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A World Elsewhere

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Esterlen

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Thatch loosens her neck. "Just when things were getting interesting." She grumbles.

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Karl Barbanov welcomes John to the Seven Skies. 
 

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Word reached the mali on the mountain, the Lord of Esterwick. "May God res' his soul." Kolohe sat down at the head of the long table, his armor letting off a soft creak, the black and sickly pale green plates grinding against each other. Swirling around a glass of wine in a circle, he sighed, and brought up the glass of red wine to his bearded lips.

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A smirk would grow on Taevius' features as he looks over the letter stating the news that he had just received "Could not have happened to a kinder man throughout the realm" he'd comment sarcastically. Crumbling the paper in his fist tossing it into the fire.

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Upon hearing the news of her father's death, Catherine's gaze wanders to the throne that sits there. Never before has this room felt so incredibly empty, as if her father took even the echoes of himself when he departed. She prays she can help her older brother, the crown prince, in the times to come. 

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"God is Just." A boy named Cabbage offers, hoping Ser Emery Hall might finally find rest among the Seven Skies.

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Duke Richard Staunton of Courland frowned when he heard the news. His liege and he had not always seen eye to eye. Through years of service they'd conflicted more than once, but the duke had always respected the sovereign: a man who had, despite his harsh demeanor, united the people of Oren; a man who had remedied the festering scars plaguing his beloved Empire; a man who had resiliently waged justified war in the name of his people. The Emperor's unwavering constitution had earned the Duke's loyalty. So now, although he said nothing, Richard quietly mourned for his liege. 

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The former Captain-General Gregor DuPont would bow his head upon hearing of his Emperor's death, "With his death, Humanity will know no peace."

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As Ser Caspar de Ruyter hears of the news, he utters a prayer for the fallen emperor.
~~~

As he is writing to his son of this and the death of Richard Halmund, He remembers something he read in a book quite a while ago.
"Only one thing is certain in life."
"What's that papa?"

"Death."

~~~

Creator bless the Emperor.

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Beelzebub stands at his post on the corner of Steel Lane as the first news of the glorious John's death arrives to Felsen. At first, he feels nothing but shock - a so sudden perish, and a perish so humbling to the a man compared to Godfrey himself - seeming almost impossible. He remains on duty as he should, immovable in person, but his mind wanders. 

 

The women of Felsen begin their lament as the crier's voices pierce the summer's night, and Beelzebub cannot help but begin to feel his own inner sadness at the death of his Emperor. Last month, the lowly Citizen-at-Arms had aided in the defense of His Imperial Majesty, defense against the Savoyard knights within the throne room of the Palace who sought to cause John harm.

 

"It was an honor to live alongside a prophet," Beelzebub mutters to himself, "let us see if we shall do his legacy what it deserves."

 

The man releases a quiet sigh in awe of John's life. "All men should hope to live up to what His Imperial Majesty achieved. An aspiration for all," Beelzebub mutters to a passerby, who stops to listen. "From the lowliest of serfs to His Honor the Archchancellor himself, let us bask in the glory of John, and foresee a future in each and every one of us, a future full of our utmost potential. All men should seek the pure strength that which John had. I can see it now, there shall be ballads and books written in the name of Him for centuries. A man even greater than Godfrey-- the boy-emperor who drove Humanity to its height, the man who drove us so high in might that we reached God himself... we grew so mighty that God took Him from us. Long live," Beelzebub uttered.

 

"Long live,"  the passerby repeated.

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Beo would walk let off his bird, sending it to the heart of dwarven lands, as he looks around to his men, ones young and old,  within the mead hall of Seahelm. "T' Tyrant is gone! Now is the time t' act! Let us leave this cursed empire Eirik has brought us under, for we shall restore Norland to its former glory, the kingdom of Norland! Let us un-do the mistakes of my father Edvard, and my uncle Eirik!" as he would stand, as he looks around the meadhall, after a small moment of silence, the Norlandic chant of "IRON FROM ICE!" would fill the great hall, from every man and woman present.

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Tarub munched on his bread as he heard the Emperor had fallen. "Makes teh fud taste moch bette'."

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A tall blonde man in a black cassock, sighs upon hearing the news, "And so it begins anew. Peace be upon us all, for there shall be little in the foreseeable future." He would return to his garden, distracted by a magnificent flower.

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