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La Muerte

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             The rain thundered above, the marshes around Dour Watch slowly filled with rainwater. Outside the walls, Miguel Cortes and a retinue of Inquisitors shuffled about nervously. Inside the voices of Emperor, noble, and clergy carried above the rains. The meeting was shifting in favor of the clergy, the heresies preached by James Turnbull were turned aside. But not without consequence. "The Bishops of Savoy and Courland will remain untouched, their positions sturdy in the lands of Oren and the Church. The Bishop of Lorraine will be stripped of his titles and henceforth banished from the Duchy. The Bishop of Kvaz..." The Emperor looked down upon the old man, "The Bishop of Kvaz, on crimes of treason for allying with Southern Barbarians, breaking Augustus of Alsace out of his prison, and plotting against the Emperor (and his will), is sentenced to death." 

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              The court crew silent. Not even James Turnbull rejoiced. The old Bishop, usually stern and witty in the face of danger, grew suddenly still. His glasses fogging as tears slowly crept from his eyes, tears not seen since the death of his wife. His hands shaking, he took off his necklace; the cross dangled in the dark light of the court. Announcing his will to Adrian of Kaedrin, he gifted his tear-stained reading glasses to the young Edmond Cross. Shoved to the door by a proud knight, the old man turned on his heel in final defiance and slapped him across the face. Marching outside on his own accord, Rafael waited impatiently as the executioner argued with a knight over his blade. Finally, he came... and with him his blade. The raindrops sliced as the blade swung through the air and met with Rafael's flesh. It was not a clean cut. His head hung by his flesh, half of his neck exploded into blood and bits on the blade. This mangled, weak corpse was picked up and brought to Luciensport. Here he was entombed in a crypt below El Castelo de La Cruz. Rafael of Cordobe had met Muerte, death.

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A Letter to Fernando Mauricio Pablo Erik Jimena Asturias Bolivar, son of Rafael de Cordobe

                   Hijo, 

                    If you are receiving this letter, I have died on the continent.  Do not waste time to mourn me, comfort your siblings and then be off. Your presence is required on the mainland, as mine and Miguel's was. I bestow my unfinished business upon you. I pray that you find this letter in good health and continue the story of our people, The Cordobonese History, that I have left in your care. I also expect you to pursue my pursuits in opening a brewery run by monks, but to each their own. I bestow upon you my sword, of which was passed to me by your namesake and my friend Fernando Cortes. Make haste, for the Church of GOD needs your presence. Bring as many of our people as you may, Luciensport will soon need citizens and it is a place where us faithful Cordobonese can thrive. 

                From the grave,

Papa

A Letter to the High Pontiff Everard II, liege of Rafael

                 Your Holiness, 

                  My dutiful liege, I have died. You have bestowed upon me and mine many things. Mercy, allowing us to settle the Outremer. Oppurtinity, accepting our hands and pens into your service. Knowledge, in allowing me to rise the ranks from lowly convert to Pentarch of the Synod. I thank you for this, if only I could serve you from the grave. 

With thanks,

Rafael

 

A Letter to the Inquisitor General Miguel Cortes, student

                Amigo, 

                 I am with GOD now. Miguel, your father was like a brother to me. You and your siblings, like my own children. I came across the sea with you to this strange land and together we served GOD with passion. Do not forget all that I have taught you and that you have learned, do not be wroth to the causes of my death and offer them forgiveness instead. Ensure my son, my youngest who will soon be with you, is looked after well. 

Be strong,

Your Uncle

 

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"Would that I not put to death a man so earnest in his conviction to his faith and his people," says the Emperor to himself, anguishing in his decision, "But that has betrayed me even so. Ought I have forgiven him, as the Prophet Godfrey did? Where I have condemned him to die, ought I have pardoned him for contravening my authority? He had a family like any other. No. He was my loyal servant for a time, yes, but he erred in his judgement and betrayed my trust, and for that he must suffer a penalty."

 

"Would that I had that fraudulent blackguard von Pondt in my hands, so I might have punished him instead," he sighed, leaning back in his high-backed chair. 

 

 

Edited by Esterlen
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A tear rolls down his cheek at the sudden news "May you find peace with GOD, uncle." he puts down the letter and walks over to Luciansport cathedral to pray for Rafael's Murderer.

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"Despite our lack of conversation and meeting, I feel awfully saddened to see another devoted man of GOD die in such a way." Lars would comment lightly.

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*reads in a mexican accent to himself*

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((That made my day.))

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((This was very well written and I wasn't even involved and it made me care. As an aside;))

 

The Emperor appears to talk in brackets.

"The Bishop of Kvaz, on crimes of treason for allying with Southern Barbarians, breaking Augustus of Alsace out of his prison, and plotting against the Emperor (and his will), is sentenced to death."  

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Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

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