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(Simon Basrid KCS PL, painted c. 1744)

 

Forty-four years had passed since Simon Basrid turned over his officer reds to take upon the highest office in his country. Statecraft was an unclean profession then, staffed by mercenaries and mudlarkers, the sort of opportunistic bunch that came and went with the weather. Around him was the crumbling infrastructure of an orphaned red city still reeling from its great war, with dozens of plots both foreign and national to undo what weak bonds that kept the state together. 

 

It was the miserable sort of condition where exiles, sorcerers, and the disgraced could thrive, and it was some providence that Simon Basrid was of all three backgrounds. Under the watchful eye of his grim monarch and comrade-at-arms, Peter III, Simon served as the first captain of the great Helena experiment and modern ministry, opening the country toward golden liberties and reforming the old feudal order that strangled Orenian administration and unity time and time again. Bound by the mystic ideal of Providence, the old Rhenyari demanded a sense of excellence among his cabinet that elevated and restored the dignity of mankind’s homeland. 

 

Yet while the work of an Orenian statesmen is never quite complete, Simon soon realized that he was quickly administering a population increasingly removed from his own background. The sort of apolitical technocracy he fostered in the 1740s began to wane in face of new philosophies born from generations raised on the Imperial Diet. With higher pursuits in mind and the blessings of his compatriots, on his 44th anniversary of ministry - a landmark date to the superstitious mage, given the numerology of four in the Canonist faith and his role in overseeing both the 400th year of empire and 40th year of his emperor - he elected to retire, parting from his station with the below address.

 

To friends and countrymen,

 

I came to this country a disgraced scion of an ancient realm, with ill-else other than my wits and good humor aside me. She, in turn, gave me station, ambition, and such a platform to work for great change in the condition of man - and for that, I will always love and serve my empire. Our Oren is unique among all realms as the living legacy of the Exalted Horen, a land of prophets, the keeper of all man’s apostolic traditions. Each of us are custodians to the great Tapestry of Man, gifted to us by our ancestors, passed onto our children, that serves as the chronicle of being. So long as every fellow is committed to protecting this state, so will our histories, culture, and way of life endure. 

 

In that way, a man ought to know when he should retire to pass his service unto the next, and I feel good and well to relinquish this post unto the next political generation to cut their teeth and add unto our legacies. I ask the Orenian people to forgive me for any failures that may have occurred during these years of service, and to accept them as personal failings – not intrinsic faults in our young state.

 

In this final address, I would name those who served as close personal friends and allies in my progress, so that they may be known for their service, diligence and good nature. I had the unforgettable and distinguished honor to serve aside them in cultivating a new model Oren - and I thank my maker every day for that distinct opportunity.

 

They include…

 

  • Urrigon Drumm, my first personal friend in the foreign continent of Arcas.
  • Cyrus Basrid, my beloved brother who need not have joined me in my exile, the Lion of Senate.
  • Jasper Carrington, my trusted confidante and brother at arms in the young ISA.
  • Derik Brashton, the lost son of Sutica who came to embody the new Orenian patriot in my mind’s eye.
  • Douglas Denims, for relentless service to the physical construction and upkeep of the imperial demense.
  • Vitaly Valic, who brought revelry to empire and became one of her young martyrs.
  • Yuliya Styrne, for blessing this country with a score of literary treasures. 
  • Otto the Tarcharman PL, a fellow scholar and luminary to our budding academic traditions.
  • Jasper de Sarkozy, an unsung scholar, academic, and hero among imperial chroniclers.
  • Alexandra Carrington, the delight of Helena.
  • Siguine Ruthern, a trusted advisor and personal friend who invited me to the ways and traditions of Haense.
  • Peter de Sarkozy, for his pivotal service in building the imperial economic miracle of the 1740s.
  • The brothers Galbraith, for tirelessly exemplifying the young new bureaucrat corps of empire.
  • Edward Napier, curator of the Napier Collection – a seminal work that defined new imperial art.
  • Sir Octavian Vimmark KL, the namesake to our Drazimann warriors.
  • Sir Rylan Swint KHE, the model of Orenian military service.
  • Dame Franziska Vimmark KHE, for trampling evil with black powder and reclaiming both Damehood and our Holy Canon.
  • Sir Joseph Adler KM, the founder of the modern Constabulary.
  • Sir Lauritz Christiansen KM, a dear protégé and imperial legislator of legend.
  • Sir Terrence May GCM, the Haeseni maestro of state who bound Oren in a common law.
  • Sir Darius Sabari GCL, the daring scorpion of our great war, who defied all odds to reclaim the empire’s honor.
  • My assorted Vice-Chancellors: Haas, Wright, de Falstaff, and Stahl-Elendil, for giving counter-weight to my ministries and resolving deliberate crises foreign and national.
  • The 1st Baron Carrington, George Carrington, for his enduring service in matters of commerce and economy, and the prodigious family he gave to his country.
  • The 1s Viscount Rillsworth, my beloved foil, chief architect to modern Orenian political life.
  • The 1st Count Harlingen, Leonard de Ruyter, who chanced upon a young officer’s vision to build a professional army.
  • The 1st Count Mordskov, Alren DeNurem, the Generalissimo of our time.
  • The 3rd Count Susa, Jahan Basrid, for a distinguished service and patriotism to state mirroring my own.
  • The 1st Duke Sundholt, John d’Arkent, my predecessor, advisor, and cherished friend.
  • Her Highness, the Princess Pruvia, a protege of the state and dear personal friend taken too early.
  • His Highness, Nicholas Barbanov, for resolving a myriad of classified crises and proving a dear friend to cabinet and empire.
  • Her Highness, the Princess Elizabeth Anne, for her enduring wonder, zeal, and sponsorship of our imperial heritage.
  • Her Highness, the Princess Imperial, Anne Augusta, for a geniality and candor unmatched in all Orenian society.
  • Her Majesty, Queen Victoria of Haense, for her friendship and fraternity in face of modern crises and prowess as a model consort.
  • His Majesty, King Andrew IV, for his detente and patriotism to empire in face of invasion.
  • His Majesty, King Corwinn von Alstreim, for fraternity built and old scores settled in the archives of the Cloudlands.
  • The High Pontiff Daniel VI, my first benefactor and patron in this country.
  • The High Pontiff James II, for having faith in the imperial experiment despite black tensions and collaborating with the state as a dear and trusted academic.
  • And to His Imperial Majesty, Peter III, for seeking fortune in the stars and granting charge to my person.

 

With such a cabal of heroes, and so many more, who could doubt our empire’s success? Here is to our future - I look forward to joining my countrymen as a private citizen in the state we’ve created over sixty years, and advising the crown and future Stahl-Elendil Ministry in whatever capacity they may need.

 

To Providence,

Simon Basrid KCS PL”

 

With his missive written and ready to print, the sorcerer resigned his post in Peterhof and took to a drink aside old Drumm at Peridot’s dice den, to wager, smoke, and muse on all that could come next for the storied son of Ba’as.

 

 

 

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“From immigrants to councilors” the now aged Rhenyari would mutter, “I remember when I was but a boy tasked with heading the Department of Foreign Affairs under you Uncle.” He’d pause, taking a breath, “The work you have done has been monumental to the Empire, the land I- no we now call our home.”

 

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A letter is shared with Simon, sent via courier. @Cracker

 

Mr. Basrid,

 

Upon hearing of your retirement, I felt provoked to write a poem. Your long and dedicated career, and your repeated reinforcement of this beautiful idea – the Tapestry of Man – compelled me to capture this in prose. 

 

__________________________________________

“The Tapestry”
A tribute to Simon Basrid’s idea: the Tapestry of Man
_      _      _      _      _      _      _      _      _      _

 

Ours is not a melting pot
Do not buy this lie they taught

 

It is a tapestry of intersectionality
A beautiful painting of our propinquity


It captures the essence of all our hearts
While maintaining its component parts

 

The goal is not assimilation
Put simply, it is cohabitation

 

That we might escape our restraints
And live in the land of the saints

 

 

You have rendered upon the canvas of history an entire corner of the Tapestry of Man, Mr. Basrid. I pray the next generation of artists will possess a similar talent. To Providence indeed.

 

 

Your friend,

 

Victor Clement Halcourt

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Cyrus Basrid, would look read his newspaper in his familial home of Provins, his mouth agape at the sight of his Brother’s retirement, “My goodness it’s been forty-four years. How the time has passed since we journeyed here from the homeland. the Rubern war and many other trials and difficulties that the Empire faced..” pausing, he would look out of his window to glance at his son John Michael, a smile coming across his aged face.

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Douglas ‘Douggie’ Denims would read over the notice with a tear in his eye. He would exclaim to any who would hear him. “This Simon Basrid fellow knew how to talk and knew how to listen. Very rarely do you find someone who has mastered both skills. The Empire will miss his service and I look forward to seeing what he does next. I imagine some magical curiosity will catch his fancy.”

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George Galbraith would receive the missive, a faint smile encompassing his countenance, as he would read his thanks in the missive. The young Minister of the Crown would sit down with a sigh, after a long session of the Imperial Diet.

 

"Mister Basrid truly was a legend of statecraft- a diplomatic role model for myself, and I'm sure one for many generations. I am confident the history of Oren will remember his name. Words cannot express the great accomplishments of the Basrid Ministry, and the foundations of bureaucracy Mister Basrid has layed down for the due progress of our nation. I congratulate him and his everlasting legacy, and I will work my best towards upholding the prosperous future of Oren he dedicated half of his life and entire tenure for."

 

 

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Derik would hear this news and smile “...glad you get your due rest Simon...you've done better than us all” he would salute in the direction of the palace, where Simon’s office once resided

 

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Sir Alaric DeNurem sat in his office-tower at the Palace grounds as he read the missive with an intent and saddened gaze, even as the notice was expected, reality hadn’t hit that DeNurem yet – And so such news did its task. One of the founding fathers of this era, Mister Basrid, passes on the mantle of his creation, truly will the doings of this Empire echo through the centuries to come.” The middle-aged Captain told, remembering the days he first met the former Archchancellor, during an address at the Novellen theatre – Rendering a salute to the aged, legendary Statesman.

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General Alren DeNurem receives the address from the great Basrid, taking a moment to reflect upon his words and the many years served in his ministry.

 

“I can think of no finer statesmen in the history of the Empire. To have come from humble origins and lesser means, to a station of monumental reach and legacy is a true testament of your personal character. The pillars you have set in place will be looked back upon fondly for generations to come and the Empire is forever changed by your efforts. Your facilitation for the military has enabled the martial powerhouse the Empire has become in the wake of great tragedies, you have lived and brought genuine providence to Humanity. From your comrades in the Imperial State Army, we salute you!”

 

And with that final word, the White Bull would render one last salute to a greatly respected man. Following suit, the entire ranks of the 1st Regiment, Imperial State Army, would also raise a stiff hand to their brow in recognition of the Arch Chancellors monumental service to the Empire.

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Sir Erik Othaman of the 2nd brigade would contemplate the retirement of such an influential statesman. He would smile fondly, remembering the few conversations he had with this man. ”It will be a shame that such a man must retire from his position, but the world moves on. He has made his mark on the Imperium and it will remain there for many years to come.”
 

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Captain  Velhrun Darkwood would receive the address, He would go through it in his mind a few times before noting to himself.

Truly a fine individual, his achievements have improved the empire on a fundamental level and most have reached beyond the boundaries of our borders improving not only the lives

of Imperial citizens but also lives of countless others. This is an example of the endless capability of humanity, of endless labor and complete dedication,truly impressive.

He would render a final salute to the exemplary individual.

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Lieutenant DeNurem lit a second cigarette in the Archchancellors retired honor. She recalls the time he willingly soaked himself to welcome the Qalasheen in diplomatic business, solely because they’d entered the pool first.. for a reason she does not remember. 

 

“Simon Basrid, you served your house well. Congratulations.” A voice in her head spoke first, but the white-haired woman verbalized it. Her memories spanned far beyond what his might be. 

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James II remarks “I could say that the Empire will be lesser without the Archchancellor at its helm, but it would it understate his efforts—Simon’s legacy will endure into the centuries.”

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The veteran surgeon oversees the remodeling of his home as he writes a multitude of medical books for the Imperial State Army and the Grand Library of the Empire. An young envoy approaches him with a letter stating the retirement of his uncle, the Arch-chancellor, Simon Basrid. The Rhenyari stands up from his lawn chair and heads inside him home to the study where he had spoken to Aachen about furthering himself as a patriot of this great Empire. 

They spoke about three tasks for the young man to complete. Obtain a stylish clockwork watch, shadow the diplomats of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and offer the olive branch to his brother, Jahan. John Pruvia sits back into the small chair that was dwarfed by the many bookcases; the same place where Simon Basrid had shown him an old tradition of the Rhenyar. A hot cup of tiger-eye tea from his ancestral lands and a few drops of scorpion venom.

 

He steps up from his seat and assumes the desk from where his uncle had once guided him from. The Viscount whispers gently to himself as if Simon were in the room with him. “Thank you for taking me under your wing and treating me as your own. My gratefulness came in many different forms of affection and gestures, but I certainly to hope to offer you another gesture. A hot cup of tiger-eye tea with enough scorpion venom to numb our features and a chat about the next generation of Rhenyar that will continue on his legacy.”

 

The Lieutenant takes a sheet of paper from his desk and quickly pens his thoughts and sends his avian to the seven skies to deliver the message to the County of Susa.

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