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THE TRIUMPH OF THE LOYALISTS


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5 minutes ago, Greehn said:

Wolfgang de Vilain stood proud, clapping endlessly for the valiant victory of the loyalists.  He watched those in the square cheer and parade, and couldn’t help but smile

 

”You did it, Petra. You did it, Marius.”

 

The man then looked at the actual missive:

 

 

Wolfgang spit out his drink as he read the part where his 5 year old daughter became a Dame. 

 

“WH- H- WHA-… ANNE! OUR DAUGHTER IS A DAME!!!”

 

The de Vilain yelled as he hurried back home.

 

@ibiou@scarahpot


Anne choked on her morning oats when she received the news, her spoon clanking on the wooden table as it fell. "Goodness me... I feel faint..." She couldn't quite believe it. "How could this be? Our daughter, a dame?"

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Ilya Ivanovich raised a bloodied gauntlet and screamed at the top of his lungs in joy, celebrating the Archduchess' and loyalist Petra's victory alongside his uncle, the Grand Knight.

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Valentin Mareno, his knightly honor and title rightfully restored after the defeat of the Penny Duke, smiled as his eyes scanned the Petran forest. He felt a swell of pride in his chest. In that moment he reached down across his breastplate, retrieving an old cigar that a certain Archduke had given him many years ago.

"So Gustaf, I did good didn't I?" He turned his head, speaking to someone that wasn't even there. His eye twitched, brimming with a repressed madness. The Mad Dog of Acre lit the cigar, smoke pouring out from between his lips with every puff.

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"Peace be with you people of the Petra." an old farfolk said, brushing through his bread as he watches those celebrating their righteous victory - his lips curl upwards "Maybe I too should take service in this proud nation?" Dameer Ibn Ahf Al-Nabeel wondered...

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The Cingedoz youth arrived to find a wooden palisade hastily erected, the quick effort showing in each gap that betrayed the interior of the town. He led his horse from gate to gate until finally one opened for the young man whose only effect that disarmed concerns from inside were his banners of green and white with a black full circle that looked identical to the one in town draped outside his kinsmen' shop. Odoacer trotted inside the town with a pomp meant more to exude confidence than to offend. He appeared much too bedecked and armed to fool any into thinking he had experience in true combat; his dress and armor made more of a show than a reassurance in his ability.

 

A hawk cast in bronze stretched its wings over the helmet that it affixed. Chainmail hung loosely from Odoacer in places that indicated the armor being too large to fit him. He led his horse in a prance and offered to watch from the haphazard watchtowers that were constructed in corners where the palisade wall either bent its defenses at an angle or expanded to encompass more of the environs of Valfleur. He had with him a falx that seemed too unwieldy to swing and a clutch of javelins. He maneuvered with the latter with a surety that indicated that, though he had no experience in war, he did possess an ability to train and launch missiles at targets be it hunted game or on his enemy. He possessed with him the panoply of his father Brennus and his grandfather Gaisorix.

 

"Anastandenek banoz di Petra hvarr patrek prifagh karantsoz"1

 

Spoiler

Translation: 
"I oppose the enemies of Petra who my father took as friends."

 

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1 hour ago, Mio said:

Marius Audemar returned to the Kingdom of Haense with a grin on his lips, he said simply: "A win's a win." To his brother Georg, the King.

Georg politely reminded Marius of his two options after the battle. While he did not actively tell his brother, he was proud.

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"A win on the battlefield, yes, but at the cost of your own populace leaving you to rule over a duchy of cobwebs." remarked Arold.

Edited by ReveredOwl
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Jan Jazloviecki dipped his head to honour the victorious Archduchess "Blood for Bianka" He muttered through his teeth

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Anna Aynal, descendant of the infamous warrior Anya Aynal (a hero of the Siege of Southbridge) fell to her knees and wept, her hands coming to a clasp as she heard of this divine display from the Exalted.

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Heimdall wasn't sure who or what to salute to, or if he should salute at all.

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"There will be no unified government of the Commonwealth under this plan, save the Regent and her deputies," Adrasto Maeyr'onn had spoken to the gathered attendees, the drafted document brandished in his right hand. "Each partition will have its own government, of whatever form it desires, provided it is cogent with the treaty." Between the vicious acrimony of the two spouses, the screaming of the soldiers outside, the taciturn glares of Sir Paul Montalt and the rambling irrelevancies of the King of Balian, the mali'aheral had at times felt that had he, Dame Catherine, and the priest, Blackwater, were the only people in the room interested in peace. 

 

"Who're you, again?" spat the Archduke's retainer, the von Draco man, his voice filled with venom. "You're no Petran!"

 

The obvious insult stung him, but fundamentally, that was a good question. Why am I here? This is not my home. 

 

The Furnestock woman was the only person who could have solved this madness, and Adrasto had spent hours in her manse, convincing her to come out of retirement to mend these divisions. Against all odds, he had succeeded - though it required some manipulation - but with the valahan, it always did. The high elf knew enough about her history to know that her brothers had killed one another forty years earlier, in a conflict not dissimilar to this one. In her elder years, she clearly regretted not doing more to prevent it.

 

The negotiations in Valfleur had gone on for days, with the captive Archduke held at sword-point by Montalt's retainers. Against all odds, they had succeeded. Blackwater was an expert conciliator, and unlike Adrasto, he was a human and a local. When he spoke, he did so with such gravity and rhetoric as to enrapture all in the room. This priest has some wits about him, and is more useful than most.

 

The attendees signed their names on the bottom of the document prepared by his secretary. The Princess will reward me for this, I'm sure, he thought pompously, puffing himself up like a Celiano'rese peacock. He thought of the new kaftans he could now afford with her bounty, made of the richest Fi'andria fabrics. Like most high elves, pride was always his greatest vice. Adrasto the Chancellor... ne, Adrasto the Peacemaker... 

 

Dame Catherine's reputation in the Commonwealth was enough that all, eventually, acquiesced. All except the manacled Archduke. 

 

"I will consider these terms overnight. I am leaving now with the King of Balian," he said, standing up from his seat.

 

"You know that it is not that simple." The high elf struggled to contain his rage, flashing a nervous smile as his heart sank. But his tone was acidic. "Before the good Blackwater intervened, you were as good as dead. Do you not recognize this?" 

 

"I cannot sign these terms as a slave and feel good about them," argued the Archduke.

 

"I am not imploring you to feel good about anything," hissed Adrasto, through gritted teeth. The elf's masterstroke was falling apart before his eyes, all because of one man's lunatic intransigence. The small state of Petra could not survive this division. He was pleading now. "I am asking you to save your own life, and save the Commonwealth."

 

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9th of the Sun's Smile, 1909

A few months later

 

"Routed," reported Sario, a goblet of wine clasped in hand.

 

"The Archduke?" inquired Adrasto, his blond eyebrow raised. The Princess had ostensibly forgiven him for this failing, but he knew not what standing he now had at her court. The Maeyr'onn worried that nobody would ever again listen to the architect of negotiations as aborted as those were. 

 

"Disappeared. Probably dead in the fighting." 

 

"I did everything I could for him," concluded the mali'aheral glumly. "In the end, he could not see the reality of the situation. He was blinded by emotion, with not a shred of pragmatism to bear. Let this be a lesson to you, my son, about the Maehr'sae Hiylun'ehya." 

 

 

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3 hours ago, Mannamannaa said:

Kor'garr the Clanless, moments before drinking grog in the Betharuz tavern, furrows his brow upon hearing the news. Glinty crimson eyes stare in confusion at the small goblin informing him of events in the Human lands to the East.

"Hmm, enturyztyng tu heer. Thankz vor dah invo." He tosses a small lump of silver at the ecstatic goblin before pulling out his notes, already drafting up his initial impressions of what he has just heard. Perhaps another headline has arrived...

 

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Can this be directly referenced in other public posts or is it a PoV do not meta type of explanation?

 


(You may reference it. This is the Loyalist Partisans' account of the war.) 

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Lev looked up from the pits of hell. He shrugged as he only recognized 1 man on the 'Loyalist' side as an actual Petran citizen.

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