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Ministry of Civil Affairs

Announcement on the Passing of Peter III, 1784

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Victor downs a bottle of whiskey in honor of old Peter, and prays that Anne will fill his shoes well enough. He then contacts the new editor in chief of the Helena Herald, Inc. and asks them to begin writing an obituary befitting this titan of state. 

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The Warden of the Pale stood in Tor Eldar amidst the square. It was an unchanging place for the most part, and little had changed there in the past twenty-years since the city was constructed. People had come and gone. Elves, Kharajyr, Hou-Zi, and all manners of merchants over the years. Yet still the denizens of the city remained, Alderfolk and Dark Elves of high esteem. He pondered to himself the words of the Sage Haumel, before vocalizing internally:

 

To live as an Elf is to live doubly cursed.

 

To watch all your comrades die, and to be unable to produce more of your kind.

 

For as you live, you lose, and all things around you shall change with time. 

 

Emperor to Emperor, King to King, Warden to Warden.

 

The times shift like winding dunes of sand caught in a superb twister and you know not where you will land once you are cast aloft.

 

With those thoughts the tall Alder Elf took a seat in his chair across from his ally the Immortal Avaeramos. As the Warden of the Pale he had not been close to the Emperor; but years prior had fought against him in the Alliance of Independent States, before eventually realizing it would be best to join the Empire rather than continue to inhabit the Fell Lands. He drank from a wine class clear plum wine savoring the taste before saying.

 

“To the Emperor of Mankind, and to the bond that we share. His service has ended but the Alderfolk shall not forget his compassion. Rest in peace, Peter son of Horen, and may our works live on forevermore.” He and Avaeramos clinked glasses, and the others in Malin’s Rest Inn that night shared a toast. To the Emperor, and his daughter, and the Imperial Cabinet.

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James II addresses the Curia “Peter III was my brother: not only as the Emperor, but as my friend. He rests in the Skies now, among his ancestors.”

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Lauritz signed the Lorraine over his chest, sighing at the passing of the only Emperor he had ever known. “Long live the Empress.” He said with a firm nod, before returning to his work.

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Fyrrathul retains his grey eminence despite circumstances and starts to dictate a note toward a nearby halfling scribe. Addressing it to the dwed mercenary Tharim, the note warned him of the fatal delay that his carcinogenic thanhium crossbow bolts have on killing those struck by them.

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Thea was packing a small, red bag when the news reached her. Despite knowing that this day would come sooner or later, the woman was met with shock. Her eyes widened in panic, her hands moving up to cover her mouth as the item she intended to pack dropped to the floor. Quickly, the pale-faced woman signed the Lorraine on herself before kneeling down and folding her hands in prayer. One could hear her speak;

 

"O' Godan, I pray for your aid in these saddening times.

O' Godan, let our late Emperor ascend to the Seven Skies...

O' Godan, let our Empress live a long life.

O' Godan, help us overcome these sad times!"

 

For quite some time she remained in this kneeling position, sending her thoughts and prayers to the Imperial Family. A bittersweet feeling overcame Thea, because she knew: Despite this incredibly saddening end to the Reign of Emperor Peter III, the new Empress Anne I would be a mighty woman, full of wisdom way beyond her years. Thea rose to her feet, curling her right hand into a fist and placing it over her heart. With a firm voice, she said: 

 

"This is the end of an Era, but with every end comes a new beginning. Long live the Empress! May she bring glory to the Empire just as her father has done. GOD bless the Empress, GOD bless the Empire."

 

 

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“I told you I would outlive you,” Old Man Corwin spoke to the paper, haphazardly tossing it onto a pile of unsorted missives. The former monarch’s gaze surveyed the confines of his new residence, unsealed coffers and chests filled to the brim with the belongings of his modest family strewn about. He looked upon his mementos of defiance to the new order this fallen Kaiser had represented – a black, inscribed battle flag bearing a golden cross, a crimson, winged helm; a quartered sigil of a state now returned to lawlessness, an unfinished letter to his cousins across the sea, a treaty meant to reconcile the old and the new.

For the first time ever, he felt cold indifference.  

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Velu sighed softly, shaking her head... as a former Court Doctor she knew the verdict was grim before, but it was a shame to see another Emperor die, but such is the way of humanity, the old die and the new take over. As she had witnessed many times in the past, but she had hopes that an Empress may be just as good as an Emperor. 

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Peter Baldwin would form the Lorraine, “May he rest in peace, Our Emperor.” he’d state, having known only Emperor Peter III as the only monarch for his entire life, years had come and passed, Helena with many changes. But Peter III was the constant in the ever changing world going to look towards the Novellen hopeful of whatever the Empress Anne I Augusta had to offer for the future of the Empire, “Long live the Empress.

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Spoiler

 

 

 


 

“ T’ere’s a reckoning a’coming,

 

And et burns beyond tae grave.

 

Wit’ lead inside my belly, ‘cause my soul ‘as lost et’s way, o’ Lazarus

. . . 

 

How did yer debts get paid? ”

 

 

. . .

 

Lieutenant Viktoriya DeNurem’s voice rung out in an impassive tone. Her dull, gray eyes were focused upon the land ahead – her gloved hands gripping the reigns of her stalwart alabaster steed as she rode forth, toward the Crownlands. Wherever she’d been prior had been far, far away from civilization – tucked away in Mother Nature’s embrace, keeping herself company locked within her laboratory miles underground.

 

She would come back anew, like a phoenix risen from its ash. The news, of the death of Peter Pruvia – of David & Rylan Swint – of the Emperor, had all affected her in ways she couldn’t have imagined: the tendrils of grief chipping away at her soul with each passing moment. A burden unto her deepest, most selfish desire – something she recognized would halt her progress indefinitely. An utterly . . . Useless feeling, yet, one that reminded her, she was human. 

 

Finally, she’d find herself rounding the corner of the Empire’s familiar thoroughfare – the golden fields of rye, the great walls of Helena looming overhead. She was back – though, not quite ‘Home’, yet. Tying her steed up within its stable at Harlingen, she’d move out toward the inner-city, off toward the DeNurem estate, to greet her husband, Sir Alaric DeNurem [ @Paulobig ], inside.

 

. . .

 

”Great change approaches us, love.

 

Let us be its Harbingers – For new times are upon tae horizon!

 

Long may she reign – GODAN save tae Empress!”

 

 

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Sergei Othaman would sign the Lorraine “ Rest In Peace Our Emperor, and Long Live Her Imperial Majesty”

 

Stefan Otto Ludovar would read about this announcement from the far colony of Joesfburg “Good riddences it’s about time that prick died”

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A figure clad in crimson let out a cruelly joyous chuckle, their lips curling into a grin that would not fade for the longest time. “Ding dong, the ***** is dead. Clearly sinners live longer.”

 

 
 
 
Spoiler

I hope he enjoys his promotion to Grand Wizard xx

 

Edited by Carson

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The tiresome Mariana Dubois glanced over the parchment in her hand, brows furrowing as she’d gnaw at the inside of gums, silent. Without much of a true response the woman sought to approach the hearth in her household, looking toward a certain set of keys. Without word she set pace for the Novellan Palace. It was time to continue and slave away in the Imperial Library. 

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The entire Brashton family took a moment of silence as they received the news of the emperor's passing, as it was indeed due to him and Simon Basrid that they were where they are today.

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Theodora sat in her apartment, boiling water for a bath. She turned to a candle, walking over to blow it out. She let it sit for a few minutes, saying a prayer for the Grandfather she’d never know; she then went to light a candle for the new Empress, Anne Augusta. “She’ll rule with grace and prosperity.” The girl murmured, in reference to her aunt. “Long live the Empress, Anne.” 

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