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17/6


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A sketch by one Klaus von Orange - ‘Heroines healing heroes!’ - depicting the heroic efforts of the Princesses Barbanov upon the 17th Msitza and Dargund 316.


 


Of all the Brotherhood members that ventured out to face brigands threatening our beloved north, only four returned unscathed.


Good men fell, great men gave their all. The princesses, the paupers, the squires and the saintly all poured forth to offer their aid in our militia’s time of need.
Yet on the 17th day of the 6th month in our calendar, countless Hanseni-Ruskan soldiers were wounded or killed. Let this day be one that remains in our hearts for years to come.

O’ noble Haenseman, defending so brave
O’ caring Haensewoman, healing ‘pon Amelya’s ave
You are our kingdom, and with sacrifice you’ve won
The secure legacy of the lines Carrion
Godan save our soldiers, our doctors and royals,
Sigismund smiles down, ‘pon his descendants’ toils

Godan save our kingdom, from Reza to Valwyk,
Let us ne’er forget the seventeenth day of month six.


 

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Amelya Valeriya smiles as she sees the portrait of herself and her sisters tending to their loyal soldiers. “We could not call ourselves Princesses if we did not care for our warriors, hm?” she says softly, smiling to her triplets.

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*Would lay in his bed, moments ago a bolt was in his chest and he had a broken rib, granted, the rib was still broken, but the bolt was no more, he’d murmur* ”We’ll get you next time.....focken bandit bastards..” *He’d look to his doffed armour* ”Heh... how the **** can a crossbow pierce plate...” *he’d chuckle before being hauled out of the bed with aid from a medic*

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Lilianne Smith a young lady who did medical treatment, sat on her bed, freshly washed and bathed, and having a small cup of tea. As the small lady sat on the bed holding out the paper upon her right hand, she’d say in a croaked voice. “God bless Haense and the mighty warriors who has risked and given there lives to protect us.” after saying this, the woman finished her tea and went into her bed to wash the bloody horrors of screaming in the Clinic with her dreams. 

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Nikolas waddled back with the wounded, one of the few unscathed by the battle, at least physically. The prince had taken the lives of seven men in his first battle, though it had not been enough. The scene haunted the boy as he returned to Reza. As he washed the blood from his chunky body, he cleaned away the memories. The bandits would perish by the blade.

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Ser Bjornolf, as he held out his hand to take off his bloody armor, thought of the way an arrow could enter his arm,leaving through his muscle. He would remember his brothers in a much worse state than he did, and then he didn't grumble so much. “At least, we fought together, screw those cockroaches.” he gruntet as he left the hospital, with the half empty carrion black in his left hand.

 
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