Upon Victory, or Upon Death

[Taketheshot 3834]

 

 

 

"d’Azor!” The bright landscape of Outer Arentania had distracted the boy as he laid his sights on the second advance of the Nordlings, the Orenians were still reorganizing their lines to charge once more as a name echoed out. “d’Azor!” It seemed to grow louder this time, the boy turning to the source of the voice being that of Field Marshal Iskander Basrid, “d’Azor!” The voice boomed this time as the boy became aware of his name being called “LOOK OUT!” At that the gruff Norlandic barbarian thrice the fifteen year olds size slammed into the Heir to Azor knocking him into the mud. Struggle ensued as he reached swiftly for the dagger strapped to his belt, arming sword lost in the wet mix of blood, mud and water he was sinking into under the weight of the barbarian atop him. “d’Azor!” The field marshals warnings cried out as the Count of Susa wrestled in a duel with two Nordlings unable to help the boy from where he was. The mud quickly passed over his neck and head, as the world around the boy went dark… 

 

The man awoke, raising himself from the desk he had fallen asleep on, the candle next to him having spent itself hours prior, his office loomed dark. A familiar nightmare, but familiarity did not bring comfort. Yet to expect one every night brought some measure of usuality. As Joseph d’Azor looked out the window rubbing his temples his half gaze caught sight of the moon hanging lazily in the sky, the County of Azor on the windswept cliffs of Arentania bathed in moonlight. “It has not even struck two…” The man mused with a long sigh, knowing that to sleep now would surely bring the continuation of his nightmare. Joseph d’Azor drew a long breath as he gently reached to his face, gingerly lifting the strap that held his eyepatch in place as he removed it, he ran a hand tentatively across the border of his left socket, scarred and skin deformed where the surgeon had done his best to close the mess of the wound. Closing his one good eye the blackness surrounded him as he thought back, the sound of shrieking dwed laughter and stinging pain seemed to come rushing back as he shuddered, reopening his one eye to the moonlight outside the window. 

 

Joseph d’Azor ascended the stairs as he paced down the dark halls of Azor, looking into his own room his wife Philippa Antoinette still soundly slept, he paused there for a few moments, deciding against waking her, setting his eyepatch upon the armoire as he stepped from the bedchambers to let her sleep, he would seek her thoughts upon the morrow. The Count of Azor resumed his traverse down the hall, stopping at his Heir’s bedchambers, Edmund Ledicort, opening the door to find it empty. “No…” The man whispered to himself in a hushed tone. “No, he is still at Southbridge…” His soldier son stood watch upon the frontlines of the war, no doubt he would not rest this night either. Next was Richard Leopold’s bedchamber, his second son lay sleeping within his bed, ponytail and all without a care in the world. Rounding the corner down the next hall he peered into the rooms of both Valerie Antoinette and Analiese Juliana, the two girls sharing the restful sleep night brought them, unhindered by memories as they lay blissfully unaware. The Count of Azor stepped out into the darkness looking over the pool of water in the rose garden as he lowered himself onto a bench, the still of night interrupted only by the wind. It was these hours he felt most comfortable, alone with his thoughts, the night seemed to bring solace on its own where sleep did not, he felt at ease, and at peace. The man drew a cigarette from his pocket lighting it as he took a long breath, the smoke bringing further calm he blew out into the night air, a memory of decades past returning.
 

"What is it you want to do boy? Will you not serve?? Will you not strive to be Archchancellor?” His fathers voice felt so close, a familiar argument within the d’Azor estate of Old Providence. “Father I am not one who strives for such, no, I will serve the Empire but I simply do not desire to do what you do…” His father glared back at him shaking his head. “GOD, Empire, Family boy! In that order! You must serve the Empire, It is bigger than us all!” A younger Joseph d’Azor spat back in a fight that seemed to play itself over every other week, “It is not what I want!” Ledicort d’Azor heard this last part and threw a cigar to the gravel as he stormed off. “The Empire is not about getting what you want It is what you provide!” Joseph d’Azor heard those last words with a callous sigh being released by himself as he turned away. 

 

"I never wanted this…” He spoke flashing back to the present night as he took another draw of the cigarette looking up into the night sky above where stars twinkled immeasurably. “I never wanted this… yet now I hold it.” He spoke up into the darkness as though his father were right there. “I spent so much of my life trying to not be like you, I fought…. I swore and vowed…” Joseph grumbled lightly with stubbornness not unusual for the man. “You were right Father…” He admitted begrudgingly to the sky. “You were right, and I see such now… this is a post for which there is no thanks, a post where the blame falls and yet it is the most important one within the Empire… I never wanted it, yet here I stand… Archchancellor, Count of Azor, father, diplomat, statesman…” The man flicked his cigarette to the gravel of the rose garden in a manner his father would toss his cigars, the lightest of smiles curling across his lips as he realized the similarity in even that. “Did John VIII say the same to you, Father?” The man queried up to the sky. Joseph d’Azor spoke the words Philip III had spoken into his ear the day he became Archchancellor, “Forgo thoughts of rest- it will come upon victory, or it will come upon death.” Joseph d’Azor cast his half gaze down from the heavens. “Upon victory, or upon death…” He muttered silently in the darkness almost as if a mantra he spoke often these days, thoughts of next tasks filling him as he walked back towards the door to his manor, intent on grabbing a fresh candle to continue work as he muttered out once more over the sounds of crunching gravel.

 

“Upon victory, or upon death…” 

[fetty bridgers 4492]

"Perhaps Helena really had  f*cked up this poor boy's head." remarked Tobias as he passed by the lad. Noticing his distressed features he'd let out a snicker before continuing onwards.

[Da_Emperors 1987]

Ledicort d'Azor would look from the seven at his boy and the people of Oren -- he would smile as his will was passed down to the next generation. 

[Karrse 99]

Edmund d'Azor would let out a small puff of his cigar as he'd sit in the Imperial State Army's military encampment late at night, an empty bowl of stew next to him and a warm, crackling fire in front of him. As he'd lean back, all weary-like, he'd look out to the countryside. Towards Azor. Removing the cigar from his mouth, he'd let out a faint chuckle, as if he thought of something funny, before he'd return his gaze to the fire. 

[Azie 657]

Philippa Antoinette sat in her bedchambers' study, quills and books strewn on the polished desk. The Countess scribbled with sighs pouring from her lips as she printed writings on the paper. The handwriting on the paper express the woman's relief, with the words flowing by and altering dramatically over time. Previously, the skies in her paintings gleamed brightly, but more recently, a darker presence increased with her strokes. "I hope he doesn't overwork himself, GOD forbid." As she sought in prayer, the woman muttered humbly to herself, a faint smile forming onto her lips. "However, I am confident that his efforts will result in the Empire's glory." Her voice was tinged with a cough, and she pressed her palms to her chest, setting her quill on its stand.

[annanicole__ 2802]

Helena sits at the window, alone watching the snow fall "Joseph The first of many people to whom my heart belonged." She examined her scars, which covered all of her fingers. "The dance during our social season or when Joseph gave me my topaz necklace are two of my favorite childhood memories. But it appears that his desire for power has ruined him, and he appears to be losing his mind, but we may all be at this moment " She clutched at the Providence Topaz necklace Joseph had given her years before.

[annabanana1014 2084]

Diana Vuiller, eldest daughter of the late Ledicort d’Azor.. Her mind went to those days of her Father and brother bickering and fighting.. all of those wasted yelling she thought, yet he became his Father in the end. Was this a good thing? Could he take this job he has been given? 
 

“Joseph, how I hope you do not lose yourself as you continue this journey. For the same become insane”

[Frisket 4538]

((Ooc: @Taketheshot

I will pay for this to be animated))

[Taketheshot 3834]

10 minutes ago, ScarletFrisket said:

((Ooc: @Taketheshot

I will pay for this to be animated))

LOL, that would be expensive....

[CorweenieTheJedi 892]

Somewhere, a dark elf preparing to lay siege to Oren did not see or hear this happen.

 

But if he did he would have commented at the fine writing skills of Joseph d'Azor's skygod :)