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The Left League

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Ferdinand, a newcomer to heartlander politics, organizes his thoughts in his head upon the trip back to Petra's capital. Off into the distant sky he stared during the short over-land journey from Veletz, reflecting in his head how the events of the past few years were so similar to other stories in history, yet noting the ever-dynamic state of human relations.

The party of armed knights and gaurdsmen surrounding the queen gave hearty conversation on the way there and back
; still, the loud clamoring of horses stampeding in formation over-awed any word coming from the fellow Petrans. Instead, for this short ride alongside the Knights Order, his own thoughts were his conversation.

 

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Pelym-Vagil Rivers nods to himself "Based queen as always." he says - finally, people are waking up to the terror of THE CHURCH and their malpractices. Name of KANON, the TRUE LORD AND SAVIOUR shall be known at last.

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"And so they left the league of legends. I wonder what game we will all be playing now."  said Húrin, as he bobbed his head.

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Konstantin shimmied each leg in turn, attempting to awaken them after having stood for so long alongside many others within Veletz. He simply let out a long, and tired sigh as the letter was ushered by a courtier into the streets to be dispersed across the continent.

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A particular bartender, Cassius, lifted his hands, clapping them together as he leaned back in his tavern. "Down with the pathetic religion known as Canon. I'm glad to no longer have to worry about their pathetic Bishops and Priests in my tavern."

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As Aimo left the meeting in which the paper had been worked out he could only think of how much his legs were killing him. Truly, this was his response to the events which had led up to this missive and nothing else could take his mind off of it at the moment. Nevertheless he and the rest of his compatriots at the meeting rode off, most of the ones with him likely feeling quite the same even if they weren't allowed to let such be known.

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Heinrich II Lothar, the Prince of Merryweather, offered the Petrans a firm nod of support - ready to pen his part

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"Rather smart of you, cousin." Anthony Temesch noted upon reading the missive sent by one of his servants. "Adrian, won't you have a look at this? You'd care more than I do." 

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Villorik scratched his head.

 

The terms of the League signed in 469 ES mandated its dissolution when Heinrik Sarkozic was no longer Duke of Adria. He cared little for the ambitions of the Haeseni nor Veletzian court, but he prayed Godan gave either set of dogs the courage to bite, and stop the ceaseless barking.

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