The Tree Wilts

[Arteh 1837]

 

THE TREE WILTS

 

 

The world was running red. The streets were filled with smoke, thick and choking smoke. Cries rung in the man’s ears as he roared, failing to hear his own words, the blood rushing to his ears as calloused hands, used to a sword’s hilt, clenched and unclenched. All around him were unfamiliar faces - baleful and wroth, with murder written upon their faces.

 

The streets of Felsen were choked with bodies, and each one leered at the Archduke’s roaring form, at the man who had brought them so many victories - led them on so many campaigns against the enemies overseas. A soft whisper began, coiling through the crowd as a snake, until it was on the lips of every man there - roaring out.

 

“BLOOD FOR BRELUS- DEATH TO THE BUTCHER!”

 

Then; they were upon him. They did not need blades, for they were a mob - ripping and tearing at his fatigued flesh, grasping at cloth that hung from the Archchancellor’s form and forcing him onto his knees. Watchmen surrounded him, agents of the Empire, and grasped him - bound thick rope around his hands that cut into the flesh.

 

Pushed into the centre of the city, the same spot where his blade had severed the head of Franz Sarkozic, his hands were freed of the foreign cloth and he was hauled to his feet. More guardsmen, more foreign faces, more men screaming for blood and vengeance. More cries for death, more for blood.

 

His gaze scanned the crowd, eyes set with blind fury, as he saw the thin flash of steel - a trail of silver blazing across the sky. Time moved slow, achingly slow, and another emerged - a third. Then they plunged in.

 

Aching holes emerged in his chest, blood oozing from wounds onto the ground - slowly dripping onto the streets of Felsen. More daggers emerged, more wounds in the Archduke’s chest.

 

“Death to the Butcher.”

 

There came a final cry, and Augustus feel to his knees. The man who had led the Empire in so many wars, governed, the victor of the Duke’s War - was killed. Butchered on the streets of Felsen. And as jackals from all over the Realm howled news fled to Summerhall, and to the ears of his wife Milena, and his son Lothaire.

[Salvo 1852]

"Blood for Ashford d'Amaury."

[cruzazul 2815]

"They will pay." Says Alexander

[mkaxeman 1106]

"Blood for Amaury," mutters the bed-ridden Vincent.

[_Stigwig 1510]

The Grandmaster receives word of yet another day of chaos, yet another day of bloodshed. Yet to murder an Archduke? This was different. His hands crumple around the missive that the rider had brought, dark eyes turned west.

 

"Too much blood now, and the sun is only dawning."

[Jonificus 2741]

"A new era of violence approaches the lands of humanity, I wonder how long they will remain united against the halfmen across the sea." Comments Mithius the Fat upon hearing of the gruesome fate of the Archduke.

[shortchangehero 4217]

"For Augustus."

[_pr0fit 3084]

"Blood for Amaury" says Sven Ruric

[Z3r05t4r 855]

"Fire from Stone." mocks a disgruntled Silus, rubbing his aching back.

[Hedonism 254]

The Savoyard Prince sat once more, alone in darkness. News had reached him of the Archduke's death just moments prior. His adoptive father, his sire during wardship, butchered in the streets of Felsen by a mob of vultures. He uttered few words,

"Blood for Ashford. Blood for Amaury."

[Heff 2460]

Anatoli nods, "Franz is avenged."

[Lhindir_ 3691]

"Let them kill one another." Scoffs Beo, sitting in Seahelm.

 

[mmat 7460]

Oscar stares Drake's old Renatian helmet down with a fire in his eyes, thinking emotionally of the land he called home, the land his father had fought and given so much for, in flames. He'd been told all the stories, all the fables and tales. 

 

Thrusting himself forwards, the young man takes the old helmet in his hands and takes a breath. 

 

"First Hanseti, then Renatus and Savoy, now Amaury." he states with a confidence to his voice, taking a quiet moment to remember the TITAN. 

[idiot 502]

Garsto Leaff sighs, "And so the great ruler of Lorraine falls...." he would turn, looking over the fields of lorraine from his humble abode, "Let your soul reach the seven skies my good friend..." The monk would say, gazing out across the fields, "and may your son become a great ruler, just like you, but your name shan't be forgotten, nor shall your soul rest in pain..." Garsto would turn, from the window of his abode, looking to the interior, "Great men rise, great men fall, Wise men learn, wise men teach, good soldiers fight, memorable soldiers die. Thou name shan't be forgotten, Thou title shan't be forgotten...." Garsto would nod, staying silent for a minute or two, "Thou.... shan't be forgotten, you gave me all this..." the monk says looking around his home, "So I shall repay with helping the people.... your people." Garsto would say, and on that he would fall silent, gazing around his home, "Goodbye Augustus... Blood for D'amaury."

[d0ntc4r3 104]

Mira would be outraged at the death of her Duke.

 

"The savages! 'Tis not enough for them the Emperor is dead? Must they now kill everyone? Oh, woe upon Lorraine!"