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ORENIA DIRUTA EST


Ryanark
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Venerable Sir Joseph Sarkozic looked down on the lands of the Kingdom of Oren; having seen many battles and fought many unnecessary military conflicts done by both the Holy Orenian Empire and Kingdom of Oren. 

 

"Actions have consequences. Surely they now have been punished for the unnecessary cruelty that had been inflicted on the people of losing family members in wars fought for the political aspirations of a King who did not care for his own people. A shame that war claims to lives of many yet pays so little in return."

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The Blacksmith of Acre sits within his home, having just come in from a day's labor. As he nurses a steaming mug, he looks to his spear and his helm, resting by the door. With faith and luck, they will remain untouched for some time now, long enough to gather dust and cobwebs. He then looks to his favorite smithing hammer, hung above his bed. Old, and worn, but ready for the next day.

 

Allowing a smile to touch his lips, he gives a hearty snort, and mutters quietly to himself,

 

"Sometimes, things work out alright."

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Viktor Darkwood would gaze upon the announcement and note "It is done,  I know not how long my time will be, yet now I know that the vision I had recieved was worth it, one day a grand nation will rise, without the need of vassals and only its greatness to push it onwards in the world"

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"And with that, Fredrick the False's entire life was made moot. Good," he spat, crumpling a missive to toss into his hearth. "I have to wonder if the royalists feel stupid yet, though that sort of self awareness might be asking too much." The old, cranky imperial elf snubbed his cigar into an ashtray on his desk, sighing a plume of smoke.

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The Page wandered the hollow, hearing of the news through a drunken pair who had been kicked out of the nearby tavern.

I will say… that, I did not expect - though I have been out of the loop. 

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"Oren went downhill the moment I stepped down from leadership."

 

Valindra stated as word reached her, a satisfied smile playing upon her blackened lips.

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"You want more farmland.... I was promised more woodlands" Cynefrith Easworth would say in response to the missive as he smokes. He would be informed more by a friend, "Gustaf been taken by Elven Maids... Did they get hired for 3000 minas or more?" 

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