To Kazimir, The Coward.

[TheIchorDruid 1705]

 

 

 

To the abandoning, Kazimir var Ruthern. 

 

Not often is it that I bring myself to the public light or play the theatrics of petty noble quarrels. For I was raised better, taught to humble myself and these temporary afflictions of ill-intent or distaste, until this hour. For it is within this hour you have provoked my ire and such is not something so easily achieved as I grow older. Ruthern blood courses through my veins, it is this blood that impels me to address your pathetic retorts with the fire of resentment. 

 

Often it is spoken that blood is thicker than the frozen ices of the North, that the bonds of the Hammerhead are unbreakable, yet your absence has torn the very fabric of our familial relations asunder. You dare parade yourself akin a peacock, grant yourself the titleage of guardian of this lineage, invoking admiration for my father, your own brother, whose demise was not truly granted at the steel of my brother, the Lord of Vidaus, but at the deterioration of his own mind. How convenient it must seem to craft such a narrative of blame, when you yourself carry just as much. Absolving yourself, in the name of the Exalted Owyn, of any culpability.

 

To reiterate what I pen, as you flourish an inadeptness at understanding the confines of my brother’s address, my father did not meet his end at the blade of my brother as you so vehemently insist. No, his demise was the consequence of a different ahversary altogether - the demons of his own mind, a descent into madness that followed the wake of my mother’s, Analiesa’s, passing. An action my brother drew in mere self-defence. Not just of himself, but the defence of his children, of this house and of Ruthern’s sanctity. Ah, but you, ensconced within your distant wanderings, could not possibly have been aware of these afflictions in which befell my family, could you? 

 

This is simply a matter of observation, the fact that your wanderlust severed your connection with us long before the birth of your nieces and nephews. You speak so profoundly of the former Lord, my father, lamenting his “wretchedness”, stating you would not stoop as low as my brother but it was you that attributed to the poison of my father’s mind. You, his brother. You revoked any support, you abandoned your bonds. I ask of you, where were you within the darkest hours of our house, during the anguished cries echoed through our ancestral halls? 

 

You, who claim reverence for our lineage, an unspoken love for our family, yet where were you to defend us when it mattered? When the titleage of heir was thrust upon our Lord at the ripe age of ten, when Analiesa left us - where was this comfort then? Your presence was conspicuously absent. We do not know you, my siblings and I; our memories of you are but fragments of distant recollections. You Kazimir, are but a whisper. 

 

And now you attempt to speak for us, to imprint your influence on actions you did not see. Though your actions speak a contradictory story. Our cousin, your own son, raised beneath the auspices of my father and mother - may their souls rest in peace - knows you only as a figure in which abandoned him, a father whom was more phantom than presence. Thus I will excuse your slander, for you know not what it takes to be a father. You do not understand the fierce protection of one, especially when the welfare of your young is threatened. For in truth, you have never been a father. 

 

Thus, before you continue to spout tales of cravens and kinship, I beseech you to reckon with your own past, to recognize the echoes of betrayal at your hand in which reverberates throughout our family’s history. Your words ring hollow in the ears of those who have truly borne witness to the trials and tribulations that have befallen us. 

 

Furthermore, let it be known, dear uncle, that should you continue to tread the treacherous path of half-truths and false claims, if you dare harbour any built intentions of drawing steel against the very blood of my own, it will not be the blade of my brother in which severs the ties that binds us. No, it shall be the blade of my own that will separate your head from your shoulders, should it come to such dire confrontations. You may have strayed from the path of our family, but I Stefaniya of Vidaus, remain steadfast, a true guardian of our history and torchbearer of honour. My resolve is unshakable, my persistence resolute. If you truly value your own blood, if you wish to honour our former Lord of Vidaus, then cease your deceitful proclamations and rejoin our halls in full. 

 

May this letter serve as both a warning and opportunity of redemption. The choice is yours, uncle, and the consequence of your decisions shall be borne upon your shoulders alone. 

 

Your dearest niece,

Lady Stefaniya Ipera vas Ruthern

 

Spoiler

@Proddy

 

[Proddy 2247]

"The foolish lament of a doomed generation." Kazimir remarks as he mulls over the missive, quickly crumpling it aside as he continues the meticulous task of polishing his warhammer.

 

"All flowery words, yet no action. Such a shame it is, indeed, that I have spent so many years away. With my guidance, perhaps my nieces and nephews would not have grown to become such disappointments. No matter. By GOD, all shall be right again soon enough."

 

The old Rutherns head turns to peer out the window of his quarters. The sea had began to grow calmer, the waves bouncing in calming lull. A stark contrast to the battering waves from an hour ago.

 

The Hammerhead was soon to reach port. And justice would be had.

[Borin 5259]

"Right, so" [racist] Brother Odo contemplates "This Kazimir bloke will duel the... whoever the Ruthern duke is, and then if the Kazimir bloke wins, this woman can duel him! I think that's fair." he nods to himself "The duke has been challenged, it'd be dishonourable for him not to take the fight himself, even the King of Haense takes his own duels."

[teeylin 998]

"Goodness." Utters a Ruthern of Balian descent. "Look, borsa, an update to their squabble." @oryP

[oryP 972]

3 minutes ago, Nilyeet said:

"Goodness." Utters a Ruthern of Balian descent. "Look, borsa, an update to their squabble." @oryP

The Heir to Marsana peered over his brothers shoulder as the missive. "This jest feeling repetitive now, Yam quite glad moy do niet have as many infighting as they are currently." He could feel the irony as he made his statement.