The Viscomital Deaths

[Demavend 286]

AND MOURNING OF THEIR SOULS

 

 

Issued by the

DUCHY OF VIDAUS

On the 7th day of Jula ag Piov of 460 E.S.

 

 

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SANGKRUV I RUTHER,

 

It has been many years since the Viscomital couple of Greyspine excused themselves from Haeseni society, abdicating their titles and abandoning the lands of their birth. It was not until the past year that both Lord Mikhail and Lady Margrait found themselves once more within Haense, a quiet return to meet their grandchildren and pay their respects for the deceased monarchs. It is presumed on their departing carriage that they were killed by their coachmen or bandits as their corpses were found mangled off the road near the Rimeveld.

 

 

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Viscount Mikhail, formerly Duke, had few friends among his kinsmen and no shortage of enemies. He made little effort to hide his distaste for the way in which the Haensemen carried themselves and the manner in which they were ruled. In life, he took great pride in his efforts to resist what he perceived as injustice and cultural weakness. His early efforts were focused largely in the Royal Duma, where he proposed many bills to further the powers of his fellow peers, most of which are now Haeseni law. 

 

Lord Mikhail soon grew to despise the institution, for it proved ineffective in producing true change. Having lost interest in the Royal Duma and Karosgrad, he focused the remainder of his reign on improving his holdings in Vidaus. Under his watch, the village of Branhavn was raised by the designs of his wife, son, and the other Rutherns of Druzstra. The castle itself was renovated heavily, and the Duke invested large sums of minae into a hereditary fund for his successors.  

 

Once satisfied that his holdings were in order, the Duke accepted an invitation by Her Majesty to head her Council. Lord Mikhail quickly grew ill after settling into his new role, and was seldom seen publicly. It was, however, by his suggestion that the Council be dissolved and merged with that of the King, and that the Crown set aside lands for the creation of a royal preserve. This has materialised in the Queenswood. 

 

 

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As for the Viscountess, Margrait differed greatly from her husband. Her kin and companions considered her passionate by every definition of the word. She carried herself with great care, and minded the same to those of her blood. The former Duchess acted as a mediator for Lord Mikhail in these aspects, whether it was in his duels, feuds with the nobility, or the investigation of the children he sired whom she treated as her own.

 

Management of the household often fell into Lady Margrait’s domain as the Duke worked within the capital for long stretches of time. Her daily work often consisted of writing many of the missives from the Duchy or House of Ruthern, as well as revising the work of her husband. One of her significant projects was expanding upon trials for the Rutherns, be they bastard or trueborn, which were based upon their ancient history and previous customs. It had ultimately been implemented toward the end of her reign as Duchess, encouraging the youth to begin them upon their sixteenth namedays.

 

For all of her efforts, especially with the administration of Branhavn, assistance in constructing such, and assistance renovating the castle itself, Lady Margrait had been named the Duchess of Vidaus in her own right.

 

 

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IN MEMORIAM

403 - 459 E.S.

Mikhail Tuvya Ruthern | Margrait Floireans Baruch

Grand Lord to Her Royal Majesty Amadea of Susa, Duke of Vidaus | Duchess of Vidaus

 

A ceremony of their deaths shall be held within the Duchy of Vidaus come the cessation of Northern hostilities. Those who wish to mourn their deaths are invited to come, and their bodies shall be laid to rest within the crypts of Druzstra. The date of the impending funeral will be later disclosed.

 

GOD BLESS THEIR SOULS.

 

Spoiler

The bitter winds of the north whipped the sides of the Viscomital carriage, drowning out all but the faint thudding of hooves against the muddied road. The axles creaked and grated, in desperate need of a wheelwright’s examination, and any snapping of a twig from under them startled the young horses who were more skittish than most.

 

“God bless. I could not bear to spend another night in that pigsty,” grumbled the ageing Viscount. He took one final look at the Haeseni capital, and as he did the corners of his mouth drew into a bitter scowl. His grip on the hand of his wife tightened as he broke his gaze from the carriage’s window. 

 

“Our home is not a pigsty, Mikhail,” she quickly spat out, as if her husband’s words were a poison to her, and he could sense the resentment in her tone. It was not until the past month that she was able to meet her grandchildren who were already old enough to be losing teeth. Old enough to be nervous around what was strangers to them. “Our real home, in Drusztra.”

 

“Yes, we left it in a fine state.”

 

“And it is still in a fine state. What issue do you take with his rule?” 

 

“I’ve not said otherwise. The boy has done well, I’d not mentioned Druzstra at all. I spoke of Karosgrad, Bags. The city of Karosgrad.”

 

“I thought it looked well, Amadea had put quite the effort into it, clearly.”

 

“It crawls with vermin, men and otherwise. I care not for how it looks.”

 

“You claimed it a pigsty, that is not based upon its people,” she said as a sadness lingered in her eyes, retracting her hand from his. “You cannot pretend for one day, can you?

 

“The pig dirties the sty.”

 

Darkness fell upon the carriage, and the wind seemed to peel away. The cavern, Mikhail thought. Soon they would emerge into the barren wastes of the Rimeveld. The clattering of horses and the creaking wood of the carriage echoed throughout the chamber, punctuating the silence that had come between the pair. Margrait stared into the nothingness that surrounded them, while Mikhail simply stared at the wall before him. After some time, he cleared his throat. 

 

“What trinket did Amadea leave you?” 

 

“It was the letter I gave to her. She never opened it.”

 

“The letter? What letter?”

 

“When I wrote to her of Dorothea. When she told her Father my name and what I meant to her.”

 

“And why would she return it? Surely she could have burnt it. I presume the Crown could have afforded more than your own letter.” 

 

“She was grateful to never have the need to open it, must you critique her entire being? She is dead, for God’s sake.”

 

Mikhail scoffed at the words of his wife, dismissing her with a quick wave of his hand.

 

“Do my words not ring true? Your petty rivalry with her is over, one that you solely created.”

 

He turned to face her, then, looking to Margrait with a blank stare. “She is dead, yes. I cannot say I weep for her, nor her husband. You act as if we’ve suffered no ill at their hands. What did Amadea do when Karl questioned your virtue before our gates?”

 

A hand reached out to the rubies around her neck, clenching onto them tightly as her face grew nearly as red as the gems themselves. “It was not her place to, Mikhail. What is she to do, lie to her King? Amadea knew about the baby, our baby.” As Margrait recalled her past, tears welled within her eyes, and her voice became more hoarse. She often had not thought of their first child, but could not resist reminiscing in the pain it brought her.

 

“Yes? The Queen was no stranger to deception.” 

 

“You do not care, do you?” The Viscountess finally broke into a howl as the tears flooded down her cheeks. Her fist rose into what the couple knew was a familiar position, and it was only a moment until it flew towards Mikhail’s chest.

 

Mikhail took a hold of the woman’s wrist with ease, having come to expect such from Margrait. He tutted before hissing the words, “Calm yourself. The coachman will hear you.” 

 

Margrait wrenched against the grip of Mikhail, though it was to no avail. Whinnying pierced the air, and the carriage swerved from the road for a brief moment. It lurched and bounced upon the uneven, ice-covered ground, and the Viscountess managed, for a moment, to rip her arm from her husband. She moved to shove him, though again he easily restrained her and the horses found the road once more.

 

A struggle began as Margrait relentlessly pulled and twisted herself from her husband’s grasp, her shouting persisting only to reveal, “I do not care for what the coachman can or cannot hear!”

 

“I’d rather not have him think you a madwoman.” 

 

“Perhaps I am a madwoman, you have driven me to it!” She shouted amidst her exasperation as her breaths quickened with every passing second. In this state, she sought only to have her wrist freed, and so the woman reeled her arm back once more, only to ram it into the centre of Mikhail's chest.

 

The Viscount’s back slammed against the carriage’s door with force. The latch, somewhat rusted, buckled under the stress. As the door flew open, so too did Mikhail tumble backward, nearly falling from the carriage had he not maintained his grip on his wife’s arm. “God, woman!” 

 

With the sudden realisation of her careless actions, Margrait’s face quickly paled. “I did not-,” she choked out, before a lurch of the carriage took the breath from her lungs. Mikhail’s fingernails dug into her forearm as he was thrown through the door, drawing blood and dragging her with him. He shouted something in a rage, though it was smothered by the howling wind and a few sickening cracks. Margrait let out a wail, though she too was soon pulled beneath the carriage and silenced. 

 

Bloodied and broken against the cobbles, the Rutherns lay dead in the Rimeveld.

 

 

---

 

 

DRUZ GJERNZ AG GRYVNZ, 

His Excellency, Aleksandr var Ruthern, Grand Peer of Hanseti-Ruska, Duke of Vidaus, Count of Metterden, Viscount of Greyspine, Baron of Rostig, Lord of Druzstra and Protector of the South

 

Her Serene Highness, Analiesa Josefina Ruthern, Princess Royal of Hanseti-Ruska, Duchess of Karosgrad, Duchess-Consort of Vidaus, Countess-Consort of Metterden, Viscountess-Consort of Greyspine, Baroness-Consort of Rostig, Lady of Druzstva and Protector of the South

 

[PerfectlyPeachy 1344]

Analiesa knelt upon bended knee, her gilded Hussaryian cross clamped between her clasped palms. Dutifully did she bow her head in reverence to her lord, quietly murmuring beneath her breath a sombre prayer for the souls of her mother and father-in-law. 

[Dyl 1566]

bye mom and dad (reserved)

[tcs_tonsils_ 2829]

Sebastien Ashford de Savoie tapped upon his side as he read the missive. He had never really been close with the Ruthern side of his family, perhaps that was because his mother perished during the birth of his siblings- siblings who had been taken away by Ruthern maids and were never seen again by the Savoyard. Either way, he was glad to have met and talked with his cousins.

[ContestedSnow 776]

Emeric let out a short, sombre breath as he recalled the latest news, and the polearm he had been inspecting came to settle down across his lap. He recalled his first meeting with the Duke and Duchess, and how polite an act he had attempted to put on to ensure his hiring, spindly teenager he was. Desperate, as he was to repay an imagined debt to their household.

 

"Some twenty-five years ago..." He stood, and collected a drink in his old liege's honour, before carrying on his maintenance.

[sarahbarah 5008]

Viorica lingered at her desk that somber night, surveying the landscape of Jerovitz just outside her window. She pondered, wondering if the spirits of her estranged parents might come back to haunt her. 

 

A shaky breath escaped her parted lips as she blew out the candle at her deskside, deciding it might be best to return to bed.

[liz 962]

Ophelie de Falstaff, who had long admired the Viscountess's wit (among other things), wept.

[Sarven 1691]

"Truly troubling..." Sir Yvian would read the missive "Murdered by their own retainers? Tis a wicked and truly ignoble deed, these fiends ought face judgement..."