Of Crows and Courage

[AndrewTech 3330]

Of Crows and Courage

  

 

Deep within the Ekaterinburg Palace, the King of Haense and his generals were hard at work. Toiling without rest in the chambers of the Aulic Council, they worked through the night.

 

As Andrik eyes glazed over the plan that had been made by his generals, a sickening feeling had consumed him. The feeling that had overcome him was not one of fear or dread, but of worry. He worried for his wife, who had been kidnapped at swordpoint before his very eyes, and for his children, fearful that they might not ever see their mother alive again.

 

In the days since Maya of Muldav had been kidnapped, he and his councilors had tirelessly attempted to discern her location. In the end, a blade found hidden away in one of the crevices of the King’s 

balcony provided the clue necessary. The chipped blade bore the sigil of a direwolf, reminiscent of House Vyronov, and so began the council’s planning.

 

“...We’ve got to draw them out. Then, once they’ve left the keep, we’ll have the King distract them with some banter while the Barayans flank the bastards and take them by surprise,” Ser Tiberius suggested aloud with a grin.

“Good idea,” The Lord Marshal, Erwin Barclay, replied to the Knight Paramount. “Once the Queen has been secured, the Brotherhood and I will lead a full-on charge on the ranks of those deserter bastards.”

 

A bit more time was spent discussing the plan’s details, although Andrik remained silent throughout much of the conversation. Despite having been educated in the art of war from an early age, he had never been a soldier like his father. Besides, his mind was clearly elsewhere during the conversation... 

 

 

---

 

 

A restless night passed before the King and his men set off for Graiswald Castle, the ancestral home of the Vyronovs. It had lain empty for many years, deserted after Stefan Vyronov moved to Reza to become the King’s ward. The castle had fallen into disrepair over the years, the Vyronov retinue and servants both having deserted long ago following the execution of the Duke of Carnatia. 

 

In the early hours of the morning, the King emerged from his tent. The men were assembled before him, forming a battle line that awaited the inspection of his careful eye. He gave a speech to the soldiers, a rousing one by any estimation. He inspired the men, telling them exactly what they faced: 

 

Deserters, former brothers who held such a hatred for Haense in their hearts that they would target an innocent woman in order to satisfy a grudge.

 

And so, the plan was set into motion. Lukas Vyronov, a long lost cousin of the lords of Graiswald, used his key to the castle’s gates to allow the expeditionary force inside. From there, everything went to plan. The deserters were drawn out of the castle by the King’s rhetoric, their leader incensed by the monarch’s words. 

 

Out he came with his band of traitors, a blade held at the Queen’s neck. Her hair had been cut short, and the woman whom the Haeseni loved so dear was bruised, battered, and starved from weeks of neglect.

 

The Barayans immediately jumped into action, flanking the deserters from the right and managed to pry the knife away from the Queen’s throat. Thereafter, the Brotherhood charged, engaging the band and making short work of the vagabonds. But as for Andrik himself, he found himself face to face with their leader.

 

For the better part of an hour, the two men dueled. However, the King’s rage would be his undoing. While allowing the elderly captain a pause in the fight, a blow was struck on the king’s side. Although Andrik managed to take advantage of the opportunity to deal his own blow upon the deserter leader, a fatal one much worse than his that would lead to the man’s instantaneous death, the damage was grave…

 

 

---

 

 

 

Andrik’s officers found him bleeding profusely in the aftermath of the battle, a nasty gash from the traitor’s sword having cut deep into his flesh. A medic would hastily patch up his wounds for transport back to Reza, where the doctors at St. Michael’s Clinic would do their best to heal him.

 

Days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months as the King struggled to recover. The wound itself was not fatal, but the illness which followed definitely was. It sapped at Andrik’s very strength, leaving him bedridden and unable to perform his duties. He had been forced to name a regent to govern the kingdom in his name and, if need be, his son’s, yet his friends and councilors still came.

 

Some days, Andrik felt as though he was on the upswing. On others, he felt like he was at death's doorstep. Knowing that he might not have much time, the King took this opportunity to set his affairs in order and spend time with his wife, his children, and his friends.

 

---

 

 

At long last, the night came for the Dance of the Crows to take place in the Royal City of Reza. Andrik had been looking forward to the occasion, happy to hear that his daughter would, at long last, be presented before his people. 

 

His wife had been sure to dress him in his finest robes before it, setting the Crown of Haense upon his head. It was a heavy piece of metal, but Andrik had always appreciated its weight. It reminded him of his responsibilities, his duties, and his burdens as the King of Haense and the leader of his people.

 

Andrik had insisted upon being allowed to watch the ball from the balcony above, despite his wife’s urgings to remain in bed. This ball was in his honor, after all, and he would not be absent for it.

 

As he watched the guests dance from his balcony seat, the King’s eyes began to grow weary. He felt cold and tired, the pain in his side had recently been coursing throughout his entire body.

 

As they began to drift shut, the King began to have a vision…

 

---

 

 

 

...In the distance, he could see his father in Sigismund’s Square, the town center of the city of Reza. Although the sun was rising in the distance, he was surrounded by mist, saddled atop one of his finest warhorses. Clad in full battle armor, the King’s deceased father offered him a soft grin.

“I’m proud o’ ye, son,” Andrik Lothar said to Andrik Petyr, words that his father had never uttered to him in life.

 

“Ye took a bit o’ time with it, but yer dyin’ fer yer country and ‘er honor. Always knew ye would. Now come on ye stutterin’ *****, your sister’s waitin’ for ya beyond the mist.”

And with that, the King’s father rode off toward the city’s gates, vanishing into the veil that lay before them. 

 

For a moment, Andrik hesitated, but he somehow knew that what was to come was inevitable. And so, taking one last look at Ekaterinburg Palace and the land that he loved so dear, he proceeded to follow his father into the midst.

 

---

 

“Andrik?”

 

Maya of Muldav, the Queen of Haense, approached her ill husband. He now found himself lying down in his bed. She, the Lord Regent, and the Grand Prince of Muldav were all at his bedside.

 

His breathing was shallow as he lay still in it. She tried to tug at his arm, but his eyes would not open. He did, however, take her hand in his and utter something in his delirious state.

 

“He was w-wrong. K-Kings… Do have hearts...”

 

And with that, the King drew his last breath, his hand falling limp.

 

---

 

RIP

King Andrik IV of Haense

1729 - 1754

 

---

 

 

*The Lord Regent of Haense would find a stack of letters to distribute in a drawer of his desk, as per the King’s request. 

 

Each and everyone one of them is sealed in golden wax, bearing the seal of the House of Barbanov. Addresses are provided and instructions are left for Ser Tiberius to follow in the mailing of them across the kingdom, as well as the greater empire.

 

However, one of the many letters is made public by the King, one addressed to the Haeseni people:*

 

Spoiler

 

“To my Subjects, the Haeseni People:

 

This decade has not been an easy one. For the last twelve years, we have been at war. It is one being waged by a generation that was in it’s childhood at it’s dawn, an endless war that seems to have no end to it in sight.

 

But there is an end to this war on the horizon. Every day, Haeseni and Imperial forces continue to gain the upper hand on our enemies. Together, northern hearts are a force to be reckoned with, our comradery unbreakable in its bonds. 

 

For centuries, the Haeseni people have been persecuted by our enemies. Today is no different, to be sure, but we have not wavered. Our people will never waver in their determination, their zeal, and I am proud of every single one subjects.

 

Remain united, remain strong, and anything can be done. Reach for the Heavens and keep fighting on.

 

And remember that at the end of the day, we all bleed the same red blood of the North. Petty quarrels are just that, petty.

 

When we come as crows, we leave as them as well. We must never forget who we are, or who our brothers are. Your fellow Haenseman is your brother, for we all bleed the same red blood of the north. I therefore ask that you love GOD, and love your brothers.

 

I ask that you give my son the same chance you gave me, and that you serve him and the Lord Regent with as much dedication as you have served me. I have great faith in this kingdom to maintain the prosperity that I have sought to bring to it, and I am proud to have had the privilege of serving as your King.”

 

 

[Eryane 3698]

The door slammed shut behind her as she confined herself within her and her husband’s chambers. For months now, Maya Valeriya had watched as Andrik’s wounds festered. She spoke of his improving health, when she knew otherwise. Every time she had mentioned his bettering, it made her believe it too. As she stared at their emptied room, she fell to her knees as tears streamed down.

 

---

 

“My name’s Maya. Maya Alimar.” She stood proudly at the Queen Milena’s flank at the age of seven as she was introduced to the boy of onyx locks and a shy demeanor. 

 

“I’m Andrik Petyr, the Grand Prince of Kusoraev.” He was so quiet when he spoke, but there was a hidden pride in his words. Milena had left soon after as they were accompanied by a royal guard to the lake with his mother’s namesake. For hours, they sat at the lakeside and spoke over childish ambitions and thoughts. 

 

---

 

She couldn’t bring herself to dab at the corners of her eyes, or stop her sobs as her gaze lifted and darted about the space. Faint memories flooded her mind as she reached out a trembling hand to the stone wall. Maya felt weaker than ever before, but managed to stand. She thought of their children; of Otto, Analiesa, Alexandria, Amelya– but when her mind crossed to her youngest, Nikolas, a pain overwhelmed her. The numbness throughout her nearly caused her to crumble to the floor again, but she heaved in a breath. Her youngest would never truly know his father.

 

---

 

Both Andrik and Maya wandered into the Reza library and hurried into the lower levels. For months, the pair met there as often as they could after their meeting at the lake. Maya seated herself upon the floor in the same spot she always did, and gestured for Andrik to do the same.

 

“When you’re giving a speech,” she started as she pulled a book from the shelf next to her, “You’re going to need to read a lot and it has to be perfect. People expect lots and lots of Kings. Every time we meet, you’ll read a chapter aloud to me,” she pushed a book titled as Paleknights into his arms. “It’ll help with your stuttering.”

 

His usual shyness had faded, although it was still there. Andrik glanced between the book and her, before he began to read. “T-The old l-legend of stone b-bound giests. . .” 

 

---

 

She sucked in a breath as she caught herself hardly breathing at all. It was difficult, and in small pockets of air, she managed to inhale. Only days before, she broke down before her friend, Maela Thorfinn, when she asked of her well-being. “This is not all in vain,” Maela had told her as she buried her face into the embrace. Maya tried to cling to the other words that the woman had told her, but couldn’t find it in her. The thousands of thoughts that rushed through her mind all halted as she eyed a new letter on the desk cross the room. She strode to it, rushing over to the folded parchment. Maya was inscribed lightly with a handwriting she could recognize in seconds– Andrik’s. She nearly ripped the paper in her desperation to see the letter’s contents. The tears came again as soon as she saw the beginning of her last letter from her husband.

 

---

 

She strode down the aisle with her great uncle, Otto Alimar, at her side. Moments before, the young girl had been engulfed in nervousness as she rambled on to one of the few remaining relatives she had.

 

The anxiety that filled her before was no longer there as she couldn’t help but smile as she saw Andrik, her closest confidant and childhood friend, at the end and standing beside the High Pontiff. Her chin lifted higher then, and she felt radiant within the fine fabrics of her wedding dress. Never in her life did she imagine such a day would come, but it did – and it was one of the happiest. 

 

---

 

Maya ran her thumb over the signature at the end of the letter. She suppressed the urge to let out a cry of pain, but it felt growingly impossible. She had believed they would have a lifetime together, but instead had less than a decade. The paper was refolded and settled upon the bed nearby. As she turned back to face the other stacks of papers that were messily about the desk’s counter, anger had settled in. She wanted more time.

 

---

 

Pride. She stood a pace back from her husband as the crown was placed atop his head. There was nothing else she felt but pride as she saw the symbol of a monarch glimmering from where he stood. It took everything in her not to rush forward and embrace him in that moment. She stood still, however, and contained the content she was overcome by. 

 

She kept a neutral countenance as she stood and faced the congregation of people that had gathered within the Basilica of the Fifty Virgins soon after her husband had done so. There, Andrik settled the Crown of the Consort onto her coiffure. They stood close at each other’s side, both now donning a Haeseni crown. The crowd had shouted out, “Long live the King! Long live the Queen!” before the rest of the ceremony proceeded. 

 

---

 

Her fingers had curled into fists, with her nails digging into her skin as she held back the want to ruin the space around her. “I don’t know how you stay so strong.” The flicker of an old memory passed through her mind, of when she was but eight years old. “A Queen must.” Milena’s few words rang through her head.

 

That was all she had now with Andrik; memories. But she had her children, too, and she knew she had to continue on as strong as she was before. This time, however, without him at her side.

[Ivoreyy 2303]

Alexandria Cecilya Barbanov stood beyond the mist. For years she had watched her brother, an ever youthful spirit applauding him as he wed the woman he loved, fawning over nieces and nephews she never would meet.

 

As Andrik ascended, she took his hand, the two basking in the divine light of the Sevens. Though the brother she left all those years ago had now grown into a man- one who’d faced his own challenges and demons, she’d forever see that same warmth in his eyes that she’d grown up alongside, even if cut short.

 

“Andrik” She turned to him, smiling “May we build a snow fort? I know which Queen I wish to be in order to enter now”

 

“I want to be Maya.” 

 

[winterblood 11181]

Arianne Renée Helvets sat within the confines of her room, sitting upon the edge of her bed.  Her eyes were puffy with her tears, cheeks flushed and dampened with her overwhelming emotions of grief and loss.  A tear rolled down her features as she looked over a blade within her lap: her beautiful longsword of slayersteel, the hilt decorated with a ruby and ornate depictions of a Bat and Crow -  Andrik’s gift to her when they were just children.  So much had happened since those innocent years.

 

”Krusaevorev – To Protect and Serve,” Andrik had said as he presented the sword to her.  Those words rang within the back of her mind ever since that night, clinging to her through her unfortunate years abroad.  She never dared forget them, nor would she choose to disregard them now.

 

A tear fell from her visage, landing upon the cool metal of the blade.  Her thumb gently wiped at it, before she then used the heel of her hand to wipe her cheek.  “I’ve failed you once already, Andrik, and now you’ve passed,” Arianne murmured to herself, beginning to rise from her bed.  “I won’t fail the rest of your family now.  That is a promise.”

 

The huntress-princess strapped her sword to her belt and left her room with a resolute expression on her features.

[MikoMonster 1396]

 

Amelya Valeriya listened in horror as the Lord Regent spoke, “The King has died.” He had said, leaving Amelya in a state of shock. She stood silently for a moment before spinning and burying her face in her governess’s skirts, as to mask the approaching tears. Isabel Stafyr reached out, rubbing the small child’s back in an attempt to comfort her. 

 

“M-Miss Isabel?” The young princess murmured as she lifted her gaze to meet the woman’s, “Can we go somewhere else?” The governess nodded, taking the shell-shocked girl by the hand. “Let’s go to the gardens.” 

 

The pair descended the dais and made their way outdoors, where Amelya lowered herself to a seat at a secluded table. The child wept and the woman comforted, the pair mourning a great loss as cheers to the new King rose from the window above. Soon, Otto Sigismund joined them, seating himself across from his younger sister. “May we be alone?” Amelya asked as she glanced back over her shoulder to the guards who had followed the prince. “It’s plenty safe here.” 

 

As they left, Otto spoke up.  “Amelya.” He said, the sadness in his eyes immeasurable as he reached his hands across the table, palms outstretched. No tears ran down Otto’s face as Amelya placed her hands in his. “Are you okay, Otto?” She inquired, scanning his visage. “Da, I’m alright.” He nodded, forcing a smile on his sister’s behalf. 

 

The now-trio remained rather quiet for a time before Amelya spoke, her cheeks reddened despite her tears having halted their descent by now. “We’ll take care of Mamej, da?” “Da, we will.” He agreed gently as he rose to his feet, leaning forward to softly ruffle her hair, maintaining his pained smile. “We’ll be alright. Care for Nikolas for me, okay? I fear I’ll be rather busy, soon.” Amelya nodded, weakly mirroring his smile as he left. “I will.”

[Legoboy7984 3155]

Stefan Vyronov, the King’s now former ward, sighs as he shook his head in disbelief before he rode off back to his castle up north

“I shall continue and try to do what I promised to you, your majesty. Your reign may have been short though your legacy will always remain the same.”

 

______________________________

 

Ser Robert Vyronov welcomes King Andrik IV as he entered the seven skies.

 

 

[seannie 7443]

A young Otto Sigismund found himself at a loss for words upon hearing the passing of his father. Mortality was still a subject to struggle with for the now King – between his newfound responsibilities, and his own personal state of mind, the boy was incapable of formulating any worthwhile response, with most finding him unresponsive, shocked so profoundly to a standstill by the incident.

 

He simply felt empty inside, hollow husk confused by the loss of such a beloved father – a stalwart pillar of guidance in his life, so excruciatingly ripped away from his existence as it slowly crumbled to its wounds. The boy knew that he himself had to be strong like his father, because most importantly, his younger siblings depended on him. In the heart of the moment, he cared not for his subjects, nor the opinions of the masses, but only for his family, the last beacon of stability in his life.

 

And so, the King knew no other option now but to steel his spirit, prevent himself from displaying sadness and feign composure, in hopes of fooling others into thinking he was in control of his own self. He had to prepare for a Kingdom he was destined to lead, and failure was not an option in his mind – he would not fail the legacy his father had left behind.  

 

[libertyybelle 6187]

Karina Barbanov-Alimar, within her abode in Aeldin received news of her sister’s husband dying.  Grief striking her as she read the letter which confirmed the death of King Andrik. She remembered their younger years when he was no older than thirteen. A memory of the green house atop the Ekaterinburg palace came into her mind as she remembered the conversation they once had.
 

————————————————

“Andrik, you will be a good king. Just remember not to be like Auntie Mariya and marry some random lady who you love niet.” Simply shrugged the much younger princess.  ”I can niet marry who ever I want. I have to marry the person the kingdom requires me to.” Replied the adolescent king. 
 

“Marry Maya, she will be a good queen and everyone already loves her. Sides, you fancy her don’t you!”

 

”I do niet!” His face increased with redness as a cackle escaped the then eight year old Karina. 
 

“You are a bad liar, toad.” 
 

—————————————————
The Alimar princess dismissed her servant with a wave of her hand. An angry glare came upon the very intemperant lady. More memories flooded to her in a painful wave of remembrance.

—————————————————

 

“Karina, Andrik. I know you have Carrion Black in there!” Shouted Kazimar from the opposite side of the locked door. ”Quickly, I must chug the bottle.” Karina’s hand then reached to grasp the full bottle of dark liquor. 
 

“I will niet let you chug it alone!” Replied young Andrik with a panic glance. The two Barbanovs then nodded to one another before passing back and forth the highly potent drink. 
 

With that Karina’s father broke past the door and entered the room, but not before the two hid the bottle under the floor board. A puzzled look came across the older mans face as he searched for the drink but to no avail. 
 

Once they were alone the children wickedly grinned, now pleased with their excellent trick.

 

—————————————————

 

“Damn fool,” she frowned as her eyes began to fill with tears. “You were suppose to wait until I could say goodbye.”

 

”Rest well, old friend. Say hello to Kazimar and little Alexandria for me.”

[Zanthuz 1863]

Ser Nikolaus Kortrevich welcomed Andrik with open-arms to the seven skies where he embraced the young monarch.

”I must admit you made your way up here far sooner than I expected, Young Prince. Your rule, while short in nature was most definitely led by profound command- myself along with your family are most eternally proud of what you cultivated throughout your life.”

 

Nikolaus then recited a chivalric tenet from an old knightly tome.

“To hold yourself in the light of God, and live by honor and for glory.”

 

”From your earliest upbringing to your last breath, you held yourself in the brightest light of God and lived by the code of honor and glory. I speak for the citizens of Haense that all recognize that without a shadow of a doubt and those that have passed before you have long acknowledged that reality since you were a young boy. May your son, Otto Sigismund live up to the precedent you established, where he’ll propel the Kingdom to a perpetual state of prosperity as you, your father and the kings of past have propelled towards.”

[Forgefire 98]

Though he loved them dear,   

He left his family, with a tear

To go off alone                 

To the kingdom of              

                                  

 

A knock. Forge set down his quill, looking at the wall in front of him. ”I told ye, I can’t do no smithin’ till tha mornin’. Come back later.”

 

”Sir, ‘tis simply a message I bring. The king...”

 

Forge looked over at the messenger boy, eyelids drooping. ”Well? Spit it out, will ya?”

 

The boy looked down at his shoes, squirming uncomfortably. ”Well, um... he- he’s dead. Died of an infection from his wound.”

 

”Oh...”

 

”Go ahead, ye can leave now.”  Forge looked at his unfinished poem. The kingdom of... of...

 

Tears filled his eyes. He stood up, slamming his fist against the table in front of him, spilling the bottle of ink on it. ”Damnit! Couldn’t even say goodbye... Couldn’t even go ta tha damn ball!”  He bowed his head. ”I’m sorry, me king. Ye were so supportive of me, ye gave me this opportunity, ye praised me smithin’... and I didn’t do a thing for you.”

[MissToni 3565]

Frida Emelie would hear the news of the King's death from her chamber. She had been bedridden as her pregnancy had caused her much trouble. Tears fell from her cheek as she broke into sobs.

 

She so remembered the boy she had met in the kitchen when she was five and finally allowed to go to Reza. Andrik and her spoke of food and her wolf until the young girl Maya came. Frida's eyes watching them both with so much respect. And that respect became fondness as she thought of them as her closest friends. Her first two friends in this cruel world.

 

"Too soon Andrik... You left her too soon.. She needs you, and we need you..." she muttered to nobody in particular. 

 

[DragoonCrow 346]

"Damn. Forgot to get my vineyard." Says teuton.

[garentoft 9265]

An ash-covered Achilles welcomes his friend’s son. He had only met him once, yet he admired him, for he was everything he had not been: A Ruler.

 

Meanwhile Ruslan Amador stands guard outside of Otto Sigismund’s room, waiting patiently for the young Prince to take the Throne.

[ThatDutchFellow 1147]

Friedrich Barclay dips his head as he says a quiet prayer for the fallen King

 

“May he find his rest in the seven skies and for the last time Ave King Andrik IV” 

[Axelu 4333]

In death, Milena Ekaterina longed for the embrace of her son, as she had for some time. Yet, she was a woman bereaved of such as a result of a various mistakes, all based on  her own preservation and that of her husband’s crown. 

She found nothing but comfort knowing her son, Andrew IV – veritably sired from the loins of Andrew III –  was in GOD’s eternal grace.

 

Many thoughts and laments coursed through her head, most prominently amongst them: her regret.