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A Recollection on Traditions: Vuiller's Silver Eagles

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TaraJess

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6th of Sigismund’s End, A.D. 2017

 

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Johan and Henriette Vuiller’s silver eagles

 

It was generations ago, Vuillermoz was built along the mountain side. Its cobblestone paths and soft glowing street lamps gave light to a peaceful quiet that resided in those chilled hills. Upon the keep lived brother and sister, who called it home.

 

In the dead of night when the hold had been attacked, auburn locks were tucked up against a cold pillow. The winter winds brought the echoes of the intrusion, in which the sister was awakened to the clashing of swords. Was it real? Was it not the remnants of a hazy dream for she was just present? The tower she called home would come to be her savior, for she could see discord, the madness taking place in the courtyard below. Her own auburn locks she would spy down below, defending their home.


It was at the very top of her own tower she climbed, for that is where her brother kept his most prized possession. Its silver feathers sat atop the railing, observing the over-cast of the night, the lack of stars in the sky, the blood that had begun to stain the snow of their homelands. Loyal, such a being was, as if God himself had guided the eagle to the family. 


The sister clung to fresh parchment, smudged ink blackened her hands. That bitter wind bit at her fingers, they trembled as the plea for assistance was tied to the leg of her brother’s eagle. More clashing, more shouting. A broken down door. The silver eagle took flight. 

 

What returned? Soldiers. A mustered call to arms, with blades that shone even in darkness as the eagle’s feathers did in its departure. Those heroes would go to stain the keep red with the blood of the attackers, and only when Vuillermoz found the peaceful night silence again, did the silver eagle return to its post in the highest tower, to again watch and wait.

 

Such loyalty was to be passed on throughout the generations of Vuillers, from one realm to the next. It is instilled upon all locks of ginger, on all emerald eyes, on all of our blood. For when our young are to age unto their fifteenth name day, they too shall receive the next generation of the realm’s most loyal eagles to care for as their own.

 

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Signed, Lady Aera Vasileia Vuiller

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