The Final Mercy

[LithiumSedai 5750]

 

[!] A letter is delivered to the Serene March of Cerulia via raven. @mika1278

((Please do not metagame and RP the contents of this letter unless they are shared by the recipients.))

 

	o Mika of the Elfen House of Anarion, and of Clan Goldhand, and of the Uialben Family, Margrave of the Halfmen Vassal of Cerulia, Trade Prince, Traitor and Usurper of the Sutican Free State, Khagan of the Cerulite, Lurinite, and Uialbenite tribes, the Silver Lubba, and his subjects of the tribes aforesaid of what degree and rank soever, greetings.
I am Egon Albrecht of the Elder House of Alstreim, Honourable Sergeant of the Black Banner of Alstion and ever faithful subject of His Imperial Majesty, Hadrian of the Dragonblooded House of Horen. I stand as the firstborn inheritor of the glorious victors of the Whisperwood and the Rhine, and heir to the rightful sovereigns of Ceru by the grace of the Lord; Jan Sigmar, Venerable Corwin, Saint Ottomar and Venerable Lina Johanna. I am certain that this lineage remaineth well known to those among ye who have subsisted upon this Terra for many centuries, as is common among those cursed with Elfen heritage, or to those few scholars of yours well-versed in history as I am in the chronicles of your peoples.   Verily, the tale of the Uialbenite is the rejection of mercy. The persisting desire to live a base, unworthy life, devoid of the grace of our Creator, yet rife with degeneracy, did always linger in the mind of the Lurinite. The Cerulite tribes have sought to thrive amidst ruin and chaos, ever since the defilement, and ultimate abandonment, of the Taharian creeds of Order which had once bound them. Sordid tales of your immorality and debauchery spread from the reaches of Vailor to the isles of Axios. Ye rejected the selfless assistance and good will of my storied ancestors at Blackwater, and refused their rule and Renatian grace in favour of harlots, murderers and addicts to the arcana.    When the Venerable King Corwin imposed order upon you nevertheless, and banished banditry, necromancy, and wanton murder from your lands, ye chafed underneath his reign, and sought to end his life, underhandedly and with vile magicks. At the zenith of one of the greatest victories known until then to Man, the scourging of the lobster-tailed redcoat at the Whisperwood, ye squandered the hard-won Peace of Merryweather and plunged the Free State back into the darkness of civil strife, upon which the Holy Infant Ottomar, the rightful heir, was greeted by martyrdom by your blades. From the brink of slavery to the Orenian Empire, ye sought instead the yoke of Urguan. The King did not rebuke you, and he allowed you to persist in your squalor, and in his final days, it was said, he did forgive you.   And when the Venerable Monarchs, Georg and Johanna, arrived to your lands in force to shield you from the slaughter of the High Elf, and once more offer salvation and redemption from your sins, ye recoiled from their mercy, showed no gratitude; instead ye rose up in rebellion and were promptly crushed in your insolence, scattering like roaches and seeking refuge in the realms of your master and enabler, the Dwarf. Nevertheless, the lords of Alstreim and Barclay never pursued you beyond the borders of the Sutican Commonwealth, nor sought to bring your regicides and offenders to justice; you were, once again, allowed life and freedom. At the Rhine, Haeseni knights did spare the life of Margrave Mika, the sole rebel survivor of the battle.   Your perfidious overlord, once the benefactor of the Holy Imperium and now a once-defeated and humiliated adversary, hath now forfeited your safety and lives in this fruitless struggle. He hath urged you to once more lay claim to what no longer belongs to you, and what, in truth, never did: the destiny of the Crown of Sutica was ever to be redeemed by the Elder House of Alstreim, and ever safeguarded afterwards by the Grand House of Barclay. Yet I write to you, spurred on by your needless act of defiance, not in malice, but as a final act of clemency.   I cannot deign to speak on behalf of the Holy Imperium, which is loath to reward a once-refused offer of clemency with anything but deserved death. And, make no mistake, death it shall be: true, final and all-encompassing alike Goldleaf, to the very last Cerulite, and there shall remain no place upon the continent to claim as refuge. There remaineth no outcome in which ye shall be the lords of Sutica, now or ever, should ye fight this war. But if ye should renounce your folly publicly, lay down your arms, and reject the madness of your puppet-master, I swear upon mine honor as a Sergeant, aspirant, lord of Waldenian blood, and the descendent of your rightful liege lords, that I shall plead with the Prince of Sutica that he should spare you his wrath, and the eternal shame of perishing by his hand and those of his Reinmaren hosts as vile pretenders.    Consider this the Alstreim’s final mercy, and be wise to accept it.

 

[mika1278 3213]

 

[!] The letter above is pinned to this public missive

REPLY TO THE FINAL MERCY

Issued at Year 273 of the Second Age

 

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Going to be honest with you, I was drunk off my ass with the dwarves, ended up forging everyone’s signatures and confusing everyone around me

 

I could barely think of a single proper sentence and still it was convincing enough to everyone that I was usurping the Sutican crown

 

Didn’t even get to the theoretical part where I would have been the prince, could have still been the current one for all the letter is concerned where Cerulia would have been added to their territory

 

But I digress, I don’t need or want Sutica, that time has passed, I am more interested in what I currently have than the past

 

Either way, thank you for bringing to my attention that drunken scribbles are worthy of this kind of a letter, hope it won’t happen again



ETERNAL WE MARCH

 

 

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signed,

 

Marq Mika “The Resourceful” Anarion,
Marq of The Most Serene March of Cerulia

 

[Bird5k 1083]

Spoiler

 

[JustMeMorgan 2066]

"Still." chimed an elf "Long Live Sutica. It never belonged to the humans anyway; they just claim titles to make themselves look proud."

[UniBearse 922]

"I'm gonna strangle this old man" The Baker Lady stated in the middle of her stress cookies