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Methas woud bow his head "GODspeed "

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Javier Fransisco sits in silence in providence, eyes run dry from the grief that he has felt the past few hours. "Another one goes to the seven skies. GOD rest your soul."

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"An honourable man, who I could not protect. Another good man lost to tyrannical Lords turned from the light of God's compassion." Spoke Robert de Bourdon, lamenting the most honourable of Holy Knights.

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"Son ... they'll pay for this, I swear on my life..",said Alfred, regretting that he had not apologized to his eldest son when he should have. Unremembered memories will remain in his memory, and the toy he still has with him will remain a memory of Nicolas, a man who never failed..

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Tanith thinks back on the kind, young knight who comforted her and held her hand as her god-daughter, Eliza, underwent surgery. That evening, she takes a moment to light a candle for the fallen sir. She offers up a short prayer, hoping the young man - gone too soon - would find his way safely into the arms of the Lord.

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In her home in Varhelm, Analiesa de Astrea was preparing for her second tea party, happily brewing strawberry tea with her mother when the news had arrived. "Mister Nicolas?" She asked, eyes welling with tears as the death of the kind man was explained to her. Although young, Analiesa understood perfectly clear. Politely excusing herself, she would make her way to her room for the night, secretly staying up late writing a letter with a drawing which she intended to send up to the Seven Skies specifically for the Holy Sir. 

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Friedrich Barclay didn't feel poorly at the moment of their acknowledgement having thought that his men would simply subdue the man. Such a things was not the case. He later sat in his office with his head in his hands after having talked to some of his family members. He took out a cigarette from his pack twirling it around as he thought about all that had happened. "Ich knew he would fight to the end. He never would have accepted surrender. ich just did nicht see it in that moment." He mumbled crushing the cigarette in between his fingers. "You will nicht be forgotten and your killer will nicht go unpunished if ich can help it." Friedrich continued to mumble to himself as he stared at the fire in his office as the memory of his silent exchange continued to haunt him. Such a thing would likely do so for the rest of his days.

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Adelric, in his intimate hours would look up towards the black blanket of stars, from his Reinmar chambers. He sighed, as tears welled up in his eyes. He joined his hands together and bowed his head in remembrance. He would shoot a small glance towards the Holy Scrolls behind him, and a letter written in confidence for Nicolas, with the knife binding the letter on the wall. "I know you are in your little estate that God had reserved for you since the beginning of time now, cousin. Rest with your forefathers. I hope you will say a words from me to Anton."

 

Osvald wept, and wept for the cruel world. He wept for the world, and he wept for he knew nothing of life but despair, death, fear, and pointless slaughter cast over an abyss of sorrow. He wept, for he saw how peoples are akin to pawns against each other, and innocently slay one another. While he held on the earthen surface of Nicolas's lonely grave in Reinmar, he thought of how the earth means so much to the soldier. The earth now remains as the only creed Nicolas belonged to in this world, the only oath he took. He thought of how the earth stifled his own terror and his cries in the Scyfling war. He thought of how the earth sheltered him and released him from the sounds of the battle, even if it was for a minute. A minute to live, a minute to think. As he would later on glance to the blood-soaked mirrors of the basilica, he would see that his grandson had no such mother to shelter him.

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Though horrific in its make, the Hound would feel a frown stretch its away across its maw as the news made its way unto that which lurked beyond the hand of GOD. In truth, it had possessed some measure of fondness for the Barclay, even after their multiple encounters in the haunted Basilica. A fondness more akin to the predator relishing its choice prey than anything else, but an affection born nonetheless. And in crypt most fallow and tomb long since occupied, that doggish countenance lamented the loss of yet another acquaintance. 

 

"Child of GOD, rest. I bid thee, join me 'midst the veil, and rise as wolf amongst kine. Verily, indeed, you have been slaughtered with no remorse by those you once bade worthy of thine companionship... Va Krusae Zwy Kongzem i tuosk, joedensk Godan." 

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Ser Alric frowns deeply. He had been one of the initial knights to bring him down, unharmed, so he thought. Regardless, upon pivoting on his heels to face the man once more, he was no more, inanimate and put to death. So he signs the lorraine in his office later that night, uttering a prayer - but most of all, respecting the late man for fighting until his last breath. A fete not many men were willing to do.

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Ser Brandt Barclay let out defeated noise, an unexplainable, yet saddened and weak one. His eyes widened as he learned of what had happened in the Basillica after his departure. Being one of the crow knights to stand by the Koeng's side and on duty during the diet, though he had left to Reinmar because the happenings for reasons of his own. His gaze fell to the ground as he had heard the news. He asked to be left alone, and so he was; in the presence of no one but the eyes of GOD, Saint Tylos and whoever stood above him in the Seven Skies, he shed tears. Tears of regret and melancholical tears left his eyes, dripping into the ground as the knight tried to make as little noise as he could. Murmuring of prayers left his lips. "Saint Tylos deliver you, son... you who had more faith and brave in your childhood than most men have in their adulthood. Unafraid of traveling for decades in the search of Saint Tylos, I knew GOD and the Holy Saint had blessed you. May they now bless you with peace and eternity in the Seven Skies." he signed the Lorraine as he let out a loud huff, trying to free his chest of the burden that had weighed it, though to no result. Minutes later he sat up, dried the melancholy and regret off his face, reached for his Knightly Polearm, "Patience" as it was named after his moniker, and headed towards the Reinmaren forge. Complementing to his moniker, he began his waiting in contemplation and prayer. He prayed to GOD and Saint Tylos to empty his mind of the feelings that had overcome him. As he sharpened the edges of his poleaxe, taking time to do so to perfection, he remained silent. Not only him, but everything about him did; the only noise heard in Reinmar now was the grinding of steel in the wheatstone, the keep itself seemingly mourning the loss of his young cousin. "GOD, if only ich stayed there, if only ich stayed in that Basillica. Oh Lord why did you nicht move my mind to make me stay there und protect him."
Once  done, he sat up, and put his poleaxe in his back. His brows had furrowed in a way some would describe as anger, and some others in determinance, and yet some others in sadness. No matter, he then began leaving Reinmar, perhaps in search of clearer answers. On his way, he only uttered some last words "Blood for Barclay!" he said "Und I'll draw that blood myself if Alfred won't."

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The news of the previous Alderman's death came to office door of Irene Sarkozy late in the evening, if not into the dark night. Three knocks sounded at the door and swiftly did the Lady Speaker rise from her desk to see to who would attempt to inform her of any ongoings at such a late hour. A courier dressed from head to toe in mourning garb informed her in sorrow, and dipped his head without any other news to give her.

 

"A good man, he was, even if I adamantly disagree with the ways of what the Church was under Owyn III. And yet, a good man nonetheless. These views I held in opposition of him canniet blind me from the diligence, perseverance, and devotion he showed to all aspects of his endeavors, whether they be that of his tenure as Alderman or his elevation to the position of Holy Knight." 

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As Johan once more reentered the Basilica of Korsgrad he`s eyes would start to water as he slowly made his way towards the body of Nicolas, looking his once close friend over he`d get down to one knee placing the cross gifted to him at his chest folding Nicholas cold hands around it "You where a good Knight Nicholas, and we might not have agreed in the end, but i shall keep your memory close as if you where on of my own. Your oath has truly been fulfilled " he`d sign the Lorraine before raising to his feet once more "May Saint Tylos and Saint Harald guide vy and welcome vy into the seven skies with their arms wide"  he`d then start walking towards the alter to see to the body of Amadeus d`Aryn

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