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LET THERE BE NO DOUBT.


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Thonar Frostbeard arrives home beaten, and bruised from an unnamed fight with an unnamed people. He takes a seat down at his Father's table, where he reads this missive. After reading it, he heaves a heavy sigh and fully relaxes into his seat, thanking the Brathmordakin that Haense and its people support his great nation of Dwed.

 

The Dwed will have their revenge.

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"Nice." Urugail Hailstorm, a Dwed, said as he read the missive

 

"Shite." Dominic Kvitravn, a Norlander, said as he read the missive

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Spoiler

 

 

The Queen of Haense strolls through the halls of the newly renovated Prikaz, humming the phrase; "There shall be no doubt."

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Wilheim Barclay can NOT believe this; of course something interesting happens as soon as he steps down.

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"Our forebearers were woise teh start this relationship, let pray teh beh just as wise in continuin' so our future inheritors can look up teh us as well." 

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"Ah wonder if they'll keep beggin' to Aaun n' Balian," Ser Arthur Gant pondered. "Elves, Adrians... Everyone else they can ge', really. Would they still cry o' coalitions if it all wen' their way?"

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2 minutes ago, Fionn__TWG said:

Wilheim Barclay can NOT believe this; of course something interesting happens as soon as he steps down.

 

Josefina Barclay dodged the widow bullet.

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Ægir Snowsson scoffs whilst reading the missive. “Then will there be retribution for the Frostbeard incursion onto CANONIST turf in Adria?”

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Georgina Barbanov-Bihar, all of six years old, uses shadow puppets to cast the Golden Crow upon her bedroom walls - longing for the day someone tests the allegiance of her Kingdom. 

 

Fabian plucks a beetle off a rose. "Apt as always, Ams."

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The Lady Emissary of Hanseti-Ruska enjoyed a bottle of white wine with the Grand King of Urguan to celebrate their diplomatic efforts after the revised pact was published, and her King's missive followed.


@_RoyalCrafter_

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The King of Balian looked over the missive, as the rich resources of copper were mined from the lands of his Kingdom, thinking of profit and how to best assist his friends.

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Tap, tap, tap. Drip, drip, drip. 

 

Viktor var Ruthern looked to the skies and the clear sky's moon, the northern mounts of the Kareninas illuminated in it's pale light. With boots raised to rest on his desk, his brows remained furrowed in a thoughtful frown. His fingertips rapped the wooden table methodically, before he ceased. The Ruthern leant aside to correct the quill dripping ink upon his desk, and collected his axe as he stood. What was he thinking? No time for rest.

Edited by ContestedSnow
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Ilaria Amador sighs in tired diplomat.

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Two weary veterans, though residing in different parts of the continent and under different obligations, have similar reactions of utter disgust upon reading the missive. Haense has fallen far and become the world police that the once proud nation used to fight.

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