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Norlandic-Karoslund Treaty of 556 IAÁ

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"Wish 'em the best under the pagans, I guess. But I won't leave my home to follow cowards," Brand muttered to his uncle, Ser Heinrik Raevmann, spitting out a wad of dried Prikaz berry leaves.
 

"More heat boy!" the old blacksmith Heinrik barked out. @yopplwasupxxx
 

Brand squeezed the bellows tighter, forcing a gust of air into the forge. The fire roared in response, a wave of heat washing over his face as the logs cracked, crumbled, and withered to ash—just like Haense, he thought.

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“There are no Crows left in Norland” muttered Josef upon noticing the lack of his nephew’s signature. With a sigh, he filed away the document and wondered what fate had fallen Joren. Regardless of what had become of the last King of Haense, he prayed for his wellbeing. 

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Varg enjoys the time he is spending with his new found friends - the kin of who's lives he had claimed during the war.

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"'. . . and shall continue to be in effect in perpetuity.'" Jan mumbled those last words to himself as he read the missive by candlelight. The Scyflings had bent the knee to the mongrel kingdom of the Harrenites. His lords had sworn fealty to this Burgundian in the east, and now, the last of his people had subjected themselves to apostate rule for all time. He folded the parchment into a neat square, and tucked it into his coat. "Two Kingdoms, split three ways. This will be an age of suffering. The Dark Nikirala is truly upon us."

 

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