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27 R.R. | THE RED CORONATION

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M1919

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Radmir sat in the cold throne room of Valdev, his back leaning against the cushioning of the formerly Haenseti chair- now covered with the symbols of House Montalt. Unlike the Balian throne before he asked that it remain in tact and given to him as a gift. He did not lament the loss of the Haenser culture, for they wished to wipe out his, he gave onto others that they would give unto him. He remembered the day of the Red Coronation where he leapt over the high walls of the Balian capital he couldn’t pronounce the name of, he remembered how his Captain General who fought alongside him in the battle stood on the parapets of the palace… but now Radmir was ruler of all Valdev and the days of the war against the genocide were long passed.

 

”Wake up son, time to breed cows.”

 

He awoke to see his father in his Ferrymen attire standing over him with a mask with a false face and mustache.

 

”****.” Said Radmir.

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Jagobert plunged his burning sword down the struggling body of a fallen knight, extinguishing the flames that coated it -- the smell of burnt blood palpable. 

 

 

 

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"Made your father and your blood proud, you have." Raphaiel murmured deeply, claws trailing the missive.

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Sir Andrik gathered his men, the majority adorned in armor that had quite visibly withstood the battle's 'rigors'. With a subtle satisfaction, he remarked to the assembled lot, "Well, that proved to be rather effortless."

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