On the Mission of Adria

[ErikAzog 3575]

 

 

 

 

Hugues Denies the Crown, 1678, by Bartholomew Virosi

 

With the passing of my good uncle the late Emperor John VIII, we see conspirators emerge from the shadow he cast, eager to prey on honors for their own self-interest. We see this namely now in the heritage of Adria, a noble patrimony of humanity. In their efforts, they decry our empire and our histories, naming us slavers, oppressors, and dogs, and that the true nature of Adria is in their anarchy.

 

But they do not know their histories. They do not know the mission of Adria, and I will teach them.

 

In my blood is that of Victor of Owynswood, Helena Chivay, Franz the Faultless, his brother Hugh the Headless, John the Good, Anne-Marie of Wett, and Joseph the Mad. In my spirit rests that of the Lords Vladov and Valic, the Wheezers and Myres, and the all other bounties of the great rivers Drieden and Baltas. The words I write echo their will.

When the Barons of Montfort and Woldzimir came together, it was on the rested mission to provide a place of refuge for those persecuted by the wars of Renatus. These lands were rich by the toil of its people, and rather than ally with those that would diminish the strength of humanity and unfurl the tapestry of man, the fresh lords of Adria bound together for the sake of humanity and humanity alone. They triumphed in full - marching with Savoy and Akovia, they crushed the many pretenders who besmirched the Exalted’s name and sought humanity and Canonism cannibalized, and built a new Oren under King Andrik Vydra.

 

When that country was jeopardized by feuding brought by Sola and Gleveisen, and Duke Hugues was forced to raise his banners, it was not to splinter the world of man or break from Oren. When offered the crown from the Pontiff Sixtus, Hugues refused - because he knew Adria’s fate was explicitly tied to the land of the prophets, and that whether he would win or lose, humanity must remain intact. Even in his defeat, this will was known with his successor’s surrender.

 

Generations later, when the last Duke of Adria’s descendant, John the Good, forged a new Adria in the rich rivers of the Baltas, it too recognized the greater collective, and the fruit of humanity, and took the knee to Aurelian’s empire, honoring the bond of the Dukes’ War between Octavian Pertinaxi and the Dukes of Adria. When Adria fell with the fate of Paul Varoche and Ves rose, that mission remained intact.

 

That is why my great-grandfather Joseph II was voted Duke of Adria as all knew his title would ascend to the imperial crown of man, and with his ascension, the mission Hugues had set for had been completed - with those cast out from the wars of old having found their place back in their country of Oren. All of the Canonist world recognized this, with his son and my uncle John VIII being universally recognized as the Duke of Adria to no contest due to that mission being completed. My father succeeds him, and I will succeed after him, and Adria will continue to be bound to the imperial crown so long as the blood of Duke Franz and the line of Novellen, a house named after the crown jewel of the first Adria, is tied to a higher title. In all its history Adria’s fate was tied to Oren and Oren’s tied to Adria, and with the line that binds both together in ascendancy, the circus of this Dumapoolaza has no merit.

 

Those that would dispute bear the nature of vultures - circling over a country grieving it's late monarch prying to strike. But their weakness is they do not know their histories. They think of Adria as little more than a merry country fair or a great tilt, a place to **** and fart in a world that expects higher of them. They know not of the common thread of Adria’s lore - the belief that mankind, even when divided, can still come together, that even those in persecution can dream of a greater Oren. It is common among all of Adria’s heroes, and never found in her villains. And having read the will of the mummers of the Dumapalooza, it is plain they reside in the latter group - outcasts that lurked in the shadow of Adria’s glory, unable to conjure anything of merit of their own, and having envy in their hearts to take what does not belong to them and evoke anarchy to find meaning in their pitiful existence. 

 

If these pretenders so wish to butcher the patrimony of a cherished legacy of man, find another. Mardon or Telemar should suit them better. But on the fate of Adria and her histories, I am its protector, and you have no claim. 

 

Novellen, Pride of Adria, 1508, Artist Unknown

 

My final note is to the captain of this band of leeches, Franz Nikolai. Know you will die like a thief, red-hand reaching toward something that you could not even begin to comprehend.

 

HIH Philip Aurelian,

Duke of Adria, Count of Renzfeld

 

[MunaZaldrizoti 8037]

From the Aldersberg apartment, the weary Charlotte Augusta was read the missive by her daughter Josephine, whilst the elder Molia prepared the former's latest illness remedy. She felt some pride in Philip's statement, though the nerves that came along with the announcement of their union still plagued her. She had gone from obscurity, to poor relation, and now she was bid to become Duchess of Adria and, one-day, Empress of Oren. Her mind was a furious storm of thoughts and emotions...and yet somehow, she felt this was GOD's doing.

[Dyl 2088]

Isa nods upon hearing the news, "Ai, all the Dukes of Adria, from the first to the last, have seem them as Orenian. HIH, the Duke of Adria carries the Adrian spirit in him."

 

[Asutto 2452]

From the shores of the South, Amadea Ashford d'Aryn bursts out into laughter, almost to the point of shedding a few tears "I think it's safe to say the Imperials won this one. Extremely based."

 

Spoiler

 

[VIROS 2915]

Josephine Augusta celebrates the election of her elder brother as Duke of Adria at the true Duma. “I’ll have to find another way to celebrate such occasions without tobacco,” she remarks.

[Herod 1417]

"That Dumapoolaza was a cesspool, ea can niet even call it a meeting." A pale young man mumbled in his office, irritated by the time gone to waste. It was there after that he flashed a rare smirk. "Still, it's interesting to see how Oren will react." 

[BenevolentManacles 2232]

Within the Imperial apartments, pinned upon a wall beside articles of intelligence most humorous to HIM, is a depiction of a dwarven elector at the false Duma.

[Monomakhos 1849]

To the Pig of Providence, Phillip the Parasite

 

You are a pretender, a craven, a yellow-bellied wig-wearing dog. The Duchy of Adria is and always shall be elected by the Duma. Just like your forebear, the dog Joey Novellen, you shall die a lonely death. And your accomplishments will be none but what had been fed to you by a silver spoon. The spirit of the Adrian peoples, which you yourself do not bear, shall never be trampled upon by the likes of tyrants. If you were unafraid, then you would have taken to that electoral mantle the same as the traitor Joey, but alas, we all know you would much rather powder your wig and attend your augustine tea parties where discomforts cannot reach you. We spit on you, and we shall spit on your grave.

 

Sincerely,

The Adrian Duma

[FredrickTeufel 356]

George Maximilian Would casually stroll through the Gardens of the Augustine, the wind of the Eastern Almaris oceans being blown over head as he goes to take a seat on a nearby bench. He would stop to unfold a small piece of parchment that had been delievered to him, and begin to read it. A small smirk would cross his face as he continued to read over the numerous lines of text, finally finishing after a few saints minutes, he looks up. "So much history, so many tales and stories. All contained within ones blood, truly incredible."

[monkeypoacher 8054]

To Phil Novellen Jr.,

 

The nature of human history is cyclical. Fortune’s wheel is ever revolving, spinning each man’s fate into her grand design. Names are forgotten and then remembered, roles are concluded and reprised, and there is rhyme, but no reason to all of it. Only one thing is certain: those who are atop the wheel must descend, so those below it may arise. I say this not as a threat, but a warning; such is the immutable nature of a story that does not end.

 

To your letter, I must rebut that our pedigree also holds great men. Men like Timeo de la Baltas, who was cut down carrying news of the Mad Emperor’s betrayal to the countryside. Men like Sun Watanabe, who led the charge of the Ves Watch into Helena and never returned. Women like Bernadette Galvus, whose passions led her to defy the most bloodthirsty and overbearing tyrant in human history, and the countless other citizens whose stories are woven into the tapestry of man. The tapestry is too great for any man to comprehend, and to claim any more than one’s own thread is abject folly.

 

This is why I am so interested in your letter, Phil Novellen. As an Sarkozic and Pertinaxi scion, are you not well-versed in your own genealogy? Have you not seen your own family tree, as broad as the mast of a warship, scrawled with endless and twisting roots? How can you claim to be the heir of any great man - to the exclusion of anyone else? 

 

Surely any man can claim to be the Duke of Adria or the Emperor of Oren, and such is the necessity of our laws and tradition. Succession, property, parliamentary procedure - all which you have trampled with your illegal primogeniture and preposterous Duma. A meagre ten nephews and hangers-on do not silence our three score, just as one thread does not make the tapestry.

 

To you, and the Emperor your predecessor, you stand at a crossroads. Your nation heaves its numbered, rattling gasps - as its legislators and secretaries piddle away behind a thick curtain, ignorant and ineffectual to the real world. Your Empire has already lost Haense, lost Sedan, lost Savoy, and lost Adria. It has lost all of the proud peoples who were left outside the high palace walls. Yet the Augustine has done nothing but watch, its inhabitants staring out with longing hearts, as its power diminishes and its name is mocked and unheeded.

 

At this crucial moment, will history remember you as the man who quibbled over a titular title? Whose ‘Empire’ was reduced to a single city before his eyes, then a single palace? I pray that you find the wisdom and the courage to concede in this pointless and self-destructive squabble.

 

A. de la Baltas

Representative of the Grand Adrian Duma

[Javert 9615]

Henry Bishop laughs at the Orenians from the Seven Skies, as he did in his lifetime.

 

Spoiler

 

[Enlightenment 2295]

A roach wonders why some orenian pig is trying to circumvent the rightful election of a true Adrian to the ducal title, he spat on the ground, the thought of another illegal alien bringing a sour taste to his mouth.

[1_Language_1 1671]

33 minutes ago, ErikAzog said:

That is why my great-grandfather Joseph II was voted Duke of Adria

       "Bullshit, Adria denounced Joseph II. I have the original documents of the Treaty of Helena." Abraham lifted a brow, looking at the waste of paper called a missive. "Adria was then dissolved, you are not allowed to use it. You call yourself the 'protector', and yet you forget that it was the line of Novellen that burned down Adria and allowed Ves to rise in the first place."

 ------------

 

      The ghost of Adrian times past frowns as he sees the missive plastered on a notice board. If only he could escape his sanctuary, which had been accidentally surrounded with aurum lines. "Paul and Valera were not products of imperial incest. Ratibor was my friend and I protected his children. They are as Carrion as the sky is blue. Anyone who says different has a hollow skull."

[Lhindir_ 3691]

Ser Khroll, the last marshal of Ves, spits at the idea of Imperials circumventing the Duma. 

[brujera 1152]

39 minutes ago, MunaZaldrizoti said:

From the Aldersberg apartment, the weary Charlotte Augusta was read the missive by her daughter Josephine, whilst the elder Molia prepared the former's latest illness remedy. She felt some pride in Philip's statement, though the nerves that came along with the announcement of their union still plagued her. She had gone from obscurity, to poor relation, and now she was bid to become Duchess of Adria and, one-day, Empress of Oren. Her mind was a furious storm of thoughts and emotions...and yet somehow, she felt this was GOD's doing.

 

Henrietta Maria was unaware of her daughter's undying thirst for power, going to the lengths of marrying her first cousin, after all. "Perhaps Charlotte will be in constant need of illness remedy for her inbred, clubfooted children." Thought Henrietta as a low-pitched manly voice called out to her. Though this thought was short-lived, as she turned her head and was once more welcomed by her buddies, pals if you will, Henry and Thomas.