DUTY BOUND

[helldiving 5793]

As the times begin to fall in the Crownlands, and war purges onward, it seems a figure of the past has made a reappearance, one of many past ventures, and various tales to have been told to the denizens of the lands he once graced. A missive, one floating with a mysterious aura, seemed to appear upon the steps of the Barony of Roussard, the only thing printed upon the back of the sealed envelope was “Winifred”. The letters looped, though with thought and eased without sloppiness, to show that there was no hurry to have had this letter sent away in urgency.

 

“Dearest Winifred, My Beloved,

 

I write this letter on an occasion that has come to my attention, to which I wish for you to forward this information, as my presence lacks. The truth is yet to be realized, and to which I continue to write to ease the minds of those who do not know of the word, the word I wish to spread. The truth is absent, and you may be misguided, though by mine own fault, and not the fault of your own. 

 

    I had made a promise that I couldn’t fulfill to you, but a promise that I must now fulfill to the people that plague the Crownlands in masses. I have faithfully served under the Empire’s numbers, and from my youth, it was all I was able to know. In my younger years, you grow to become a person not of your own, but to seek the glory that the Crownlands promises to you, a promise forged, and soon forgotten after years of service and undying dedication to a cause I ever-so thought was imperative. Imperative for the people of my homeland, for you, my wife, and for the children we manifested to seek that same glory that I had obtained. To an eye of any regular peasant that roamed about the streets, or to the unnerved noble who wallows in a comfortable life, it wasn’t as comfortable for me, nor for my family, and perhaps for you, my dear Winifred, with the sudden vanishing of mine presence. I apologize, though I must speak of the faults that I hid from you and from our youthful children, who shouldn’t be plagued with my political matters. This is to you, and to whomever you present the information I’ve sealed away for years.

    It is known how the relations of Haense and the Empire have always been subject to scheming and plotting. It is known how there have been times, periods, where there has been uncertainty and unknowing, the instability of life deciding the weight by just a grain of wheat. It has been known, for time and time again, that the Kingdom of Haense and her King, and the Empire and her Emperor, have both woven unto different paths, ones that do not lead in the same direction of being as one united Empire, as they have said it to be. When the fall of Suffonia erupted, the immediate question for the Crownlands, and for Haense, was their sought greed for land. The manifesto to race and claim lands in their honor, become troublesome for Kingdoms that were meant to be united. Suffonian lands were prowled after like it was a hunt, Haense immediately pronouncing on a perfect opportunity, and so had the Crowlands, to which both were deemed successful. Yet, Haense wanted to be victorious, to gain the lands that Oren so pleased to claim for their own, offering deals behind closed doors, locked away in secrecy before it came to light that Haense wanted their share. Oren caught wind of the transpired events that Haense coordinated to obtain Suffonia land, and unto news that flew quickly, Oren striked a better deal, one which immediately gained the land that they craved like ravaging wolves. It was I, though, who partook in these nasty deeds, the deeds that slithered their way into my mind as a youth, and unknowing of any better, I had simply thought it was the best thing to do. I was sent as a diplomat of sorts to do the bidding that the Emperor didn’t wish to do, his hands not dirtied, yet mine were. Not only had I done the evil work that I thought was God’s own, I came back with my mind dirtied too, with the awful dealing I had done to rival with Haense, the Kingdom that is supposed to be amongst the Empire’s ranks, yet the Emperor feared of the issues that could have arisen.

 

    It made me question, only agony arose in my mind of what I had done. I laid awake for nights, rivaling in my own thoughts about the contradiction that withheld in past encounters and new. The hypocrisy that I was forced to partake in without knowing much of how I was partaking in it. I was clueless of what I had done, until I had done it, and to my dear Winifred, how it still plagues my mind, and allows for me to drink mercilessly to rid of the writhing thoughts that nip at each other. I recall, in my days of Athera, that I was called upon at the Siege of Petrus. I had to leave you, my Winifred, in the confines of our temporary home, and my anxiousness for survival pumped through my blood, the urgency to return was grand, yet I was risking much by traveling with the brigade of other soldiers that may have faced the fear of death, seeing it grip at their own lives, as it could have mine. The Young Crow attended our ranks, only but a boy King during these times of Athera. Showing an astounding braveness, but it all came to an abrupt halt when unknown forces possessed a wonk, and took within his grasp The Young Crow. A duel was ordered to be set in place, for a warrior to risk his own life to save that of the King’s. It was I, who was risking my life, but I risked much more than my life. There was something greater there, and it was you, Winifred, who ran through my thoughts whilst I made a quick decision. It was you who I was required to contemplate on, and yet I decided to risk you, and myself, for the King of Haense, The Youthful Crow. It was I, who took it upon myself, to see the greater good of the people of Haense, knowing that they needed their competent leader, and which I provided. This, stuck in my mind, as I had betrayed Haense in a brutal matter, without thinking twice, as I should’ve, though I was blinded by the loyalty of my peers in the Crowlands. I was programmed as a youth to function in such a society, and that society had dirtied my soul, to become a monster, a filth.

After parchment and parchment of writing, yet still neatly done in readable cursive, it seemed to have a light drawing upon it. The sketch’s size was not small, yet rather large, and neatly done with the quill that was used to write the very letter that was presented to Lady Roussard. The depiction was a flower, the petals almost looking as if they were edged and spiked, like a crystal may look. The depiction, only for Winifred to know of. A certain flower that was kept between the Roussard pair.

 

    This Young Crow, Sigismund of Haense, has publicly displayed his discontent against the doings of the Emperor, and this distaste was known throughout many, sending ripples and spikes of hostility. The Emperor of Fool had slithered out of Haense nobility, manipulating the Kingdom as to where The Young Crow was unable to ennoble any of his subjects that he deemed worthy. All systems had to be approved and gone over by the Emperor, and this happened on a frequent basis. Peter III had disregarded Haense men of their culture, and tossed aside the Knights that earned their rightful title within Haense’s own ranks. These Knights were rarely seen for the work that they commenced, that they worked hard for as any other Crownland Knight worked toward, yet they were belittled, and transparent to their united hold of the Crownlands.

 

    As times near the recent, and shortly after my disappearance, I had time to contemplate, to spend time to myself, without the influence of the Crownlands, or of the Emperor. I was without guidance, and without a person to follow, as I should’ve been at a young age. I was a leader, and yet I followed like a sheep to shepherd. I was foolish for such, and as my absence grew longer, I still caught wind of multiple happenings within the walls of Oren. A wedding, as I had attended many prior, and had my own, though this wedding was of a friend near to mine heart. I was meant to attend, out of the duty that I had taken upon myself to clean my spirit, and to be a man of simplistic life. Edward Galbraith’s wedding was supposed to be serene; perhaps limpid as my own wedding had been, yet it was filled with malicious intent, and trust that slipped between my fingertips, yet I never knew I was holding it in my palms where it could fall so easily. I, Adrian of Roussard, A retired Commander of a Knightly Order, and all my service had turned into a sour taste for revenge from the people I had fought with, the people that I allowed to trust, yet the misguided it, and allowed it to veer into devilish deeds, the deeds that turned myself sour when I had to perform them. For moments, I saw myself in the poor soldiers of the ISA, that attacked me, upon visitation of the realm I once frequented. I was once these men, I had embodied the bidding and misguidance of Peter III, the man who should’ve been maintaining tranquility throughout his lands, and providing safety unto those who retired from long years of service to the throne. Yet, this service that I conducted was a wasted time of my youth, moving into my adulthood. It was worthless.

 

    To the end nears of my long-awaited letter, the missive that you, my dear Winifred, have spent days awaiting. I’ve received word of your solemn, and yet it reciprocates to me. Though, do understand I have a duty to make things right for you, and for those I’ve mistreated due to the insights and wants of Peter III. My path was wrongly chosen within the Crownlands and subject to the throne, but my path was surely intertwined with your own. Let it be known that I will free you from the masters that bind you, and free those who are still chained mercilessly, but yet don’t know of what binds them, or the source of the matter. Let it be known that this missive is a declaration to you, as my duties pursue me forward. I will see you again, whether it be months, years, it will eventually all end, to where I can finally find my tranquility once further, with you, Winifred.

My deepest love and regards,
My Dearest Winifred Josie Roussard

 

With that, the words ended with the signature of Adrian Leopold, “The Road Warrior.” 
     

[Sliw 226]

Elradir salutes Sir Adrian the Road Warrior

[rukio 8924]

Elene, oblivious to her old friend’s plight, smiles sadly as she thinks upon younger days with her beloved friends, especially her memories with Adrian. She recalls all of the secrets and fights they had seen through together, and how he was the first to fight her and treat her as an equal, instead of the abuse she had been accustomed to. ”Thank you, old friend.” She says quietly, thinking back on the time he did what was best for her child while she was unable to help. ”May your path be guided well.” 

[yandeer 734]

Franziska Vimmark shuffled out in her fuzzy dressing robe and slippers with bunny ears on them, staring at the small missive at her doorstep at the estate of Roussard. “I miss him horribly,” would be her words- low and mournful, the voice of one who feared she had lost her own kin. The Reeve and custodian of Adrian’s former household would slip back into her apartments to light a candle for her friend, wherever he was. “I hope he does not feel alone.”

[sergisala 3451]

Edward Galbraith weeps as he realizes that his old friend is still alive and is now being manipulated by the hangmen "Adrian, I will save you from the darkness and bring you to the Orenian light" he would mutter after clearing his tears.

[frill 2277]

6 minutes ago, sergisala said:

Edward Galbraith weeps as he realizes that his old friend is still alive and is now being manipulated by the hangmen "Adrian, I will save you from the darkness and bring you to the Orenian light" he would mutter after clearing his tears.

 

Fyrrathul the Black smiles widely as he shares a flagon of ale with Adrian, meeting his pint with Adrian’s in a hearty cheers. “General and heir.” he applauds, taking a hearty sip.

[BenevolentManacles 2232]

Lieutenant Nyseia kicks a fresh recruit who drags their feet while  they brag of their martial prowess.

 

“Loyalty’ll get you farther than any skill with a sword you have,” he mutters before the recruit scurries back to the line.

[Cracker 4570]

His suspicions confirmed, the livid minister brewed in a quiet ire, fists clenched till they turned pale as the waves of melancholy set in like the tide.

 

”He calls the path he was set on crooked, but hasn’t even the stones to name the one who led him on that course.”

 

After gnawing the end of a long cigar, Simon spat out an ugly rasp.
 

“And to think I claimed to raise a warrior.”

 

[Roguechaotic 264]

Derik Brashton sits alone at a table in the tavern, whiskey in hand as he catches wind of the man who lead him to Helena and the man who he thought of as a brother, a rival, and a friend.

He talks to himself as if Adrian is in front of him

"You may have turned in your red coat... for a black hood...but you are still the man who gave me this life, and I will respect you till I meet my end....let us both hope it is not on different sides next we meet again"

[HadvarAvMitteland 557]

Hadvar smiles as he reads the missive. Adrian having been his old rival in War, the two Generals now seemed at peace with one another. Walking over to his desk, he began to plan the systematic destruction of Imperialism on Arcas.

[Nn_Xavier_nN 55]

Argyle blinks as his lips curl inward, the well rolled cactus reefer drops its ash at the end of the joint as he moves his mouth, having it fall directly onto the parchment before it rolls onto the ground. He looks up from the paper and continues on with his day, knowing that this has nothing to do with him.

[MRCHENN 4741]

George Galbraith would clench his fist, tearing up the missive as he threw it away.

 

”This is the same man who claimed himself as a protector of Oren? My foot.”

[clonky 1976]

Winifred took upon the missive at the steps of her residence, bringing it within the confines as she warmed by the crackling flame. Parchment after parchment she read, for hours, she reread, to allow for subtle melancholy to fill her heart and to surge against the innards of the home. It was deeply felt for her children, and for her, solemn was of prominence. She knew well to inform those of Adrian’s word, and yet hope still kept upmost. The fiery-haired Daelish set off in a cloak, and took along with her her children. 

[Nathan_Barnett36 1564]

7 hours ago, sergisala said:

Edward Galbraith weeps as he realizes that his old friend is still alive and is now being manipulated by the hangmen "Adrian, I will save you from the darkness and bring you to the Orenian light" he would mutter after clearing his tears.

“Theres no such thing” says Siegmund

[Lickspittle 695]

13 hours ago, sergisala said:

Edward Galbraith weeps as he realizes that his old friend is still alive and is now being manipulated by the hangmen "Adrian, I will save you from the darkness and bring you to the Orenian light" he would mutter after clearing his tears.

“The Orenian Light has led to the death of our beloved King and the destruction of our autonomy. The Orenian light is ‘enlightenment’- in other words, the destruction of a true, traditional, Canonist family and man- and an insult to Haensetic culture. I don’t mind the conceptual concept of an Empire, one where Haense is vassalized, but I do mind an empire that treats us like we are a Duchy, and unimportant.” Ionian would remark along with Corbish, after a long day of drinking and contemplating the events of this Saint’s day.