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House Luceafăru


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The Moth; Sigil of House Luceafăru

[Art by me]

 

A public declaration is made from the Barony of Woldzmir. . .

–Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ–

Naught but silence has been had from Woldzmir, since the tearing away of the castle from Dobrov.  Many believed the Kremlin to have been destroyed, with the Baroness and her children in it; plotters sought to make conspiracies and hateful accusations against the Baroness for meddling in dark magics; while some believed the castle’s supposed sundering to be a miracle from God acting against the Anathema.

 

Woldzmir’s transformation was done by the hands of the late Count of Dobrov, the Lich, Ostromir Carrion-Tuvyic in retaliation to Baroness Moliana’s refusal to serve him.  His intent was to tear the castle from her, yet his ritual to kickoff his plan was disrupted.  Woldzmir was still torn from the earth, leaving a massive crater in its wake, but it was not destroyed.

 

Be it by chance or a miracle, Woldzmir was teleported and remains intact.  Two years were taken to recover from the incident, and to stand prepared in case Ostromir would make another attempt upon the castle or family within; yet only silence has been received.

 

With much discussion, we deem it safe to speak out on these events at last, and to denounce the name of Carrion-Tuvyic due to the countless acts of sin committed by Ostromir.  No longer is Woldzmir held by Tuvyics; nor shall Her Ladyship cling to the name of Carrion, seeing as half of humanity would have equal claim to such a name of a bygone era, much like how the name of Horen is regarded.

 

We take this transition as a sign of new beginnings and wish to wash our hands of the stigma that follows the name of Carrion-Tuvyic. It is something that comes to every House in time, and remains as a desire found in most men who do not wish for the successes and failures of their ancestors to be what guides their future.  A new path must sometimes be paved, do not be afraid to be the one to make that first step onto it.

 

House Luceafăru is thus made through the line of Anna Elizaveta

 

  • Viorel Codrin Tuvyic is hereby known as Viorel Codrin Luceafăru
    • Viorel’s legitimate offspring shall bear the name Luceafăru
  • Sorina Lorelei Tuvyic is hereby known as Sorina Lorelei Luceafăru
    • If married matrilineally, Sorina’s legitimate offspring shall bear the name Luceafăru

 

Signed,

 

Elimar Koen Luceafăru

 

Her Ladyship, Anna “Moliana” Elizaveta Luceafăru, Baroness of Woldzmir


 

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Thanks to Kujo for idea of this, and helping edit post.  Big thanks to Gelaticam as well for helping with the decision for the name!  BIGGER thanks to me for being cool.

 

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Elimar exhaled a sigh of relief, savoring this tranquil moment he knew would not last.

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Dante begins to cough, a tiding of new winds did spring upon him - sending another cursed chill down his spine on the frigid morn.

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Charlotte let free a small sigh of relief, secretly glad her daughter had left that accursed legacy behind.

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Brandt Toadsdorfer, the leader of the Miner's Plot, began to sweat nervously at the news. Had the wool truly been pulled over his eyes? Had the Baroness and her children not been evaporated in arcane fire, as his co-conspirators insisted?

 

He anxiously re-read his correspondence with the Orenian Government. His attempts to charter the Dobrov Motherlode had been stalled in the courts, placed under indefinite review due to the proceedings of the War. He needed proof of heir Fyodor Carrion's signature, but Fyodor infamously reclusive. Scouts sent to Dobrov found no trace of him, nor, unsettlingly, anyone at all.

 

Now he had hundreds of pallets of pickaxes and equipment floating on a clipper in Providence Harbor, and several dozen miners milling about N.P.C. in increasing agitation at their lack of pay. But now that rumors of that infernal castle were swirling around Providence, even exponential issuances of promissory scrip could not buy their continued loyalty. Was his whole house of cards about to topple down?

 

He looked in the silver mirror that sat beside his desk in the attic of Hope Annex. His face was the hue and sheen of melting tallow. The cloak and dagger sat on a nearby stool, its blade reflecting a rare beam of sunlight. It was taunting him, beckoning as he milled impotent circles, hunched over in the cramped garret, coy glimmer assuring - there was only one thing left to do now.

 

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Alec found himself in an interesting position indeed. He had resided in Dobrov as first a simple vagrant, then as a tenant under the new, post-translocation of that castle he had no intent on learning to pronounce. His body ached and churned, his skin beginning to sag from this sickness he had contracted out in the harsh western jungles. He was missing out on something, to be sure, but perhaps for once in his life he was glad of such a fact.  In-between the hacks and coughs, the young adventurer grew ever more disdainful of the endless platitudes made by nobles, grateful only this news wasn't being hollered by some squire or other rabble. 

He folded the missive and went back to bed, feeding himself some stew... 


 

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Josephine Aleksandra... Carrion-Tuvyic? Tuvyic? Aldersberg-Novellen? Luceafăru?

 

None of them felt right on her tongue. She was happy for her sister, her ability to forge a new name and a new path. As she had her whole life, Josephine was content to follow the well-worn trails of countless others who had gone before her, never straying too far from the straight and narrow.

 

For now, she was simply Josephine.

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