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THE BID OF BLACKVALE I - 1880


pkdon
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Leon Barclay sits in a room full of money with Frederick I, Barclaysmirking

 

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“wtf” thought the only cool female van aert 

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"Honk shoo"

snored Lucian Horen, with his blue and white striped pyjamas and nightcap. The old Renatian slept peacefully for once within that land he loathed of formerly caw-in traitors.

"Honk shoo"

he snored again, rumbling throughout the old home. The old man never quite knew peace, and such a long one was unfamiliar to him. He recalled days riding alongside the Black Reiter Company. Honorable men, he thought, as within his dreams he pranced along merry fields of ponies and old familial figures who mattered greatly, such as Augustus or Antonius, two close friends. He even saw a little Godfrey the Third slay down a small little Haenseni man, shooting him with a bow and arrow which caused the little Haenseni to giggle and laugh like a child. What a lovely land with sunshine and rainbows, gayly did he laugh riding amongst his compatriots. Wars won by The Legion, wars won by repeated-turncoat vassals and bipolar backstabbery which came from nowhere in the empire he loved. A mercenary was a petty thing which influenced none. An excuse for Reivers to make a living, whatever it is they ate. In any case, he slept happily with his teddy in hand, whilst they were probably dead or locked away. 

"Honk shoo." 

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