A Declaration of Conscience

[KidKrinkles 2044]

[!] This missive would be extended to Tar-Anorhil, and, Lord Llewyn Glennmaer, though public copies would be available through the realm of Numendil.

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I, Victor Rorin, do here relinquish my position as Lord-Warden of Garenbrig, and lay down the mantle of Knight of the Order of the Dawn. By extension, I abdicate my station as Knight of the Kingdom of Númendil.

To my Lord, Llewyn Glennmaer, and to his father, Glyn Glennmaer, I consider it the honor of my life to have faithfully served you. I would ask you to permit me this.

This decision comes not in haste, nor in anger. I have felt this coming for years, decades even, and in my sleeplessness, I can no longer remain still.

I recall when Tar-Caraneth had stepped down, and in doing so, taken on a long deserved rest. I recall my first days walking into Numenost and meeting her, and congratulating her, on the work of her family. I would’ve never imagined a world where Adunians prospered so. 

It was the day that Tar-Anorhil had taken up his rightful mantle that I had wept. Our Exilic Kingdom had served faithfully, and justly, and loyally, to the church; though I cannot deny some concern for how close this elevation would make the two. 

I often used the word ‘hegemonic’, to describe it. But, in my heart, I told myself that I would serve my people, and my Kingdom, near or far, as I serve all who I can; as befitting a knight.

With the proclamation of the Empire of Man, I find myself unable, in conscience or conviction, to follow the course now set before us. 

I was placated by my lordship's words: “It’s not an empire, don’t worry.” Only to hear the cries carry out from Lemon Hill; now devoid of it’s greenery, of it’s lush hills and fields of gold, and citrus upon it’s branches. The newly erected pillars shook, “Hail Imperium”, and “Oren aut mortem”, and “Ave the Empire”. 

Can any of us, as Numenedain, as Adunians, deny ourselves that we are complicit in this? We stand with, and carry in our arms, the product of all of our wars, all of our spilt blood: and it is now the Empire of Man.

I have come to believe—deeply and truly—that the Adunian people were not meant for empires, nor for emperors. We are a folk shaped by exile, tested by hardship, and refined by a memory. It is my fear that in our rush to raise new banners, we abandon the very lessons our ancestors bled to teach us. It has been our stewardship to stand in opposition to empires, not to cradle them.

The Church has, by its decree, lifted the weight of our exile and named us cleansed of old sins. Yet I see us now poised to return to the same pride, the same overreach, that once unmade our forebears. I cannot, in good faith, follow into that cycle again.

This is not a disavowal of my people—far from it. I step aside not in spite of my love for the Adunians, but because of it. My loyalty remains with them: not with crowns, not with thrones, but with the hearths and hopes of our folk. I carry no hatred, and I bear no ill will toward those who choose the path ahead—but I cannot walk it with you.

If this is to be my breaking with the Oath, then let the Heavens know it was for conscience, not cowardice. I swore to be a foe of the Enemy, and I shall remain so. But I will not be turned against my people in the name of hollow glory, nor will I raise a sword in service to a dream I believe false.
 

I pray you all walk safely through what is to come. 

May God remember my vow—and see that I have kept it, though I now walk another road.

Spoiler

By the way if anyone knows someone who does commissions for Coat of Arms and Wax Seals and shit hit me up I dislike using AI when I can pay an artist instead but I kinda just needed somethin.

 

[lemonke 6014]

"SER VICTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOR RORIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!" CHEERED A NECROMANCER FOR HER FAVORITE KNIGHT! SHE CLASPED HER IN HAPPINESS UPON HEARING HE LEFT THE GOODERS!

[Star Whale 115]

Somewhere, the man who had once been a Ranger—a Warden—read over the missive. He was not surprised by the decision his longtime friend and mentor had made. With a quiet nod of approval, he acknowledged the choice—one he himself had made long ago, without regret. Folding the missive, he placed it in his satchel and continued on his journey to forge his own name and path, certain that his mentor would do the same.

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Upon reading the missive penned by his father, a wave of hopelessness washed over him. All the years he had spent—all the time and effort he had poured into upholding his family's name—now seemed for nothing. The dream he had chased, the legacy he had tried to honor, felt like little more than a fading echo. 

The Ruthern who once set out to live up to the name of his forebears, to honor the legacy of the Rorin before him, now stood without direction or purpose. 

And yet, in the depths of his despair, he felt something unexpected: relief. 

His father's resignation, though heartbreaking, had lifted a weight from his shoulders. For the first time, he was free—free from the crushing responsibility of legacy. 

Now, bearing both names, he would walk his own path. Not bound by the past, but guided by his own passions and desires, he would find a new way to honor his bloodline—on his own terms.

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