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BROTHERS THROUGH BLOOD


Ryanark

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BROTHERS THROUGH BLOOD

 

AurelianCompressed.png     ArichsdorfCompresssed.png

 

11th of the First Seed, 1865

 

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Upon a morning that came to splinter from one to two, a duel was arranged between the Margrave of Arichsdorf and the Kingdom of Haense, to settle a dispute which at its core was a matter of the Aurelian Brotherhood. 

 

 

On that fateful morning, the riders of Haense, the stout people of Arichsdorf, and the faithful Aurelian Brotherhood met in the fields. The duel was originally supposed to be held between the Haensemen and the Arichsdorfers to dispute jurisdiction over a man of the Brotherhood who gravely injured a guard of Haense - that which he rightfully regarded as the enemy.

 

 

The Brotherhood stepped in, offering to duel the Haensemen in Arichsdorf’s stead, seeing as it was more of a matter to them. In turn, both sides agreed upon this, and so the duel was set and each Champion was called forth. After a gruelling and tiresome duel, the Champion of Haense struck the Champion of the Brotherhood as he was down, drawing blood and ending the duel.

 

 

There was an uproar of cheers, mixed reactions from both sides as there were murmurings of the Brotherman’s fate in the hands of the enemy, the Haensemen. Scornful looks were cast upon the men of Haense as the Brotherhood stepped up to prevent the death of the Brotherman at the hands of Haense’s so-called justice. To allude or cast claims of death, to even entertain the concept of killing a man of the order is absolutely forbidden, and is subject to immediate retaliation.

 

 

The men of Arichsdorf and its honourable Margrave Manfred, rightfully could not bear to stand idly, if they were to, then one could understandably consider their word unreliable. To the Brotherhood’s surprise but understanding, they defied them, siding with the men of Haense honourably. Though outnumbered, the Aurelian Brotherhood were adamant to uphold the tenets of their codex, and strike them both down, but spare the brave men of Arichsdorf for their iron word, an action of considerable acclaim.

 

 

A battle ensued, with the Knights of the Brotherhood charging forth into the men of Haense, the men of Arichsdorf standing in defiance to withhold the charge. As the battle went on, Haensers suffered heavy losses, likewise the men of Arichsdorf being outmatched to the skill of the Knights of the Aurelian Brotherhood. For the men of Haense, the Aurelian could only offer them a slit neck, but for the men of Arichsdorf, the Aurelian offered them a hand up, refusing to kill a faithful and honourable vassal of the Empire.

 

 

The Haense rally shattered into pieces, stragglers being chased and cut down through the forests of Ebonwood and surrounding lands. The Knights of the Brotherhood stood victorious. The women of the sisterhood were dispatched to the aid of Margrave Manfred, who became gravely injured during the fighting. He barely survived the incident, but luckily GOD had bestowed his mercy upon him and invigorated him to walk yet another day.

 

 

The Aurelian Brotherhood marched home victorious, with many Haensers captured, and many more killed by the edge of their swords. In their infinite reverence of Aurelian and through their faith in GOD the Knights succeeded. But the man who started the incident, a certain Brother Ludvig was thereon expelled from the order and stripped of his armour. With heads dipped down in shame, a band of Knights walked back to Arichsdorf to sow friendship between the two entities. And they proclaimed; 

 

“With our fist to our heart, there is no ill intent wished upon the honourable leader as well as people of Arichsdorf, only to the Brotherhood’s and the Empire’s sworn enemy - the men of Haense. With undying loyalty to the Emperor and his decree do we heed, but should the enemy wish death upon a sworn Brother no matter the honour at stake, do we retaliate in force.”

 

 

Thus, the Carolus and Hannes de Vilain of the Aurelian Brotherhood and the noble Manfred of Arichsdorf do hereby declare a state of friendship and alliance with each other, indivisible by any foreign, or domestic entity.

 

GOD bless the Holy Orenian Empire, and Aurelian’s Blessings upon thee.

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

Signed,

 

Hannes de Vilain

Baron of Acre, Knight-Captain of the Aurelian Brotherhood

 

Manfred

 

Carolus de Vilain

Esteemed Grandmaster of the Aurelian Brotherhood

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“Bound by blood, we emerge united from the schemes of the pagans. Haense must die, as they used to say, and today they did.” spoke Auguste

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Winchester, Captain of the Guard, remembered very well the men of the Brotherhood killing his Guardsmen, there was no mercy, and even afterwards he was threatened with death by a member of the Sisterhood. This missive was clearly a lie he thought.

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Gaspard van Aert, locked behind bars, tallies the dead Haenseti as he scribbles them on the walls of his temporary residence.

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A certain Princess Amelia slid a cucumber from her eye, gazing toward the missive her handmaiden- Cathilda- held out. Rolling her eyes she placed it back on. 

 

”Write to my fiancé that I wish for him to not get into spats whilst I’m away.”

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Ivan var Ruthern read over the missive, then tossing it into flame. "History is written by the victor." He reaffirmed with himself.

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Leopold Edwin huffed as he remembered the altercation in the square, the boy thankful his friend Margaret had rushed him and Victoria off. "Stupid adults and stupid problems, they all wear masks too!" 

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Agnes de Vilain smiled widely at the letter. Taking a good, long while to read it, she ran to her father to give him a big hug. The page squeezed in hand, she pulled back and stared up proudly. Such a wonderful man, her father. Happy to see him living another day- and worried for the future battles to come. Yet, she faced the future prepared and readied.

 

"To new friends!" She cheered, lifting her recently won stuffed animal!

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"The Haense rally lacked courage, that's why they fell." Commented by a particular Blackvale levyman.

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Somewhere a man sips his tea, "Truly great," he'd mutter before folding the missive and tossing it to the flames.

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