Nothing like Kaedrin

[Draeris 3124]

Carnatian cattle farmers in the outskirts of Owynsburg, 1747

 

NOTHING LIKE KAEDRIN

AN ODE TO MY HOME

 

One can easily be distracted from radiant beauty by the affairs of the everyday: where a thick mantle of responsibility and duty await all Orenians waking up at dawn. For most of us residing in the cities: we no longer think about the effort, the manpower and the creativity required to shape your humble abode. We no longer care about the bee resting on a flower, or the aesthetic of well-dressed cosmopolitans chatting in a bustling tavern. Why would we? The stream of duty takes us all to our daily routines, and once they’re finished, we long nothing more but to return amongst our brethren and kin. 

 

Everyday I wake up before the city does: so that I may quickly dress and eat, before riding off to whatever corner of the Empire needs me. Witnessing the Senate in session in Helena, or attending a masquerade in Hanseti-Ruska. Chatting with lady Devereux in Curon, and passing by former Suffonia for old time’s sake. But as I travel and talk and write, worry and ponder and think: I too stop thinking about the beauty of home. 

 

In the days between being informed about your promotion, and it being published in a bull: one can detox from the functionary life. The joy of your progress is not yet impeded by the weight of your new mantle: you are free, and you are happy. This serenity perhaps enlightened me enough to see how beautiful my daily life is, and that of many of my Rhoswenii friends. Because nothing can quite capture the feeling of Kaedrin: not even the jewel of the Empire known as Helena, or the newest city on our map in Curon. 

 

Don’t get me wrong: Helena certainly is a jewel, and Curon definitely embodies imperial prosperity. In today’s Empire, ugliness appears scarcely. But even though most of our Empire is beautiful: not much is as beautiful as Kaedrin. For when I depart from my daily chatter with Mariana Dubois, I see an idyllic farmland stretching around her estate. Small creeks and flowers decorate the pittoresque path to the city of Owynsburg: slowly becoming bustling once more. For a couple of minutes: you stroll through a remarkable painting. 

 

While I prepare a sermon with my Acolytes Ludomir and Franz  in St. Catharines: I feel the mountain breeze going through my hair. I look through the opened stained glass windows, and am greeted by a clear blue sky and an ever pleasing sun. When Edgar de Sarkozy asks for a moment in private, he takes me just outside the cathedral: where a contrast of sharp shadows and noon sun decorate my brick staircases running through my yard. 

 

When I taste wine with Richard Helvets and his lovely wife Lorena, I am surrounded by an extravagant display of colours and decorations in Varoche palace. A perfectly balanced interior that doesn’t impose on you like in Helena’s, but gives far more warmth than the dark lumbers of Haense’s. A fine abode to conversate and to feel comfortable in, but which is also the seat of Rhoswenii power. Whether I look out of the window there, or stand outside of the palace gate: these magnificent mountains greet me again, with the familiar contour of the Cathedral speaking to me softly: “Home.”

 

But fluffy clouds, green grass and a radiant sun are only half of the beauty resting in the former Commonwealth. Where Helena is bejeweled by its architecture, Kaedrin shines through its people instead. Nowhere else did I find this warm hospitality: as a Carnatian peasant, or as a Bishop. I remember running into Henry Frederick Helvets vividly. He was a prince and governor-general of Kaedrin, jogging past me as I arrived at Owynsburg from Helena. Despite it being our first interaction: he greeted me warmly and asked me about my day, before knowing that I was to be his new Bishop. A small albeit remarkable interaction, but one simply impossible to replicate with the social etiquettes of Helena or the cold culture of Haense. This proved to be just the appetizer for me however: for I have yet to meet a rude Kaedreni, at a point where nearly the entire population consists of familiar faces. 

 

Random strangers would accompany my relatives in the tavern, help me decorate my home or escort me to previously undiscovered corners of this paradise. They would involve me in their games, their stories and their grief. No place becomes home quicker than Kaedrin, because everyone treats the other as family. But I of course cannot just talk about my personal experiences, when their hospitality is the reason for my people’s comfortable existence. Even as peasants we lived comfortably in Kaedrin, obtained literacy and were given a seat at the table. The Kaedreni and their recent ancestors had no obligation to cater to a weak and troubled culture like ours, but chose to help it recover regardless. A rare type of gratitude is felt for this: one that feels impossible to repay.

 

My father once rightfully said: “never lose the opportunity to see something beautiful, for beauty is God’s handwriting”.  This divine presence is felt in the piety and purity of the Rhoswenii folk: being the best congregation one may wish for. Substantial but polite in debates, gossipy but within the realm of the civil and decadent but handled in a fashion that is respectable. Temperance is another wealth that Kaedrin possesses in excess.

 

Kaedrin is a place where the friends are the trustiest and the wine is the headiest, where my love is felt the liveliest, and my life is spent the loveliest. Wherever I might be, there truly is nothing like Kaedrin. Now that I can see once more, I always look behind me on the road and think: never will I forget the beauty waiting for me at home. 

 

[pokantu 48]

A **** Stinking Foot-Soldier who was previously a cattle farmer sees the writing, since his reading isnt well, he understood the title after 5 minutes, he smirks and remembers his good ole’ cow, Bessy... The man then talks to himself ”Not’n loike kaedrin... The smell of shite in th’ stables n’ all that, ye can only foind it in Kaedrin!..”he said and walked away...

[DahStalker 3692]

Mariana Dubois sits back meanwhile sipping on a hearty red vintage, enjoying the sunlight upon her silken-embraced mattress, watching her assortment of hired employees labor from the window. “Ah, nothing like Kaedrin.”