Arthur Callahan sent two letters, one to Sir Terrence May GCM and another to a like-minded publicist for small-scale production, to be printed for scholastic circles.

“To Terrence, my friend,

    Blessings upon you and your house, with earnest love of Man. It has been some time since we have conversed, and even longer still since we have worked in tandem upon the field of political debate, so I hope all is well with yourself and family. My own children, my dear daughters have all moved away from my humble abode here in Nobleton, leaving their old man to tend the fields in lonesome. A melancholic feeling, to be sure, though I could feel only but pride when my youngest, o sweet An’, made her way to the altar of matrimony, taking her hand the love of her fortune and seeing to a family of her own. I could only wish that my darling Catherine could have seen such a sight, something which I dread to this day knowing she will never meet her grandchildren.

    However, during this otherwise jovial affair, I could not keep my eyes off the cross which hung from the small church’s roof, a symbol which once gave my peace of mind that now gives only nausea and repugnance. This icon should be one of contentment and joy, something to instill unity and fraternity among humanity; but in truth, it has done quite the opposite. The full range of our ilk has remained ostracized by cries of misguided zealotry, enslaving us from our Natural Rights through spiritual shackles, deriving from a body which holds no accountability to humanity. Even worse, we are forced to abide by this ‘state within a state’ through archaic heresy laws which aid only the clerical elite and the tomfoolish nobility which clings so helplessly to power in the waves of Josephite liberalism. While we have destroyed the body of physical slavery, as proclaimed in Nenzing over half a century ago, cultural and religious slavery remains an ever threat to the cause of Common Man, enforcing arbirtrary rulings of subjective morality upon the people and encouraging continuous division of lands of Horen.

    Vigilant we must be against this long-lasting attack against the Rights of Man and against superstitious rulings which have led humanity through dark age after dark age, war after war, and massacre after massacre. Spiritual and cultural slavery must be destroyed in totality and complete righteous fury. Shall we remember the famous words which sprung this new age of enlightenment?

“THE RIGHT TO LIFE, so no man will ever be taken to the Skies so soon.

THE RIGHT TO LIBERTY, so no man will ever be bonded by the shackles of slavery. 

THE RIGHT TO TRIAL, so no man will ever be wrongly accused when not charged by a trial of their peers.    

These rights are the backbone of human liberty and law, preventing the slip of chaos as seen in time immemorial, acting as a shield before the dark arrows of tyranny and selfish ambition. All sons of the First Prophet, no matter of blood, language, or culture, carry upon them these golden laurels of freedom, through right of birth and sapienic kinship.”

-On the Rights of Man (ORC), Holy Orenian Emperor Joseph I, 1718

It is our duty as all sons and daughters of humanity to defend these rights from the tyrannical grip of all, whether by secular or religious authority. With the sword of reason, we must battle all infringement of these rights, including the Right to Liberty to be free of all kinds of indentured servitude, both in physical and mental hardship. Allow me, my friend, to detail my thoughts to you of this matter below.

Argument from Free Will and Consciousness

    Before I begin my first argument, we must first establish what it is I argue. As humans, we are given the obligation from having a coherent mind to act by their intelligence, or by their conscience. A Canonist will claim that to achieve salvation, it must be consciously chosen by the individual (i.e. Salvific Grace). To quote a passage from a recent thesis I read while tending to my garden,

“As stated in Holy Scripture, God is our Father (Horen 1:5-6), and like any father, His aim is our ultimate satisfaction, here on earth through virtue and the worldly pleasures He has given us, and later union and theosis with Him in the Skies (Horen 3:3-4). Seeing as it is God’s ultimate will for us to be saved, and there are people who are damned (Sigismund 2:44-45), and seeing as God is our Father and a father’s ordered aim is the good of their progeny God cannot be evil, it, therefore, follows that any of the damned are damned due to their own Free Will. 

If God, therefore, does not will for the damnation of some and the salvation of other, but rather the salvation of all of those who wish to heed His word: there is no unconditional election, wherein all are either saved or damned according to His whim, but a conditional election of all those who wish to be saved, which he knows due to his position outside of time. 

The condition upon which the salvation of the individual depends upon is, very clearly, the reception of baptism at the hands of His priesthood (Godfrey 5:23-24). Thusly without baptism and the reception into God’s salvific plan, there is no salvation for the soul of the individual because he was never called in the first place.”

-On Salvation and Salvific Grace, Br. Stephen Carolus, 1762 AH

    If we are to follow this logic, two main points (or ‘immunities’) may be derived. First, no one can be compelled to act against his Free Will or ‘conscience’, else act contrary to the notion that salvation must be freely chosen. Secondly, no one can be hindered in acting according to their Free Will or ‘conscience’, whether in public and private settings or in lonesome and in company, else have their Free Will impeded upon and it made null and void. To act contrary to these two ‘immunities’ would cancel the very notion of Free Will as preached by the clerics. Commonly, the Canonists assume that the ‘conscious’ choice of humanity is to follow their religion, yet time and time again it is shown that this is not the case. Someone who acts according to their ‘conscience’ can act contrary to the order of the Church, from the Red Faith followers of the Nordisch, the Lendians of the Haeseni, the Owynists of the Kaedreni, and so on and so forth, who have all freely chosen their faith through ‘conscious’ action. To stop them from this choice is inherently breaching the Free Will given to us, as claimed by Canonists, from God and Divine Providence, and therefore breaking the very scripture which they claim to hold close to their hearts.

    The counter which many clerics will profess is that heresy acts against the ‘moral order’. But what is the morality which we so tenuously cling to? Even the very chanting and rambling priests know not. Is a woman to cover her shoulders or not? Is a priest to marry or not? Is it right to kill elves for the sake of God or not? Every pontiff since time immemorial have continuously flipped on moral issues again, again, and again, with almost a lack of care of what the previous head proclaimed (whatever happened to infallibility, hah!). Morality has become subjective and arbitrary, inconsistent and prone to the biases and willful interpretations. We, as a country bounded by Natural Law, must move past this ‘moral good’ and see to the ‘juridical good’, an order based upon law and reason. It is by the juridical order which our Empire is founded upon, and from the reasoning above, it is the only station from which the nation may rule from. To enforce a state religion based solely upon ‘moral order’ brings to ruin the very fabric of our courts and legal system, which interprets based not on whimsical morality but on time-proven legalities. Furthermore, in order to defend the rights of consciousness from the rabid zealots, the Crown must bear the responsibility of maintaining the freedom of the people to their own Free Will and conscience, away from the tyrannical attempts to enslave the minds of men.

Argument from the Preservation of State Power

    The Crown and the Empire holds sole power over the realm of humanity, second to no man and woman of any standing. To quote from our famous Orenian Revised Code,

“By the nature of his body, the Emperor is alike to other men--but by his authority, he is above all others, and no man can claim greater jurisdiction.  The Imperial Office is that of the Lord’s vice-regent in this world, and is wholly unbound by common or temporal law. He is inalienable and indomitable, as he must be so as to govern justly and fairly [...] Yet no man is his judge, and God his only confessor.  The Emperor is eminent in all things; he is above the sun that retreats before darkness, and the seas which accede to the ravings of the stars. He is greater than the winds which toss without abandon, and the earth that lays indolent still despite calamity. The Emperor is Oren manifest: successor to its prophets and master to the world, the sovereign of all humanity who provides that esteemed folk with just governance.”

-Exordium on Imperial Authority (ORC), Rev. Charles Polycarp, 1527

    As said in this very quote, ‘the Emperor is eminent in all things; he is above the sun that retreats before the darkness and the seas which accede to the ravings of the stars’, the power of the Crown is boundless and immaculate. A powerful statement in establishing the legal authority from which all courts derive from. However, this power has been consistently questioned and breached by an outside force, who sees themselves as the Chosen of God and not the Imperial Monarch. I speak, of course, of the Canonist Church, who abides not to the Crown but their own independent creed. By allowing this corrupt body to maintain monopoly over the rulings of what is ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ (i.e. the judgement of what is ‘heresy’), the absolute power of the Crown is brought to horrendous heel, making the very Imperial Monarch a slave to another state. Is this any different than the dark times of Dwarven yolk during the Exodus and Era of Five Kings, where a foreign body is allowed to dictate legality at the sake of the Common Man? We must cancel and destroy this diabolical ‘state within a state’, and recognize that there is only one true authority of the land- the Crown and the Imperial State, from which the burdens of governance and defense of the people are laid upon its theoretical shoulders.

Argument from Pan-Humanism and Orenism

    My friend, do you remember our joint debate against Miss Vivica Rutledge all those years ago regarding what the term ‘Oren’ means? Many people have forgotten its Flexio root, its primordial definition which gives credence to our fair Empire. Oren, or properly Orenia, is Humanity. But what kind of humanity? Is it only some of humanity, with others allowed to exist on the outskirts, outside of any legal authority? If this is the case, then to call ourselves ‘Oren’ in any way is a disrespect to our ancestors of yore, a spit upon their very graves. But if we are to bear the mantle that Prophet Horen once bore, the duty of the Crown becomes manifest: it is the responsibility of the Emperor to unite ALL OF HUMANITY under civic banner, not merely the Canonists of archaic thinking.

    The greatest myth of our age is that ‘Canonism unites Humanity’. But this is entirely false, a social construct built by the ambitious clerics to maintain their jaws on the heart of man. Was it not recently that the High Pontiff attempted to crown independent kings without respect for the Orenist cause? Is not the Church actively supporting a pseudo-fief of Vulliermorz, composed entirely of humans, without respect for Imperial Authority? Is not the Church actively allowing its priests to create material calling for the bloodshed of fellow men? Furthermore, if we look back in history, this trend comes even more apparent and clear even to the blind. Was it not the Church which aided and abetted the Franciscan Massacre with the aid of foreign powers all those centuries ago? How many needless men and women have been butchered by brigands in the cloaks of crusaders (shall we recall the Order of Saint Amyas and other like-minded groups?) for the sake of their own petty gain? I say now, this shall happen no longer.

    Even further, the use of Canonism as a state religion has hampered our ability to fully unite humanity in any true form, for bygone are the days where Canonism reigned outright. Countless humans, from north to south, have sought spiritual comfort in diverse religions and codes of conduct, and no longer can we claim that humanity’s religion is truthfully Canonism. In reaching the goal of a humanity united under one nation and one law, we must realize that the unifying ties of Canonism in fact creates needless division, an ethos which has failed its very purpose. Look we must instead to a civic religion, a duty not to any god but to the Crown, with any responsibilities given for the sake of humanity and not injudicious superstitions. Our neighbors and peers of Oren must be joined together in hands of common kinship and nationality, and in achieving this goal, we must do away with that which disregards blood for supercilious faith.

In Conclusion

    What then do I intend to prove or enact with these arguments in mind? Looking forward into the future of the Empire, we must see the tumor of Canonism that has festered for too long in the head of the Crown, and with the knife of justice and reason we will carve it out in whole. No longer will humanity be put down by the ambitious and selfish who use faith as a vehicle of power and oppression. This is why I propose the following course of action,

I - The removal of any and all state religions directly supported by the Crown and Imperial State, including but not limited to heresy, heathenry, and paganry laws.

II - The establishment of a religious tolerance and freedom throughout the Imperial State.

III - The guarantee of a Right to Thought and Belief (encompassing religion, spirituality, and any moralist code), to be counted among the Josephite Rights of Man.

    Even though I may never see it in my lifetime, my old friend, I believe in a future where our destinies are not preordained by a sadistic god and his villainous band of preachers, where every man is the oracle of his own fate, and where the prophecies of every individual is written by the sweat and blood of their brow. 

In traditional Josephite cry, I say boldly: HARKEN ALL YE SONS OF LIBERTY, FOR THE CLERICAL REIGN OF TERROR COMES TO AN END. This I proclaim for the furtherance of Our Commonwealth.

Your friend and ally,

Arthur K. Callahan”

The Arcane Zodiac was born from the henotheistic faith and stargazing traditions of the ancient Rudrans and Rhenyari. Each patron represents a constellation and lords over a domain of ~51° of celestial longitude. When a patron’s constellation over the Rudran sky, the world is said to be under the realm of said patron, and superstition dictates that actions and fortunes are influenced by their temperaments.

In reality, the zodiac was born as the henotheism of the Rudrans took root to describe the many natural elements around them as aspects of one God. While there are countless deities in the Rudran tradition, seven became the most well-known beyond the Rhen due to their association with the calendar. They rule over flame, wind, water, stone, storm, iron, and the arcane - the former four are regarded as classical elements, represented by natural creation, while the latter three are regarded as mythic elements, believed to be borne from sorcery, and are represented by creatures of mythology.

Through the efforts of Rhenyari sailors, this Rudran pantheon spread through magi circles in the mainland with such intensity that in most Oreni circles it is known as the Arcane Zodiac. The zodiac’s popularity rests in teaching acolytes the expanse of the Void through the use of celestial bodies and the great space between them. The lesson that both magi and stars are tiny points of light in an infinite Void also helped magi sway the dogmatic that their practice was not of the occult but that in reverence to the celestial heavens and Seven Skies. Furthermore, The Holy Rudras teachings of the power of nothingness and the nature of the Void made them popular texts in magi circles, and with it, came its calendar.

While the Arcane Zodiac is predominantly rooted in the culture of magi and used namely in its nomenclature and teachings, through the practice of augurs and fortune tellers, it has also found its way among the smallfolk. Many humans know their sign and understand the classical implications that sign may have, but only the most superstitious would claim them as truths. Pagan cults have formed in homage to the patrons, but they are few, far between, and looked at with utter irreverence. Instead, the Arcane Zodiac’s place in society is as a marker of the mystical and it serves as a cultural foil to both religious custom and the orthodoxy of Oren.

KITRAN, the Steed

11th Grand Harvest - 11th Sun’s Smile
Patron of Flame.
Associations: The Exalted Owyn, flame, liberty, celestial bodies, star gazing, adrenaline, comets, dunes, speed, recklessness, adventure, riding, hunting, dueling, battlemagic, the outdoors.

Kitran leads the Arcane Zodiac as the first of its pantheon. 

In old Rudran, he is known as കിരൺ, or Kiran.

ESA, the Lily
11th Sun’s Smile - 11th Amber Cold
Patron of Air.
Associations: The Exalted Godfrey, the wind, gales, pomp, etiquette, literacy, chivalry, fencing, vanity, romance, lust, 

In old Rudran, she is known as ഡോൾഡ്ര, or Doldra.

TEPHES, the Elephant
11th Amber Cold - 11th Deep Cold
Patron of Water
Associations: The Exalted Sigismund, waterfalls, wisdom, steam, ice, majesty, regality, apathy, lethargy, 

In old Rudran, she is known as ടെഫന്ന or Tephanna.

NAM, the Beetle
11th Deep Cold - 11th Snow’s Maiden
Patron of Stone
Associations: The Exalted Horen, stone, earth, piety, prickliness, pluckiness, obdurance, inquisitiveness, 

In old Rudran, he is known as ഇർജ, or Nam.

MAHARA, the Siren
11th Snow’s Maiden - 11th Malin’s Welcome
Patron of Storm
Associations: The Exalted Owyn, lightning, tempests, typhoons, serpents, missiles, sailing, brilliance, insanity, screamers, berserkers, rage, passion, childbirth, turmoil.

In old Rudran, she is known as മഹാര, or Mahara.

The powerful lightning bolt clings to the cloud to turn it to rain. It opens the womb and soon there will be the birth of new life.

BARRAMAN, the Golem
11th Malin’s Welcome - 11th First Seed
Patron of Iron
Associations: The Exalted Godfrey, iron, metalworking, alchemy, telekinesis, craftsmanship, composure, humor, humility, geniality, service, folksiness, klutz. 

In old Rudran, he is known as ബജമ്മ, or Bajamma.

ARSAN, the Wraith
11th First Seed - 11th Grand Harvest
Patron of the Arcane
Associations: The Exalted Sigismund, the arcane, knowledge, strategy, clairvoyance, entropy, arrogance, intrigue, mystery,

“I am the shadow between the eye and the mind.”

In old Rudran, he is known as അർജ, or Arja.
 

The northern winds howled through the ruins of the once holy place now all but rubbles. The red mist continuously flowing through the rock, the phylactery was flowing faster and faster. The trio arrived at the finish line of the cold journey. Rohir Vaueryn, Sergei Harold, and last but not least, Laurelai Holly. The only three he and the golden child allowed to witness. “So must it be.” He says, and gestured to them to ascend the stairs of the ruined church. His old and worn armor was stanced in the abandoned church. The armor now still and unworn was filled with an abyss of emptiness.

Not many had seen him without his armor. Nothing less than a devil, he and his symbolic wings were wrapped in a chain. Like a parasite feeding on itself he was a devil trapped in a cycle of rage and hunger. It was finally time, and he stood atop of the rubbles and cried out his last words of a little less than three centuries.

 

“I hear my soldiers cheering for me in the halls of the skies. I hear my mother weeping, waiting for her son to return to her graceful arms. I feel my fathers wisdom beckoning me to greatness. I feel the wrath of the man in red fading away. Release me from my chains, unbind me from this endless cycle of rage and hunger. The day has come where I can finally be at peace.”

The giant crack in the roof of the church ceiling shined a light on the night, ushering Atlas closer and closer. And so, he raised his arms toward the sky embracing his long awaited end.

“Eliza, I’m coming. Hold out, my little sunshine. Father is coming home.”

The crimson eyes shut for a last time, and with three mighty strikes Laurelai shatters the phylactory, and with it shatters the chains. The cycle ends, and Atlas is finally and truly dead.


To those he could not say goodbye to, he sent letters.

 

OOC NOTE

Thank you, all of you so much for a nice journey. This character was created all the way back in Helena during the times where I had properly rejoined LOTC and has been some of the most fun, dramatic and amazing RP I have ever had. To all his friends, all his enemies, thank you. 

Zakajaervi
















 

♪♫♪

The youthful hues of Vivienna Adelaide traced up ivory walls. 

Ivory walls that had seemed to have faded to gray a bit whilst the rain tapped atop the roof of the castle. Her view of the place had changed since she could remember some time ago. She walked the solemn halls now, a place she seldom left as a child, she was now never to return to. She could almost feel the presence within the halls that had once been bustling with courtiers, though with a sharp turn of her head the imagined rustles of passer-byers dissipated into the cold air of Castle Stassian. 

Her hand rose as she continued on, the empty halls seemingly growing longer as she trudged onward, her fingers tracing the lines along the wall as she passed them by. For one last time she climbed the stairs leading to her room, the steps seeming even higher than they’d ever been. Her gaze shifted as she reached the landing, her eyes glancing down the hall opposite her own before pushing herself through the threshold into the Royal Quarters. 

The girl sat first, slowly allowing herself to lay atop her neatly made bed. Her eyes, peering through the slats of her room divider at the wall across. Her form sat completely still, a sensation built up within her. A slight pinch from within her nose prior to the cascade of tears from her eyes and down her face. 

Her eyes closed then, the darkness of her eyelids flooded with bright memories of her childhood- of her mother. Once more her eyes opened, and those memories were washed away like sand on a beach. All that was left was the overbearing silence of her room, only broken by the heavy breaths of the child resting atop of covers. 

A disconcerting atmosphere presented itself upon every inch of the courtroom, Queen Vivienne stood to the flank of her eldest daughter Maude Fredericka along the dias - stoic expression planted on top of her paled visage of distress. Longing canvases glanced up at her beloved husband, his plagued state only filling her being with a certain hollowed sadness. The savoyard briskly centred her gaze back to her eldest, a gentle grin seeking refuge ‘pon her expression of motherhood. “When this is ove-” She began, only to be cut off with the booming of the court doors being forcefully pushed open by those inhabitants of Acre. Many flooded in, all unsheathing their blades outwards - thirsty for the blood of the crown. A gulp emitted that of Vivienne, instantly grasping upon Maude Fredericka’s digits as a sign of acknowledgment and empty protection. She unsheathed her own weapon - a dagger gifted by her father before his untimely disappearance. Eyebrows knitted solemnly as they approached closer and closer to the dias, exchanging words with her daughter as to distract her from the strife that dispensed in the halls. “Mother, we should go. We can.” Decreed Maude, longingly grasping the hems of her mother’s skirts in an attempt to move her further from the viewpoint of the new arrivals. “I cannot leave your father.” Her teeth gritted in a perturbed manner - and there was no way of changing her strong willed mind when it came to her husband. As they advanced forwards to what was deemed as only centimetres away from the dias, one member of the crowd proved devious. With a display of strength did he release his edge sharpened weapon in the direction of the mother and child - waving in the direction of Maude. The events happened so frantically that Vivienne did not even acknowledge her bodice racing to cover her eldest - its blade splicing the flank of her neck rather deeply.

The oozing carmine stained blood did not gush in a constant flow, albeit in time with the precious beating of Vivienne’s heart. At first it came abundant and vigorous, flowing through bony fingers as she shakily clasped the ripped flesh from the flank of her neck and attempted to apply pressure. Vivienne identified the blood trickle over the surface of her hand, the thick fluid no warmer or cooler than her own flesh. Subsequently the cherry ichor seemed to still be leaving her rapidly paling skin, but the pulses were slower, weaker. A feeble hand extended ‘pon her own visage, an image of splattered blood staining her cheek much like her mother’s death, setting a fitting parallel for the Queen. “GO!” She clamoured briskly, Vivienne’s grip that slithered around her eldest daughter only tightening robustly as disoriented canvases rested eagerly upon Maude’s own. Her tone of voice was harsh and frantic - unusual for the once well kept and put together Queen. “B-But-” She was swiftly cut off by the savoyard's voice once more, her mental grasp upon reality dimly beginning to fade. “Go.” Vivienne almost whispered, evidently struggling speech wise as her countenance deemed it difficult to emit nothing more than a simple word. Her tone differentiated from last though, more welcoming and accepting. Palpably did it steer clear the path of harshness, slate canvases beginning to brim with salty tears that washed the splatter of blood cleanly from the Queen’s visage. Those mesmerising grey eyes that transpired a thousand different stories, and said a thousand words with only a glance. 

Vigorous expressions of consternation engulfed the woman at once as everything became more tangible to her, the feeling of her imminent death sinking deeply within as the Princess Royal shrieked like no other. The scream told of the pain and perplexion settling within Maude Fredericka. Her being craved the warmness of her mother’s skin and her scent albeit knowing that it was not safe for her and she had to depart rather rapidly. The corners of her quivering lips began to upturn to Maude, forming a smile gracefully upon her deathly white features, filled to the brim of meaning in contrast to the hatred Vivienne had once felt towards her own eldest child at her gender. “It is okay. P-Please, go.” Granting her the permission to leave her mother to die, Maude reluctantly started to usher away from Vivienne and retreat to safety - rendered speechless. Her smile faltered some at the Princess Royal’s departure, bodice growing robustly weaker as every prolonged second skipped by. A bright light declared itself willingly to the woman as her daughter left, all other surroundings drowned out completely. It was the sort of brightness that kindled something beautiful within, and at the same time stirred a connection with the nature around.

The wearied woman continued to fight against the beaming light that deemed itself too powerful over the Queen’s weakened body - a figure that donned itself in Sutican garbs and a motherly tone presented to Vivienne. “You’ve done so well, dove. Now you can be at rest.” Its voice echoed vividly in and out of her ears, a hallucination on the part of the savoyard. 

“But what of my children? I still have unfinished business - things to do.” 

“Shh. You need not fret, for they will be taken care of. In time they will come to terms with what their mother died for.” Catherine of Sutica whispered soothingly, offering forth an arm for her daughter to take. “Carolina and your father are waiting to see you once more, dove. The pair and I have been watching over you, Lucien and Renata.” 

“I-Is he proud?” Vivienne questioned eagerly on behalf of her father, eyebrows furrowing deep. Catherine of Sutica only nodded empathetically, and with such an action did the Queen take her mother’s hand. “We all are.”

Blooming memories of the past became evident within her slate canvases - life flashing before her eyes. It conveyed to her happy and proud memories, attempting to lull her fight and fear and send her off peacefully with no whims or worries. 

Never had a few moments deliberation seemed like an eternity as Vivienne felt her consciousness ebbing away, and her thoughts, as clear and concise as they were mere moments ago, were coming to a petrifying halt. The once familiar and comforting surroundings of Vienne struck her as if forcing themselves against her weak body – throwing the caliginous haired woman’s cranium back upon the cold and hardened surface of the dias. A last sigh emitted the woman as her mind fought no longer and succumbed to the brightened light display. Vivienne Anastasie de Savoie’s blood ran cold. 
 

❁ The front of the Palazzo Aggrade in the year 1854, Principality of Savoy ❁

The scene that laid before the savoyard was nothing short of a picturesque fever dream. The summer bloom cried so many petals onto the still warm field in the Principality of Savoy; the last vestiges of her beauty waiting for a precocious gust to carry them spinning to their rest. Each petal, papery and thin, lay on the newly golden grass, its veins glowing pink in the setting sun. Vivienne observed this, lost in the rhythmic percussion of the wind uniting with the fickle blades of viridescent grass. Her slate canvases were steady to the horizon, visage aglow with the last orange rays before twilight beckons the stars. With great ease did her lips bear the semblance of a smile, just enough to show that the savoyard was within ignorant bliss. The ground seeped so rampant with nature, hues overlapping with a heady vibrancy that brought her hands swooping down on instinct. Vivienne gave permission for her fingers to graze the perfumed "scales," holding them up briefly to take in their aroma before letting them tumble from her hand back to the garden path. Every shade of rose petal was within her midst, so vast and scalloped that they had collected a slimy dew. Intermingled were the shocking oranges, purples and fuchsias of the asters, their petals long and thin. The youthful princess embellished in an array of exotic savoyardic fabrics pranced around the gardens of the Palazzo Aggrade, swaying hands with an amber haired Carolina Luisa. Erupted laughter engulfed the halls lullingly as they approached the entrance, a soothing atmosphere of sheer serenity and contentment draping over the pair of siblings. Alongside an elongated feast table stood Olivier II, Catherine of Sutica, Lucien and Renata. “You are late, dove. Did the servants not send for the two of you?” Cooed Catherine - ushering Vivienne towards the table so that she may be seated. All present only conveyed an expression of utmost joviality as a blanket of peace soothingly suffocated the former Queen. To her own stupefied surprise, the savoyard did not fight such an action. She let the peace suffocate her willingly, on her own accord. 

From up above would the former Queen of the Orenians survey over her seven children - each precious to her being in a different way. 

HOMELAND

When I was much younger than I am now, I heard people echo this word all around me. They reminisce of the rolling fields and bustling pristine capital city and towns on its outskirts, the glistening manors perched not far from the main road, and the palaces that struck them with awe. Work for your homeland, fight for your homeland, die for your homeland. And what do you do - how do you choose - when your homeland fights itself? What comes of the word, how far does homeland stretch when constricted by infighting? It feels as though the luxury of this once far-reaching term in the context of Orenian society was robbed from me. 

Those older than me knew a time when there was not tension, perhaps not peace in the foreign sphere, yet at least little friction between the Orenian peoples. I was born and raised in internal conflict, amidst the Brother’s War after the dissolution of the empire, as were others of my generation. We have never known peace like our parents have, and it is questionable even if our parents knew it either.

Can we not, as Orenians, come together as one alongside a governmental regime that listens closer to the will of the people, than to destroy our homeland in its entirety? I ask this of Acre, of the House of Novellen, of us all. Why is it that Oren must end, the Oren we have built, the Oren our ancestors died for? Why must we bring a conclusion to our customs and cultures, our community? I fail to understand the incessant need to bring the concept of nation that brings us together to its knees, to dissolve it, when it can be made better and we can put to rest the needless bloodshed of our own kin. Have we not killed each other enough already? 

We have seen kinslaying in the imperial family, brothers killing brothers, to that in our own fields. I cannot urge enough that there be some referendum, some conference, of the Orenian populace in its entirety. Dare I say regime change, but not the end of our home. If it is truly the end of our nation that the majority yearns for, then we shall see then rather than to murder one another viciously. There is never any honor in murdering those of your own nation, your brothers and sisters. We all, as Orenians, know that the true power is not derived from the miraculous nature of our rulers but from the people itself that uphold it. This rebellion should be an awakening, as was the Brothers War, that elites bleed red like commoners. 

To the Haeseni who watch as Orenian blood is spilt, mayhaps unsure of where to stand or what to do, please do not forget that we are as human as you and do not deserve the destruction of our homeland - as you did not, in the times before when Haense stood at the brink of death. I ask that you do not aid in the end of our home, as we did not with yours many years ago with the Rubern War. There is a chance that we, as humans, may prosper as two equal nations. There has always been a chance, I believe and pray that all have always known this potential to have existed, even if our rulers have not before been willing to take it because of their own grievances.

I hope that one day I shall see my homeland in its calm, peaceful state once more that is no longer driven by chaos- a homeland that is willing to cooperate with its foreign neighbors rather than exploit them; a homeland that can flourish in its multicultural origins and have an age of tranquility without having to be removed from the map; a homeland named Oren, without fear being struck down by its own brothers and sisters within.

PRO DOMO ET PATRIA,

Arabella of Providence

Wildfire

Dr. Primrose Gendik posed for a portrait in which she holds a stalk of gislocinovi in her hands. c. 1880

Night is the time of sin. 

Thievery, Lust, Murder. 

Tonight’s sin?

Arson. 

Crackling was heard from within the wooden home on the corner of the Ivanovich-named street, followed by the crashing of capsizing rooftops and floors. Unbearable heat radiated from Ivanovich 4 as it burned to the ground. 

It burned for endless hours and ate away at the alcohol-doused structure. The sins of the place would die within the flames that raged, only to finally be washed away by the downpour of rain that smothered the wrath of God. 

Penance. 

By the time the city's people awoke, there was nothing but ash and rubble left of the home. It was a home known by many. Dr. Primrose Gendik’s home. Her family had long since moved out and she lived alone. It was where guests and friends came over often for a drink or a chat over tea. The family would occasionally congregate for the cake to be shared between grandmother and grandchild. 

It was the home that many ran to in their time of need. 

Sin. A house of sin stood upon those foundations, but no one would ever think such. The Dame was a good, virtuous woman was she not?

“I’ve known Primrose for decades! She’s not like that!” Many would say.

How she wished they would choke on their words.

No one knew her.

Not even her own husband.

The people of Vienne began to take notice of the home. They searched through the remnants of the soot and debris, moving aside anything that someone could be trapped under. 

For those who had been able to enter the home before, they would have recognized the room their search had concluded in. Dr. Primrose’s laboratory was the home of many projects, mainly aiding those in need of a replacement for a missing body part. It was an art she was skilled at, and one that was done so flawlessly that one would never be able to tell the difference in the first place. 

It was there that the corpse was found. It lay beneath a scorched red cross banner, curled up in the fetal position. The room it had been in was usually locked, and only Primrose had the key…

Its body was beyond recognition. The bone was exposed in many parts and the flesh of the face was melted away by the extreme heat. Strangely, its hands were missing from the wrist. 

It was a gruesome sight, but there was only one person it could have been even if one couldn’t identify it. 

Dr. Primrose Gendik was dead.

[!] Within the mailbox, a collection of letters was found. They were distributed, particularly

one that was copied and spread throughout Almaris for the public to read.

To the public,

I am dead. None of the good you do in your life means anything when people only look at the bad things you have done. They will belittle you, taunt you, and harm you until your dying breath. 

I sought out the Lectors for confession after they witnessed an argument between my husband and I. I confessed everything I’ve ever done, even if it meant confessing killing my own kin because they were an active danger to the lives of others, especially their siblings. 

I murdered, I lied, I cheated, I stole, I blackmailed, I gave information to an enemy state for my own political gain, and I drank. I was the person who let out Bakir Ireheart when the Orenians captured him. 

I was given two options: to cut off my hands, give away all my things, and turn myself in to the Orenian authorities to confess what I’ve done, OR to kill myself. I’ve chosen both as my repentance, unbeknownst to the Lectors. 

Is this what the world has come to? Hypocrisy of duty? 

Who gets to decide what is for the greater good? Who gets to decide who gets punished for their actions? God is not here, so why are we punished before our judgment day?

The world is a museum full of meaningless exhibits and every gallery hall is bustling with idiots. You will worship what you hold dear to your heart, but nothing in this world is uncorrupt.

You did not know me.

-Dr. Primrose Gendik

[!] The other letters were delivered to their respective recipients:

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE KING IS DEAD!!!

          It has been announced that his majesty, King Frederick I, was killed during the recent raid by the men of the Barony of Acre. The raid began during the King's most recent address during the regular meeting of the Royal Court. A brief but bloody battle took place in the hall where the men of Acre made quick work of the loyal defenders of King and Country attending the address. After the men of Acre left the hall victorious, they ransacked Castle Stassion in search of the King. He was found, cornered, in his royal quarters and was killed as the men of Acre made their way into the room.

          Upon the completion of their raid, the men of Acre returned to the hall to tend to their wounds and celebrate their victory. What citizenry, who were not attacked by the raiders, that were still in the hall were invited to ask questions of Sir Gustaf de Vilain. He revealed during these questions that should his faction win the Civil War, the city of Vienne will be razed to the ground, comparing the action to "setting up a new field, sometimes you must burn the old, just like nature with forest." While this may alarm the citizenry who call the city home, the Baron has clarified that those residing in the city would be cared for and be provided accommodations after the city is razed until they determine where they will go. Lastly, the Baron declared that the men of Acre WOULD NOT be taking over the Kingdom of Oren. Instead, they would discuss with the current vassals and peers of Oren in regards to their lands and what is in store for them as the future looms closer. They made an important note that whatever may occur after their victory, the Kingdom of Oren would be no more, and would again disperse into history.

          As of the writing of this special edition of the Vienne Herald, no public announcements have been made about the current state of the country by any remaining elements of the Royal Court and/or the Royal Family. We have yet to see how the government or the people of Oren will respond, however as elements of the Kingdom do remain, a challenge will certainly present itself to the men of Acre.

LADY DE ROCHEFORT

The Fallen Minstral

Written and disputed by Heloise of Artois

Penned on the 19th of The Amber Cold, In the year of 1883

Lady of Hightower  (1880)

I write this while my soul prepares for the escape from my rotting flesh. I regret so many things but also I do not. I am proud to be of Artois. I am proud I was able to birth many children and see them be healthy. I am proud to have written a play, been a senator, and been a minstrel. I only have parting words for the ones whom I love. Which I shall begin.

My sons, 

You make me as a mother proud to see you be strong and assisting your fool of a father in his endeavors. Even though I have not been a mother and been ill all these years, a curse which befalls all mothers of my bloodline, I am truly proud. I want to see you all grow and have beautiful wives of your own. To treat them with respect and your children with the love I could not.

My daughter,

Victorie, I miss you. Mi amour, I wish I could see you grow into the rose I had hoped. If only I had not vanished you would not have vanished from me. You are Julia in her wisdom, Milena the Red, in intelligence, and Maude of Copper Court in beauty. I only wish for you to be happy. 

Baron of Halcourt,

Young lord, you have a legacy of princes to follow. Our name will only grow under your reign, you shall make your mother and forefathers proud. I remember our conversation, I want to say to treat her right. Treat your wife as a queen and respect her opinions. But do not let yourself be fully controlled by her, consorts in control only bring the worse. I have seen.

Katerina de Sarkozy,

My only friend. I miss you. I wish I could have been a better friend, I envy you for how your words are better than mine. Your words are like a gentle stream compared to my swan songs. I remember when we grew within Providence. I remember it all. The joy we had. Where did such joy go for me? I see you as a strong woman like your mother. Now strive and continue to tell the stories of old. The stories which were seen by you and I. 

Orenia and her people. Acre and his people. I wish to say goodbye. I wished to be a poet but I was nothing at all. No legacy to leave for myself but the ones whom I love or loved. Thank god I shall not see the outcome of this horrid war. I have seen too many wars in one life time, such a short life time. I only ask for the world to seek out the mistakes of the ones before and learn. So our children, great grandchildren and so on shall live in an Era of Peace. 

DIEU AVEC NOUS,

The Lady de Rochefort

Heloise of Artois

YEAR 87                                                    FLORENTINE                                                        3 MARKS

[Ferdinand Richardt]

12TH OF SUN’S SMILE

Today was a day humanity will not soon forget. King Frederick is dead, and the future of Orenia has never been more uncertain. It began, as great change often does, in court.

We were one of the first few to arrive. The King stood beside his wife in silence, waiting for peers to arrive. Only then would Frederick begin his speech. He spoke hesitantly to the few who had dared to make an appearance, tensions were high and this court was believed to be the King’s last. It only took minutes for the crashing of doors and screams of men to startle the denizens within the palace’s hall. About 40-50 figures had stormed in, armored and armed. They were led by Baron Gustaf de Vilain, drawing a chilling silence from the once proud King. It was apparent that he knew what was to come. The King was quick to denounce the men before him, calling the Acre-folk “scum to history” and that the books would remember Gustaf as a “puppet of lessers.” After heated debate, the horribly outnumbered Royalists, consisting largely of Ivanovich clansmen, clashed with the Acre-folk. The King and his wife fled two different directions, abandoning their people and their own children, left alone in the rat’s trap that was the throne room. Blood stained the carpeted floors- most of the men who fought for the King left for dead and butchered. A fleet of men then pursued Frederick, closely followed by our brave reporters. The Acre band’s only obstacle now was the slew of locked doors Frederick had hidden behind, but the wood stood no chance against the impassioned few. 

At last, the Acre-men arrived at the King’s quarters. The reporters were the first to enter the scene, however, there was nothing to be found of the man. Only a horrid stench wafted, alongside red stains in the carpet. Even then, nothing was seen of the king. Our analysts believe he threw himself from his own balcony. As of writing this, our team is still investigating the river below for evidence. After an hour of searches, the party reconvened in the throne room. There, the men collected themselves, headed by the Baron of Acre himself. He led speeches upon speeches, assuring his bannerman and the citizens who remained. One of our reporters approached the Baron, and was permitted a brief interview.

_________________________

SOME DEPICTIONS:

[!] The reporters await outside the Royal tower as the Acre-folk break their way in.

[!] The reporters examine in awe as the horde attempts to break their way into the room.

[!] The king’s odd decor above his bed.

[!] The armored Baron Gustaf de Vilain alongside his merry men.

_________________________

THE FOLLOWING IS A TRANSCRIPTION OF THE INTERVIEW WITH 

BARON GUSTAF DE VILAIN: 

Interviewed by Mischa Lesanov

Interviewer: Mister Gustaf, do you plan to run the nation? What of the royal family and peers?

Gustaf: This is a filthy city. It will need to be dismembered, brick by brick.

Interviewer: Do you have a vision for what Oren’s future is?

Gustaf: Are you familiar with farming? Or even forestry?

Interviewer: I am. Will Vienne be turned into farming and woodlands? What of the people’s homes? Will they be relocated?

Hannes, son of Gustaf: GOD’s Kingdom of Nature will reclaim Vienne.

Interviewer: Is that what Oren is to be called? And will your people truly care for nature and her people, or shall there be another war and coup in due time?

Gustaf: Those who are left in Vienne and choose to stay will have their needs taken care of. The Barony of Acre will rebuild. If conflict emerges again, then it is only the way of things. There is no new kingdom.

Interviewer: No courts, kings, or peers?

Gustaf: I guarantee nothing. Only in that this land will be the Barony of Acre.

Interviewer: So you mean to say all of this is nearly lawless- left without a king or stable government? And you only stand for Acre and her people?

Gustaf nods.

Interviewer: Do you have any other words for the worried people of Oren?
 

Gustaf: Any man or woman holds the right to speak with me. Unlike the Viscount who lies dead now, we don’t intend to strike out individuals wanting to speak or seek council. I am an open book.

_________________________

Us, Orenians, are left to ponder: were the countless men we’ve lost during the past few wars and coups worth the cause they fought for? What is left to come of this Kingdom? Will we ever live in peace, or are we due for another war in the coming years? Only time can tell, and even then, the people are restless for peace. It is a morbid irony that our strife for harmony has spilled the most blood.

_________________________

“ 

Let it be made clear and now - there is no man present who could best us. There is no warrior who could outmatch our unified strength. In the end, all that remains will be Acre. Any peer of the now-slain king has nothing but to take this opportunity to stay with us and to settle with peace afterward. 

                                                  GUSTAF OF ACRE, 1882   ”

_________________________

In other news, those at Books & Books are still looking to purchase literary collections! The library and store have been growing immensely by the month with exceptional works by renowned writers. So do make your way to Florentine and visit! Do not shy away from penning us with any inquiries you may have.

22nd of the Sun’s Smile 1883

♪

Charles of Rivia, Duke of Cathalon, 3rd Viscount of Rivia, 4th Baron of Rivia, commander of the Watch and Protector of the Rivian people

Arriving at the Castle of Kaer Coch the Rivian Lord was greeted by his dutiful levymen. Making his way through the red fortress to his dining hall Charles was in the peak of his life despite the grief he felt for his late father, Philip of Rivia, evermore weighing upon the Lord. The power of all of Rivia at his fingertips had no doubt corrupted the man’s mind. Known by his enemies as a bastard and torturer, perhaps such slander was not unfounded. The Lord sat idle in his grand hall surrounded by few. Making idle chatter with the handful of levymen on guard, the Lord poured himself a drink in an attempt to pay little mind to the war at hand. His eyes fixated upon the sprawling collection of severed elven ears hanging adjacent to him. Barbaric in nature, the young Viscount never relented in his obsession with cleansing the realm. Lord Charles’ moment of reflection was interrupted by commotion amongst his watchmen. Upon climbing the stairs to the battlements of his fortress the Viscount was greeted by the sight of the fluttering red and black banners of an Acrean host demanding entry, at its head the famed Sir Gustaf  De Vilain. The Lord exhaled deeply calling for his squire as he descended the steep stairs to the innards of the red keep. Equipped with an assortment of alchemical concoctions the plate clad Rivian departed to treat with the Acreans. Leaving his levymen to guard the pass, the Lord escorted Ser Gustaf deep into the bowels of the Rivian fortress, Charles near blissfully unaware of the horror he will soon subject himself to.

In near solitude deep within the Castle the two men argued. As time passed the Viscount found himself reaching for a bottle filled with an unknown concoction. Intent on ending the rebellion with one fell swoop the Rivian flung said potion towards the man soon after the dining hall was set aflame, Sir Gustaf barely scratched by such an attempt. The Rivian Lord ducked behind the flames reaching for yet another potion, suffering from burns painting the man’s face with red the Viscount yelled. It seemed not long after the Rivian’s call was heeded as echoes of a charge of footsteps could be heard piercing the air of the ablaze hall. It was not long until the doors were burst open yet no Rivian was to be seen. Coming to the aid of Sir Gustaf was his host, at its head Darius Romstun, Seaxburh of Arichsdorf and Charles’ own aunt Aloisia 'the Kinslayer'. Lord Charles was no match for the Acreans which soon filled the incandescent hall. Tossing all manner of flaming furniture and alchemical concoctions at the horde, the Rivian, like a cornered beast, began to lash out sporadically. While achieving some minor gains he could not hold. Soon enough the Bastard Lord was fatigued and slumped. In one final strike the Lord drew his Stiletto from his belt thrusting it forth to little avail. In due time the Rivian was defeated. Unwilling to yield, the command of execution would be given, and he was slain by Darius and Seaxburh. And thus another chapter of the Viscounty of Rivia ended.

Marmoream se relinquere, quam latericiam accepisset.
 

PREFACE

We hereby declare the official dissolution of both the Petran Legion and the Order of the Red Eagle, and the newfound Order of Chivalry, lead by Sir George Obediah. Due to several issues with the former leadership of the Petran Legion by Hannes de Vilain, and the Order of the Red Eagle by Gustaf de Vilain. However, the new Order, unlike the former armed forces, is standing proud, as the main protector of Orenia, and the Crown. The new reform, done to honor the wish of His Royal Majesty Frederick I.
 

This is the start of a new era. An era of chivalry. The chivalrous men and women of the Order will stand strong, endure heroically the many hardships that are to come and protect the Kingdom of Oren and the Crown. Our ranks are filled with men that have vast war experience. All the way from the Brother’s War, to face the treacherous Barony of Acre. This is the mark of a new future, for such the Order will rise for the glory of Orenia, its men and women will be known as the heroes that protect our lovely homeland, and that face our opponents with determination, by GOD’s grace. Ave Orenia!

KNIGHTS OF THE ORDER

 The Chivalrous Knights are the ones that lead the Order. The Knights of the Order are the first one to ride to lead the brave men and women of the Order into battles. They are the exemplary that our brave Order Members strive to be. They are looked upon around the Kingdom as the brave leaders of the Order of Chivalry, and are the best men the Kingdom has to offer. 

CODE OF CHIVALRY

The Knights of the Order are the role model for any Order Member, and as follows they are to follow a strict code that only the most honorable men and women can follow strictly. As it was used in the former Order of the Red Eagle, our Knights are still to follow the code.

LOYALTY: Loyalty to the Order, to Orenia and to the Crown. 

COURTESY: A Knight must possess the aptitude for dignity, to present oneself and those that he represents honorably. To be able to set a right example to their subordinates within the Order.

INTEGRITY: A Knight must strive always to do the right thing. In the eyes of the law, and to abstain from dishonesty. 

HONOR: A Knight shall extend goodwill to all, to respect the wishes of a duel proposed to them, and to respect and uphold the Code of Chivalry and the rules of the Order of Chivalry. 

VALOR: A Knight shall always be courageous. To be able to overcome one’s obstacles of fear, pain and even death when leading the Order Members into battles. To be the first in line to fight against the enemies of the Kingdom and the Crown.

CHARITY: A Knight must have humility. To maintain an open mind, and to seek to undo the suffering of others and to guide their subordinates within the Order to the right path.

HIERARCHY OF THE ORDER

KNIGHTLY RANKS

GRANDMASTER OF THE ORDER

The highest authority of the Order. The Grandmaster is appointed directly by the Monarch of the Kingdom, and holds the final say in every matter brought to him inside the Order, and he answers only to the Crown. 

KNIGHT-CAPTAIN

The right hand of the Grandmaster. The Knight-Captain is the second highest authority after the Grandmaster themselves, and only one Order Member may take on this position. The Knight-Captain helps the Grandmaster at managing the Order affairs, and when the Grandmaster is not present, they have the final say. 

KNIGHT

The Knights of the Order are the chivalrous Order Members that have successfully passed all of their trials, and have been Knighted by the Crown. They are the ones that lead the Order, and that lead every battle, scout or any activity done by the Order, and are responsible for the discipline of the Order Members. There are no more than 3 Order Members that hold this rank.

KNIGHT-VETERAN

These are the retired Knights of the Order. People that have used to be Grandmasters, Knight-Captains or Knights of the Order, and have retired are filling this position. This is an honorary position, and Knight-Veterans do not hold any authority within the Order. They are to be respected by the Order members, and many shall aspire to walk in their footsteps to become Knighted as well.

ENLISTED RANKS

ARMIGER

They are the most experienced and disciplined Order Members, and are the only ones that may advance to become Knights. Armigers are given three designated tasks, and have they complete these tasks, they will advance to become Knights of the Order. Armigers are to be respected by other Enlisted ranks as seniors, and as they are candidates to become the future Knights of the Order.

SENTINEL

They are fully fledged and disciplined Order Members. Many Sentinels are Order Members with fighting experience, and have proven themselves loyal to the Crown. However, they still have much to accomplish before being among the select few Knights. In order for a Sentinel to become an Armiger, they must have either completed a task or had a notable achievement.

MAN-AT-ARMS

The majority of the Order, and the biggest player the Order relies on. These are the Order Members that are not entirely new, and may have limited battle experience and they have proven discipline and loyalty to the Crown to some extent. Men-at-Arms are always to wish to improve and rise to higher ranks, to become distinguished Order Members and perhaps even Knights in the future.

ASPIRANT

Aspirants are members that have recently joined the Order, and have many more to achieve. This is the beginning rank of any new recruit, and are expected to follow their Orders by the Knights without hesitation, and to always seek to improve themselves. They have yet to prove their loyalty to the Crown, and the majority of them have little to no battle experience.

ENLISTMENT

To enlist to the Order, complete the form:

MC USERNAME: 

 DISCORD:

 PERSONA NAME:

 TIMEZONE:

As you walk through the slums in Vienne you see a jester, he emits a pure confident energy while speaking

"Hey, hey you! I know you're living in the slums now... Times are tough, but tough times don't last. Tough people do. Would you like more mina than you can count, and go from barely affording food in the slums to being a slumlord millionaire?

"Well... I've got the scheme for you, it's simple. You see these legumes and this snake oil? Well, they have special properties to them. The oil can cure all sorts of ailments and these legumes.... Oh boy don't get me started. I've had a single plant for 5 years and I have so much food I will never pay for beans again."

Now, these products are great, but they won't make you rich by consuming them. Go out and SELL them to the fine people of Vienne and beyond for more than you paid. I am giving you a VERY special price, much lower than they are worth so that you can stock up and distribute them to the world. "

5 Mina for Snake Oil

7 mina for Magic Legumes

The Jester looks both ways before he speaks in a hushed tone

"You seem like a good person I'll let you in on an even better deal... Keep this between me and you, if you refer someone to purchase from me and they mention your name ((DM dairy#0145 with proof of purchase and the IGN of the person who referred you)) I will give you both an extra bottle or some beans for FREE.

On top of that, any time your friend buys more you will get 1 mina each time. If you have a group of people who you referred buying my oil or my beans regularly you will make passive mina, growing your wealth more."

((This is to hopefully spark some con man RP in LoTC Stewards pls don't remove))

=+=

ISSUED BY PRINCESS FRANCISCA IRENE NOVELLEN

12th OF HARREN’S FOLLEY, 1883

SORT OF ESTABLISHED IN 1879, the SCHOLARS BOOK CLUB served a group of best friends, initially prompted by Countess Halstaig Sadie O’Rourke and myself (Fran!) via inspiring speech. It brought inspiration to not only be exciting, but to pursue more things and share commonness between everybody (like any club probably should.) To put it simply, it aided the process and motivation to potentially write and absorb books, which there have been a dangerous lack of in our Kingdom [books.]
 

Since then, there has been a pause due to the isolation and stillness during the recent war which is now over. Now, it may finally truly launch especially amidst Aster Calia, hence this missive being released. The SCHOLARS BOOK CLUB aims to bring the world to our fingertips. In fact, my old tutor once said that the ability to read is very, VERY powerful. As a result, it is my belief that everyone should read.

With its publicity, I — Francisca Irene Novellen, Princess, writer, and ward alongside the other founders — hereby announce the real start of this club, open to most.

You may ask, “How does this differ from any other old school?” That is a wonderful question. There is autonomy sought in this very club, to acquire more knowledge and impressive wit. That is the goal, after all. If we do not have our context of times before, then how can we do good things in the future? 

Although most books have been lost from the Stassion Court library, I hope to see more [books] through this exclusive club. To join, there are two requirements. 

You must be a kid.

You must like to learn and read, or learn to read.

If this applies to you and you are a lovely person, then please travel to Castle Stassion and speak with me or reply and send a bird to the Royal Aviary. I tend to the birds, so your letter will reach us. Future meetings will be hosted and sponsored by BOOKS &  BOOKS in Florentine thanks to generous donations from the Countess Halstaig and Mischa Falcone.

BEST WISHES

Her Royal Highness Princess Francisca Irene Novellen

A FRESH ALLEGIANCE

A missive sent to the leadership of Oren, declaring the Barony of Cherskavy's support within the conflict between the Kingdom of Oren and the Barony of Acre, written by Sveneld of House Andrevich.

[-]

THE LETTER READ,

Dear Your Majesty, King of Oren, war is a troublesome event especially when your opposers were once your loyal subjects. I wish to make matters slightly easier for the Kingdom in these times of dull spirits and hardship. The Barony of Cherskavy hereby declares their full support to the Kingdom of Oren in the wars ongoing, and the wars to come. 

Signed,

Sveneld Andrevich, Baron of Cherskavy.

THE EAGLE'S WITHDRAWAL

Official withdrawal of the Margraviate of Grodno from the conflict between the Kingdom of Oren and the Barony of Acre.

Penned by Margrave Maciej Jazloviecki on 11th of Malin's Welcome 1883

[ ♫ ]

AS AGREED,

Let it be known to everyone who comes to the lands dependent on the administration of Grodno, that from this day onwards what has been agreed is binding:

I. The Margraviate of Grodno will withdraw from the Orenian civil war and will remain neutral until the conflict comes to an end.

II. Forces of the Eagle's Watch will not take up arms against Acre, its people, nor will they attack or defend the Kingdom of Oren, the Regency Council, or the Prince of Providentia.

III. Grodno will not knowingly harbour enemies of Acre that might try to avoid custody throughout the duration of the civil war. 

IV. The feud between Houses of Jazloviecki and Romstun is officially at an end due to the removal of the left eye that belonged to the Margrave.

V. Grodno will reconvene with the Barony of Acre upon the conflict's end in order to discuss their further endeavours. 

Signed,

The Most Honourable, Lord Maciej Jazloviecki,

Margrave of Grodno, Hetman of the Eagle's Watch, Defender of Lechians

Sir Gustaf de Vilain,
Baron of Acre, Knight of Acre and the Champion of the Ivory Alps

The Queen of the Orenians and her Court, stood before the Ivory Gates of Paradisus, c. 1883 

TO THE LOYAL DENIZENS OF OREN AND ITS ADJOINED TERRITORIES,

Through tenure of quandary and hitches in such times of dismay betwixt the Kingdom of Oren and its territories, those within the Stassion Court still manage to oversee up-keeping with duty and rendering new implementations within the courts frequently. In repercussions of the manifold of altercations, the significance of concision and shrewdness within the Royal Court's has become patently pertinent when executing exertion into that of written work, duties perpetrated outside of commitment and our daily lives. The court is the heart and glorified core of the Kingdom; and so, it must be conducted virtuously and with prudence so the Lordships of the realm may dutifully follow in its blueprint.

Consequently, the structure within the Court’s should be revised to conform to the solemnity of our times: No longer is it the age of elaboration in which our Court requires a myriad of positions that have gone unfulfilled. 

The Court of His Majesty the King, henceforth, will be reduced. 

THE QUEEN’S CAMARILLA:

Her Royal Majesty,

The Queen-Consort of Oren

The Queen of Oren has always been dubbed the head of the Royal Court’s, and is entrusted with a clutter of responsibilities. Through her marriage with the King, Her Majesty is regarded as the paramount lady in the realm. Firstly, she is in charge of operating and ensuring the progress of all Astercalia’s; alongside ensuing progress and or noble tours, and hosting noble assemblies. Traditionally, she is also encharged with taking up two female wards beneath her.

His Royal Highness,

The Prince of Providentia

The Prince of Providentia, as heir to the throne, serves as the bridge between age-old institutions of the Kingdom and the forthcoming generation of Orenian lords, militants, and philosophers at large. He takes on a ceremonial role within the courts, being tasked with taking up a single male ward and being encharged as a liaison between the Crown and government.

Her Royal Highness, 

The Princess Royal

The Princess Royal serves as the hand of the Queen-Consort and collaborates alongside Her Royal Majesty, the Royal Legate and the Keeper of Ceremonies as a whole. In her lifelong capacity in this office, in the absence of the Queen, the Princess Royal takes on the tasks of Astercalia- and hosts noble assemblies with the Royal Legate and Keeper of Ceremonies. She too, is traditionally encharged with taking up a single lady in waiting and is also tasked with assigning young ladies and lords in waiting.

Her / Her Excellency, 

The Royal Legate of Stassion Court

The Royal Legate, alongside the Queen, is tasked with numerous duties within the Royal Courts and is acknowledged by the legal authority of Her Majesty’s court as the paramount officer. He / She, as the de facto governor of the Castle, is encharged firstly with taking up an apprentice, and ensures the fulfilling and deposing of court positions such as servantry. Additionally, he / she is also tasked with providing castle keys to rooms and important doors. With the Keeper of Ceremonies, they are additionally in charge of cultivating an array of fetes and ceremonies to bolster the Orenian Courts alongside overseeing the work of the court staff.  In conjunction with the Princess Royal, he or she assigns young ladies and lords in waiting.

His / Her Excellency, 

The Keeper of Ceremonies

The Keeper of Ceremonies functions as the primordial agent of celebration in the Castle Stassion works a majority of their time alongside the Royal Legate  in hosting events and putting together city and palatial events. They set the criteria for event curator

His / Her Excellency, 

The Court Secretariat

The Court Secretariat works in conjunction with Her Royal Majesty specifically, aiding in her writing and conjuring up original and newfangled covers of the Queen’s Gazette.

THE HIERARCHY AT STASSION COURT:

1. The Royal Family 

From the very beginning, each member of the Royal Household has been notorious for building a blueprint of devoting time to remarkable acts of piety and charity. Reverence for religion has always been a major principal in that of the resplendent family. With this, the Royal women of House Novellan are entrusted with keeping at pace with shifts in modern fashion, and being foremost examples of present vogue. Indisputably does the Royal Family uphold certain expectations that shepherds the direction that presents the best of the Kingdom. They all should work with charity, and establish causes of importance to the realm. Upon achieving an age of maturity, they are entitled to their own household secretaries- handpicked, or selected by the King and Queen.

2. The Noble Houses

Noble houses of the Kingdom contribute majorly to the Stassion Courts, and will now be tasked with implemented drafts. From each aristocratic house within Oren, a single person should be drafted and lended in aid of fulfilling positions necessary in the courts- whether this be a chosen member, or handpicked by the Queen’s Camarilla. 

3. Courtiers and Staffing

The courtiers and staff of the court uphold the majority of duties amidst the general members of the Stassion Court. They are expected to fulfill all assigned tasks to the best of their capabilities and must uphold an abundance of responsibility for their duties. With diligence and perseverance, one may be able to gradually climb out of the minor roles at court and into that of more distinctive positions.

PRECEDENTS OF STASSION COURT:

As promulgated by the 1876 missive:

Confirmed by the Office of the Incumbent Legate of Castle Stassion 

Lady Mathilde Cyprielle of Provins

On the Year of Our Lord

1883

On the Behalf of 

Her Majesty The Queen Vivienne

&

Her Royal Highness Maude, Princess Royal

[Théophile Emmanuel Duverger]

[!] Young Mischa, slipping copies of this missive into the local mailboxes.

BY 

MISCHA FLORENTINA LESANOV-FALCONE & NIKOLAS LEOPOLD BARBANOV-BIHAR

EST. 1884

WE ARE HAPPY TO ANNOUNCE THE GRAND OPENING OF 

BOOKS & BOOKS!

[!] Local denizens enjoying a warm afternoon outside Books & Books.

Just located on the main road of Little Province, Florentine, you’ll find Books & Books! Here, we house an ever-growing library and book shoppe! We grew much too tired of having to run across the realm just to find a good book. So, we've decided to make good books accessible to all within the mid-eastern portion of Almaris. If you’re interested, come visit Books & Books, Florentine!

______________________________________________

ATTENTION ALL AUTHORS & BOOK COLLECTORS!

We at Books & Books are in dire need of  books to not only display on our shelves, but to sell! We are willing to buy any and all collections you may have. If you are interested, please pen Mischa Lesanov-Falcone for Florentine, or Nikolas Barbanov for Karosgrad. Thank you!

[!] Dame Marion reaching for some of the taller shelves.

______________________________________________

SOME OF OUR BEST READS ON DISPLAY:

✦   Sweet Venin by Winter Forrester

✦   Mrs. Reina by Winter Forrester

✦   The Wings by William Greywater

✦   The Book of Joe by Niels Vojsyn

✦   Unknown Invasion by Talo Song

[!] Lord Vladrik and Countess Sadie reading some of Books & Books’ best reads.

______________________________________________

There is more to come! So please stay tuned. We hope to see you around!

Remember, all donations are welcome. . We’ve even got a box for them.

SIGNED,
MISCHA FLORENTINA LESANOV-FALCONE

NIKOLAS LEOPOLD BARBANOV-BIHAR

Penned at the hand of The Princess Royal, Maude Fredericka and the Lady Seneschal, Mathilde Cyprielle, 

c. 1883

The attendance of the court bid, depicted by the Stassion Court Painter c. 1883

TO THE DENIZENS OF VIENNE AND ITS ADJOINED TERRITORIES

Of Loyal stock and sound mind, 

In these times of profound strife, it is important we do not permit discord to hinder the progress of our great nation. With a populace estranged from the fundamental institutions of what cements the Orenian identity,  one of fortitude, of triumph, and of unity before the adversity of the Great Deceiver’s damned will, the time of realization has indubitably begun. 

It is of utmost importance that there be a People’s Assembly at Castle Stassion, in which the people of Oren, in this the inaugural occasion, may adjourn within the Royal Residence in discourse to attend to the proceedings of the Courtiers at His Majesty’s Court. 

Furthermore, the Assembly will also suffice as grounds for ingenuous and forthright discourse between the engaged minds of Oren who seek to categorically impact their motherland for the common good of their people. 

The Court of Stassion’s ministry will ask and receive inquiries on behalf of the attendants, intent on encouraging meaningful dialogue on the subjects of political and social involvement, the availability of professional enjoyment, and quality of life. 

Accompany our Nation through her Great metamorphosis toward her time of Enlightenment and Amelioration.

IN NOMINEI DEI

Her Royal Highness The Princess Maude Fredericka Augusta Mary, Princess Royal of Oren, Renatus, Curon, Kaedrin, Salvus and Seventis, Countess of Mardon.

Her Excellency The Lady Mathilde Cyprielle of Provins, The Royal Legate of the Court of Castle Stassion.

The Honourable Miss Elisabeth von Preussens, Troubadour in the Court of Castle Stassion

OOC: 

To be held Tuesday the 2nd of August, 2022

The purpose of this Assembly is to bring players of different niches/roleplay spheres within Oren, or other regions alike, together so we can have a discussion on the state of the realm, how things can be done better, and to express their interests in-character on joining the Courts, government, or other aspects of the Orenian playerbase in which they would like to involve themselves in. 

Arthur Komenos

Arthur, my love. 

I’m sorry it had to be this way. I think we always knew I would go before you. I have a terrible habit of getting myself into danger and you having to get me out of it. This is one that you cannot get me out of. I’ve done it to myself, and I need you to understand that. 

Despite everything that’s happened, know that I love you. 40 years is a long time to be stuck with somebody… but despite our ups and downs, I want you to know that I am proud. I am proud of your hard work for your barony and our family. Thank you for putting in the effort to be better. I really appreciate it.

There is a cavalry saber that was gifted to me on the day of our wedding. This and my wedding band are yours.

Thank you for saving me again and again. I’m glad I could save you too…

I’m sorry you couldn’t have saved me this time.

Love,

Primrose

Rosemary Vuiller

My Rose,

I remember the day I held you within my arms for the first time and I prayed to the Seven Skies in thanks. You were and always will be my little Rose. You made me laugh, and we cried often together… but I was a dope. 

Nothing will ever bring back the lost time. Nothing will ever undo what I have done. Nothing will ever fix my mistake. I’m sorry, beyond anything I can say or do, I’m truly sorry.

I’m sorry I couldn’t have been a better mother. I’m sorry I opened that door, and I’m sorry I didn’t put you first. 

A very, very long time ago you gave me a gift. I’ve kept them ever since and worn them often. A sunflower locket necklace and a sunflower hairpin, both made by Joseph d’Azor. Inside the locket is a small image of you, as a child. I feel these should go to you. 

I am proud of you, Rose. You have done amazing things both for yourself and for your family. I remember how you used to fish with the ferrymen at their keep in Norland… and the shop you owned in New Providence. I hope you haven’t stopped fishing. You were amazing at it. 

Momma loves you.

Always,

Mom

Johanne, & Samuel Vuiller

Johanne,

This will be the last you ever hear from me. Ever. 

There is no way to describe how sorry I am for what I did in Vuillermoz. I wronged you and nothing can make it right again. I reject the titles I was given for my actions... So much so that it has led me here. Handless for my sins… especially for Vuillermoz and for freeing Bakir Ireheart from his cell. I didn’t deserve my hands, for as much as I used them for good - such as helping you after the fire - they also commit sins.

My condolences for the loss of your father and my biggest congratulations on your triplets. I’m sure they’re beautiful and I pray that St. Harald and St. Amyas watch over them. May they grant them safety and health. 

I remember how we used to sit for our tea… I never really got to sit down for too long, did we? We were always interrupted now that I think of it. I don’t even drink it as a tea anymore… but it makes for a good face cream if it interests you still.

A noblewoman must always have a statement piece of jewelry. Something vintage, yet classy. I feel you should have my Serpentine Brooch from Vespira L’s 1840 collection. I hope it matches well with whatever you wear.

Love,

Primrose

Samuel, 

I haven’t seen you since you were just a little older than a toddler. I don’t know what you look like or what you’re doing now, but I hope that you are succeeding in it and doing what makes you happy. I remember the day I helped your mother deliver you. It was one of the happiest and scariest days of my life… You are a blessing, a miracle in disguise. Live each day to the fullest, dearest Samuel.

Love,

Grandma

Jack, Nicole, Charlotte, Jack II, & Seb Teufel

Jack, Nicole. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better mother to you both. I can never make up for what was lost. I have been selfish, but in learning from my mistakes I hope that I have been a good grandmother to Jack and Seb. They’re good kids. I have a taxidermy bear head that I think Jack would like, that is for you to keep. 

Charlotte, while I hadn’t gotten the chance to meet you, I wish you the best of luck in everything you do. You were named after me - my middle name is Charlotte. I want to leave you my Spessarite Titan’s Eye ring. It was a gift from my husband Arthur. Continue to do good, Charlotte. The world needs it.

Seb, please be careful not to stab people. I know that you can be very protective of both yourself and others, but we had one too many moments where I was a bit afraid you were going to stab my guest through the front door… though I’d be rather impressed if you could even do such. Naturally, we spoke about your inheritance. I gave you that Fire gauntlet given to me by my father, Jacker Gendik. Use it wisely, and when it is time, you must pass it down as well. 

Jack, you have done splendidly in your alchemy lessons. I couldn’t have asked for a better student. When you were just a little kid, we met in Nor’Asath for the first time since you were 3. You were such a hyperactive child, but I am so glad to have been a part of your life somehow. The gift I have given to you is the fruit of your hard work, but I also wish to leave you something sacred to me. A man named Duncan Vuiller gave it to me in his will, and I leave it to you now in mine. It’s a femur from a Morko Bear. You can do with it as you like, I’m sure you can find somewhere nice to hang it or make it into something beautiful. Kick ass, kiddo.

Love always, 

Mom/Grandma

Oliver and Faeviel Komnenos

Ollie and Fae,

My, how you twins have grown up! It feels like just yesterday you were barely 20 and we met for the first time. We were all so nervous, but it was from then I knew you were my children. 

Anne is your mother by blood, and while I will never get that kind of special bond with you, I will always love you as a mother. We have been through much together in the 40 years we’ve known one another. Some memories are full of laughter while others are blood, sweat, and tears. Both of you have worked so hard to achieve what you wanted. Keep doing that, my children. I am so proud of you.

Ollie, I want to give you a sword that was gifted to me some decades ago. The Lost Angel’s Blade was given to me by a patient I helped as a token of their appreciation. As for you, Fae, I want to give you something your father gave me. Long before we married, we took a trip to Yong Ping together and I saw this basket of flowers. He bought them for me and I’ve kept them ever since. While the flowers have died, I always fill the basket with new roses. Do the same, will you?

I love you both so much. Please take care of your father while I’m gone. I can’t do that anymore.

Love always,

Mom

Thomas & Amandine Komnenos

Tommy, my boy,

I’m sorry I didn’t get to raise you. I was always so worried about you. After Samuel died, I knew I couldn’t lose you too. You left in war and returned home when it ended… only for it to resume. You are a child of war. You have never known a time of peace, my son. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. All I wanted to be was your mother, and I couldn’t even do that. I just wanted you to be safe. I’m truly sorry. 

Despite that, when you came home you made a life for yourself. You found a wonderful, loving, beautiful wife and had three amazing, intelligent, funny children together. I am proud of you, Tommy. 

Amandine, thank you for all you do. While we never really got to spend much time together, the times we have were always pleasurable. I’m honored to have you as my daughter-in-law, though I’ve always considered you to be my daughter. 

I love you both dearly, which is why I have left Trabezon in your care. Please speak with Mika as he told me about some changes to Lubba. I also want to give you a preserved right eye of an old nemesis I’ve kept. I was only about… 30 years old or so when I took the eyes of a man named Kia’sei after he harmed Rosemary. It was after this that he attacked me and I lost my unborn child, so to possess this eye means a lot to me. Just don’t let Tim see it. 

Love always,

Mom

Laurelai Komnenos

Little Laurel, 

I have yet to meet you, but I adored the gifts you left me in the mailbox. My favorite were those strawberries, as they were fresh and sweet. I hope you love John VIII and will care for him well. He’s rather old, you know. Older than your Grannie!

I’ve heard good things about you from your grandfather and many others. I’m rather impressed with you, which is why I requested that any title given to me by Sir Jarad be given to you instead. You are but a child, but you are wise beyond your years. Continue being resourceful and don’t let anyone push you around. Be the doctor I couldn’t be. Make sure Aurora is safe and work with her to become good medics.

I leave to you the tools you will need. Go to Sir Solomon, he will show you where I have left your things. I’m also leaving my uniform to you. Put vodka and lemon on any stains and let it soak for 10 minutes before using cold water on it. Afterward, let it dry and then starch it to keep it crisp. 

I was invited to speak at Damsel’s Day, but you must go in my place. A copy of the speech is in the box with Sir Solomon. 

Best of luck, Laurel.

Love,

Grannie Prim

Timothy Komnenos

Tim,

You were always scared of me. I couldn’t ever figure out why. I know you don’t like blood, you are just like your Aunt Rosemary. I wanted to be a better Grandmother to you, but I think I scared you away. I’m sorry for that. 

Knowing that you don’t like blood, I want to give you something very special. It’s a weapon so you must be very careful with how and when you use it. It’s also very rare and one of the last of its kind. 

The ISA Air Cannon makes small yet powerful balls of air. On an armored foe, the best it may do is make a bruise… but on an unarmored foe, it will fracture their bones. No blood will be spilled, which is perfect for you. 

Stay strong, Tim. I look forward to seeing what you become. 

Love,

Grannie

Aurora Komnenos

My darling Aurora, the heir to Saint Lothar,

I regret that I won’t be able to teach you as I promised. I was so looking forward to it, so I must do the next best thing. I’m leaving to you one of my favorite medic bags of all time. It’s magical, and when you open it there is a light inside. Stick your hand in and out will come with the following four potions: Coagulator, Bone-Set, Headache Reliever, and Smelling Salts. 

Sprinkle Coagulator on a serious bleed and it will stop the bleeding and self-cauterize. Inject Bone-set into a properly set break to help restore the strength to the broken bone. 

Drink Headache Reliever to ease the pain from a headache - either one caused by stress, dehydration, exhaustion, or concussion - for some time. 

Hold the Smelling Salts under an unconscious patient’s nose to help them come to. It will not wake patients who are in a coma or whose unconscious state is caused by magic or darker means. 

I’m also leaving you something very special to me. As the next Baroness, you will need to show the people of Almaris who you are. Carry yourself with grace, and be compassionate and kind. Your grandfather gave me a gift many years ago, and I wore it quite often in my time as Baroness-consort. The crystal necklace I leave you is both stunning and makes a statement. It is most favorable when the light catches it, creating a beautiful rainbow on the iridescent white crystals.

Your legacy awaits you, my darling grandchild. Be the best Baroness-medic this world has ever seen. 

Love, 

Grandma

Aldrych Gendik

Aldrych, my dear son,

When we first met, you were just a small boy.  You had a broken arm, but no home to rest. No bed to lie in, and no mother to hold you. I wanted to give you the world, unlike what I could for my children. I couldn’t do that, but I did what I could. We’ve talked about this before… I am just thankful that you are safe and alive.

I love you, Aldrych. I am so proud of the man you’ve become. I want to give you something that means the most to me. I’ve kept this ring on me for nearly 60 years and I want you to use it when you propose to Hera. You may have the ring re-set, but the sunflower arrangement the gems make will be beautiful for her.

Continue doing what you do best, kiddo.

Love,

Mom

Aleksi, Melody, & Fallon Komnenos-Orlanthaw

Aleksi, Melody, and Fallon,

The lively little Komnenos-Orlanthaw kids, how you’ve brought surprise and joy into my life. We had so much fun together, and I hope that your Maman will make you that strawberry shortcake I always make when you visit. 

Aleksi, I adored every playdate we had together, especially when we made those alchemy potions together. Worms were a great addition to our knight potion, I think it was just the thing that made it work! You’re so smart and I hope that you delve into the art of alchemy more.

Melody, my little artist. You are so talented! Someday your works will be on the palace walls for everyone to see. Keep up the great work and never give up.

Fallon, you follow my steps in music. Your Uncle Aldrych plays piano too, you know? I taught him, so if you ever need help you should ask him. I know that you’re interested in Astercalia when you’re older so I want to give you something that was a gift from your grandfather. It’s a beautiful heart-cut blue sapphire necklace. Simple but extravagantly stunning and something that will take everyone off their feet. Wear it with pride, darling.

I love you three so much and I am so proud of you. 

Love,

Grandma

Jacker Gendik

Dad, 

I say this with love, but you were never there for me. I raised myself and for the longest time, I was controlled by you. You shouted and belittled me… I will never forget the day I told you Arlo was a ferryman, and you screamed at me to drop my married name. I did, and I never carried another name since… and then you told me to drop even my maiden name. 

You once told me that when someone hears the name Gendik, they’ll think of you. Go ahead and ask anyone in Almaris about who they think of when they hear our namesake. They’ll either say they don’t know or me. Primrose Gendik is a powerful name, and it is known by many. It is not a name I attribute to you, because I had to work for it. 

I had to work to become a doctor. I had to work even harder to become a Dame. I did not take the Gendik name to be special. I made it special. 

Despite this, my favorite memory of us was back when we had just met. Getting to know you were my father and you coming to save me when that orc attacked me in that tunnel. Thank you for that.

Make sure my kids and grandkids are safe. Protect them with your life. 

I love you, Dad.

-Primrose Gendik

Aliria Elodie de Rosius

Aliria, my dear sister,

I haven’t seen you since you were 15, but I will never forget the conversation we had. It was Old Providence, and Odette had just passed. You asked me about life and death, and I told you about my mental health at the time… How Arlo had hurt my family, but how I somehow kept finding a reason to live. I’m still here, Aliria. 

Life is a funny thing… I wish I had gotten to see you more. You don’t know how badly I wished I could be there for you, and how I could’ve sat by a fireplace with you over a cup of hot chocolate and gossiped with my little sister… I wish we could’ve done things sisters do because I didn’t have you in my life for those 30 years. 

Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, I know you’re happy. You have always had a good heart and honest soul. 

I love you, sis.

Primrose

Argus & the Romstun Family

My little brother Argus, 

We didn’t start on the right foot together. Despite that, we’ve grown closer together and I’m glad we could have been a part of each other’s lives. While I didn’t exactly get what I wanted from our deal, I think I got better out of it in the end. Know, however, that I am where I am because of it… and yet I don’t regret a thing. 

If there was one thing to regret, it is that I will no longer be there for you. I know you can hold your own, but even then, I’m still your big sister am I not? Don’t get caught in something stupid, brother. I can’t help you either way.

Grace, I’ve known you since you were a child. You broke into my house - you ran inside without being invited, really - but I will never forget it. We got into some heated moments, but in the end, we came around well. Thank you for helping me with the masks, you were a big help… even if a fight did break out in the streets about it. Keep kicking ass, you’re doing it spectacularly.

Donny, my dear nephew, I’m sorry that fight had broken out in Vienne… the one where your eye was injured. I’m glad I was there to help you, especially since that’s how we properly met. You’re a good kid and I hope you succeed in everything you do. 

Sofya, we had a funny start. You were a Sedanite princess who refused to even be in the same room as a book. I remember when you cried because I said I was your sister’s teacher. You’ve come quite a long way. 

Keep doing what you do, all of you. You’re ******* fantastic at it.

Best,

Primrose

Solomon Obediah

Solomon,

My comrade, my friend. You stood by my side in some of my darkest moments, and you came to me in yours. We supported one another, and we occasionally argued, but we were always ready to jump to the other’s aid when needed. I don’t want you to beat yourself up over this. You know how I care for you, and how I can read you like a book.

You cannot save everyone, dear. You know that as well as I do. When you stood at my side as I sobbed for Samuel to come back or when we knelt at Kenny’s bedside as he took his last breaths. We know loss, but we also know love. 

We’ve talked many times about the past. Our sin, our glory, our love, and our pain. We can never go home, but we can at least dream. Dream on, darling. Look to the sky and cry. It’s okay to feel it. Hold steadfast and still and I will hold your hand. 

Your Rose,

Prim

George, Thomas, Rose, & Savannah Obediah

George, Thomas, and Rose,

I had the honor to be able to bring you into this world. I got to hold you first, and wash you, and clothe you first. You are my children and I will always love you. Thank you for always caring for me, and I’m glad I could do the same for you. 

Thomas, we had so much fun making those cakes. All I wanted to do when you were a boy was to make sure you were safe and that you were happy. Nyx tried to ruin that for you, she was a jealous woman. She did the unthinkable, but I remember marching right up to your father and calling him some pretty horrible things. It got his attention alright, and I think his head got out of his ass because we wouldn’t be where we are now. You’ve grown up now, but don’t stop making cakes. They’re delightful. 

George, there is no one else I could’ve thought of taking over my job in the Legion. You are one of the hardest-working soldiers I have ever seen. You will never know just how proud I am of you, but I hope you are proud of yourself too. Make sure to rest and take care of yourself. Being a soldier is a lot of work, especially since  I know sometimes you get sick from being overworked. 

Rose, you are quite prone to getting hurt… but each time I happily treated you and gave you the best treatment possible. I’m glad you’re here. I know you didn’t quite like what Solomon and I talked to you about. All I ask is that you take care of your brothers. 

Savannah, thank you for giving me the honor to help deliver your twin girls and make you a new leg. I hope it’s fully formed and that you can walk now. I wish I could’ve seen those little kiddos grow up. 

I’m so proud of you all. Take care of one another.

Love,

Prim

Emilie MacPherson & Augustus Iomharach

Emilie, Augustus,

I am so proud of you both. I’m sorry I couldn’t finish your training, but you must learn much of the work on your own. Get out there and get working. I couldn’t teach you anything from real experience because people came to me first. 

You are both Surgeon-Generals now. Make me proud.

Emilie, I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you one last time. I wasn’t there for you much, and the last time we saw one another we were in some real rough waters. I hope you don’t hate me… It kills me from the inside to think if you do. We’ll meet again, I promise.

Augustus, I still laugh at how you asked me for relationship advice. I’m surprised you got married, you had no idea what to do when there was a lull in a conversation. Can’t help you there, my friend! You move on to doing something else, then. A change of scenery usually does it. Or drinking.

Thank you for being by my side in my hardest times. I forget myself sometimes, especially when I drink. Thank you for looking out for my health, I overwork myself too…

I love you both so much, so far as that I consider you my daughter and son. I entrust you not to carry on my legacy. Please, don’t carry on mine. I want you to create your own legacy. Notable Surgeon-Generals in history are not those who follow, but those who lead. Lead with your heart, and fight with your hands. 

Love,

Primrose

Amelia

Ames,

I have no idea if you’ll understand this letter, but it’s worth a shot. 

Thanks for being my sister, my other half, my battle buddy, and my friend. Without you, I’d be dead. Literally. You’re probably out somewhere in Balian, but know that I could never hate you. Even when I knew you were going to try and betray me in that gatehouse. I would’ve deserved it probably.

Either way, we kicked ass together. When we cut your ears, gave Mata Leslie hell, changed your eyes, anytime we stood guard, or when we kicked the crap out of Kia’sei and Khan in Old Providence. You got injured then, but you stuck it out like a champ. I would’ve kicked the old General when you were pregnant. No one disrespects my girl. 

I love you, Amelia. I hope you’re doing better out there…

Your sister,

Prim

Hieran Melphestaus 

Hieran,

Last we spoke, you were out in Haense as Lord Commander! You have no idea how proud of you I am. You deserve that role, and you worked so hard in the ISA and asked for so little. I’m honored to call you my brother-in-arms. 

We enlisted together, rose the ranks together, and did so much together. I remember doing gate duty with you in Old Providence and we talked about cavalry stuff since I didn’t know much of anything at the time. Thank you for that. It was an incredible help and is probably what made me stay in the ISA after I had my family. 

I want you to know that I was the one who helped the Romstuns free Bakir Ireheart. I guess we both broke after years of service. Just don’t go losing your head as I did. May your soldiers find comradery in you. 

Best of luck,

Primrose

Boots Anarore

Boots,

I hope you are doing well since we last met. I hope you gave your wife the title of ex-wife and kicked her out the door. She is not worthy of someone so kind like you. I first met her when she was breaking into the ISA bastion. She was always trouble.

Find joy in doing something for yourself. Fight and prove that you don’t need her to live. I wish you the best, my friend. 

Best,

Primrose

Joseph Beckett

Joseph,

We have a long history. A long and complex one. I still want to sock you in the jaw for what you did, but you were still there for me either way. I met your granddaughter Annadelia. She’s courting my grandson Jack, so I hope they work out. They’re quite nice together. 

Talk to Arthur, will you? Make sure that he’s alright and keep an eye on him. I worry about that man.

Take care,

Primrose

Gustaf and Cynefrith Easworth

Gustaf and Cynefrith,

We had an interesting first meeting, didn’t we? I’m glad we shook on it to start anew because it’s been one hell of a ride. I still have the bones I picked.  Thank you for your help, both in medicine and in battles. I hope I repaid that to you, my friends. 

Thank you Gustaf for trusting me with Sergei. I hope the information we collected together aided you in protecting Acre. Thank you Cynefrith for taking my granddaughter under your wing and training her to be a good fighter. 

I wish you both the best of luck in the fight ahead. Fight with valor.

God bless Acre.

Primrose

Sergei Harold Othaman

Sergei,

Thank you. Without you, I’d have been dead way sooner. Thank you for all that you do. 

You are virtuous, Sergei. I told you what I had done, and yet I hadn’t finished. Still, you called me an Angel of Virtue, to which I certainly couldn’t live up to such a title… It belongs to you, but you will never admit such to yourself. 

Continue to fight bravely. Fight for the innocent, my friend. 

He smiles upon you,

Prim

Mika Anarion

Mika,

I can never repay you for what you’ve done for me. Thank you, with all my heart, thank you. I’m proud to be an old comrade of yours. When I needed help, I came to you. Especially all things magic and non-mundane. I couldn’t have done it without you. I remember seeing you protect the Emperor with your magic and I thought it was one of the coolest things. Best of luck with Lubba, I’ll probably not see you soon. Old man…

Best,

Primrose

Mata Leslie

My boot camp brother, Mata,

We bled together, we beat the shit out of each other, and we lived together. 

I don’t know where you are, but I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate you. Even though we were on different sides of the war, you fought with such honor and vigor… I could have never done such. I’m sorry.

You should’ve killed me sooner.

Primrose

Borris Kortrevich

Borris,

I’m sorry we couldn’t see each other again. Your twins must be so old now. I wonder if they will be artistic like you. You write so brilliantly, Borris. I have read every edition you’ve ever published. May your legacy be known all over Almaris. 

I’m glad to have met you. I’m glad I could save you from Alec and I don’t regret the revenge was done on your behalf… even if it originally cost me my eye. 

Take care, my son.

Love,

Mom

Emir de Rosius

Emir,

My best of luck to you in your training. I’m sorry that I couldn’t continue it, but with more practice and lessons, you will do wonderfully. Remember what we talked about. 

Do things for yourself. Cook for your own happiness, fight to protect the innocent - not just your sister - and practice medicine to do no harm. Remember to respect people's boundaries and think before you speak.

I look forward to watching you work.

Love,

Auntie Prim

Isaac Daystar

Isaac,

There is more to live for than me. There are innocent people in this realm who need help. They need protection. When I came to Old Providence, I knew no one. And yet someone showed kindness to me and said “Pay it forward.” and I did. I’ve done it every day of my life. 

You were once someone who needed help, and now it is time for you to pay it forward. 

Stay strong, Isaac. I know you can do it.

Love,

Aunt Prim

Sir Jarad Munnel & Family

Jarad,

When we first met, I was flabbergasted by your efficiency and speed in work. You blew the entire ISA away. You used to break into my house, and I haven’t a clue how you did it. Either way, I’m glad we were comrades and that we could still be friends after everything we went through. You built a good life for yourself, thank you for everything you have done for me.

Best,

Prim

My Fellow Medics of Almaris

My Fellow Medics of Almaris,

I have had the honor to learn and work alongside many of you, and an even greater honor of teaching many others. It is now time for me to go, and much of that work will fall onto you. I leave you with wise words I wish my mentors had taught me.

Medics will always be needed. You support life and normalize death. 

You are the people’s guidance in times of need. 

Do no harm, not even for your own political gain. Continue to learn even when you think you are skilled enough. Be kind, compassionate, and caring… even in the face of war. It is okay to treat an enemy. Stand up for what you believe in and protect your people. Always be prepared for a fight, but stay in the background. Long-ranged weapons and potions are best for medics.

Remember to wear your gloves.

Best of luck,

Dr. Primrose Gendik

Rev & Diana Vuiller

Rev & Diana,

We were friends many years ago, and I betrayed that trust. There is nothing I can do to fix it and it is something I will live with for the rest of my life. I will never bother your family again, but I wish for you to hear me out just this one time.

Owyn Vuiller met my student Emir de Rosius, to which he felt the need to cure Owyn of his leprosy. As we both know, there is nothing that I can do. Emir bugged me endlessly, but all I wanted to know was if Owyn wanted help for himself. He was a nervous kid, and I understood why. Vuillers fear me, and they had a reason for doing such. But my back was turned to him, my hands placed behind my back as we spoke. I swore to do no harm to this child. Pain management is what he sought, but for some reason, he began to run and fell on his face. Profusely bleeding, I couldn’t just stand aside and watch. I shouldn’t have removed his mask, but what else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t have done nothing… I felt like you would’ve gotten more mad at that. I’m just relieved that you were there and able to give him more specialized care.

As for Johanne, she was going to die without help. Her and her unborn triplets. Rosemary begged me to help her, and how could I not do anything? Now that’s coldhearted. It was a simple fix. One Breath of Life potion to open her airways to fight the smoke inhalation. I’m just glad she and her children were alright. 

My condolences for the loss of your son, but I also do not think it was an accident. It’s rather easy to fake one’s death, you know.

What were you hiding, Rev?

Diana, thank you for teaching me. I wouldn’t have been the medic I am without you. Thank you for saving Rosemary’s life when she was a child, and thank you for treating Arthur after he was burned. 

Thank you for… everything. For being there when Arlo left me, especially. I haven’t repaid that kindness but I still wanted to show my gratitude. 

You can celebrate that I’m dead, I won’t mind. I’m happy too.

-Primrose

Danzen & Lectors

Danzen & the Lectors,

Thank you for your kindness in the past. It was an honor to learn from you and provide limb replacements for those in need. It was my favorite thing to do, honestly. 

However, I have some questions. Is it a sin to kill when I’ve watched you kill too? It is for the greater good, isn’t it? Spooks, Azdrazi, whatever dark thing lies within this realm. We became closer because we killed together. You are not absolved of your sins either. I came for penance, and this penance I have followed through. 

I have confessed my sins. Sins I did to protect people. The only sins that I have done that were for my own benefit were Vuillermoz, Bakir, and cheating on my husband. Everything else - the children especially - is because they were going to endanger the safety of the other children. It was imminent, especially Charles who I watched slash my son’s neck. Was I supposed to do nothing and let them kill one another? 

You are hypocrites, but I have done your bidding even if it isn’t in my favor. I have had my hands cut, I have confessed to the orenian leadership (who don’t even exist at this point), and given away all my possessions to my family. 

I chose the first option when we were together… but I have also chosen the second for absolute penance. The flames of my home will burn away all the sins that took place in that house. I will burn. 

Don’t worry, I lived alone. My family has multiple places for them to live anyways. The gates are always closed and the civilian door keys were changed, so it wasn’t like they could even get into their own home either. 

Best,

Primrose

Rex Ar-Borok’Akaal, Grand King Bakir Ireheart, King Odin, King Ehrendil, Prince Frederick, Prince Kosher, & Keong Karl III 

Rex Ar-Borok’Akaal of Krug, Grand King Bakir Ireheart of Urguan, King Odin of Norland, King Ehrendil of Elysium, Prince Fredrick of Oren, Prince Kosher, and King Karl III of Haense, 

I’ve had the pleasure of working alongside you or a family member of yours sometime in my long life. Whether it was fighting, medicine, or some other political thing, it was an honor to do such. However, my time has come to pass this work on to others. Diplomats, Medics, and Soldiers… they shouldn’t mix, from personal experience. 

I have a favor to ask of each of you. My granddaughters Aurora and Laurelai Komnenos seek to become medics. They are only children, but I will not allow them to be pushed around as I have. Please treat them with the same kindness and respect as you have treated me. 

However, do not play them for your political gain. They are not puppets to be played with. They are medics, meant to treat your people in their time of medical need. I simply ask that they travel on your lands safely for that intended purpose. 

May the stars watch over you and guide you.

Stay safe, stay well.

-Dr. Primrose Gendik

Gus

You were right. About everything.

-Primrose

An Illustration of Orenian women partaking in the festivities

With the commencement of the Social Season of 1882, it is necessary to appreciate a woman’s youth and maidenhood, and all the work required to maintain such. Though a young lady’s main goal should be to achieve a marriage and be accepted at her debut, an eve where she should relax amongst her peers is mandatory to ease the stress one may suffer during Astercalia. Women of all ages, debutantes or not, nobility and peasants alike are encouraged to join in the Damsel’s Day festivities– but under no circumstances shall men or Acreans enter.

Women from all realms that are allies of Oren, or in a neutral state, are also welcomed to attend– this includes Celia’nor and Haense.

PROGRAM OF EVENTS

I. A LADY’S WORD OF ADVICE

To Initiate the event, several guest speakers– particularly notable, older women of our Orenian society– shall be invited to speak and advise the new generation of young ladies that are coming of age. These guest speakers shall be announced the day of the event.

II. ARTS AND CRAFTS

To keep the attendees entertained, there shall be various arts and crafts displays. Flower crown making and basket weaving is anticipated to be the most popular activity. 

III. ART COMPETITION

To finalize the day of festivities, an art competition shall be set in place. All submissions shall be posted and displayed so all citizens may vote on the winner. The individual who has gathered the most votes, two days after the submissions are posted, shall be granted two-hundred minas.

SIGNED,

LADY HENRIETTA WILHELMINE VON PREUSSENS

HER EXCELLENCY, MATHILDE CYPRIELLE PRUVIA

                                                                                                                                                Simonsen, Niels “Pirates on Deck of their Ship”, 1936.

         Looking for a place to stay? Adventure? Women? Treasure and beauty alike?
     Come Aboard Captain Lin Eviette and her crew on a journey across the seas. The Abeille needs a crew, and YOU can help with that. Find me, Captain Lin, in any tavern across the wide. We shall trade and sing into the night on the beautiful sea.


                                                                                    Signed,

                                                                                  Captain Lin Eviette

[!] Surgeon-General Dr. Primrose Gendik holding a stalk of Gislocinovi.

1870-1882.

To the beloved people of Oren, it fills me with such sadness that I announce my retirement from the position of Surgeon-General and as a medic as a whole. I have served this wonderful, loving, and supportive community as a medic for over forty-five years and Surgeon-General for twelve. In that time, we have together delivered babies into this realm, cared for the sick and wounded, and eased those dying into their final rest. All in all, I had the honor to care for you and your loved ones. As I grow older so too must that honor be passed on to the next generation of medics. 

The next generation of medics have been trained under my instruction, but of course they may not know everything. It takes many years to perfect this craft. To this day I still find myself doing something new and experiencing things I have never seen before. As I leave, please see to it that these medics are treated with the same kindness and respect that you all have shown me.

In my place, there will be two new head medics in charge - one for each placement. These medics are like my own children, and I bestow to them this honor with pride.

Augustus Iomharach, Surgeon-General of Oren.

Emilie MacPherson, Surgeon-General of Acre.

Oren aut Mortem.

God bless Acre.

Signed,

Dame Dr. Primrose Gendik, Surgeon-General of Oren

It was quiet within Vienne. Not a soul within sight, not even in the usually bustling square. War had killed it. All but one went to rest for the night. Gravel crackled under the weight of a single pair of footsteps that slowly approached the Church. 

The door handle was jangled and tugged, and the dark oak shut behind the white figure that entered the holy building. Footsteps continued until the doctor stood just a few pews from the altar, where a crackling flame burned endlessly through the night. Dark eyes reflected the bright Eternal Flame. Primrose looked on as she reached for her skirt, gathering the starched fabric as she sat. 

A flickering orange aura illuminated the doctor’s youthful features as a silent prayer was muttered through her plush lips. Her crimson veiled head bowed low once she stopped, opening a small bag in her lap and carefully dumping the contents into her lap. Her eyes examined each of the valued items, her lips parting as she began to softly sing. Her words bounced off the stone walls of the church and echoed to be heard by… no one. 

Only God would hear her. 

But would he listen?

A ring carefully crafted of shining Aeldenic silver, a floral pattern etched along the surface of the band. Engraved script inside the band read “For my Sunflower.” Ten oval-cut yellow topaz gems trembling the petals of a sunflower surrounded the small circle-cut black onyx gem. A sunflower, something the girl who possessed this beautiful piece of promise valued so much, for a Sunflower. A promise of love, of faith, of heart and home. This was her engagement ring, a stunning piece of work made by Joseph d’Azor.

Arlo Cooper.

Diamond-lined Qualashi steel and silver intertwined to make this simple band, but it was surprisingly beautiful. Along the side, the date “1842” was inscribed. It was relatively cheap when Primrose bought it. 75 mina for a set of two. This was her wedding band, the only ring on her hand for 40 years. 

Arthur Komnenos.

A hemmed square piece of cloth made of a thin blue fabric. It was a rather simple, common item. One would have often seen her in the midst of a bout of anxiety gently stroking the fabric between her fingers and thumb. It brought her comfort, as it did when it was first handed to her. When her tears had first spilled, and the handkerchief came into her possession.

Joseph d'Azor.

Red roses with green leaves were embroidered on one end of this silky red ribbon. On the end would be a beautiful crow perched on a branch with its wings extended, as if it was about to take off for flight. The edges had been sown to perfection, and such incredible handiwork was handmade just for her. Before the gift box was even given to her, Primrose thanked him before she even knew what was inside.

Solomon Obediah.

The ribbon was carefully tied back into Prim’s hair where it would remain. Her veil was set into place and each item set back into the small pouch. Ruffling echoed through the barren building as fabric of her uniform was creased and straightened along with her movement to stand.

No one was around to see her leave.

[The events described in this post are not meant to be metagamed nor are they public knowledge in any way; only to be discovered through proper roleplay.

SINS OF THE SON

“... same as his father, and his before that.” - ANASTASIA O’ROURKE, 1805

A RECOUNT OF HIS EARLY LIFE, COSIMO ANTONY FALCONE

7th  of  Snow  Maiden,  1805 THE IMPERIAL PROVIDENCE

An unsettling, unfitting silence filled the FALCONE household, that which drove a young man to a worried boredom. Sprawled lackly against a sofa with a forearm stuck against his forehead, he plan to lay watching until the flame of a hearth smoldered out to ash. And the longer he sat to stew in the silence, and the further the fire was weakened, the less he had to distract his trotting mind- leg beginning to bounce anxiously. 

Indiscernible from hours or minutes, they all felt the same. 

CLICK! The mechanisms of the door’s locks began to twist, prompting the lad to soar up from his thought-induced stupor, looking toward the source. The crack of the door allowed in these dim rays of light from the lanterns of the PROVIDENCE streets– silhouetting whomever was entering. The creak of hinges were long drawn out, only heightening the tension of expectancy. 

Even to an unknowing onlooker, it was glaringly apparent that he was awaiting someone.

But the figure only revealed to be his sister, prompting the young man to suck defeatedly against his teeth as he returned his hues unto the dwindling flames. A hand flung itself in exasperation, uttering an almost inaudible and begrudging, “Salve, Lauretta.”

“Ciao, Cosimo..” The young woman echoed in a rather solemn tone of her own, turning to secure the door behind her. Against the sounds of the mechanisms locking once more, seemingly unprompted, his sister continued her utterance, “I haven’ seen him.” 

“I didn’ ask.” He chided in retort, as if he wanted to sound uninterested. His swatting hand laid atop the other, resting both against his chest as feet continued to jitter. 

“Si. An’ you weren’t going to. I know, Cosimo, I know..” The girl dropped her keys to a clatter against the credenza, loud steps then clapping as she moved about the foyer. 

“An’ we probably won’t. You know how he is.”

The boy maintained his facade of uninterest, fiddling with the front tails of his shirt, offering nothing in response. 

Lauretta brought herself closer, leaning down to wrap her arms around him from above and behind. “Rest, Cosi. Maybe tomorrow.” A gentler utterance, offering a careful set of slaps against his olive cheek before retreating up the stairs- leaving the boy to sulk in the once-more quiet of their still home.

8th  of  Sun’s  Smile,  1795 THE IMPERIAL HELENA

SLAM– announced the entrance of two young children into a humble homestead. A young boy and his sister, no older than seven years, the both of them. What awaited them atop the island of the kitchenette was a plate of cheeses and salted crackers, lighting a true joy from the younglings.

“Cosimo? Lauretta?” A woman’s voice called down to the rambunctious duo.

“Si!” They called in tandem, scrambling to crowd around the charcuterie. 

The boy piped up further, “Uh, mama?”

“A second, Cosimo.” Their mother returned from afar.

Though he did not grant her that second, following up, “Can we have’a this cheese?”

But there was no response. His mother would have her second. 

A child’s impatience wheedled a frown. He would have to wait.

Indiscernible from minutes or seconds, they all felt the same.

And sounds of descending steps stiffened the now-pouty child in anticipation.

Down came his mother, gaudy colors of loose fabrics that were visible from a distance.

“What were you doing up there, mama?” The boy asked scrutinously, as if a soldier interrogating a thief.

“I was busy.” She returned in avoidance of his question, puttering about the kitchenette to prepare slices of meat for the board of finger foods.

“Y’always busy..” He muttered in defiance, a pout to accompany.

“Si, I am–” Chided the mother, finger jutting firm in his direction to quiet him with just a gesture. And once her fire had dwindled, she cooed in conclusion, “and one day, you will be, too. Too busy to call for your mother.”

This excited the young boy, his features churning to reflect. 

He was ambitious, much like her. Much like his father. 

He did not know what he would become, nor did he really care. 

To be “busy, too”. That was all he sought.

His mother knifed away at the cold cut, tossing each slice to a wet slap atop of one another– this preparation to fill the silence that fell among the pondering.

“Do I have to be a doctor like you?” He asked, innocence still intact. “Do I have to work with papa?”

“As long as you’re happy, mi amore.” Carefree, his mother seemed, cutting perfect portions of the meats that the boy had already begun to dig into. She had her worries, but seldom did they show. 

“As long as you do something.”

19th  of  The  First  Seed,  1805 THE IMPERIAL PROVIDENCE

The walls in which the boy had now found himself were made of stone and steel, colored in a fitting shade of gray. A putrid stench of the stagnated waste stifled the already-stuffy airs of those underground chambers, coming from an overfilled bowl– a clear disregard shown for those who inhabited the cage. 

Leg propped up on a hard wooden bench that was meant to be his bed, the other hung loosely from the side, and the boy restlessly moved his appendages– his only means of entertainment. 

It was that, or to count the bricks, and he never much cared for mathematics.

For warmth, he curled himself  beneath his burned tailcoat, the gaping hole letting through an irritating draft, coaxing him to shift restlessly to maintain his body’s heat. His arm was wrapped in stained gauss, fresh marks of leaking blood; eyes hung low, shown that he had not slept proper for an innumerable amount of time. 

The silence of his newfound quarters would have quickly driven him to insanity had he not so much to occupy his mind– endlessly recounting what had landed him beneath the Bastille, a wounded dog.

Indiscernible from hours or minutes, they all felt the same. 

CLICK, broke the silence. The sound of a heavy iron door was brought open and slammed shut, but the young man did not spring up to see who had come for him. He did not care, least, his facade would say that.

Unhurried steps echoed toward the boy inside of the cage, before a woman’s voice hummed, 

“I thought Gino would have raised his children better.” 

“Eh?” The utterance of that name; a spark of a fleeting hope, sprung from his sprawl to look for the woman who spoke. Though he hadn’t recognized her, at least not in her uniform. 

“Oh... Probable. But 'es gone now.” 

“Gino’s gone?” She reticently called back, an unbelieving scowl turning over her features. She folded her clothed arms against her lightly-plated chest, idle steps closer toward the boy in his cell. By then, he had already averted his gaze toward his scuffed leather shoes that swayed akin to a hastened pendulum. “Si. I haven' seen 'em in months. Iss not like him.”

“Maybe he's only gone off somewhere, you know. Never could stay in one place.” Her idle steps brought her within reach of the cage, though she’d not dare to place a hand, lest the caged creature were to aggress in yet another hasty decision. 

The youth shrugged, lazily, but he did, retorting a defeated response– desperately attempting to maintain his indifference, “Maybe.” 

And once more, the heavy doors from outside of the cage swung to open, bringing forth two more uniformed soldiers, both of whom took glance toward the lad– the lad meeting theirs with ashamed eyes, guised in displeasure. 

One of them, an aged, overweight man. 

The other, a very familiar face to the caged boy. A raven-haired lad of the same middleadolescence. These two met eyes for a long moment, just before the round man spoke to the woman, 

“Sergeant, all is well here?” 

“For now, Sergeant.” A simple retort from the watchful woman. 

Despite her assurances, the aged soldier kept a scrutinous gaze toward the boy in the cage, lingering for a moment too long before remarking, “Let me know if you need anything.” 

The woman made a nod, dismissing the men and awaiting their departure before turning back to the youth behind bars. “So what are you in here for, kid?” She asked, resting herself against the rails of his cage. 

“I thought you’d already know, by now.” 

The woman managed a smirk upon his response– or lack of. An idle nod and an amused snort as she pried herself from the bars, opting for the desk that was at the other end of the vault. It wasn’t until she took her seat, reclining back, that she began to speak, “Well, if you can believe it, talk of prisoners is not always our first priority as soldiers.”

He didn’t believe it– at first, anyways. Perhaps it was his hubris that made it so difficult to believe.  

Nibbling against the innards of his bottom lip, the youth allowed them to fall into a momentary silence, seeking not to answer the woman’s queries, but instead to push his own, 

“My pa. Was he a good man?” 

She hesitated, clear the answer he sought was much more complex than a simple affirmative. As if she were debating which portion of the truth to tell the boy. 

“He did what he had to... Same as his father, and his before that.” 

Another silence befell the two, offering the boy time to idly nod over what he’d been told– making what he could from it. It was of no surprise, though. A truth he did not want to accept, all but confirmed. The silence didn’t last long, as he found some solace in his short conversation with the woman– the first comfort in a long while. 

The two carried on cordially, eventually prompting the youth to ask the woman for her honesty in something, a grave sounding nature to his request. His eyes turned to the shut iron doors before a beckoning hand summoned her closer.

And obliged to his request, she brought herself from her desk and into his cell, folded arms and watchful eyes as she called, “What is it, kid?”

 For this one, the youth sat himself up proper, reaching his arms to grab against his leg, as if to tuck it closer to himself for subconscious comfort, 

“You think Ophelia was tellin' the truth about him?”

12th  Grand Harvest,  1805 THE IMPERIAL PROVIDENCE

Indiscernible from months or days, they all felt the same. 

Guards to make their wellness checks, though never enthusiastically. They brought food to the youth, but only what little nourishments one would need to stay alive. Seldom did they change the buckets for waste. 

Parched lips cracked and a roiling stomach pled, but no longer could he smell the stench of captivity. 

The boy had finally begun to accept the fate he chose for himself- and not an utterance to the GOD he so claimed to love. There was nothing GOD could have done, if it were not to free him from the cage he made home. No justified anger could be given to the deity, only a chilling acceptance for the way of men. For who he was did not resemble who he saw in a glass reflection. 

“Iss the way things are.” He recalled, his father’s voice telling him. 

“Iss the way things are.” He echoed quietly to himself. His voice was hoarse, as if to clear his throat of mucus that simply was not there. A tongue sought to wet his chapped lips, as effectively as bailing a ship with pronged silverware.

He counted now. His breaths, the bricks, the soldiers, the cellmates– how many times he could ask for water before he was scolded, though never for the sake of keeping track. 

Only to pass the time.

He couldn’t have expected this to be the last night he spent in that cell.

He had become accustomed to the amount of times the heavy doors would swing open and shut, the amount of men he heard sentenced to ‘The Hole.’

But never him.

He did not always look. 

He liked to guess, as if the next guard to come would be his executioner. 

As if the next cellmate was to be his combatant in ‘The Hole.’ 

As if this time the door had opened, it was the lawmen who would have him tried; 

to remain hostage in that stone prison.

“What is it you’ve done, Cosimo? Speak directly.” A young voice asked, cutting through the quiet contemplation the caged boy had made for himself.  

This voice called for him by name– of course he was eager to see. Pried up from exhaustion, he was now eye-to-eye with the raven-haired boy in uniform from a month’s passing. 

An old friend from the outside.

The second comfort in a long while.

“Viktor…”