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Reforming Praedium

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Rethai

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Address to the vassals of Oren

 

Throughout the history of the Realms, betrayal has encountered many. Unfortunately, they have always been fatal. Through the hard times of backstabbing and power hungry leaders the Grand Kingdom of Oren has carried on and thrived. Many have witnessed leaders and civilizations fall, only to be reborn. This is a prime example.

 

Praedium, once known for its fine lucius farms and elegant homes, now known for its corrupt political system and its treason to Oren. Through a complete cleansing of the rules, Jacque de Praedium, Pinocchio Praedium, and Marvin Praedium we as a civilization that was on the brink of death can now firmly say we are reborn.

 

All physical evidence of Jacque de Praedium as our leader have been wipe. Whether it be by burning books or knocking down statues. Odessa, the Reformed Praedium is now booming with more homes, more people, and more love for our nation, Oren.

 

We send this letter and post these flyers across the nation of Oren and Petrus to demonstrate our love and our faith in our superiors. With that being said, Jawn Fehr has been appointed the position of Chancellor, followed by two other inner council members. We are awaiting Duke Vasili Vanir to make the name of Odessa official, however we see no reason he would not.

 

The city of Odessa is, to show the faith that they lacked for so long a Canon church to appreciate the creator. We are also building a Tavern, Arena, and festival centre for any and all to come.

 

This is, a new civilization of hope and prosperity. Long live Odessa, Long live Oren.

 

 

 

 

 

 

tl;dr : Praedium leader went X_X , New leader appointed and now its called Odessa.. Goal is to be better with Oren and to grow with them, not against.

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Elvira nods when she hears the news, hopefully things will go much better this time.

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"Not dis agayn..." says Wem

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"Bastards vill do the same thing again." Audbjørn grumbles as he looks over the poster.

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"Ye can polish a smelly old shite... but it's still a smelly old shite.." says a random farmer peasant in a tavern in Siegrad.

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"The 'Grand Kingdom' of Oren? Are we living in the same place?" Cantonus exclaims as he reads over the notice.

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Berilac wonders who this miraculous Jawn may be and whether someone has something to do with J names, only to fall to his knees and thank Creator that Praedium doesn't have any libraries they could've burned and Shame of Praedium's history is preserved for posterity at civilized places.

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The aging, grizzled Publius reads this and rubs his temples, suffering from yet another headache dealt from these lands. He quickly pens a short, bombastic letter, and sends it to the men of Praedium/Odessa.

 

To whom it may concern,

 

It is to my great disdain to hear of even more uncertainty, instability, and odd events changing the situation in the lands of Old Atgaard. I am pleased to read this enthusiam and Orenic patriotism, but your volitile loyalty does a lot to damn what you write.

 

I see no reason to beat around the bush; we are a nation filled with leaders, yet it seems you fail to produce one capable person among your many subjects. Fix this problem, before we have to. If your course is not straightened within a Saints week, expect the same treatment that the High Elves have earned themselves through their ill intentions and poor self-governence.

 

If you need guidance, seek it now, for taking the advise of another is certainly preferable to martial law, is it not?

 

Send a reply if you need me. Otherwise? Make yourselves useful for a change.

 

-His Honor, Publius Bracchus

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Percival looks in deteste upon such an announcement.

 

"These scum will do the same again. One big conspiracy I say.

 

How dare they try to reform, using the name of the dead rebel as their own.

 

How dare they try to mock Oren by making such an announcement. A random fellow called Jawn taking charge is no good. Until somebody who is known and capable takes the reigns of 'Odessea', it will still be the same old lands of the traitors.

 

More people, more rebels, I say. More hate for our Nation. Burn it to the ground.

 

Percival storms off, to complain about this to somebody.

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"******* sheite, I will never trust these 'reformed' traitors." A random peasant would mutter.
 

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