HERE'S YOUR PROMISE, PRINCE

[helldiving 5793]

 

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-qstIEHDVRg&ab_channel=Alex%27sBrain

H E R E ‘ S YO U R  P R O M I S E,  P R I N C E

 

“If I cannot prove my mettle as the King that my parents would have wanted, I would like for every Orenian, peer or commoner, to lay waste to that which I have built. I did not begin to build it for my parents. I do not try to build it for myself. I lay the cobbled foundation for the Reformed Kingdom of Oren, the Jewel of Almaris, for civility – for the Orenian people who have toiled, bled and perished for this great nation ever-lasting. Not the wanderlust of a derelict Empire that cannot stand upon the bending, fractured bones of its authoritarian regime. ” 

– Frederick I, King of Oren 

 

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The King paced his chambers alongside many men and women of his conglomerate. The great host that arose to fight for the liberty of their fledgling country, the Kingdom of Oren. It had been Frederick’s dream since he was a boy to be a liberator, much as his own father, the late Philip III, Holy Orenian Emperor, had liberated Lower Petra from the Tripartite Coalition many years before. Royalist versus Imperialist, the King mused with an air of indifference. It mattered not to him how many foes he would have to face to liberate the Orenian people from the oppression of an Empire that had forgotten them. An Empire whose Divine Providence was tainted by the legacy of monarchs like Philip II and John VII. The words of his late mother rang in his ears with the raucousness of a thousand bells. 

 

“My friends and countrymen...” Frederick addressed his own chamber of echoing voices, consisting of many of his loyal peers of the newly forged kingdom who had come together under the red and white banner of his forebears. Never had there been such a great showing of force in modern history prior to the work of his father. “All that my brother has to work with-” the King proclaimed, a cocksure grin gracing his youthful, energetic complexion, “Are the Huntshills, whose saving grace will be surrendering to me after I end this treachery once and for all.” 

 

Frederick could see now as Queen Vivienne approached, standing tall and proud with his broad shoulders set. The man’s brow was creased just enough that his eyes showed themselves with the faintest hint of anxiety.

 

 “What is greater?” The raven-haired Queen asked her husband. “Five or one?”

 

The granddaughter of Olivier de Savoie, Vivienne had more of a penchant for politics than would otherwise be assumed of her. Having acted swiftly in the hours after the occupation of Providence by her husband’s forces, the wily Vivienne quickly ensured political order was brought to the city and all functions of the municipal government remain operating as normal. Outside, the vast armies of the kingdom rallied and remained alert, occupying the city peaceably and sheltering the citizens of Providence from the Petrine Rebels who might be loosed from the confines of accursed Fort Linnord at any moment. 

 

“Mother always said I was quite dull when it came to arithmetic, but I can be sure that five is greater,” answered Frederick, raising an amused brow to his wife.

 

“Well, it seems that your brother wasn’t taught to count, for he seeks to do battle with only a fifth of the men that you have!” She exclaimed, laughing with glee before an equally-amused crowd.

 

Despite wishing to present the proud, stoic image of a king, Frederick could not help but crack a smile. He looked over to his new brother-in-law, the Prince-Emeritus Lucien of Savoy. The man, unlike the rest, stood silently, proudly, yet there was an aura of confidence that radiated from him as well. Suddenly, the former prince stepped forth, raising a fist to the air.

 

“Silence, all ye goodmen!” He cried out to the gathering. The laughing died out in an instant. “Laugh all you wish when the war is over. For now, though, our aim is united on one matter, and one matter alone. This petty rebellion by Peter Augustus shall be put to an end, and the Kingdom of Oren shall ensure our people are not led to the darkness preached by those armed against us.”

 

“Ave Orenia!” Cried a voice from the crowd. It belonged to Sir Gustaf, a newly-made knight of the Kingdom.

 

“Ave Orenia!”

 

“Ave Orenia!”

 

“Ave Orenia!”

 

Ave Orenia. Death to those who betray the will of the Aster Revolution.

 

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WARCLAIM

 

Wargoal: Control over Oren

 

Attackers:

The Kingdom of Oren

 

Defenders:

The “Holy Orenian Empire”

 

Field Battle: TBD

 

Date/Time: April 30th, 3pm EST

 

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[amyselia 2962]

"AVE ORENIA!" Pipes Claude Pruvia, participant of the Aster Revolution and fervent supporter of King Frederick I.

[OP bandamont 901]

"Ah hope this one will tame the dogs" Anton said as he withdrew a ferrum longsword from the fancy leather scabbard , he'd stare at the old blood stains of the blood silently 

[Seva 624]

"Every man, woman, and child has waited for this moment. A new Oren. Not an Empire, but a Kingdom. Strong and united. We will be free from the tyranny of the false "Emperor", Peter the Slothful. We will find peace and prosperity among our brothers and sisters. We will finally live in a land where we can truly say that we are free."

"AVE ORENIA!"

And with the good Lady Darcheviede, hundreds upon thousands of voices cried out in unison.

[Mannyy 982]

"Ave Orenia." Spoke Edward Clement at a casual volume, smiling with a single nod.

[MRCHENN 4741]

The Archcancellor, Conrad de Falstaff, readied his armaments with a new era of vigor. A battle to settle all battles, to cement history in shaping Orenia.

[Guest]

Pavel Barrow rubbed his hands together, a frown on his solemn features.

 

The Kingdom offered a chance for Oren to survive.

 

The Empire? It was simply a vehicle for madmen. One good Emperor and Empress could not erase a history of tyranny.

 

"Thus unto Tyrants," said Pavel, before returning to his room after dinner and laying down in his bed to rest. The intervening months of the Civil War had taken their toll on the teenage bastard.

[Asutto 2452]

"It's over." Proclaimed Victoria Augusta upon surveying the outnumbered Imperialist host on a patrol.

[Mattiii 1663]

Franz Arthur smiled at the thought of a peaceful upbringing in the Kingdom of Oren.

[spicii 1131]

"Ave Orenia." Vivienne Anastasie whispered to herself, a certain gingery haired adolescent to the left of her with a paintbrush in her grasps smiling eagerly. @gohliad

[_Sug 2809]

Prove to Me, Men of Mettle and Steel Have You Found GOD?

________________________________________________________________

☨

Turmoil dwelled within the heart of one accursed man as he sat upon the roads of Orenia. Men mobilized up and down the roads as if assembling for a crusade under many a different banner. Yet, here this wretch sat watching through steel helm which bore Lorraine Cross upon its plate. He was a man of the true GOD and a seeker of truth, a seeker of nourishment, a seeker of a twisted honor. He knew not at this time who he would fight for, who he would stand against, or even what he would stand for. Yet, within him there was a sense of duty to man. A pull within his core that lurched in his very person. It was wicked, vile, unholy even despite the cloth and plate he wore in service to GOD. 

☨

Was it what he had become now, the path he followed that birthed forth this greed, this complexity within? Perhaps. Yet, perhaps not. Perhaps it was the nature of man to consume and war. To fight brother and embrace sister. A time would come when one side would summon this squire of St. Nicolas to fight. This creature of faith. This wretch. That day drew near and he knew one side or the other would gain his sword in the coming days. The question was which.  

☨

"Pray for me. Pray for my mortality my brothers in cause. Pray for my soul my brothers in cloth. Pray for them, all those who remain home. Pray for the battle, for which history will reveal its path."

[Axelu 4333]

“FOR KING AND COUNTRY,” bellowed A proud soldier, likely for the last time, in service of Frederick I.

[Sykogenic 1333]

Mattias Ault smiles softly to himself, “Ave Orenia! Long may the King of Oren reign!“

[bumblefina 2766]

An elfen battle-mage sat upon the steps of her home in Oren, watching the bustle of the city, so full of life since King Frederick's arrival. She ran a whetstone over the blade of a long spear, murmuring out soft words to herself. "Ave Orenia."

[Crymson 535]

Theroden had gone from bleeding for the Tripartite coalition to bleeding for one faction of Orenians that was fighting another. The absurdity of it all was not lost on him. Yet, he had not wavered at Eastfleet and he would not waver now. Then, as now, he was in the right and he knew it. For the many stalwart friends he had made among Emperor Peter's court. For the frightened civilians who had their world ripped apart by Freddie the pretender. As in Norland, so must it be in Orenia. "Death to Pretenders. Long live Emperor Peter!"

Edited April 17, 2022 by Crymson