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A STATEMENT FROM THE PRINCE OF SEDAN


GhostSHTR
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"Ah the heathens show themselves once again, those whom has failed their rebellion.. they should have seen how their allies fell short against Orenian steel today." the aged priest and Holy Knight would shake his head as he stood there with the ISA after the protection of the noble flock against the Ireheart heathens.

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Arthur reads over the missive, he would  shrug, not seeming to care.

 

"Okay."

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General Ruthern scans the names which had signed, “All of Sedan have signed it! A fine list for us to use for the coming conflict!”

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"Hmm?" Major Erik Othaman raise an eyebrow as he came across a poorly scribbled missive along the road. "They're living in fantasy land. Didn't they already lose the first fight?" The aging Count of Valles sighed as he shakes his head, kneeling down to pray "Sergei... I only wish vy were alive to see this fight through. Vy would have been a fine warrior." 

 

Sighing, the Count ripped the missive down as he would use it for toilet paper.

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Primrose Gendik picked up the missive her husband, Sir Arthur Komnenos ( @MailC3p), had left on the table. She reads it over before sighing and throwing it in the fire. "What a mess!" She chuckles.

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Ivan var Ruthern laughed a little. "Didn't half of the folks sided with the Sedanians leave after they lost a battle involving a 500 man patrol versus 100 Orenians? I just rode past the.. hamlet.. if one is to even give it the respect of calling it that, an hour or so ago and saw naught but tumbleweed and cobwebs. Let the Sedanians ride against us once more." Ivan began to cackle with the finishing of his statement as he went to dig graves preemptively.

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John Aurelius Hartcold, Viscount of Fauconberg watches as his men prep themselves for war. The Hartcold heraldic standard fluttering in the wind bearing the heraldic charges of the house "Temperance gives us boldness men" John says smiling as he looks on "What makes the grass grow. Blood blood blood!" John says chanting as he himself prepares himself for the impending skirmishes to come.

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A certain Mistress of the Robes, Guenda, rushes to the Alstreim manor to ask Nikita if the ladies of the court can go picnicking during the battles.

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The old Lukas Castile lays in his bed with two Orenian whores, reading through the missive he signed, remembering the 100 man patrol he lead against a 700 large Orenian rally. “I fought against the tyrannical nature of this so called Empire. The shine from coin led me astray to fight with them at one point, but it was the Empire yet again taking advantage of me as for I was refused payment by the previous Emperor.” He chuckled to himself as he sat up from the bed, glancing to his Sedanian uniform and Ferryman green mask laying atop a table. A frown grew, “I will not be motivated by coin now, but instead vengeance.”

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"Brothers should not fight brothers," The Cardinal of Albarosa muses sadly as he nurses a cup of steaming tea. "What has the world come to?" He asks the silence with a sigh. 

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Antonia Alice Hartcold stared at the missive for a long moment or two when she first saw it, before she simply sighed. "Why must you do this, brother? I won't forgive you if you get yourself killed by some foolish war" The young woman muttered to herself

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The Teeny Princess of Sedan stared at the missive. "I can't read.." Pulling the paper down from the kitchen table. Folding the paper over and over, before cutting wholes. Unveiling a snowflake. "Yay!"

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