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This Week’s Title: Just Overthrow the Emperor Already

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Lady Whistle

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wasn’t me! @Crevel

 

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"Don't like how he rules? Then leave." Vincenzo tossed the paper aside. "Enough kvetching for once, this is the Empire of Man, not the Empire of 'Man and Others...'"

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A WORD FROM THE LAWSPEAKER, ON THE YIPPING OF WAYFARERS
As spoken in the Leon’s Ruhe, by Adelmar von Kanunsberg, Raewita of Reinmar


Hear now the cry of the leaf-eared stranger, her words spilled like wine from an upturned cup; sweet, bitter, and good for nothing but stains on the reedmat.


She calls the Lex Tiberi a "slap to the face." No, sister of no tribe, it is the weight of a father’s palm upon the wild son’s cheek. It is correction, not cruelty. She bemoans order, and raises her pen in defiance, as if ink were blood and parchment were shield. But what is her rebellion towards? That a people should be a people? That a realm ought to bind itself not to the howling of rootless drifters, but to lineage, law, and the solemn right of kings?


Let me tell you, outlander,


This Empire is not a soup-kitchen for the world’s castaways. It is not the porch of a wayfarer’s inn. It is a hearth. A hall. A home.

And homes must have walls, or the wolves
piss in the corners.

 

You who cry "tyrant!" at the man with the crown, What did you think an Emperor was? Some town reeve to flatter your dainty ideals? Some alehouse mayor to hold your hand and let you vote on truth?


This is the Empire of Man. And Man is not merely fingers and name. Man is fathers buried in cairns. Man is tribes born beneath banners. Man is not every glade-licking, wand-sniffing elf who stumbles down from a stump, clutching her moral fancies like a child’s rattle.


You speak of hierarchy like it is a curse. I say it is a ladder. You speak of unity like it is prison. I say it is shieldswall. You speak of race as if it were guilt. I say it is birthright.


We Reinmaren know this.

Each tribe has its law.
Each law has its chief.
Each chief bows to the Law,
And above that, the Empire.


Not because it is flawless, but because it is ours. So to you, vagrant scribbler of ashwood opinion; Keep your pen sharp, aye. But do not mistake its sting for the spear’s bite. And when next you call for a world where no one belongs to anything but their own whims,

 

Know that in such a world, no man would fight beside you, bleed for you, or remember your name. For tribes are not built on disobedient scribbles. They are built on oath, order, and blood paid forward.


Go back to your tavern-stool throne and your parchment crown. We have laws to enforce, fields to sow, and legacies to uphold.

 

𐌰𐌳𐌰𐌻𐌼𐌰𐍂 𐍅𐌰𐌽 𐌺𐌰𐌽𐌿𐌽𐍃𐌺𐌴𐍂𐌲
Adalmar von Kanunsberg
Raewita uf Reinmar

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"All is coming to this. The Empire only few steps away from Ibilees. It all coming together. So much power corrupts these ego-men." - A masked individual would say towards this notice, staying a silent observer to this all what happens.

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Ardirnien picks up a copy that was mixed in with the rest of her mail. 

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