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Royal Edict of Disownment


garentoft
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A young Colborn stares at the paper with a blank expression, eyes far away and unseeing. How could she have done this? Hadn't she told him they'd be, what was it, brothers and sisters in arms under the banner of Saint Karl? He remembers back to the very first cadet training they'd had together. He thought they would turn out to be friends, but that never worked out- at the very least, he respected her enough to not think ill of her. But this. . . 

 

The paper is crumpled and torn by the time it finally falls from his grip. It never makes it to the bin. 

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Julietta stared at the missive with wide eyes, she couldn't believe her dear friend would do such a thing. The Princess Pact is no longer, trust shattered in a mere second.

 

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The missive detailing her disownment thankfully didn't grace the young Barrow's eyes for that first day. She spent her time in her new room, sorting the few things she took with her: Necklaces and gifts given to her by friends over her years, letters from those she cared about.
 

The shaking of her hands would stop eventually, and she'd eventually be able to stomach some food. 

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A knight paced back and forth in his keep as he received word of the Princess' disownment from his squire. "Godan... Ea knew she had Adrian sympathies, but to kill vyr own papej..." He shook his head and balled up the notice, tossing it aside. No longer would he hesitate, from now on, his movements needed to be precise- and without remorse. 

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A Godunov comforted her brother over her news from their home in Verskaya. Alyona had been donning a face of stone for days, with the early stages of stress present above her brow. "It is only right and just, mea dear borsa." She kept telling him, "She did niet deserve vyr friendship. Nie matter how many times vy were to tell her nie, she would of continued."

@CanadaMatt

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"Gutt riddance." Wilheim Barclay remarked as he read yet another missive relating to the Adrian traitors. "It's about time these turncoats are cast out. GOTT willing her decision proves her downfall."

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Anatoily godunov would pace the halls of verskaya a feeling of guilt overtaking him as the actions of his have finally reached a conclusion. " Ea am szam Mariya..." he'd say to himself

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"Traitor..." Yvian sighed shaking his head as he'd observe the parchment pinned to the notice board

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Analiesa toyed with the edge of the parchment, having absorbed the contents in a state of shock. She wished that she could be angry, that she could curse Mariya's name and damn her to hell, but she couldn't find it in her. She knew that she hadn't been the perfect example of family to the young princess, she hadn't even been the perfect mother to her own children, but she couldn't fathom her defecting to the enemy like this.

"Had our family truly been so torturous for her?" She murmured quietly, lifting the corner of her finger to dab away a stray tear. Analiesa could sympathise if her niece had felt displaced amongst the kingdom, amongst the courts. Contrary to common belief, being born of royal stock was no easy thing. 

She prayed for Mariya that night, against her better judgement, but she hoped that she would be safe. She did not wish to see Barbanov blood spilt, even if their name had been stripped.

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She had it coming.” The Mistress of the Robes uttered to herself, looking back on their argument in the streets of Karosgrad, now without fear.

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Lorena of Lallybroch sighed, crumpling the missive and tossing it into the fire of her chambers at Emalinshrad. "Another father lost. Another daughter forsaken." She remarked, to no one in particular.

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"Nie longer a crow. Perhaps a plucked chicken is more apt? Better suited to pecking at the dirt than ruling." Felix muttered to himself as he tossed the missive into the fireplace. "Traitors have nie place in our kongzem. To hell with the lot of them."

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As Vanhart the Carrot retrieved a certain hammer from the old tailoring shop in Karosgrad's square, the moment where his former Squire had stopped existing to him stained his memory as he cast the fire into a smith's forge to be melted.

 

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