Metz, Sir Lothar d’Amaury, announces the intention of matrimony between he and Cassia Mareno. The consecration of this holy union of leal families, alike in their undying fealty to God, Emperor, and Empire, if different in origin, shall mark a new era for the House d’Amaury and bring to the Imperium a future for the Aurvergnian people. In custom of the highest order, the promised couple have registered their intention to wed by means of a bann of matrimony, so that any lawful objections of canonical impediments may be presented and known.

In observance of the war effort, one which both parties have committed body and spirit to, the wedding shall be postponed until His Imperial Majesty deems it appropriate for the luxurious splendor that it will require. Lady Cassia has made her intention known that her hand shall be withheld from the ring until her future husband has proven his worthiness, a stipulation that Sir Lothar has accepted. When this time comes, when the immediate threat of the invading hordes of un-man have been driven from the rightful estates of Man, precise details for the ceremony and all associated festivities shall be made public.

Letters are sent outward by courier doves from the high walls of the Krak des Châtaigne, the beat of wings echoing out across the mountains that rest beneath the keep. The letters were carried wide across the realm to their prospective parties and intended recipients. The notes themselves were bound flaxen parchments stained with a deep mauve ink. Upon the closed envelope would be the wax stamped sigil of d’Amaury and a depiction of the van Aert hound upon the front. It thereafter read upon being opened:
 

You are cordially invited to the blessed union of d’Amaury and van Aert beneath the Lorraine Cross. The pairing of His Lordship Hughes Augustus d’Amaury and Her Highness Lady Romhilda van Aert shall occur within the Imperial Capital at the Church of St. Raguel just beyond the Imperial Walls and Little Lorraine where the vows of matrimony shall be exchanged. Through this blessed ceremony will the noble houses of d’Amaury and van Aert be unified forevermore beneath the Imperial Crown. 

All those affiliated with the respective households are welcomed to attend. Household staff, retainers, soldiery, and all else who share the company of the van Aert and d’Amaury are welcomed within the halls of the Church to celebrate the betrothed. Thereafter, a celebration shall occur at the Krak des Châtaigne with drinks, song, and celebration. 

The following personal invitations were sent out to the following individuals and their households:
 

From the Groom:

☨ His Imperial Majesty, Hadrian I, Emperor of Man

☨ His Imperial Highness, Prince Johannes Marius

☨ His Imperial Highness, Crown Prince Marcus Tiberias

☨ His Imperial Highness, Prince Titus Alexander

☨ Sir Arn Honeywine, Grand Knight of the Order of the Red Dragon

☨ Sir Zubayr, The Sandstorm

☨ Sir Severin, The Daring

☨ Sir Redgar Kildrakken, The Flamefed

☨ Sir Khaleed, The Sunspear

☨ Sir Leofric, The Dagger

☨ Sir Darius, The Bulwark

☨ Sir Carl, the Blackfish

☨ The Lady Anne Margery

☨ The Lady Sussana Augusta

☨ Clan Father Rhorgvar Frostbeard and Clan Frostbeard

☨ The Lady Andromede, Imperial Physician 

From the Bride:

♰ His Royal Majesty, Haraldr, King of Norland

♰ Her Highness, Ilse, Princess of Norland

♰ Her Highness, Adeline Alstion-Mareno

♰ Her Highness, Circe Mareno

♰ Her Ladyship, Konstanze von Augusten

♰ The Faithful, Sister Frederica of Reinmar

♰ The Faithful, Abbot Anton of Reinmar

♰ Dragomir Rauðrdrakar, Son of the Thegn of Norland

♰ Rodrigo Tupaq Leomonte 

♰ Klunk the Warrior

♰ Ark of Horen

OOC: