An aged mans confessions

[Harald 2465]

An aged mans confessions 

WRITTEN BY JOHAN CARDINAL ST. JAMES II

Formerly known Johan Vuiller

The Knight-Regent Emeritus, founder of the formerly known Palatine Guard Order of the All-Saints, Lay-Cardinal Emeritus, Auditor of the Tribunal, Chamberlain of our Faith, Founder of the Black Library of Vuillermoz, Horen’s Giant, Former Dean of the University of Saint Sixtus IV, Knight of the Black Sepulchre, Protector of the Church of the Canon and its faithful, former Circuit judge of Oren and Deputy of the Rangers of Eastwood.

In my many years of life, I have had to make many hard choices and had to face innumerable trials. It’s these trials that I believe must be told in my own confessions of life and confessions of how it feels to have reached the age I now am, because confessions shall cleanse our soul of the darkness within, our sins and dark thoughts.

 

In my 100 years on God's terra, I have served the faith and it’s institution which I love and have been raised in. I was born on the 1st of the Ambers Cold in the year of 1740, in a small town called Vuillermoz, later known as The Holy State of Vuillermoz. I was the first born son of my father St. Harald Vuiller, and as the only son, bore a responsibility that I was taught to be ready for all of my life.

 

My twin sister Henriette and I had daily classes on the word of GOD and His ways. While my sister afterwards was taught more of the history of the human kingdoms, I was taught how to fight, how to rule, give commands and how to rid GODs terra of demonic beings and heathens alike. Once our father St. Harald fell ill, I was given his duties of protecting the late Saint High Pontiff James II, a duty I would continue doing even after my father’s passing in the year of our Lord 1760 and ultimately until the passing of His Holiness in 1802.

 

During these years I was honored with becoming the first ever Knight-Regent of the Canonist Church, as well as a Lay Cardinal. During these years of peace, our Order kept growing, an order my father and I had founded before his passing. I would teach my Squires the lessons of my father, his way of life and his beliefs; to be fair and just to all, beggar and bishop alike and to be the sword and shield of the noble flock who cannot defend themselves.

 

But, peace does not last forever. Our town grew, our numbers quickly expanded and thus we were in need of more housing, farms and areas for our people to do their daily tasks and interact. Therefore we expanded our borders further to the North and West, this to ensure that our border would not collide nor move closer to the border of the Kingdom of Haense. But even if we had been there for many years, long before any of us had interacted with the Kingdom, the late King Sigismund II saw us as a threat. We had been there for generations with no issue, my father even being the Chaplain of the brotherhood of St. Karl. They had held training and even feasts within our walls, but with this new King, peace was broken.

 

As lightning struck from the sky, we awoke to the marching men of the Haense Royal Army demanding entry to our city. The men were heavily armed, and with many of our Holy Knights out on missions, my family feared for our lives as this was not the first incident of their men entering our borders, only to act in an unfit and violent manner. As I stood there holding my two newborn children, I would ask the men what had brought them to the Holy State, in which they responded they had come to check our city and borders, as the King had issued a statement declaring that if our borders were to expand he’d declare war upon our Holy State.

 

The army of Haense was persistent, marching to our gates many more times throughout the years to follow, and without being able to expand our border and create new farms, we as a Holy State were not able to provide enough food for our people. Thus we had to make a hard decision; to tell our noble flock of the issue and that we as a State advised them to leave their homes as the terroristic aggression of the late King’s men would not end. Years passed and due to personal threats against my family, after multiple meetings with His Holiness, we in the end saw no other choice but to leave our ancestral home and thus we did.

 

Years passed of meetings with the courts of the Empire and the Emperor himself, as well as His Holiness, on securing new land for our Holy State, in which we were successful. The late Emperor Peter III granted us land close to the city formerly known as the Commonwealth of Kaedrin where our new Palatinate was born, the Palatinate of Aquila. However, the distress of these years had not gone by without leaving a mark upon myself and my family. My loving wife and mother to my children Laurelie had fallen ill and later passed away after these troubling times. My adopted daughter Ayla was dangled by her feet by a Knight of Haense from the top of a roof within the city of New Reza. After these grueling years, I had not only lost my wife and many friends, but also our ancestral home of Vuillermoz where our family had lived for generations. It was the last place I truly felt at peace.

 

Years passed by and our community once more blossomed, our Order growing stronger with each day, at one point comprising over 2300 Holy Knights and squires among its ranks. But peace was not something to take for granted, for within the coming months I received reports of Demonic beings spotted within the desert of Korvassa. Little did I know when I left my family that I would never return the same again, and thus the last war the land of Arcas would ever see had begun, the Inferi war between the good of  GODAN and the evil of Iblees.

 

The battles went on for what seemed like days, meetings held to discuss our future plans, Generals from multiple armies of man all shouting at one another unable to agree on our next moves. After days of meeting to no avail, it was finally agreed upon; we were setting sail to Korvassa, to end this once and for all. The last battle went on for weeks, many good men lost into the pits of the voidal fires consuming the desert. I lost 300 good men and women of our order on that battlefield, but among them, the hardest loss being that of my nephew, Darien Frostfire. 

 

Before the battle had commenced we had spoken and I gave him a Cross to guard over him. What it did not defend against was the arrow that flew from behind, piercing through his neck. I myself, not too far away from the Army of Haense leading our Holy Order, did not know of this terrible news before a dire moment after the battle had commenced. There, where I lay in a hospice bed after sustaining multiple injuries, the Lorraine Cross I gifted to him was delivered to my side, no words needed, as I would have recognized it at any time in my life. 

 

We believed we had finally gotten rid of the threat of the Inferi, the people of Arcas still mourning the loss of their brothers and sisters. But we were wrong, oh God were we wrong. As we looked upon the skies, it would be colored red by the fires of the void, burning meteors falling from the sky towards our city of stone; we stood no chance, for this was the beginning of the end. I quickly sent word to my children and brothers within the Order that we needed to quickly pack our things to ready ourselves. I sent them together in carriages towards the Isle of Man where they would be better protected, ordering them to aid any person they would meet on their way. While they headed one way, I went the other. I rode towards my home; my one true home, Vuillermoz. Here I collected what I could from our vaults and chests hidden behind the walls of the keep. While doing so, I had sent word to the High Pontiff James II to ready himself for what was to come. We traveled to the Isle of Man where we met up with the noble flock before our travels took us further to the shores. Here I met and spoke with the late Empress Anne I, securing a safe room for the High Pontiff to rest in during our long travels to the new and promised land of Almaris.

 

Upon arriving upon Almaris’s shores, our hearts felt easier knowing we had found new land, but I could not help to feel as if I had left a large part of me behind with the now distant shores of Arcas. My brothers in arms who did not make it back from war, my nephew, my wife. All our time spent within the keeps and cities now only memories, serving as a permanent reminder of what once had been and now was lost.

 

But times were dire, cities needed to be built, the people in need of service to once more connect to God, many having lost a sense of faith after the years of war against these demons. Therefore there was no time to mourn our losses. Our noble flock were in need of our aid and thus our responsibility was serving them, as was our Divine duty.

 

The years went on and on, but our numbers never matched those we had before the war. Nevertheless, we stayed stable for many years. We lived in peace within the new capital of Oren, the city of Providence. but times were once more to darken. My closest friend, beloved brother, teacher, the man dubbed as an uncle to my children, our High Pontiff.  His health had drastically declined over the many years. I was not ready to lose my closest friend and neither was I ready for the horrors that would come after his passing.

 

I will never forget that moment, when I truly felt as if time had stopped. Albarosa Cardinalis, The room remained silent for a moment as the voice continued. Albarosa Cardinalis, Jorenus Cardinalis, Albarosa Cardinalis, Jorenus Cardinalis, Albarosa Cardinalis.  In that very moment, I knew the world was about to change, a poisonous snake had been able to do what I prayed to be impossible. Even despite his heathen ways, he had become the High Pontiff. The day after the election, I awoke to read his first Golden Bull, and in fright, I looked it over. As I saw its announcements, in his first actions, the man had removed not only myself without prior warning but also another Cardinal of the college, and not only was it our Cardinalships but all other ranks in the Church. For the first time in my life, I stood there without a purpose; without a home for me and my children, alone in the dark that was the tyrannical reign of Laurence Jrent.

 

Time moved on, and the church reputation kept leaping into disaster. However, within the darkness of my reputation, my father’s and I’s work in the institution to which we had given all of our lives and love now tarnished, there was some light. My children tried to prosper within the city and I once more met with a friend I believed to have been long gone. Nikolas Barbanov, ironically the brother of the King who drove me from my ancestral home became one of my closest friends, and with him I found a purpose in the Rangers of Eastwood.

 

Together we built our encampment of Southbridge and protected the border of our Empire which was threatened by bandits and heathens alike. I also worked within the Empire itself to aid in any way I could. But seeing the church in its state still troubled me at my very core. People in the streets spoke ill of our institution, men and women speaking of leaving the faith if change would not come. I therefore knew in my heart what needed to be done.

 

Upon reaching contact with my brothers of faith it was clear that we all agreed on the same; Laurence Jrent was not fit for the seat of the Holy See, a poisonous snake spreading its lies to the core of the institution. The man had to be removed, and thus we stepped into a position none of us wanted, but one that was needed. We left each to our own to pray and seek an answer for what was needed to do, and our prayers were answered.

 

We arranged for a peaceful mass to gather outside the Providence Cathedral where we brought forth the crimes of Laurence Jrent, and the crowd responded in agreement. Never before had so many Canonists been gathered at once at the site of the Cathedral, and with the yells of the people it was announced by the faithful that they demanded the removal of the heathen upon the Seat of Saint Daniel I. 

 

But their voices were denied, Laurence denying the truth that the Canonist world did not want him. We arranged for a peaceful diet to be arranged in Karosgrad, the Capital of the Kingdom of Haense, and so it was, at least to begin, but it seemed the poison of  Laurence had spread to those of the cloth (the man had always been a good manipulator), but never in my life had I believed this to be possible. I watched in terror as I saw once promising priests, people with their own thoughts, vote upon the matter. For a long time it seemed we were to win the diet but in the end, it did not pass, neither did it help the case that the current Auditor stood, taking a dagger to his own neck and taking his own life. The diet watched in terror as the scene kept evolving, but suddenly the King Henry of Haense stood up, as well as the diplomat representing the Imperial Emperor, Joseph II. We stood in silence as they declared what we had awaited for so long, “The Kingdom of Haense and the Holy Orenian Empire declares that they formally cease to recognize Laurence Jrent as the High Pontiff of the Canonist faith.”

 

The silence broke, as devoted followers who had had their minds poisoned would shout against the King and the diplomat. From my years as the leader of the Holy Order, I noticed their body language changed to that of hostility. I therefore stepped forth, begging for them to leave their blades sheathed, but it was to no avail. I looked to the masses in horror as I understood what was about to occur, my brothers readying themselves to spill the blood of their brothers and sisters in faith. I once more begged them to put down their blades, looking at the man I saw as my own flesh and blood, Nicholas. Once more I was met with the hard truth, nothing I could say or do would stop what was to happen on that day.

 

I looked around shouting for one of those formerly underneath my command for aid, and with the aid of Theophilos, we tried to drag those we could out of there, like blessed Amadeus, but he fought against it. He would not bend to our words nor force, Theophilos and I desperately tried to get a hold of him to drag him out. While Theophilos kept trying to get Amadeus out, I, myself, spotted Manfried within the room down upon his knees. I knew within my heart that after this day, he was the only optional choice, the only man able to save our beloved institution. I therefore rushed to his side dragging him up to his feet, but he did not wish to move. Despite his resistance, I picked him up, placing him over my shoulders as I rushed out of the Basilica.

 

Not long after the news broke of the passing of Laurence, it's stated that he died of natural causes, but from my belief, if not someone did the job for him, he must have done it himself. Certainly, the Canonist world was better off from it. A few months passed on and finally the news broke, we had a new and deserving person to sit upon the Chair of St. Daniel I. Manfried had been elected, taking the regnal name of Jude II.

 

As the years passed since I aided Manfried, often we’d spend our time holding conversations while walking in the gardens, or while stuck within an office. Everything was finally right in the world.

 

But as I had learned as a young man, life might seem peaceful for a slight moment of time, but it never lasts. During one of my pilgrimages, I received word of what I had tried to warn my brothers of before I left. During his public audience, Jude II had been assassinated within the Basilica of the Ascent of Exalted Godfrey. I fell to my knees as tears rushed from my eyes. My last brother of faith had been lost to the terrors of the world.

 

Though he had achieved much in the form of redemption for our faith, his work had yet not finished, our noble flock still carrying the wounds of Laurence with them. Once more was the future of our Holy Institution in a limbo with the Holy See vacant.

 

Once more I was placed in a darkened mind; once more had I failed in the duty placed upon me by James II which was to be the last line of defence of our canonist church and its people. Once more had I failed, not being there to save Jude II, Manfried, the man so pious that even in his last moments he denied to flee, he denied to fight, but rather prayed for the forgiveness from GOD for the sinners taking his life.

 

Before his passing he had elected me as the Auditor of the Tribunal, a duty I would continue to hold after his demise. With the election of our new High Pontiff closing in, I awaited to see who was to be elected and what it might hold for our faith and for myself and my continued purpose in life. Would I be kept, or would I be brushed off to the side as an old and naive man with his days of use left behind him?

 

Once the words rang within the Cathedral of Exalted Owyn, a slight smile crept upon my face. Patriarch Alfred Barclay had been chosen as the new High Pontiff of our faith, taking upon him the name of Tylos I. The father of the man I had squired all those years ago, a young man I had learned to love as if he was my own blood. Nicholas.. I was filled with joy with the fact that such a man had been elected, but it would also live as a constant reminder of how I felt I had failed in my duties before; how I had failed those I trained to become the protectors of the faith, those who had perished long before their time.

 

As time went on, so did life. I kept mostly to myself within my office if not trying to spend some time with my children the few times they visited home. When I was not otherwise occupied, I would walk the streets of Providence, often seeking out or offering the noble flock confessions or prayers. But the time of peace would once more be broken with the battles of the  Tenth Nordling War. Which had been declared not long before Jude II’s passing.

 

I sat within my office reading over parts of my fathers journal from the war between the so-called Alliance of the Independent States and the Empire all those years a go, my mind seeming to wander back to the times of battle reading over my fathers notes. It was true he had been given the nickname of the battle bishop long before this, but I could understand it even further.

 

The feelings he felt, the gruesome scenery in front of him, each day fearing for whom of his comrades he would have to bury next, this not a feeling I could not completely relate to. I had not been an ordained member of our faith during my former wars, or during the battles with the Order during my time as its leader. I had lost many, but never had I had to hold their burial service myself. This is a thing I now had to prepare myself for having to do with the war marching upon us.

 

During the last years I had found comfort in my friendship with the Emperor John VIII, often spending our time enjoying eachothers company while we spoke of times past. Within him I could see the fury a true leader must hold, the same I had seen within his mother, the late  Anne I in the heat of battle against the Inferi. I had fought close by her while James II shouted prayers against these demons of the void, even having to shield them both underneath my shield and my own body for parts of the battle while acid rained upon us. Seeing how John VIII spoke of his people, of the Empire in which we both served, I could feel my shoulders relax as I felt once more a purpose within myself. To fight and serve, to be the last line of defence for our canonist faith and noble flock. to fulfil my title given to me by James II as a Knight in The Black Sepulchre.

 

I went from my meeting with the Emperor, knowing that it was once more time to wear my armor into battle, I had not worn my armor since the Canonist Rebellion against Laurence Jrent. Once it was done, and the poison within our faith had finally been removed, I had taken off my armor for what I believed might be the last time, having it standing upon an armor stand within my office. But the time had finally come, and I myself was ready to fight until my last breath if that was what GOD had planned for me.

 

As the battle grew even closer I stood next to my youngest son, both within the armor and colors of our House. We have a saying within our own, that with the eagles farsight we shall reign victorious. As the battle went on, I tried to stay close to my Son, never to be split away from one another. I would not let what I experienced during the Inferi war happen. It would not allow it this time. As we fought beside one another I struck down another enemy, but as I turned I saw my son surrounded. He had three of these nordlings surrounding him. Having been able to strike down two of them, the last nevertheless sent a strike to his back. My body froze for a moment, once more re-living the nightmare of losing Darien. I rushed to his aid, sending my father’s trident through the chest of the man as he stood over Rev. I got down to him, aiding him up onto his feet. We took a hold of each other's hand looking at each other. In the middle of the horrid sounds of war, silence seemed to cover the field as we looked at one another. He looked to me once more as he asked “Who are we Father?”. I paused for a moment, looking to him; he who had always spoken of how we should work to solve the problems we might meet with our minds and voice rather than that of steel. Too many times had I returned home blood stained and wounded and there was my son, a peaceful man. Yet, he was now filled with the fury of battle. My response was simple: “We are Vuillerian.” 

 

As the war commenced we stood there, bloodied, wounded, and tired, but we stood there victorious. The battle had finished and we had won, the Norlandic forces pushed back from our borders, their men laid there without as much as a moment from their bannermen. We went to camp to ensure our wounds were taken care of before the time had come to return to Providence. Upon our way we stopped by Southbridge, the place we for many years called home before the disappearance of Nikolas Barbanov, our Captain. We sat within the Rowdy Ranger. I collected some firewood, lighting the fireplace within the tavern. My son sat there in silence, a changed man. I could not figure out exactly what had happened within his mind, but one thing was certain; Rev Vuiller had become a man he was not before this war.

 

After we returned home, I spent most of my time readying myself for yet another battle, I frequently spent time at the Imperial Palace, speaking to the Holy Orenian Emperor John VIII, our time spent talking about both battles, but also what had been in the past and what we both hoped for the future. It was a nice relief from the struggles of daily life.

 

As time moved on I would continue to serve as the Imperial Chaplain, most of my time continuing to serve the noble flocks of Providence. My conversations with John VIII grew in number for each passing week. And not long after our return from the battle against the Norlanders the declaration of their surrender was made to the public. Once again had the Norlandic heathens been broken by the force of the Holy Orenian Empire. 

 

Time went on, and so did life.. my time still spent mostly within the city of Providence unless meetings or my service was needed else were. My friendship with the Emperor grew as well as we continued on to our old age. But still, even as peaceful and calm the world seemed around me, a feeling of dread passed my mind each time I would pass my own reflection. Here I stood, at the current age of 90 winters long.. born as the son of my father in 1741. My twin sister and friends had passed into the Seven Skies, but I remained, aged, and with this came a feeling of uselessness. 

 

My feelings of uselessness growing with each day affected my every decision, my every speech. A feeling grew ever so more during meetings of the Church. These new Cardinals and Priests, my brothers in faith and cloth, were mostly born more than twenty years after I had started my own service to the faith, if not even longer. My warnings or advice brushed to the side as if they were simply the speeches of an old fool. With the hardship of these feelings, I became more secluded, keeping mostly to myself within my chambers and office, not often leaving them for other matters other than those of service. 

 

I felt hopeless within the darkness that had overtaken my thoughts and mind, these dark thoughts killing off each shimmer of light that had once filled my entire being. For a long time I dwelled on this, trying to understand how I was to cleanse myself of this darkness. In the end, while looking over one of my father’s journals, I found what I believed to be the answer: the Purifying flames of Exalted Owyn. Could this be what would cleanse and save my soul? In my dire state, I decided it was the only choice I had; my only opportunity to cleanse my mind of the guilt I bore.

 

I entered the cathedral as I had heard HIM, Philip II (the Duke of Crestfall at the time) was to hold prayer. I joined them as I noticed multiple, notable people of our faith and church were present. I awaited, ensuring I had all I needed for the rite after the mass was over, and once the public had left, I walked to the altar waters, looking into them for some time, my mind and life flashing before my eyes before I would snap my lorraine from my neck, throwing it into the waters. As I did this, His Holiness and the few other people still within the cathedral would snap their attention towards where I stood. I thought, “So this is when my actions are noticed..”. After I found a larger clay bottle, emptying its dark liquid into the waters, His holiness stepped towards me as his voice would break the silence of the cathedral “Auditor? What are vy doing?” he´d state.

 

Suddenly my grip of my father’s trident would leave me, the weapon and relic having never once left my side since the day of his passing. The sound of metal hitting the stone floors echoed throughout the nave as a shimmer of light beamed from the eagle’s eyes. As the sun would shine down upon it through the windows of the cathedral, I drew my aurum dagger, holding it up with my hand. His Holiness now stood by my side as he fell down to his knees, looking to the depths of the black waters below.

 

"What are you doing, Auditor?” he said, staring as he kneeled there. Holding a dagger within my left hand “What is needed.” was the only response able to leave me. “Please Alfred step away, I do nie wish for vy to be hurt” I´d state after a moment of silence, the man, seemingly caught by surprise as his name was mentioned for the first time in many years. His voice broke slightly as he looked to me “W.. would vy hurt me old friend?” he questioned. I looked to him for a moment, shaking my head, “I would never do anything to hurt vy.. but if vy stay, I can nie promise your safety nor protection”  he shook his head, the man taking a seat by my side, looking to me as he once again spoke, “I will niet go anywhere Johan..”

 

Once more I shook my head as I would take a hold of a light by the altar, quickly throwing the burning candle into the waters below, the dark liquid quickly catching fire below us. He seemed frightened by the sudden fires, but as soon as I noticed the flames had started, I would move the dagger to my right hand, lifting my left arm over the flames. In a matter of seconds, I moved the blade to my hand, cutting it open. With a squeeze, the blood fell in droplets to the waters below.

 

My actions took those present by surprise. It seemed His Holiness understood little of my actions or what was going on as he waved for his family members present as well as his guards to walk towards us. As he did so, I sent my left arm into the flames below us as I would begin to speak.

 

“Blessed God, I offer vy this blood of my cursed mind for vy to cleanse it of the darkness within, do this with the fires of Exalted Owyn as I pray to you! Forgive me for the crimes against you that I have commited, forgive me for faltering in my life, faltering from vyr blessed gift! Cleanse me now of the guilt I carry for surviving until the age I have, for seeing my brothers fall, for niet being enough to save them in times of war, in battle and for not being the man they deserved nor needed for me to save them.. for my brothers in of whom I knighted, to my wife who I was niet able to save, my son and nephew who has fallen in battle, and my brother Jude II who I was niet there to save in his time of need and protection”

 

As I spoke His Holiness would take a hold of my shoulder waving for his guards to aid him in dragging me from the fires, but my mind and body was set, this was needed for my soul to be saved.

 

“forgive me Laurelie because I was able to save vy from your sickness, forgive me father for faltering never living up to vyr name, forgive me Darien for nie being able to protect vy nor save vy in the Inferi war.. Forgive me my brothers whom I knighted of which I have survived vy all.. Forgive me James for nie finding you a cure nor being able to ensure your legacy upon the holy seat after vyr passing.. forgive me Haakon for not losing my life in line to save your own.. forgive me Jude.. for not being there as your guard when you needed me the most.. and forgive me my children.. for being unpresent drowning myself in my work and duties, for coming home scarred, beaten and bloodied.. for risking not seeing you all another time each time I left out home” 

 

All of their names, far more than my words were able to mention, traveled through my mind as I remembered all who had been lost.. 

 

"forgive me for my sins.. I beg of vy to cleanse my soul of these darkened thoughts…`` I cried out in pain, not from the flames itself but from the pain I carried within my own heart and mind. Finally His Holiness and his guards dragged me from the flames, my body collapsing to the floor while I rested my back against the altar.. he looked down to me as he spoke “I.. I pray for your soul Johan.. I truly do '' little did either of us know that these words would be our final interactions.

 

One day, I chose to leave my house, going to pray within the cathedral. On my way there a feeling of dread filled me, a feeling of loss. Once I entered, I understood why; my brother in faith, our High Pontiff Tylos I had passed on to the Seven Skies during his slumber. Once again I outlasted our High Pontiff..

 

It was not long after this that news was delivered of the health of his Imperial Majesty John VIII had faltered. We who had just the saints week before planned on our joint celebration of our birth years (even if I was at least 15 years his senior). Our friendship and comradery had grown to such an extent that celebrating our birthdays together, even if I was a simple priest and he the Holy Orenian Emperor, felt natural and just. This would sadly never happen, his health faltering until one day I was given notice of his passing. Each day I walked to the palace offering prayers and services as a priest but the one day I had been called from outside the city borders was the day my friend passed on to the Seven Skies.
 

He had left us, the years after filled with mourning as we as the public tried to settle in once again with all the changes in our community. But within all of this sadness, some brightness had shone through. My son Rev had been elected as the Solicitor-General and my grandchildren grew more and more each day. Victor followed in my own and my father's footsteps, while Stor ran his smithy and was learning all of the magic behind working his forge to his will. And I was once more given the responsibility of a Cardinalate of my own. I also found myself surprised, having met an old friend I believed to have passed on more then twenty five years prior. It was a pleasant surprise to my aged life as I saw the mustached face of Alfred Ruthern within the streets of Providence.

 

Time passed on and we continued with our daily lives, most of my time once again spent either within my office if not out within the streets talking to the people or offering masses and other sacraments within our faith. Of course, I still mourned the loss of my friends, having ensured enough space on my office walls for a picture of each one of them. This way they would nie only live on within my own mind and memories but be present as I did my work, serving as guides if I ran into a situation where I was unsure on what path to take.
 

My children and grandkids had worked for long within our empire one day they blessed me with the news that they had able to purchase a estate outside of the capitol wall, Rev had also picked up on our old traditions of wine making as well as liquor and other drinks, all these changed to our lives showing a shimmer of light once more, my life with my new position, our new home and growing family members filling my mind with joyus thoughts once again.  Two of my darling daughters are also returning home to us. 

 

As of writing this, I have reached the age of one hundred winters, my health maybe not as well as in my younger years, nor am I as swift or strong, but finally is my mind yet again at peace. filled with joy and love for those who surround me in this life. My colleagues, my darling student HIH Josephine Augusta, the duchess of crestfall and my loving family..

 

 

“Cum Aquilis longe victores regnamus”

JOHAN VUILLER

 

[tadabug2000 3493]

Ravn Vuiller aided her father in getting around after his injury, hoping he had a splendid 100th birthday and continued on for many more.

[Weebmaster36 248]

Mink Vuiller was busy practicing her skills with her war axe, stopping as she huffed out. She leaned on the end of her axe, thinking if she would survive and end up she same way her father did.

[VIROS 2709]

Josephine Augusta offers up a prayer to St. Harald Vuiller for the continued health of his beloved son, her teacher. She ponders on the many years he had lived— more than twice the length of her own life. Fr. Johan had many stories, but within this volume there were even more she had not yet heard.

[Burnsider 4542]

Blessed Nicolas, from the Seven Skies, looked down upon the lost Knight in sadness. "It is telling that he attempts to couch his greatest sin as one of his greatest virtues, even going so far as to blame the martyrs of the Red Diet of Karosgrad as the instigators of their own deaths. It is a shame I will not see this man in paradise."