GoodGuyMatt 7056 Popular Post Share Posted February 12, 2023 Depiction of Duke Leon and his warband. Spoiler Previous Posts: Part 1: Part 2: Part 3: Part 4: Part 5: Part 6: ”DING, DING, DING'', three slow rings sounded about Neu Brandthof, akin to the calling of the mother eagle calling for its eaglets. So came the time of year for the tribesmen and kinsmen of Minitz to gather for the annual moot. Town criers paced about the streets, calling for the populace to attend. “Come, o ilk of Reinmar, come o sons of the plains, for the High Chief calls upon you!” shouted one of them. “The time of the Moot has come, the Seated of the realm have been summoned. Come, o ilk of Reinmar '' sounded the other. For a few hours, such callings echoed around the walls, and even more summoners were sent to the rural farmhouses, the Barony of Hussen. The Golden Boar tavern filled up before the Moot Hall did. Such was tradition. Before every Moot, the men and women of Minitz came to share drinks, to laugh, to see one another. They found great joy in such, even though tavern nights akin to this one were usually held every other day. Such were their relations. A talkative people they were, finding comfort whenever one another they met. The bartender sat at his post, diligent and present, akin to the guard who watched over the gates. “Maxwell, bring me some beer!” called one “Anton, the Reinmaren Golden!” called the other. So ran Maxwell and Anton about, distributing goat horns filled with all sorts of drinks, all of them alcoholic. On the corner, one Ludrik Katzak played the Reinmaren drums, filling the tavern with song and music. It was a tune the sons of Minitz knew well. So they sang in unison, a choir of rugged voices “REINMARIA, GRAVE BY GRAVE, THEIR ARMY WILL BE FOOD FOR OUR EAGLES!” O how they sang, with drunken laughter and joy. O how Otto von Minitz would have sang at the top of his lungs, if he were there. Tragedy had struck him, and amongst the Reinmaren ancestors he sat in the Seven Skies, likely singing the song from up above. “To Otto, our brother! And to Hans, our Mayor!” toasted Leon as the singing quietened, and such the tribesmen all raised their horns, smiles in their face, despite the toast for the fallen. “DING, DING, DING” called the bells once more. So was the Moot called. The filled tavern found itself empty before it knew what happened, its alcoholics and drinkers all rushing to the Moot Hall next door. Soon, the entirety of the seats were taken, filled with the Seated of the Landtag, all of them tipsy at the very least. Such was tradition. So he sat on the throne, awaiting for the Moot to begin. He sat the same throne he had sat countless times before, donning the same set of armor he had worn for the last two or so decades. He found himself somewhat spaced out, trapped in his head as a silent yet filled Moot Hall surrounded him. The lines of his speech ran through his mind as he let out the occasional huff. He looked about the familiar faces of the tribesmen around him. He had seen a lot of them grow up, and even more of them he had recruited for the warband. Now, they called Minitz home, and the Reinmaren culture their own. So he smiled, having felt accomplishment in life. “Ah, the life of the migrating stallion.” he thought “To seek glory I left the bosom of my home; away from the mountains of Reinmar I walked to make a story of my own… And finally, another home I found.” It was through these thoughts that the oldened, graying Barclay realized an important lesson. The heroes and legends whom he idolized since his days of youth, the same ones he wanted to one day equal, they all fought for home, not glory. The glory they achieved was a byproduct, for it was the love of Fatherland that drove them. As such thoughts passed through his mind, Leon’s nose caught a rather familiar smell. He inhaled through his nose once, and then a second time, deeply. He had smelled it before when he first set foot upon the Moot Hall. It was a distinct, wooden smell. His eyes wandered about, lingering upon the wooden structure of the building. How beautifully the planks and logs supported the roof, how graciously the Lawspeaker’s throne stood tall on the podium. It was made of oak, a most abundant wood within the territories of Minitz. The same type of wood was used before, but for a different purpose. The Herzog remembered how the sons of Minitz felled many trees during Acre’s rebellion in Aaun; how they carried the logs and again erected them all around Alt Brandthof. “Trees have grown and have fallen, yet the forest remains” he thought “Men have come and gone, yet here endures the land of our domains”. “Ah Petsch, for this realm many trees you fell. Ah Dietrich, if you could be here to know this smell”. So continued his thoughts in the form of rhymes. He had always been a poetic man, awed by tales and ballads of knights and horsemen since he was too young to carry a proper sword. “Ah Teft, how you were taken from your cell. Ah Hans, how our enemies you fought as well. Ah Otto, only if I was there to bid you farewell.” These were the heroes of Minitz, those who died for Fatherland. They held no titles and were no Chiefs, yet for Reinmaria they fought like Galimar, yet Theoderic’s soul of freedom burnt eagerly within them. Memories played in his head, filled with joy and regret. “What if I said this? What if I acted differently?” he asked himself, knowing full well he didn’t get a second chance. His eyes then wandered in actuality. Lawmen proposed and Tribesmen voted. He looked to his side, seeing his brother. He finally felt at ease. “What would I do without you, Sieg?” he asked his brother silently in his head “What would Minitz do without you?”. Amongst Siegfried’s many golden hair, Leon noticed the few white strands. Within the time it took him to blink, he saw his father. Siegfried had always resembled Emil, in both appearance and spirit. He was moderate like his father, calm and collected. He was reminded of his first quest, that of Lost Balian. He remembered how he sneaked into the caravan that took Emil and his fellow squires to the sire of their final quest. If father was going to be a knight, so too was Leon. He had only seen six winters and five summers, reclusive as he was back in the day, he was a brave lad. So and so continued his trip down memory lane, countless faces coming and going, few of them staying. Yet he was glad to have seen them all, to have gazed through faces with whom he made memories. With whom he laughed, though he never allowed any of them to see him cry. Not even his wife or son. So was the nature of Leon Barclay, a man whose outer shell left little clue to the matter that rested inside. A man of both pride and compassion. A man who threw the mantle of lordship just to pick it up again. He continued the work of his cousin, Dietrich. Yet, the responsibility he took upon his shoulders without hesitation, for he considered it his own. His duty as descendant of his ancestors, his duty to Reinmaria. He knew not if he succeeded. He knew not if he could have done better, or if he could have done worse. Naturally, he wondered how he would be remembered. Would his name be praised or cursed? Or would it be forgotten? Would it be like the trees of the Reinmaren plains, which many generations gazed upon? Or would he be like the roses of Rosenfeld, beautiful and colorful, but only so for a few years? He didn’t want to admit it, but he cared for the answer. Yet, there was nothing he could do now, for his time had come… When he looked around once again, he found a Moot Hall filled to the brim, kin and kith had surrounded him, and he prepared for the final farewell. Before announcing such, however, it was his duty to finally enlist the men of Cingedoz amongst the tribesmen of Minitz. They had wanted to settle the lands, men of traditional tribal ways, as were the Reinmaren sons and daughters of Minitz. Thusly, had the Herzog and his son allowed them such, to be reckognized as kithmen of the realm, to bind their word and their blood with the Reinmaren majority of Minitz. So proceeded the Ritual of the Blood Bond. As Theoderic and Gelimar had done before, Leon and Brigodrenx of Cingedoz drank one another’s blood, both mixed with the milk of a horse, drinking as the foals do from their mother, forming a bond of brotherly kinsmanship. As the rather tribalistic ritual concluded, Leon nodded to Brigodrenx solemly, inviting him to now sit amongst the members of the Moot as one of their brothers, and so the man of Cingedoz did. It was such that Leon ascended to the podium once more, and finally began his speech. He talked of the first years of Minitz, of the first Warband of Theoderic, and of the work that led to the Minitz upon which they all stood today. Thereafter, the Herzog of white beard called forth his son “Blood of my blood, step forth before your men and women.” and so Brandt did. Leon asked then “Have you respected the mountains and the rivers, o one-eyed stallion of golden mane?”. With a straight and proud posture, Brandt replied “I have ridden my steed across the mountains, from the rising of the sun in the east, to the noon of the south, to the setting of the west. I have swam and fished the rivers, and paid tribute to them.” “Have you imprinted your glory and your honour alongside those of our ancestors, o one-eyed stallion?” And again asked the Herzog “Have you brandished your hooves to ride strongly along the plains on which you were born?” to which replied the younger Barclay “So I have. Having given my eye in search of honour. My cannons, destroying ill monuments to iniquity have rang in the plains, and I follow my men into battle.” “Are you ready to tend the harras that Dietrich, the brown stallion founded, and that your father upkept? Are you strong enough to take the throne of Minitz, Brandt?” Thusly, Brandt made to unsheathe his dagger before his father, not saying anything towards the man. He gave a last, determined look before the moot, throwing the dagger before Leon's throne. “This is my birthright, ordained onto me by the lineage, thus, I challenge you.” As the words were uttered, gasps followed around the Moot hall, many confused faces surrounding Brandt. Knowingly, however, Leon made to stand from his throne. He unsheathed the Black Cross, a sword old, yet sharp, symbolical as it was practical. At such, he nodded “Then against the Black Cross of Ernst Barclay you shall fight. If triumphant you emerge, the throne of the white stallion you shall sit. As Theoderic threw his spear in front of Gelimar, you threw your dagger in front of me. If you lose, one-eyed stallion, I shall have your other eye” spoke the Herzog. “Let it be so, in the sight of Gott and Kanun alike.” answered the son, unsheathing his sword of steel. “Is your sword brandished, blood of my blood?” asked the older Barclay one last time. His question was answered through a simple nod. He removed his crown and his ceremonial green cape then, with the help of Ser Yvian, his Herrenmeister. Now wearing naught but his armor and the Black Cross on his hand, the Herzog descended the podium, standing at eye-level with his son. Without further word, the duo got into position, and began dancing about the Moot hall, as the tribesmen and guests watched. Both of them were good warriors, parrying and exchanging blows. Both suffered some cuts, yet it was Brandt who emerged victorious, his sword having sliced behind his father’s knee, making him kneel. Despite being a proud man, Leon knew when he was bested. This was one of those few times. He then stood up with some difficulty, helped by his son, upon whom his eyes rested “You are ready” he said. Helping his father up, Brandt looked about the Moot, and cheered between breaths as a stream of blood flowed from a nick on his neck “Tribesmen, the Herzog!” Thus erupted the Moot in similar shouting, echoing the same words throughout for the next minute or so. Leon felt somewhat overwhelmed, yet showed it not. It was the first time he found joy in the loss of a duel. Then, he announced “Let the plains and the rivers know. Let the mountains and the hills echoe, that from this moment onward, Leon, son of Emil, ilk of Reinmar and First Duke of Minitz, shall step down from his throne, and abdicate! Hold the Black Cross with honour as Ernst did, hold with with the chivalry of the Ritter whom it knighted, and those who it will knight. Respect the plains and the rivers, for they are now yours.” so advised the Herzog to his blood, and his blood nodded as the Black Cross he received “Long live Herzog Brandt!” cheered the defeated Herzog promptly, he placed a hand on Brandt’s shoulder, and the other raised up for all to see, as Brandt himself had raised his sword. Once again, the Moot erupted in shouts and in joy, wishing good health and Godly protection to the new Herzog. The now former Herzog, eyed about his people, a bittersweet look about his face “May may son prove a better leader than I ever was. Thank you, sons and daughters of Minitz, sisters and brothers mine, for being with me through the many decades, for seeing Minitz grow with me, and for aiding its prosperity. All those Reinmaren here shall renew their oaths to the new Duke. And I, having lost my face in battle, shall take my leave, as is right. GOTT save Minitz, GOTT save Aaun, GOTT save Reinmar!'' These were the last words Leon uttered. With a solemn nod to Brandt, he smiled confidently, for he saw an able torch holder before him, one who deserved the throne of Minitz and all that came with it. He had prepared the lad for this moment, and the lad delivered. Thusly, having bid a silent farewell to Brandt the Bosnan, Herzog Leon walked out of the doors, limping. He left with a joyful smile, the echoes of cheers and wishes for the new Herzog emerging behind him. ANKÜNDIGUNG DER ABZIEHUNG ANNOUNCMENT OF ABDICATION Issued by the Herzog of Minitz in the year of our Lord 1911 SÖHNE UND TÖCHTER VON MINITZ, Brothers and sisters mine. Within the northern lands of Reinmar grew a foal, inside his mother’s cradle, surrounded by the river and the mountains, which he respected. He grew tall and proud, covered by a mane golden as the sun, which he proudly wore. Grow did the foal, and a stallion he became. A stallion of the mountains and the rivers, his hooves stepping on the cold snow of the highlands. He galloped the short grass of the plains, and found them pleasing. So settled the stallion, far away from the land which he once called mother. Yet, her presence was always with him. A harras of studs he founded, and with them he fought many battles. You, o sons and daughters of Minitz, o brothers and sisters mine, you are the harras which I fought with. Like the red roses of Rosenfeld I saw you grow, and like the earth sees the forest grow, so too I saw the growth of Minitz, our Fatherland. Many drops of sweat have I shed for this Duchy. I see now what we have found, and I see how the harras expands along the plains and the river, and I find it pleasing. Yet, as time passes, the stallion of Reinmar which once donned golden grew, so too has his mane turned white, like the snow of the Reinmaren mountains, which with them bring winter. Our first winter has come and gone. Many wars have we fought, many brothers have we lost. May they rejoice with our ancestors. The time of the snow, however, ends, and the snow melts. The grass once covered by whiteness becomes green once again, and upon it gallops another stallion, one of golden hair like the first, donning only one eye. Thus, has come the time of my son to step on the throne of Minitz. His own father he challenged for his birthright, and a duel he received. The duel he fought honorably, and before the eyes of his tribesmen, of GOTT and of the Kanun, he won. As such, the old stallion shall descend his throne, and pass the harras to the new stallion of golden hair and one eye. It is thus that I write to inform the realm and the Crown of my abdication as Duke of Minitz, Count of Neu Brandthof, Viscount of Tucay, Baron of Boriënwald and Brandthof, Lord of Durres, and Protector of Aaunic Heartlands to my son and heir, Brandt Wilheim “the Bosnan” Barclay. The right to the throne he won fairly as per our traditions, and he shall take my place as Patriarch of the House of Barclay von Minitz. His now are the plains and the river, the hills and the forest. His is the harras, and his are the tribes which once were mine. GOTT MIT UNS, Lastly, His Grace, Leon Brandt Barclay Herzog von Minitz KRE, GMSTSR Duke of Minitz, Count of Neu Brandthof, Viscount of Tucay, Baron of Boriënwald and Brandthof, Lord of Durres, Harvest Lord, Protector of the Aaunic Heartlands, High Chief of the Reinmaren Spoiler This basically for last words :) I'd link a shit ton of screenshots and such but I'm literally on mobile data rn sorry. 40 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
argonian 12826 Share Posted February 12, 2023 Spoiler The transfer of power in Minitz, c. 1911. 9 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
alien_mc 464 Share Posted February 12, 2023 (edited) . Edited March 25, 2023 by alien_mc 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sarven 1605 Share Posted February 12, 2023 "Wer Rastet, Der Rostet" Yvian does the landser salute. "He has done a great service and it was an utmost honour to serve him while he was Duke, and now as he goes into retirement, long live Herzog Brandt!" he'd make his final remarks, pondering deeply as he smiled faintly, hoping to a great future. 4 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gandhi 2435 Share Posted February 12, 2023 Ludolf shed a tear as Leon stepped down - ready to serve his son, Brandt, in-turn. "Wer Rastet, Der Rostet." 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Orino 109 Share Posted February 12, 2023 Markward Orino couldn't help but get emotional after the moot, so much so he'd decided to shine brighter than ever before, smiling at every single person he meets on the street, repaying at least a crump of what Minitz had given to him. “Long live Herzog Brandt!” 4 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
MadOne 3063 Share Posted February 12, 2023 Brandt looked towards the throne that was ahead of him, with the newfound cap of the Herzog of Minitz upon his head. He runs a hand through the oaken surface of the chair, as he watched his father depart the Moot Hall. He mumbled under his breath, referencing both the people of Waldenia and Reinmar, as well as his father personally. "I will make you proud." 8 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Miniguy15736 367 Share Posted February 12, 2023 Siegfried Barclay stood quietly in the moot hall, watching as his brother officially abdicated from the throne. He felt a mix of emotions as he watched this historic moment unfold before him. As he gazed upon his brother, memories of their time together as leaders flooded his mind. He felt a pang of sadness, knowing that this chapter in their lives was coming to an end. Nostalgic feelings washed over him as he remembered the good times they had shared, and the challenges they had overcome together. However, despite these wistful feelings, he also felt a sense of pride and happiness. His nephew, the new Duke, was taking the throne, and he knew that the young ruler had the potential to lead Minitz in a positive direction. He felt grateful for the opportunity to pass on the lessons he had learned during his time as Warchief, and excited to see what the future held for his nephew and the kingdom. As the ceremony came to an end and the new Duke took his place on the throne, Siegfried couldn't help but smile. Despite the sadness he felt at his brother's abdication, he was filled with a sense of hope and excitement for what was to come. He knew that his brother was leaving Minitz in good hands, and that he would always be there to support and guide his nephew as he navigated this new chapter in his life. 12 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ibn Khaldun 7662 Share Posted February 12, 2023 Odoacer and the contingent of migrating Cingedoz looked over one of many tributaries that led eventually to the wider River Petra. The shallow waters, oak and pine copses, and drainage from nearby villages surrounding Neu Brandthof created a bog. There the Cingedoz raised crannogs and runestones and a quaint river port to ply trade of amber, bronze, and other goods between Minitz, Adria, Corwinsburg, and New Vienne. 5 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Petsch2k 1071 Share Posted February 12, 2023 Ottomar Barclay felt an enourmous sense of pride knowing how hard his father has worked and how far he has come. He looked onto his older brother, now dawning the cap of Herzog, with a smile "GOTT truly loves House Barclay". As he stood there standing guard watching over the moot, he couldn't help but wonder what trials and tribulations his older brother will face, regardless he'll be there for it all supporting him every step of the way. 4 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Frymark 2791 Share Posted February 12, 2023 Henry wiped a tear as he heard of his idol's abdication. The boy marked another name down on the list of great men he would have to learn more of. 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Danjahb29 247 Share Posted February 12, 2023 Spoiler What a beautiful post! +1 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Laeonathan 3771 Share Posted February 12, 2023 "Abdankung, not Abziehung..." commented a Waldenian priest from within Adria, Father Renzfeld just shook his head at the continued butchering of his beloved language. 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
MadOne 3063 Share Posted February 13, 2023 Duke Brandt smacks Father Renzfeld on the head with the parchment. "You are my spell checker, so spell check!" He says towards the scribe, as the man complained. "Not publicly, either!"@Laeonathan 5 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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