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THE PETRAN CIVIL WAR

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A woman lost in her own study and writings would pause from her work. As another publicized work from her sister would arrive upon her desk as a large smile formed upon her features, pushing aside her books on agriculture and cuisine, as she'd lean back in her chair and admire the Heart of Kortreviches work.

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"There is not a day that goes by that I do not miss my children. Marius was always my favourite though." Karl III grinned from on high.

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Although Sir Joseph Vasile lived a sinful life of betrayal, deceit, and warmongering, in his finest hour, he had stood firmly behind his old liege and given her all he could ever give to anyone: the service of his blade. He had won his spurs in the fighting for the Petra, and for it he endeavored to at least occasionally adhere to the creeds of knighthood and chivalry. With Renilde of the Petra as his guiding star, he forged a small legacy for himself, even if it would end quietly as he so feared.

 

 

 

Meanwhile, Father Blackwater, by all accounts a pious man, could not help but tear his hair out in the Seven Skies each time one of his old friends mentioned that war, the eternal peace of the Lord's domain lost upon him only as his thoughts turned to his failure to broker an early end to the war. 

 

Damn you, Constanz! You fool! I had secured us all peace! 

 

Spoiler

Toffee this is absolute heat, you did fantastic here

 

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"Petra, Flowing Water! Ave Ave!" Exclaims a Ser Emilio d'Anpalais watching over in the seven skies.

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Many wondered aloud what Paul I would have said, had he known of his daughter and realm's future. Would he have supported them, declaring those changes necessary as it moved into the future? Would he bemoan the slow degradation of those ideals he had put out when forming his Round Table? Or would he declare that blood and blade, the same blood and blade he used to carve out in the Imperial Heart a realm for his own, was the truer claim, and their victory in war was enough?

 

Whatever castigations he might have levied upon his descendants from beyond the grave...

 

He would have smiled upon the chronicler Erika for her work.

 

"Petra, Flowing Water! Ave! Ave!"

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The leaves of the prophesized tree flow in the winds carried by the River Petra. What lies within the breeze would be honoured, proud, to see the chronicles written down, carried on throughout the lands of Aevos. And truth be told, that being in the wind could only hope that word would continue to spread, that tales of the Commonwealth and its legacy would be passed on for years to come.

 

Of course, however, it is only wind.

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The author's mother, Lady Emma, added this incredible publication to her growing collection of Kortrevich-written works. 

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Noruiel tucked the well written account into her personal library, eager to read this over the next few nights.

 

"Another certified Erika banger," the Princess murmured with a nod.

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I don't have a persona to reply to this but I need to say that this is absolutely gorgeous

 

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The former Grand King at the time, Agnar Grandaxe, let out a weary sigh as he read through the history, memories of that era flooding back to him.


"Constanz was a good lad, one devoted to 'is family and 'is country. Renilde, on d'e other 'and... I still cannot say d'e same. A great shame that s'e brought forth. If s'e did d'is way back when the umri's churches in the 1400s of the first ages, d'ey would've likely had her killed or forced her into the church as a nun. Forever wearing the letter a for such adultery and betrayal. Since I have read d'is and been reminded once more, rest in peace old friend." 


Agnar shook his head, setting the parchment aside as the weight of the past settled upon him once more.

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The spirit of Dame Catherine was brought great joy from beyond the grave to know that scholars of such a high degree still existed in Canondom, and that her motivations had been accurately captured in the Lady Kortrevich's masterpiece of a study!

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5 hours ago, Nectorist said:

Although Sir Joseph Vasile lived a sinful life of betrayal, deceit, and warmongering, in his finest hour, he had stood firmly behind his old liege and given her all he could ever give to anyone: the service of his blade. He had won his spurs in the fighting for the Petra, and for it he endeavored to at least occasionally adhere to the creeds of knighthood and chivalry. With Renilde of the Petra as his guiding star, he forged a small legacy for himself, even if it would end quietly as he so feared.

 

 

 

Meanwhile, Father Blackwater, by all accounts a pious man, could not help but tear his hair out in the Seven Skies each time one of his old friends mentioned that war, the eternal peace of the Lord's domain lost upon him only as his thoughts turned to his failure to broker an early end to the war. 

 

Damn you, Constanz! You fool! I had secured us all peace! 

 

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Toffee this is absolute heat, you did fantastic here

 

 

 

 

Sir Paul Montalt had been an outcast since the very day of his bastard birth. Wounded gravely in the Acre Rebellion, he struggled with sickness all his life, yet still managed to become both a renowned knight and outlaw in his short time on this planet. His legacy was carved out on the battlefield with the use of his fabled thanhic-steel blade Ashcrow. Whether it was extorting Wood Elves for money with the Ferrymen, or taking crossbow bolts to the arm to defend the Paul of the Petra's daughter, Pavel -- later called Paul Montalt -- sought to conduct his personal matters with honesty, integrity, and an undeniable force of will. 

 

Upon being exiled from the Realms of Men once more, the Highlander had taken to donning a teal bandana alongside his closest friend, Sir Valentin Mareno ( @Malta).

 

In life, he had been betrayed repeatedly by those who he had considered his closest allies, but he ensured that his children would go on to live extraordinary lives. It is said that his cousin, Ilya Ivanovich ( @amongus) had claimed the first kill in the outnumbered fight in the city square. He had tears in his eyes and fought to avenge a female friend of his who had been murdered by her husband for alleged conspiracy against the reviled Pennyduke.

 

Munitions had been limited, but the Sons of Petra were still recurrently beaten back with ardor by the Sir Paul Montalt not merely to defend the Queen, who he had helped protect for nearly all her life; but also to prove one singular point: Alexander Salvian's ( @Halt) vision for The Petra would be avenged.

 

To this end, Sir Paul would even go on to kill some of his own very close friends in this pitched war, and was known despite that to have fostered no regrets. They refused to disarm and heed his wisdom to not fight in the coming battle, and so they were found not to be true friends at all, but in fact collaborators in a social order which sought to expunge the true Petran Founding Fathers from history. 

 

In the final years of his life, Sir Paul Montalt remained ostracized from his homeland, and developed a loathing for all nobles and members of the merchant class. 

 

Someday, he wrote a century ago, All men shall cast of the yoke of their slave-masters. Until that day, my people shall live in bondage, and I must hope for the future of my children's children that our great well-spring of Liberty is rejuvenated, and that the tyranny of unjust men and women is brought to a close at last.

 

Sir Paul Montalt was originally interred within the catacombs beneath his cabin in Adria, but now his remains dwell in the ruins of Belvitz, interred beneath the church at an undisclosed location. This dream of freedom has not yet entirely come to pass.

 

Spoiler

AIpEx8D.jpeg

 

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An aged woman recalled the history from her own experiences. "Mon dieu, that was such a long time ago. Hard to believe I lived through it."

 

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Valentin Mareno smiled from above, his head draped in teal and his body rugged with time. He turned to his comrade, Paul, and spoke only a few words.

"I hope they got our good sides."

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