CharmingCavalier 1723 Popular Post Share Posted July 16, 2022 By Henry Penton -| FOREWORD |- Dearest reader, I must begin by properly introducing myself. I am Henry Penton, and for over sixty years, I observed the history of Oren. I lived and experienced this history. From Joseph II to Philip III, I had been immersed, by a manner of my trade in statesmanship, in the decisions that shaped this era. Bearing witness to the triumphs of the state brings along the simultaneous, and most uninvited, observation of the mechanisms by which they were developed. This is the true story of these Emperor’s reigns, feats, and moreso their failures. This is the story of the Philippian Era. -| CHAPTER I |- || THE END OF THE PETRINE ERA || The reign of Joseph II came to an end in 1814, and with his death, the Petrine era concluded. While some scholars have mistakenly described the time after Joseph II as being continuous of the Petrine years, I posit that, following his death, there was a distinct and altered environment of Imperial politics, virtue, and life. This was partly fueled by the dissolution and further obscurity of the Josephite party and ideals, which disbanded in 1815. Moreover, the Philippian era was characterized by the increasing desperation of leaders, turmoil and violence upon succession, conflict abroad, and the deterioration of Petrine values The Pentonian Model of Orenian History Following the historical era system presented by Josephine Augusta and Simon Basrid in both volumes of the Epochs of the Empire, I have constructed the above timeline of Imperial Eras. Likewise, I divided the previously indicated Petrine era at the death of Joseph II in 1814. Although some of the reforms conducted by Joseph II were of important use to me in my work in the Imperial Treasury, notably the Edict of Revaluation from 1807, the totality of his reign following the death of Anne in 1800 was the beginning of a decline. Although in some ways held together through his political connections and the respect of the state’s bustling bureaucracy, the very tail of his reign was impotent. The Sedanite Rebellion of 1811 to 1813 is a successful accolade Joseph II retains. However, it was somewhat tarnished by the Committee of Public Safety implementation in the same year. Though composed of the leading figures from his cabinet, it was rife with the Josephites’ traditional corruption and wanton disregard for legal rights. Joseph II had many personal characteristics that would have made him a more effective ruler in different times. He was highly educated, urbane, and of paramount intellect. He directed investments into the arts, science, and agriculture, exhibiting a genuine interest in topics in which past rulers had displayed little. His Imperial Majesty had been raised in a time of great cultural upheaval within the Empire and taught by pioneering statesmen like Basrid and Armas. The Emperor was simultaneously able to relate to the masses while quietly chafing under the constraints that the new model of monarchy had entailed. But he was also fundamentally conservative and dogmatic in his belief in the systems and institutions of the last century. He always denied the need for reform; if he had not denied it, he would have rejected that the monarch had any role in bringing that reform about. Like his late wife and co-ruler, he feared interfering with his ministers, preferring to let them make their own decisions, no matter the risks. Despite all of his flaws, Joseph II remains viewed favorably by history. His docile and legalistic nature following the death of Anne I is revered for its pragmatism but disgraced by its inadequacy. To this author, he is seen as the beginning of a decline. -| CHAPTER II |- || THE LAST STABLE YEARS || HIM John VIII, Holy Orenian Emperor Circa 1835 For all his legal knowledge and government experience, much like his father, John VIII lacked the internal exertion to see through much change in an ailing Empire. From the onset of his reign, the man demonstrated a flaw in the imperial succession: three generations waiting for the throne. First was his brother, the Duke of Crestfall, who was announced as his heir presumptive by edict in 1815. Behind that was the son of the Duke of Crestfall, Philip Aurelian, the Duke of Adria. The same year as the edict Philip Amadeus, later known as the Duke of Furnestock in 1836, was born and entered the succession. From this point forward, there would be no less than three men in the line of succession, each grappling for support well before their time and being drained of good health and years by a matter of time. The year following the Edict of Renzfeld, 1816, saw Joseph II’s Archchancellor, Franz Nikolai de Sarkozy, retire to southern estates. The reigns then fell to Ledicort d’Azor. At first, it must be said that Ledicort excelled in the role. Having been a member of the House of Lords and in the Council of State, he had the requisite experience. Despite the continuous rise of political parties and movements, both legal and illegal, during the reign of John VIII, he balanced the niceties and firmness an Archchancellor must be capable of. Both John and Ledicort’s most significant achievements came from the years of 1818 to, effectively, 1821. These were the years of the Tenth Nordling War, declared by King Sven II of Norland in 1818 on the precept that his lands were assaulted by a band of Orenian noblemen going under the name of the “Sons of Horen.” There is little evidence that this happened, in truth, and the reality is that this was nothing but a guise for a war the king intended to press regardless of circumstance. John VIII Commanding at the Battle of Outer Arentania Circa 1821 This all coalesced after extended skirmishing at the Battle of Outer Arentania in 1821. There, Emperor John VIII personally commanded his armies and crushed the invasive Norlandish and Ferrymen forces. Ledicort’s crowning moment came on the battlefield as he personally led contingent brigades from the front and fought alongside the common man. He is the last Archchancellor to have done so. -| CHAPTER III |- || THE ACCEPTANCE OF INDOLENCE || The 26th Archchancellor of the Holy Orenian Empire, Ledicort d’Azor, Duke of Azor However, after the war’s conclusion in 1824, though it had all but ended at Outer Arentania three years prior, the pair fell into a lull that would last the rest of their reign and tenure. By all accounts, John was adverse to change and took after his father on the nature of the monarchy: that bringing about reform was not the monarchy’s prerogative. Instead, that task fell to Ledicort, who admittedly failed. Although Ledicort’s early years were exceptional, his latter years were cluttered with various periods of long hiatuses, failed attempts to rejuvenate the government, and constant distractions from his own familiar kin. Most notably among these was Joseph d’Azor, the firstborn son and heir of Ledicort. Appointed to the role of Minister of War during the Nordling conflict, he did little to reform the continuously degrading army. If anything, it was a sign of nepotism that haunts Ledicort’s record. As mentioned earlier, political parties were quickly stifling society around this time. Some, such as the Risorgimentists, Adrianites, and White Glovers, were passing crazes that had little impact on the broader historical portrait. However, being both social and political, the Rosemoor movement is of keen interest to those investigating this time. In fact, it was one of many factors that spurred the empire’s decline. In summary, the Rosemoorian stance was that succession laws within the empire should become absolutely cognatic, or in layman’s terms, female children should inherit on the same ground as men. As you can imagine, this flared a fiery debate between the nobility. Some, such as this author, criticized the movement for only focusing on securing these rights for noble women. As it must be noted, ordinary women were, and still are, unable to marry without the permission of the head of their household. Regardless, the Imperial Princess Elizabeth Anne was the originator of the movement and the Rosemoor Bill in the House of Lords. A contentious argument occurred in 1830 between the princess and the Duke of Crestfall, the heir to the empire and future Philip II. Philip was a known anti-Rosemoorian on the more traditional ground that women were not equal to men. Through the rules of the House of Lords, Philip sanctioned and silenced his sister, Princess Elizabeth. Although she nobly pursued other routes of expression, and the broader society was wholly discontent with Philip’s handling of the affair, she died in 1831 of grief and stress. This traumatized John VIII and permanently put him at odds with Philip, the Duke of Crestfall, as he blamed him for the death of his most beloved sister. Perhaps this could have been mended by Ledicort, but as was foreseen, the man was distracted and oft struggling to get his ministers to meet. In the years following 1831, both men lost their power and will to rule, damaging their reputations, both at the time and historically. By the time John VIII passed away in 1837 at the age of eighty, the empire was stable and wealthy from years of peace, yet entirely unmanaged and economically faltering. It should be remembered by all that despite the institutional decline concomitant to his reign, John VIII is, at the time of writing this work, the last monarch to lead Oren to victory in a war against a foreign power. His successors, with their own legacies of consistent failures, often did their utmost to avoid drawing attention to this reality. This can only be considered a dishonest and nakedly cynical attempt to improve their image. In honesty, John VIII was the last Emperor of the eighth Empire to not harm the state intentionally. He was also the last monarch to have a peaceful transfer of power upon his death. Malice was not on the agenda of this Emperor, and from this author’s many youthful nights spent sitting with the aged monarch, I can testify that he was a man beset by his life before the monarchy. Nonetheless, he never let this interfere with his duty and is only partly culpable for his inattentive nature, partially relieved due to his fifty-seven years of hard, war-torn life before ascending to the throne. Generally, the reign of John VIII was promising at first but severely suffered in its later years. Perhaps the imperial trajectory could have been diverted with more resolve from Ledicort following the Nordling War or dedication by the Emperor to change dying systems. Almost certainly, the Duke of Crestfall being made the heir to the empire drastically undercut these occurrences. This author ponders what the world could have looked like if John VIII had sired a legitimate child or legitimized his bastard son. But hopeful reflection is a game played by fools, and I am no fool. History stands that Emperor John VIII was a good man who led a stable and formidable empire yet was part of a decaying system that he and his Archchancellor did not have the will or strength to fix. -| CHAPTER IV |- || AN ERRATIC EMPEROR |||| AND AN ASININE ARCHCHANCELLOR || HIM Philip II, Holy Orenian Empire Circa 1847 It is a sinister idea to name one’s son Philip. As if Our Lord had not blessed the Empire with enough foul luck, it was with these last two Emperors that the deterioration of the state, a semblance of cohesiveness, and all hope was snuffed out. Although some would argue which of the two’s reigns they preferred, it is unattainable to this author why anyone would prefer idiocy to perfidiousness. Upon the death of Emperor John VIII on his eightieth birth day, on which occasion I sang him a very catchy tune to most Orenians adopted shortly after to celebrate their name days, his brother, Philip, the Duke of Crestfall, quickly moved to coronate himself. He was in his seventy-eighth year. To his benefit, the newly-anointed Philip II was a devout man but an old dotard nonetheless. His initial edicts to reform the floundering Imperial Diet did little. The only thing that flourished during his early reign were plots, both of assassination and overthrow. From the palace, army, bureaucrats, and imperial family, the stirrings of insurrections against His Imperial Majesty were around each corner of Imperial life. Yet, it was usually Philip II’s son, the Duke of Adria, though unpopular in his own right among many classes, that made tensions subside. The 27th Archchancellor of the Holy Orenian Empire, Drasus DeNurem, Count of Mordskov However, his initial choice for Archchancellor was deplorable. Drasus DeNurem, relative of the famed General Alren DeNurem, was unknown and disliked by the vast majority of his councilors. In fact, he had not held a government posting his entire life prior to assuming the role. A white-haired maniac, although more attentive than in the final years of the preceding ministry of Ledicort d’Azor, DeNurem was also impertinent, hostile, and ill-natured to work with. In 1840 the delusional Philip II put into effect the Edict of Visgia, forcing every one of his subjects to read the Holy Scrolls in their entirety and each noble house to select a patron saint. This was, if anything, a passing trend that died with the elder Emperor. Likewise, the Society of Saint James was a rather lackluster and short-lived project of Philip II that sought to debate religious matters personal to the Emperor but not his people. The Then Heir-Apparent of the Holy Orenian Empire, HIH Philip Aurelian, Duke of Adria Philip II’s succession is also due for analysis. Since the man was older than I am now as I write this, he had not only a grandson but a great-grandson vying for the throne. Three generations of Novellens had been placed behind the decrepit despot, and, as all men do, they sought power. First in line was the aforementioned Philip Aurelian, the Duke of Adria. He was in his fifty-third year upon his father’s ascent and confined to a group of isolated supporters in the nobility. Following the Duke of Adria was Philip Amadeus, the Duke of Furnestock. He was more popular among the Imperial masses but inattentive to government matters like his father. Finally, there was Peter Augustus, also known as Peter the Greater, who was the third in line to the throne but a child, born in 1842. In essence, the very arrangement of the succession was wrought with destruction. The Duke of Adria and the Duke of Furnestock were concerned about the other’s power, and the Emperor was equally suspicious, as was his nature. If anything, this has taught students of history that successions that stretch beyond one or two generations are detrimental to the state. When the supposed body of Philip Amadeus, the Duke of Furnestock and second-in-line to the throne, was delivered to the Imperial capital in 1844, every member of the Council of State could tell that the man lying in state was an imposter. The corpse was not the appropriate height, was plump, and obviously not a man of Imperial stock. Philip II, who was by now half-blind and senile, obstinately refused to accept this. Even Rev Vuiller, the ordinarily stoic Solicitor-General, prostrated himself before the sovereign’s wheelchair, alternately flattering, pleading, cajoling, and crying in despair. It was to no avail, so let it never be said that we did not try. “That is my grandson, who lies dead,” proclaimed the trembling Emperor, and a state funeral was held. This failure to adhere to advice was foundational in the eventual conflict that was to come. Nonetheless, the Emperor was unswayed and wrongfully put aside the issue of succession. The Duke of Furnestock was dead, and that was the end of it. Or was it? -| CHAPTER V |- || WAR AND WOMEN RULE THE DAY || It was in 1845 that the Council of State rose up and forced Philip II to assign his daughter, Josephine, Princess Imperial, as the new Archchancellor. Many viewed this as desperate since a Princess Imperial assuming the highest government office was not only irregular but unheard of throughout centuries of Imperial history. Josephine was undoubtedly better than her predecessor but was pent up in her office, drafting designs for what would become New Providence. For her part, she was incredibly reluctant to take this unprecedented appointment. Though she would never get to enjoy her crowning accomplishment, her tenure was an arduous struggle most would not undertake. Between governing and corralling the erratic whims of her father, she chose the latter, and there were no competent statesmen who would have been as successful at the task. This work does not intend to speak on the tenures of the Archchancellors, as that is not its purpose, and another tome I will release soon. However, as the first female Archchancellor, Josephine personified a progressive era, though she was staunchly conservative. We can only hope that time will look favorably upon her. The 28th Archchancellor of the Holy Orenian Empire, HIH Josephine Augusta, Duchess of Crestfall A Great Writer, Leader, Architect, Conservative, and Friend. We do not know if Philip II’s nurse came up with his next stratagem for 1848. This author hopes so, as it is much more comforting to believe that this next crisis was a consequence of an enfeebled Emperor taken advantage of by his carers, than it is to believe that any occupant of the Imperial Throne could be such a brainless buffoon. At eighty-eight years old, His Imperial Majesty’s next plan to win the public’s support was to start a war with Urguan. Naturally, no one was informed of this until the war was declared in 1849. Secretly meeting Grand King Ulfric Frostbeard, the geriatric Emperor even believed he had secured “a polite war,” whereby no raids would be conducted, and prisoners returned after each clash. He was not only wrong but disastrously so. It is still seared into my memory to see the ancient man, clad in hob shackled plate, meandering aimlessly across the bridges before Providence. He screeched orders at forces long gone in pursuit of the enemy, a man moving paper armies and surrounded by staff that had to simply observe his outbursts. Shortly after the War of Lower Petra broke out and a series of brutal losses to the Urguanites, a conspiracy came to light. The reader can imagine the Council of State’s shock when it was revealed that the Duke of Furnestock was not only alive and well but had faked his death so that he could plot against his grandfather and father without scrutiny. For almost a year, the second-in-line to the throne had been amassing support amongst the aristocracy for a coup. Not a single peer had divulged this information to either the Emperor or his government, which is a fair gauge of public opinion at that time. -| CHAPTER VI |- || A REVOLUTION OF BLOOD AND LITTLE CHANGE || The Adrian Assassination, By Sara Greenhoof, Circa 1850 The Mistress and the Apparition of Anastasia Murder the Duke of Adria It was also in 1849 that these plotters commenced their conspiracy. The Duke of Furnestock, his wife, Anastasia, and the Prince of Savoy, Olivier Renault, plotted in the south to kill Philip’s father, the Duke of Adria, and then coup his grandfather. This assassination came to fruition in the early part of the year when the last bricks of New Providence were being laid. The Duke of Adria was lured into the chambers of one of his mistresses and stabbed through the heart. This particular mistress, of which the Duke kept many across the empire, was vexed by the recent imperial decision to not recognize their child as legitimate, as it was born far from the Duke’s marriage bed with his own cousin. Despite warnings from astute advisors such as myself, who had keen insight into the ongoings of the plot, Philip II existed in a state of ignorant bliss. Only after the Duke’s death did the Emperor begin to take on an even more accelerated manic state, with chaos in his empire quickly ensuing. Many of his nobles flocked to San Luciano, the capital of Savoy, to swear new fealty to the more able-bodied but perhaps no more stable-minded, self-proclaimed Philip III. Very rapidly, in the course of a matter of days, the armies of Savoy were marching across the bridges to Providence, and the Imperial State Army under Major Erik Othaman surrendered the city after a conversation with Lord Marshal Erik Ruthern, the grandfather of Anastasia and now turned sympathizer. It still haunts me to this day to hear the old Philip II, in some of his final remarks, wail about how his grandson had no support. Even as the black banners bearing the white sun of the Savoyards marched into the city, he frantically wrote orders to armies that only existed in his mind. He remarked that his grandson only had herds of voracious women and proclaimed that he would reign for another fifty years if he could talk to his grandson privately. The pitiful Emperor that was Philip II passed shortly before he could see New Providence surrender. He was found slumped over his desk in his favorite wicker wheelchair. His daughter, Josephine, on the other hand, had traveled briefly to the northern lands of Haense to offer the northmen the title of Emperor, the Imperial lands, and the crown jewels. King Sigismund III, compelled by his advisors, denied this last hope, though, and Josephine returned to the city she built mere minutes after her father’s death. In the chaos, while ordering records be destroyed to not fall into the hands of the usurper, she was run over by a carriage carrying the rotund Anne Bertha de Novellen. Anne Bertha was a distant but peculiar imperial family member trying to escape the city with her assortment of jewels, sweets, and small dogs. The Emperor was dead, and so too was the Archchancellor. At this point, the Duke of Furnestock made many promises and pledges when he entered the capital. Looking back, the simple fervor of the moment obscured the man’s significant disabilities. He had killed his father, promised the world to the empire, and was prepared to deliver none of it. And so Philip Amadeus, Duke of Furnestock, was crowned Philip III, Holy Orenian Emperor by High Pontiff Everard VI in the Basilica of the Argentine Star. The rushed ceremony was conducted after the High Pontiff, who had a knack for stumbling into situations, was compelled by the assembled mob to anoint their chosen Emperor without contemplation or the curia’s advice. The Aster Revolution was complete, and Philip III was on the throne, but this was merely the escalating point for the failure of the empire, which had by now become a glorified client state of the Savoyards. Philip II shared many characteristics of his grandson, although most would prefer not to say it aloud. Both Philip II and the future Philip III were brash men who often shied away from good counsel in favor of ill-fitted desires for godliness or glory, respectively. My Own Printing of the Aster Revolution Depicts Savoyard and Orenian Armies Marching Across the Unification Bridge in Providence, Circa 1849 To boot, some of the lesser-known stories of Philip II only further delude the remainder of the respect some have for him. When this author was Minister of the Treasury, he once set boats with over seventeen thousand golden marks and had men row them to the high elven capital. Despite protests from his councilors and any reasonable man, Philip II loaned the Silver Principality these funds and only took six elven erotic novels as collateral. To say the least, the elves did not ever repay the debt. Although this was unprovident, his spending did not stop there. During my tenure as Minister of the Treasury, Philip II spent over four thousand marks on miniature chinchillas. It is a most unpleasant memory to think of the dotard sitting amongst his flock of foreign wooly rodents while commanding the treasury to spend lavishly on soirees or procuring him a galleon, a dream of his that I was able to squander on several occasions. Likewise, Philip II lacked awareness of the taboos which he committed. In 1848 he married his granddaughter-in-law in a celibate marriage, which, while not sacreligious, was irreverent. -| CHAPTER VII |- || THE TRUTH OF THE CO-RULERS || HIM Philip III, Holy Orenian Empire Circa 1846 Of Note: Philip III did eventually abandon and condemn wigs, though he began his reign in one. Philip III came to the throne with widespread adulation. Extremely prematurely, in the first month of his reign, the Aster Revolution agents had called him ‘Philip the Great.’ Philip Parricida was a more suitable moniker, and it carried the benefit of this author’s favorite literary tool: alliteration. It must be conceded that parricide does not reasonably fall within Philip III’s twenty most dire sins if this author were to rank them. We could undoubtedly find great men in history who have killed their fathers. Philip Parricida was not one of them. To start off his reign, once the dust of the “Revolution” had settled, very little changed. The Vice Chancellor, Minuvas Melphaestus, was made acting Archchancellor. He was never appointed by Imperial Writ, Philip not wanting to be the first Emperor to proclaim an elf as de facto leader of humanity. Prince-Emeritus Olivier Renault of Savoy “One of the Worst Statesmen in Modern History” However, what was clear from the beginning was the failed promises of Prince Olivier Renault of Savoy. He promised the unification of humanity, immigration of all Savoyard populaces, and unconquerable military forces upon Philip’s ascent. The moronic move to hand over the power of Savoy to his son, then Prince Olivier Laurène, spent any control over the state of Savoy he had and destroyed any assistance he could have offered to Oren. This author can easily say that these were but words uttered by a historical loudmouth. If Olivier Renault should be remembered for one thing, it is not the unjust overthrow of an impotent monarch, but rather his utter failure in ruling the aftermath. Around the first years, the Emperor began to lose confidence in his acting Archchancellor, the Prince Minuvas Melphaestus, perhaps believing that he had too many ideas or was too elvish in demeanor. The time had come to retire him to an elven reservation known as Ebonwood and appoint a new government. Philip had a particular skill-set in mind when looking for a new Archchancellor. They expressly wanted someone incapable, much like Philip’s wife. The reason was simple: the conundrum-inducing future co-monarchs were set on ruling incompetently on their own, relieved of good advice and sound men. The monarchs conducted interviews along these constraints and eventually found their perfect man: Joseph d’Azor, the Duke of Azor. He had been a lifelong companion to the Emperor and one of his first supporters in his revolution. Notably, his father had been Archchancellor to John VIII, so this was to be the Second Azor Ministry. The 29th Archchancellor of the Holy Orenian Empire, Joseph d’Azor, Duke of Azor “A Man Who Enjoyed Eating and Having Affairs, Not Governing.” In the end, Azor did precisely as he had promised when the co-rulers had interviewed him: nothing. Bearing in mind what the monarchs had prescribed, there was no more adept candidate for this. Azor was of the background of the new nobility, whose father had bequeathed him both considerable wealth and a political legacy. Still, these resources were squandered by a man who was simultaneously indolent, slow-witted, and almost perpetually paralyzed by indecision. No policies, programs, judgments, or decisions came from the Archchancellor during these years. The good Duke spent most of his energy in his office carrying on an affair with his mistress, who he then subsequently made a minister of the Crown. This went against the advice of myself and all of any mental capacity. During the early years of the Second Azor Ministry, an obscure cousin to the Emperor from the Temeschine line, Henry Constanz de Novellen, masterminded the Michaelite, or Petty, Schism of 1849. The term ‘mastermind’ is a vast overstatement of his competencies. This pallid, twisted character appeared to have no education, skills in critical reasoning, or even any redeeming qualities, which was, in fairness to him, a broader complication in the Temesch family. For some reason, he had embedded himself deep in the counsel of Philip III. A rot that would further blemish a reign. The Petty Schism was not only poorly planned and executed but a testament to the deficiencies of Henry Constanz. It began during the coronation of Prince Olivier Laurène of Savoy and ended a little under a month after its inception. During the coronation, the Prince not only forsook the Pontiff, but the Emperor joined him, encouraged by the whispering lies of Henry the Half-Wit. While Savoyard soldiers were meant to guard the High Pontiff, Everard VI, they became enraptured with the enthronement process of the false Michael I. It was then that the Duke of Valwyck, Eirik Baruch, along with other notable Haeseni, simply ushered the aged clergyman out the front door. A pitiful ending to a petty schism. The 57th High Pontiff of the Church of the Canon HH Everard VI High Pontiff Everard VI subsequently excommunicated those involved, including Emperor Philip III, the Empress, and Prince-Emeritus Olivier Renault. As many good Canonists made up the Imperial ranks, a walk of atonement was shortly thereafter agreed to by the Emperor, Empress, and Everard. Although a disgrace to Imperial honor to be hauled through Haeseni streets under a hail of tomatoes and expletives, it pales compared to the diplomatic damage done by Henry the Half-Wit. This irrevocable action set the Empire on a collision course with Haense and the High Pontiff, who promptly joined the War in Lower Petra on the side of the Urguanites. Tangentially, the Empress, in her usual oblivious and witless state, was enthralled with the idea of wearing rags and walking in front of her people. Her surprise and sudden rage when she realized it would be done barefoot are memorable. A true testament to the clueless nature she maintained throughout her reign. In a twist of irony, the entire reason why Emperor Philip III was even seduced by the Half-Wit in the first place was that myself and Archchancellor Azor were previously engaged in diplomatic dinners that evening. Within a few minutes, the good governance this author had tried to retain, in whatever semblance it could be found amongst the rubble of the ‘revolution,’ was smashed. By listening to Henry Constanz, Philip III had started the rockslide that would bring down the Petrine Empire. Although they conducted the walk and received penance from Everard VI while simultaneously disgracing the imperial honor even more than they had done thus far, the Pontiff had ulterior motives. Before the Petty Schism had even begun, the Pontiff had secured letters in the Empress’ own hand, discussing the plans for killing Philip Amadeus, the Duke of Adria, her father-in-law. Despite being delivered to the Church by a known azdrazi, the validity of these letters is undeniable, and I can reaffirm their authenticity. May God only understand why she would have ever put pen to paper with these thoughts, but it is yet another testimony that idiocy runs in the bones of Novellens. This evidence prompted the Second Excommunication of the Empress and Emperor, just days following the lifting of the first. In essence, the Pontiff had wisely embarrassed the imperial figureheads first with a promise of atonement yet judiciously withheld evidence that was used for another excommunication. And this time, there would be no walk of penance. Both sides made sure of that. -| CHAPTER VIII |- || FURTHER CONUNDRUMS OF THE CO-RULERS || HIM Anastasia I, Holy Orenian Empress Seen here riding about the streets with her usual oblivious, inattentive, and cross-eyed expression. Following this arduous time, Philip III proclaimed his wife a co-monarch in 1853, one with equal power to the Emperor, who would rule after his death. This created several issues for the state. First, Anastasia was a Ruthern by blood and held no claim to the Novellen mantle. Second, Anastasia was incapable and arrogantly removed from all government affairs. Days would pass without her being seen in council meetings for her to return, reignite conflict, be in a perpetual state of inept confusion, and then disappear for the cycle to repeat. Philip had tried to nullify these failures by the state in the proclaiming edict that a widowed Empress Anastasia could not remarry. However, as his advisors informed him, Emperors, nor Empresses, are not bound by the edicts of previous Emperors. Therefore, a widowed Empress of Ruthern blood could remarry, have offspring with another, and then found her own dynasty by overriding the succession, as is the sole prerogative of an imperial monarch. Undoubtedly this was a mistake that future Emperors should avoid. Setting the precedent that decidedly unfit individuals ascend to the throne would only perpetuate the fall of any state. Emperor Philip knew this well, though, during these times. Instead, he took to destroying the empire on his own with a magnificent display of irresponsible promises. Around this time, the Emperor had promised his third and youngest son Frederick Charles the crown. He also simultaneously promised it to his eldest son, Peter Augustus, as was his birthright. The second imperial child, James Maximillian, was rumored to be a hunchback with vast physical deformities due to his family’s inbred nature. He was overlooked not only by his parents but by society. And at that, the stage was set for conflict between the young Peter and Frederick, both promised a crown by their father. Peter, admittedly, squandered his time in preparing for an inheritance dispute, as he unsuccessfully led many ventures during his father’s reign. Dichotomously, Frederick readied for a war against his brother from the day he had heard his father promised to uphold Peter’s succession. His entire early adulthood was squarely focused on plotting, securing, and negotiating his ascent against the rightful succession of the Imperial Throne. One could not estimate the bounds of the co-rulers’ bizarre innovations, which throughout we endeavored to warn against. Their son Frederick began to keep company with a community of foreign easterners from across the seas and had adopted their customs. These refugees from Oyashima sought to settle somewhere in the empire. In other circumstances, we would have been glad to have them. On this occasion, however, Prince Frederick entered a meeting of the Council of State wearing a floral kimono, their traditional dress, while brandishing a half-completed Imperial decree. This decree stated that Their Imperial Majesties were to surrender Oltremont and transalpine Arentania to Frederick’s rule. He was to become the independent ruler of the Oyashiman people on imperial land. It only required the monarchs’ signatures and was presented to the council as fait accompli. Philip III initially spoke words of great support for this proposal. The Empress sat in her high seat, wide awake yet simultaneously comatose. Azor slithered obesely but said nothing. Fortunately, those counselors unafflicted by premature dementia convinced the monarchs that the surrender of a third of the country to create an ethnic land for a people who owed us no allegiance amid an existential war was, in mild terms, imprudent. This was one of the rare times where the co-rulers took heed of good advice. Nonetheless, the co-rulers quickly found themselves defeated at the Siege of Southbridge in 1854. Their armies had had the chance to intercept the approaching coalition forces in the preceding months. Still, in his strategic mastery demonstrated throughout his reign by successive losses, Philip ordered all brigades to avoid contact with the enemy and hide behind the ramshackle walls of Southbridge. For four years the land of Lower Petra, just over the Petra River from Providence, was held and defiled by the coalition forces. Orenians were rooted from their homes, and many noble manors were burned. The estates of the Galbraiths, Arkents, and Darkwoods being amongst them. Of particular insult, the Urguanites installed the Goats of Sedan, a break-away Orenian rebel organization subject to the dwarven crown from the times of Joseph II, on the road to Providence in a newly constructed fortress named Haverlock. It was only in 1858 when the imperial forces were able to reconquer the land and a further two years to oust the Sedanites from their newly constructed keep. During the Siege of Haverlock, there was a rumor that Philip had determined to double his efforts in reforming the country. The bloated Archchancellor, Joseph d’Azor, was meant to retire and a successor named shortly after the inevitable victory. This never came to pass, but it still impacted the battle. The Duke of Azor took the rumors of his eventual replacement with horrible whines and proclaimed to the entire council that he would scale the walls and die fighting. The reality was a far less glorious scene. The bloated and belching Duke was lifted with cranes onto the walls, as good Orenians died protecting those assembling and operating the crane. His waddling around the city, carelessly stepping on the bodies of wounded men who screeched from the immense weight they bore, is still etched in this author’s head. The victorious Orenian forces were led out of the city by the bumbling Azor, carried on a litter, and dining on exotic meats. Manfred von Arichsdorf, Margrave of Arichsdorf Yet, at that time, there was perhaps nobody in the Empire more responsible for the victories at Lower Petra and Havelock than Manfred von Arichsdorf, who sadly, was in all other ways a completely repellant character. The other leading figures were mockeries of glory. Their Imperial Majesties were well away from the fighting in both battles. Azor was hoisted over the walls in a palanquin, too rotund from years of beer-bellied living to ascend the siege tower unaided. In contrast, the Baron of Arichsdorf, a mustachioed maniac originally from the Nordling lands, was perpetually in the thick of the melee, covered in blood from head-to-toe and surrounded by his coreligionists from Westergrenz. The Nordling’s biggest problem was that his berserker rage was never confined to the battlefield. The Bloody Baron of Arichsdorf’s feud with the Duke of Cathalon was one such example of his proclivities. The quarrel had been ignited by an issue so trivial that only the Imperial nobility would even concern themselves with it in the first place, that being the placing of a sign on a public street corner. Manfred’s anger was so great that he nearly smashed the Duke’s head with his hammer over this placard-related disagreement. Yet, he went unpunished. Several months later, the Baron of Arichsdorf once again stirred trouble by beating the Baronet of Westfall, Cesar Komnenos, for sitting on a bench the Baron claimed as his own during a public meeting of the Adriatic Court. Once again, Arichsdorf was not punished but rewarded, as Philip III enfiefed him as the Margrave of Westergrenz shortly thereafter. The reasoning provided by the Emperor was simple: the Nordling baron had settled the western lands of the Empire and increased their productivity tenfold, so retaliation against his actions could not be too harsh. In reality, the Emperor was powerless to stop the von Arichsdorfs. They were above the law, did not pay taxes, and commanded a far more effective army than the Imperial state. To only solidify this facet of Imperial doctrine, Arichsdorf’s bastard son stabbed the Baronet of Westfall a few years later during a chaotic court session. Empress Anastasia had been presiding over the affair, although as with everything she touched, she had lost all control and simply observed, totally insensate. The Emperor’s ‘just’ and ‘decisive’ response: ten lashes that were never delivered in fear of inciting rebellion from the von Arichsdorfs. It was known to all by this time that the Emperor’s ability to rule had been severely diminished. His reign was propped up by little more than Arichsdorf, Blackvale, and unsavory characters from the shadows. -| CHAPTER IX |- || THE BEGINNING OF THE END || During this time, the Empire was not quiet. Empress Anastasia caused a scandal to erupt in 1864 over the hand of her firstborn son, Peter Augustus, the Prince of Providence. Due to the Empress’s and Frederick Charles’ meddling, the betrothed of the Prince was publicly disavowed by the imperial family. To clarify, the plan had been hatched by Frederick and Anastasia because of their inherent dislike of Ioanna Elisheva of Susa. She was, admittedly, obnoxious, uncouth, and disliked by almost all imperial society. Her aloofness and arrogance in her inexperience were her downfalls. In a public court session hosted by the floundering Empress herself, Archchancellor Joseph d’Azor presented his daughter, Lucia Annunziata d’Azor, as a replacement for the Susa woman. He then announced his retirement and threw socialite and government circles into chaotic disarray. Despite appearing random, this was orchestrated by the imperial couple, their Archchancellor, high levels of government, and nobles such as Princes Frederick Charles. Ioanna was enraged and left the city shortly after, effectively disqualifying her from the Prince’s hand in the eyes of the imperial family. Nonetheless, it is often noted that Frederick claimed to be unaware of his family’s dastardly moves. However, this author can testify that he was made aware and used the situation to his advantage. Following the courtroom debacle, Prince Frederick found an ally for the eventual overthrow of his brother in Ioanna. He abused her connections and anger with her courtly disgrace to fuel his kingly ambitions. The 30th Archchancellor of the Holy Orenian Empire, Henry Penton Besides the societal impacts this messy divorce from Ioanna caused, the governmental consequences were real. Although often on the inside of state decisions, the Archchancellor's task now fell to this author, the elderly Henry Penton. Like most positions I was placed into, I was forced to assume the role. As was the case with the Vice Chancellor selection under the Second Azor Ministry, the powers that be offered the position to me and threatened to give it to someone horribly incapable if I declined. In good conscience, I could not allow the state to be corrupted by these people, so I begrudgingly took up the mantle and began my reforms, most of which were stifled by the ongoing war, peace negotiations, and my monarchs. I could not curb the rampant abuses of nobles such as the Arichsdorfs. Although I did my best to foster mutual trust between the various parties of imperial society and government, it was already in such a deteriorated state that little could be done. Without the interest of the monarchs in such affairs, which we never had, it was a futile struggle I persisted in right until the end in 1868. Admittedly, I was a poor Archchancellor. However, I hold that the position was most likely untenable for any honorable Orenian at the time. Especially with the monarchs in power and Prince Frederick's inherent want for the throne upon his parent's death, circumstances played most of the cards during my tenure. I was simply the handyman sent to sweep the streets after the disasters. Philip’s Folly, By Renaldo Mundo, Circa 1867 A Foreign Mercenary of the Tripartite Accord Looms Over A Defeated Orenian Knight Meanwhile, Philip wrongly believed in 1866 that his forces were strong enough to launch a counteroffensive into Urguanite lands, specifically through the neutral port of Eastfleet. Although his brother, John Casimir, and others on the council had urged for peace due to the decades of continuous wars draining resources and morale, the Emperor pressed on. And it was at the Battle of Eastfleet, also known to history as Philip’s Folly, that his numerically disadvantaged host was decisively crushed. This forced him into a more vulnerable position during the peace negotiations in 1867, and they would last up until days before the end of his reign. Following the battle, Philip and his Empress experienced the Marriage Crisis of 1866. In the early mornings of Sun’s Smile, the Council of State was alerted that Prince Frederick Charles was planning on marrying Princess Vivienne of Savoy. Notably, Savoy was a country that was actively at war with the Holy Orenian Empire. The entire imperial government rejected the marriage and informed the monarchs that they must cancel the wedding or issue an edict compelling the union to be morganatic, to avoid Frederick or his children any claim to the throne that would inevitably be supported by Savoy. In essence, to prevent a hostile usurpation by a Savoyard-backed Frederick. Little did we know that Philip was conspiring with his son on this matter. Instead of issuing the edict and barring his son from succession, which could have prevented inevitable bloodshed over a claim, he did the opposite. In private, the impotent imperator told Frederick to stop the marriage and wait until a later date. He did not even insist on breaking off the betrothal with a hostile foreign principality. This could only be seen as intentionally harming the state and allowing the future war we all knew would develop. With this mistake alone, Emperor Philip set the Empire on a collision course with ruin. If it were not for his multitude of failures before this, it could be overlooked. Alas, it was but one of many in the long list of Philip Parricida’s faults, the faults that would bring down an Empire. -| CHAPTER X |- || THE LITTLE KNOWN TRUTH || The Poisoned Philip, By John Gisheem, Circa 1870 The Look of a Man Who Betrayed The Empire, Then Betrayed By His Son, Frederick. Towards the end of their reign, in 1868, God's wrath abruptly caught up with the two. Philip III and Anastasia were engrossed with dangerous and vile people, against most of the advice of their councilors. Much like their predecessors, though, the two believed that their decisions were not only superior but above any supervision or comment. As many history books should distinguish, Philip III did not die of some benign disease. He was poisoned for his involvement with the very men he had entangled himself with since the beginning of the War of Lower Petra, colloquially known as the War of the Wigs among the half-men. However, the events that unfolded in the final months of Philip III's reign have also been misunderstood. While this author was tucked away in a northern room negotiating with the representatives of King Sigismund III of Haense, Philip and his apathetic Empress were plotting with these devious ones whose names are lost to history. Many speculate that their plotting concerned their youngest son, Frederick, ascending to the throne. They are woefully wrong. In fact, the Emperor had even directly expressed to many people that both of his sons were incompetent, vengeful, and greedy children of Iblees. He explicitly did not intend to name Frederick as his heir, nor did he intend to back Peter. The truth is that the co-rulers were engaged with a plot that would divide the Empire in two only a few months after the treaty with the Tripartite Coalition was signed. The eastern half, including New Providence, would be given to Willem van Aert of Blackvale, while the western remainder would be set free under Manfred von Arichsdorf. Neither of his sons would have an empire to govern over. But before this day could pass, Philip III and his lethargic co-ruler died. It was a spy amongst their midst that had given these plans to Frederick but a few days from their implementation, and upon hearing of his parents' betrayal, it was none but Frederick who sent the vial of poison with his men to end their reign. -| CHAPTER XI |- || A WAR MADE BY IDIOCY || HIH Peter “The Greater” Augustus, Prince of Providence, Duke of Petra Also Referred to as Peter IV First-in-line to the Imperial Throne When I heard the news of the Emperor’s death, I had just concluded peace talks with King Sigismund III and Karl Sigmar, the future Karl III, in Karosgrad. Although I attempted a swift return to the capital, by the time I had gotten safely to Ebonwood in the west, there were too many armed men to approach further. I spent the rest of this brief period of time working out of a mountain monastery I had sponsored for the Scriptorium of Saint Daniel of Abresi. This was before I fled to Haense under the protection of their Lord Palatine. What is seldom known by the onlookers of the time, or the historians who were not intimately affiliated with the information of the state, was that following the death of Philip III at the hands of Frederick’s lackeys, there was a private meeting that took place between Peter Augustus, Prince of Providence, and Frederick Charles, Count of Mardon. Peter offered Frederick terms of good faith during this meeting during his reign, promising not to interfere with the young Count so long as he respected the authority due to the Emperor. HIH Frederick Charles, Count of Mardon Third-in-line to the Imperial Throne “A usurper and man of low morals” Although his exact words are lost to time, Frederick informed his brother that the throne was his by the will of their parents. Although neither had left one, this mattered little in times of political disarray. In fact, what is often forgotten by both sides is that Philip III wanted neither of his sons to inherit. Instead, he had explicitly plotted alongside many in the imperial government and nobility to split the empire between Manfred von Arichsdorf and Wilem van Aert. However, Manfred had likewise been killed by Frederick’s manservants for conspiring and Wilem now suddenly flipped to support Frederick in fear for his own life and land. The plot that ultimately led to the death of the Emperor was defeated soundly by Frederick. However, rightfully, Frederick pointed out that his support had been festering in Mardon for years under their father’s reign. On the other hand, Peter had only the support of those who were traditional supporters of the crown and, more often than not, reliant on the lax nature of the state. The meeting did not ease the tensions, as was to be expected. If anything, it laid the groundwork for the sides that would divide into the Brothers’ War, which broke out in 1868. HIH James Maximillian, Count of Morton Second-in-line to the Imperial Throne; Nowadays: The Rightful Heir. “Known for his physical deformities on account of his parents incestious relations.” At the outbreak of the war, the deformed and little-known James Maximillian, Count of Morton and second-in-line to the throne, departed with great haste for the distant lands of Aeldin. He had no intention of being killed in the ensuing war and had sent letters to me indicating his location if there should ever be a need for a restored imperial claimant with rightful descent. Regardless, the war broke out, and supporters of both sides raised their banners. Most of the traditional houses of Oren had few household guards. Mercenaries were conscripted by both sides, and skirmishes quickly ensued. The roads of the empire ran with Orenian blood. The St. Ari’s Day Massacre, Circa 1869 The Loyal Imperial Forces were Routed and Butchered in the Streets Defending the Rightful Heir, Peter Augustus. However, what some could have seen as an extended war ended relatively quickly. In 1869, Peter Augustus was captured in a St. Ari’s Day celebration. Though many advisors, including myself, had explicitly warned him not to partake in the lively carousing, his enjoyment of revelry won out. Many supporters of the Imperial cause had left to tend to their land and celebrate with their own families, so the once swollen imperial forces were now depleted. Amid the celebration, Rivian and other royalist houses stormed over the walls of Reutov. They sacked the city, and the young Prince of Providence was hauled back to the capital. Prince John Casimir mustered what forces he could, but most were preoccupied and far from the fighting for the holiday. The numerically smaller force was lured into New Providence and slaughtered, the blooded remnants fleeing to boats at Henry’s Wharf and settling sail to found the Grand Duchy of Balain in the south. The uncoronated rightful successor to the Empire, Peter Augustus, was killed by an unimportant Ivanovich traitor, and his detached body was paraded around mockingly on a stake. More often forgotten is the savage and unholy abortion conducted by royalist forces shortly after the battle. Ioanna Elisheva of Susa, on the orders of Frederick, stabbed a pregnant Lucia Annunziata d’Azor in the courtroom of the Aster Hall in front of Canonist clergy. Not only did this occur, but she later published a public letter thanking Frederick for the order and claiming she had no remorse for her sin. Although I presented this to High Pontiff Tylos II, the Church never took action against this wicked debauchery, fearing that Frederick would betray the Church. Simultaneously, Laurentina van Arichsdorf, the widow of Manfred, took up the mantle of Margravine of Westfall following her husband’s death. She, against my advice to her in letters, sided with Frederick. She had done so under the pretext of independence for her people following the conclusion of the war. As I had told her many times, Frederick’s words meant little, and he would betray the promise shortly after fighting ceased. Although she did not heed my advice, my words quickly became a reality, and what semblance of autonomy enjoyed by Arichsdorf and Westfall promptly fell upon the defeat of Peter. Conclusively, the entire Brothers’ War was caused by Philip III’s reluctant and eventual devious behavior to name and support a successor during his life. In fact, the man was so set on denying the emperorship to both sons that he had promised the crown that he intended to split the empire among various factions strong enough to eradicate both of their claims. If a lesson can be extrapolated from this messy affair, it is that succession should be far more solidified by an Emperor. Of important note, those who would pose a risk to the rightful heir, be they the first-born or designated choice, must be eliminated swiftly. Letting these divides fester caused this war and the downfall of the empire. -| CHAPTER XII |- || THE RHYMING OF HISTORY || || LESSONS FOR THE FUTURE EMPIRE || The Holy Orenian Empire was my country. From my birth, I had served it with unyielding enthusiasm and dedication. The things I have seen are unmatched, as I have been involved in imperial government for over six decades. I was, in essence, intimately involved and a part of all this history. Although some may deny the history presented herein, I can assure you the validity of the contents is undoubtedly correct. Their motives to discredit this work are self-motivated in an attempt to improve their, or their ancestors’, image. Furthermore, regardless of the flaws of its rulers, the empire deserves to exist. Oren today is not the Oren that was, nor the Oren that will be. A future empire will rise, and I believe they will use my words, the lessons of this time, to avoid the tragedies that befell our people. But what are the lessons, you may ask? Well, I assert the following: The stories of Philip II and Philip III were not unalike. They had unpopular heirs, extensive lines of succession, failed to listen to the sound advice of the men they appointed, and died before their times. First, both Emperors had notoriously unpopular heirs that were inattentive to the matters of state, offensive to a vast majority of the population, and eyed by various competing siblings or sons. Therefore, future leaders must take the succession into account far more seriously than during the Philippian age. A ruler must not rule so long as to force three or four generations to wait in the wings, and furthermore, unpopular heirs must be disposed of forthwith. Second, advisors of the state must be heeded. Both of the Philips were unwilling to listen to advisors on many matters of state. When they did and incorporated it into decisions, the empire's decline was temporarily stalled. When they did not, disaster struck, and the consequences of ruling by a single man's pen became strikingly clear. Third, both attempted to reform the very incoherent and weak Imperial culture. During my time in government, I wrote no less than seven extensive drafts of reform in this matter. The reborn empire must understand that culture connects a community. While this does not solely entail the government fostering only one culture, although that could function if it is developed enough, it does mean that a failed culture produces a failed state. Fourth, the importance of martial practices must not be forgotten. In the eighth empire, especially following Lord Marshall Peter d'Arkent's death in 1814, the Imperial State Army was ineffective. Although beating the numerically inferior forces of King Sven II in the Tenth Nordling War in 1821, subsequent bouts against numerically superior coalitions were decisively lost. However, this does not mean that vassals are effective either. Vassals, as seen with the rule of Philip III, devolve into entities the monarch cannot control, break the state's control over the nation, and ultimately are used for malcontent lords to rebel. The solution to this martial deficit, as I have taken to calling it, is not one that this author can solve. It is for the future generations to figure out how to make an effective central army, as seen with the early Imperial State Army or the Imperial Legions of yore. Those institutions, when they crumbled, preceded the destruction of an empire. In some ways, the world is still dictated by a might-makes-right mentality. So, a weak army produces a weak empire. A weak empire delivers defeat. And defeats complete the descent of an empire. -| POSTSCRIPT & ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS |- Finally, I must give thanks to the multitude of people who have provided me the accommodations to produce my works of acerbic wit: Mariano Saturnino Ferraz shall be thanked for tending my candles during the many late nights. I must thank my wife, Nancy P. Cavelle, for her dedicated services and lifelong acquaintance. I must give unsurpassed gratitude to Eirik Baruch, the former Duke of Valwyck. I must also thank the current Duchess of Valwyck for their protection and unfettered hospitality. An old man like me could not want more gracious and kind patrons. Finally, but certainly not least, I must thank Dame Yuliya Styne for giving me the pedestal all those years ago. My success and life could have never been where it is today without you. Thank you, and may we meet in the Seven Skies soon. 34 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Herod 802 Share Posted July 16, 2022 "Huh, very nice." Commented Kaustantin after reading the Unbiased History of Oren, a time he was fortunate to live in. 6 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
valecu 2017 Share Posted July 16, 2022 "The man is not entirely wrong, these chronicles are a mediocre work of literature." Eleanor, Princess consort of Alstion remarked to her eldest son as she read them out loud. 7 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
argonian 12826 Share Posted July 16, 2022 Stanimar prepares to write his new handbook, Naming Children For Dummies, in recognition of the abysmal record of Philips. The original title, Regnal Names For *******, had been sadly censored by the publisher. 9 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
farmerclown 3911 Share Posted July 16, 2022 "Simply slander, biased fake news." The Countess of Azor remarked after reading over the publication. She proceeded to toss it into the fire for fuel and her gaze settled out the window of Odessa's home. "It's almost harvest season." She proclaimed at the growing wheat in the fields of Acre. 9 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
MaltaMoss 1720 Share Posted July 16, 2022 From an old watchmen's tower an elderly soldier scans the publication with tired eyes, his face wrinkled and creased by the endless march of time. With a deep sigh, and a forlorn look toward the south, memories began to swim up to the forefront of his mind. That great bridge, the kindly man who'd spared him scrutiny though he'd been reluctant to follow him. The boy he'd trained with, the boy who'd smiled upon him when he fell. Peter, the third of his namesake, a great and honest man. And as the day dragged on into night, Julian wept softly, for what could have been. 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
MRCHENN 3660 Share Posted July 16, 2022 "This is why history isn't written by the losers." A man smirks, regarding the missive as toiletry. 11 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Capace 559 Share Posted July 16, 2022 “Too long, not reading.” States an Orenian citizen. 5 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
bickando 3385 Share Posted July 16, 2022 Paul Salvian Temesch et Moere is struck by sudden inspiration. Upon returning with the new scandal-sheet to Temesch, he makes a very moving painting and sends it to a few of his closest friends. Spoiler @Chennster @Lionhz @Cepheid 7 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
seannie 6770 Share Posted July 16, 2022 Charlie Charles Alstion, the Alstionite, ponders on the occurrences of the decades long gone that led to this point in his existence as he read the work of Henry Penton. With a stroke of his chin, his mind wanders to the failures of the Novellen, and his own failed cause to remedy the collapse of Imperial Humanity. He grimaces, wondering why people adhered so strongly to such ineptitude that brought upon them ruination - from national humiliations to kin slayings, and God knows what else. And whatever this current petty Kingdom attempts at masquerading itself as, claiming to be progressing into the future as a new page turned over, only to truthfully be a gross imitation of the Pertinaxi that came before them - with none of the armed prowess. He sighs, believing his own failures to outweigh that of these distant cousins, for he could have stopped it all. "To have traded the mandate of heaven for the whispers of darfeyism is truly the most baffling of all!" The trounced prince concludes aloud. 12 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
sergisala 2739 Share Posted July 16, 2022 "It is truly a disgrace how everything we held dear was completely ruined by a chain of wrong decisions. If only the late regnant Emperors hadn't made those mistakes, today we would perhaps still be living in a stable Empire." an old man shrugged. "I wonder if the people who made such wrong and sinful decisions regret those nowadays, and if they intend to do something to solve the damage they caused." "Make no mistake, though, the true nature of Oren is the Empire. I do not know how many years or decades we are going to have to wait for the Empire's return but I am sure that the Holy Orenian Empire will return one day. It is in the scriptures." 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
rukio 8908 Share Posted July 17, 2022 "Beloved?" Called out Lydia as she cooked dinner, glancing off to the resting Andronikos. @The60th "Do you think anyone would mind if I took the fingers and tongue of that rodent? For my brother's legacy." She'd inquire, then smile as she realized he'd fallen asleep. "Those who wield pens should be silent. What a biased little gremlin. I can't wait to sort him out once and for all." A single tear fell, for her beloved brother, one of the most loyal vassal leaderss Oren had seen, and his beloved wife. "May Manny and Lauren rest in peace together..." 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
JoshBright 2104 Share Posted July 17, 2022 "There is a level of bias in this writing that makes it extremely hard to read, additionally I don't believe a lot of these events even happened." Jarad said tossing the papers into a nearby fire "Its free firewood at least." he said with a smile "The empire had a lot of flaws but to pretend like Philip III and Anastasia I were demons, traitors or pure evil is extremely incorrect, additionally it states the ISA was ineffective post-1814 however when I was a captain in 1850 we had an average of 1,000 people signing up a year and would get on average a force of 5,000 per raid on Oren, Additionally was it not the advisors of Philip II that pushed for war and the advisors of Philip III that yelled at him to continue the war after the death of Philp II" he would take a moment to pause "I am no longer able to tell if it is just bias, old age of flat out lies written here" he said with a sigh before going back his day once more "Say what you like about Philip III and Anastasia, they cared about their people" 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Minuvas 2836 Share Posted July 17, 2022 A letter is written to @CharmingCavalier, Henry Pentron. "Master Penton, A well written work. Valah passion is evident in your recounting, of which we shared a great deal. I recall my time as Princess Josephine's confidant and student as her time as Archchancellor, and later as her successor as some as the most trialing in my life. I look forward to your work on Archchancellors, do not hesitate to write. ~Minuvas" 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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