Phersades

Klara Miray read through the write up of the Duma, beaming with pride the whole way through.

Mrbeast of modpacks, thank you bonito!!!!!!!!!!

The Folly of a Princess “Listen…” Mariya loved how soft her mother spoke during their morning walks, it was almost as if she was attempting not to disturb the mists in the air. She did not have the luxury of many memories with the woman, but she remembered the way it felt to hold her hand as they walked through Reinmar. Some days they visited the Duchess who shared Esfir’s raven hair and green eyes, Other days were used for the two to just spend time with each other. The small Princess waddled beside her Serene Highness, arm stretched upwards so that her hand could remain in her mothers own. “Do you hear that, Ma princesse?” It was the song of crows, their shadows soaring over the two royals. They called out into the air, their voices mixing with that of a sorrowful mourning dove hidden in the treeline. Those black birds began to circle, watching something that laid where those rows of roses ended. Mariya felt the Grand Princess lift her up, carrying her in her arms as they moved to investigate. What was it those crows sought after? What were they watching? The closer the two got, the more fearful the small Barbanov grew. Surely it would be a monster, something vile that would rip her from her mother. The crow's call was nothing but a warning. Alas though, upon their arrival, all Mariya and her mother saw was a dying hare. It was covered in a crimson that spilled from its sides, the only telltale sign of its life was the slow breathing, and the occasional kick of a hind leg. Mariya gripped the collar of her mother's coat, hiding her face in it to shield herself from that sight. Esfir cooed, rubbing a hand over the four-year-olds back as they watched those birds jump around that animal in its agony. “Seems the poor thing was attacked, probably from Krusev.” “Will et be okay?” The young princess asked, mustering up just enough courage to look at the scene from over her own shoulder. “Probably not. It will pass soon, and it will be given to the grass and the birds.” The future queen gestured to that cloud of crows that remained in the sky. “You know, they say that bad things are to come when the crows circle. A bad omen. Oh the hare will not be fine, but this happens to everything at some point, nothing to fear, Ma princesse” Mariya did not understand that, could they not just help that writhing rabbit? Patch it up with herbs from the clinic. They could nestle the creature in Esfir’s coat and carry it all the way back to the city. All would be alright, wouldn’t it? “So bad things will happen tae us?” The little princess asked in fear as she leaned back in the woman’s grasp, eyes searching over the Grand Princess’ face. Esfir seemed taken back by that question, unsure of what to think of it before the laughter erupted from the Kortrevich. “Well… I do not personally believe that, they are just tales, superstitions. No, My lovely girl, you will live a long and happy life. Your father and I will ensure that too, don’t you worry.” Despite the dying creature that laid just beyond the fence at their side, Mariya felt safe and hopeful. The head of that tiny girl would rest against her mothers shoulder, snuggled in the expensive furs of that coat as she was carried all the way back to the Morrivi. Mariya didn’t cry when she found out about the Queen's passing, but the look of her father when he was faced with telling her was a sight that would never leave her mind. The way he paled, the shatter of the glass against the southern palace floor. Mariya couldn’t cry though, she had to be strong for her father, or her brothers if she ever got to see them. The words blurred, the things that were said, but Mariya sat there and held the king tightly in her arms like she was his caretaker. The warmth that radiated from Georg gave her a sense that everything was going to be alright, but she knew that she had to be strong so that she could see her father smile again one day… Maybe she would not get the same comfort once she left the Balian palace, not back in Haense. It was all pity. The people that walked up to her, they watched her like a wounded dog, apologized for a loss that nobody truly mourned in that kingdom. She could not cry in front of them. How could she be so weak? She did cry in front of Johanes though. She knew it was not right of her to go to Adria, but there was something about that town that brought her peace, even in her most dreadful times. He was her friend even though he was an odd character. Mariya took comfort in his attempts to cheer her up and the way he smiled at her through that roguish beard. He let her sit there in the courtyard of the keep and cry her eyes out. It was a cry that she needed, one that was built up from years and years of loneliness and pain, one that needed an out with the loss of Queen Esfir. The Duke offered her handkerchiefs and space, he did not try to hold her hand, and there was no selfishness in his actions at that moment. He made her feel safe, so she sat and sobbed her heart out until there was nothing left. Mariya grew to love the people in Adria, the way they treated her and respected her despite the fact that she was the Princess of an enemy nation. She couldn't imagine raising a sword to fight any of them, especially those who grew up alongside her. Now the Princess wasn’t stupid. Conflicts that reach so far can not be repaired with a band-aid, but there was so much love and compassion in the heart of that young Barbanov. Maybe she could show them, show her father that those in Adria were no threat, not one that mattered before the Mori. There was hope in her heart that if she tried hard enough that she could have aided in that attempt for peace. She would not have felt right in her life if she at least didn’t try, and try she did. “He is not coming, they’re going to try and force me into Karosgrad… They’re going to kill me.” Mariya paced around the courtyards of Sheffield in a panic. Georg had already sent the first letter stating that he would not show up to the keep and that he refused to meet with her there. She had already made the dinner that was to be served, some sort of stroganoff with a chocolate cake for dessert. She had been told that chocolate was her father's favorite, and this dinner was supposed to go smoothly. Carolus knew she was a traitor, that subjective term. He knew of her trips to Adria and how compassionate she was, enough so that the Deputy Palatine attempted to suggest peace. Mariya's plan for this dinner was to bring the King to the military keep she called home and try to convince him to step forward with his own terms of peace. However, The Colborn had eventually gotten back to Mariya that he had succeeded in getting the King of Haense to consider such. The King was to call for a Herzenfest, gathering all the peers to a meeting where they would discuss and vote on how they would move forward. Elated by the news, Mariya decided that she would bring this up with her father as well, get information, and ask what changed his mind. Even if he was to discuss peace with the peerages, Mariya practiced caution, especially with the vicious attack on Lorena Gant for also being a traitor. There was a fear in the back of the princess's mind that should she walk into Karosgrad, her people would also beat her or threaten to take her head. King Georg never showed up, only Ser Vanhart. The knight explained that Georg never came because they thought it was a setup, that the poor princess was being held captive and that a brigade of Adrians were waiting. That was not the case, and the only thing Vanhart was met with was Mariya, a few people who roamed or worked in the keep from time to time, and a dinner waiting in the kitchen. There was a confrontation as Ser Vanhart attempted to bring the princess back home to discuss everything with her father in Karosgrad. When she refused, Ser Vanhart left, promising the young princess, that seventeen-year-old, that he would find her on the battlefields because he was wrong about her. She pleaded for him to tell her father she was sorry, but the knight refused and insisted she wasn't. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. Mariya wanted peace for her friends back in Adria and for her family back home. Her father insisted that no matter what she would have chosen as her future path, that he'd have been proud of her - Orcish Shamanism, Magery, or being a ward in the Adrian courts should the war end. It didn't matter as long as Mariya was happy, then Georg was happy, or so he said. In the end, it was best to just leave. She had decided that since Ser Vanhart wished to go home and lie to her father about her intentions, that she would pack up all of her things from that keep and head to Adria to stay. She feared that the Brotherhood would soon march on Sheffield, so as soon as the Knight left, Mariya did as well. The days that followed were quiet and peaceful. There was still that fear that lingered in her thoughts, the regret knowing that no matter how hard she tried, her family now hated her. She would never see Aleksandr smile again, not at her... She would never again see Stefan’s stupidity as he moved about the square, messing with the young women in the streets. It was hard, but it was the path she chose in turn for the Duke’s hand, or the comfort of her friends and mentors who showed her more attention than her own blood. Maybe one day everything would die down and she’d be able to hug her family once more, assure them that she still loved them. It would just take time, and even with this failure of hers, she would pick herself up and try again. So there she sat in her new room, hopeful and bright as always, enjoying the air that swept through her windows. At least for a time.

The missive detailing her disownment thankfully didn't grace the young Barrow's eyes for that first day. She spent her time in her new room, sorting the few things she took with her: Necklaces and gifts given to her by friends over her years, letters from those she cared about. The shaking of her hands would stop eventually, and she'd eventually be able to stomach some food.

When Mariya Karenina eventually found out, she'd offer a soft prayer out into the realm for her great aunt. The air felt heavy in the palace that day, and in her room did the princess cry. Though the news would never reach it, somewhere beyond the realm and void of all good things, would a particular soul feel the impact of the princess he once considered a sister.

"Do not forget, Your Grace Burning and tearing down houses brick by brick out of petty spite. They rest every night with us on their minds." Azrielle penned back in jest

Azrielle Vilac read through the missive, a brow raised as she glanced over each word. "Ea will just simply say no if that is what I wish... Also, a criminal in Balian? Es this on paper? I do not remember ever hurting or threatening August. He was always my favorite of the children, en besides Gwendel en his lies, Persephone en her spawn were quite sweet to me before Gwendel did what he did. You would think after two decades, they would learn to breathe a little. I had the evidence, I was present to witness the crime, I did what I needed to do for justice, it is not my fault that the leader of their branch MURDERED a man. "This has come a couple years too late. As far as I know, everyone else who has claim to the name Vilac sees those of Marius' line as a joke anyways. Though they have taken quite well to me and Wilhelm, surely it will not be hard for me to get the name back if I even bother dropping it at all." Azrielle handed the missive over to Everett O'Rourke, allowing him to read it though. "Maybe I should show this to Emerentia and her brothers, or Wilhelm, surely she would get a kick out of this." The woman couldn't help but laugh. Though perhaps there was some relief if she dropped the name and let the others reinstate it. A snip from Marius Vilac's line? No longer associates with the snakes down south? The trial was over, Justice was served. If they no longer wanted her, then perhaps that was a good thing. No longer my circus, no longer my monkeys.

A Hope for Justice A response from Azrielle Vilac More than a decade has passed since I spoke the truth about the murder of Teft Barclay, violently committed by my once beloved older brother, Gwendel Vilac. I still stand by this testimony today just as I did when I originally spoke it to the now Duke of Minitz, Brandt Barclay. Times and ages may not be exact as some of these accounts were many years ago, but the events themselves are still nothing but the truth, and I will swear this under God. I will start as my brother's statement did; I have lived a simple life since birth. I was born to Victoria Vasile and Marius Vilac, raised in Acre by my mother until we moved down to Balian to live in a home given and maintained by Gwendel. Do not let his words fool you though, as Gwendel, Antonius, and I are triplets. I too shared a womb with these men, and am one of the eldest of thirteen children as well. I acted as a true older sister, assisting where and when I could. I admit that between the two, Gwendel was the better of my older brothers when it came to controlling his violence and anger, so when I recount the events of the murder, it breaks my heart that someone I loved and trusted with my life would betray me in such a horrid way. It is true that our father left us with the false promise of returning, but I will not sugarcoat why he never found his way home. Around the age of ten, I took a trip to the Lector’s Keep in Aaun with my brother Antonius to view the body of my poor father. Marius Vilac was killed and crucified by the Lectors for being in affiliation with the Heralds of Azdromoth. It was a gruesome scene and one no child should ever witness, but it is the truth. The preachings and friends of my father found themselves in the ear of Antonius, who tried to push such on to me and would verbally abuse me when I refused to hear him out. In my late teens, early twenties I had left my brothers in Balian to seek out a new home and new opportunities, which led me to a small farm home in Minitz. Here I had met the victim, Teft Barclay, and the two of us grew quite fond of one another. For the first time In my life, I had not only found my place, but with someone who made me feel wanted and loved. My brothers were not so inviting of Teft or the fact that I had found myself surrounded by those of House Barclay. When speaking to Teft, they often got loud, being outspoken that they were not to approve of our relationship. Regardless, after a couple years, Teft and I had gotten engaged under the table, keeping such news from Gwendel as he still made it clear that he wished to dictate my life, and would be the one to approve or deny this proposal himself. We both knew what the answer would be, and wished to keep our affairs private. With that context, during the time of my engagement, I had taken a trip for a year or two in the attempt to learn more in the way of medicine. I had wished to become a better medic for the growing town, and sought more knowledge so I could achieve this. At the time, Teft had sent me a letter that I believed to be him thinking we had separated. When I had gotten this letter, I was confused because the meaning itself was unclear and I returned home to see if I could get an answer for it. For some reason, Gwendel had decided to visit Minitz that day and was one of the first to also read this letter. He had fully believed that it was a way for Teft to leave me, and his anger took over. When Teft arrived to Minitz that afternoon, he had been intercepted by Gwendel, and the two of us were not allowed to speak. He took Teft and I from Minitz to Petra where the Vilacs were settled at the time and led us to a small cave that seemed to be an old mine with a drop off. Gwendel then forced Teft to the edge of that drop off and began to question him about promises he had made to our house. My brother Antonius held me in the back of the cave to keep me from attempting to stop our brother. I just remember Gwendel using a weapon to threaten Teft, using it as a way to try and force him to back off that ledge. Teft’s death was rubbed in my face and I was reminded of this tragedy constantly. I was told that I would die if I had released the information of what happened. I could not bear to live in Minitz anymore, and was moved to the Vilac manor in Petra. We had planned a wedding, and spoke often of the children we would one day have. I had to live in that house with my brothers as they grew relationships and families of their own, raising children that I myself could not have. They took that opportunity from me and got to live their perfect lives until I finally decided to speak out about what had happened. When I told those in Minitz of the murder, my brothers returned to that abusive behavior, even going as far as teaching their children that I was an awful woman who betrayed my family. I was so worried for my life that I went as far as asking for Oijin to help me disguise myself, changing my hair color and eyes. Since then I have been living between both Minitz and Petra, doing my best to move past this. I will not be able to make the trial of my older brother, once again, I write this and swear that this is the full truth. In my home within Minitz, I leave evidence such as: The note of assumed separation Teft Barclay wrote and signed. A note detailing the location of where the murder took place. The bottles given to me by Oijin that helped me disguise myself. A weapon paired with a note. May justice be served. Blood for Barclay. Signed, Dame Azrielle Vilac

From a tower somewhere north, away from the chaos that had fallen into her life, Mariya Karenina listened to the news of the plans from her hosts. Her hair tangled over the days, but the headaches would slowly stop thanks to the fresh air of her hold. She was tired of the war, but that was not news.

After picking up one of the poems that somehow found its way into the Princess' dress shop, Mariya Karenina Barbanov frowned at its contents. "Now this war has brought littered trash to our streets... We should act with class, niet this vulgar excuse for poetry from someone who is unwilling to even attach a name to this. Pathetic. Even Aedypapej Borris in his lowest times has somehow been able to turn his ill-mannered thoughts into something at least entertaining to read, whatever this is, get it off our streets.." After spilling her thoughts to the shop worker, the Princess flicked the paper on to one of the counters at her side. "Ea will be back.. They could niet even put it on the boards, they had to throw them across the floor..." And off she went to pick up every piece of poetry that was left around the square.

The Princess Mariya read through the missive in the comfort of her room, grumbling softly under her breath as she tucked the paper into the drawer at her side. Her focus centered now on the stone dog that watched her as she moved about the room... "Well Iwa.. Suppose the gifts for Viktor will have to wait."

MC Name: Phersades Discord: Catalina#8540 Image: Description of Image: Painting of the princess Mariya Karenina for her boutique Dimensions: 2x2

Despite it all... She wept. Alaesia Ithelanen sat on the stone floor of her home there in the city, her knees pulled up to her chest which heaved as she sobbed. He was not loyal to her; he did not stay with her through the worst of it as most married men and women swear to. He had brought her the most pain she had ever felt, and before his death he had left her alone. Despite all he had done to her, she still loved him. With every new woman she heard about, she still loved him. With the time she spent alone in her house raising their son, she still loved him. She remembered many years ago, sitting in the basement of her Amaethean home in the cold quiet of that empty city. The Ithelanen had nobody; No idea where her mother was, no family, no Agis, but she did meet Acanthus. Acanthus, the young prince who offered her his hand for one reason or another, and he had saved her from herself. He had given her what she needed to grow; Love, and her son. He was gone now, and even before his death he had never truly been how he was when they first met.. She had changed as well, she liked to think, but that did not stop her from the grief and loneliness that fell over her and for the first time in nearly fourty years, she sat in that hole once more like she did before he had entered in her life. The only thing she could stare at from the corner where she sat and cried was the lunarite crown he had given her after they wed, never to be worn again.

"A shame that my brothers and their sons were not as strong as they claimed to be... Maybe if they had done more training rather than acting out like rabid animals, the fight would have gone differently.... Only Godan knows." Azrielle Vilac mused as she returned from the fight, proud to carry her own scars and wounds.

Lucia Carrion read through the warning, a scoff coming from the aging medic as she set the paper down and wondered where she would keep her bokolos now..

A small princess sat in the comfort of her room within the palace... The missive sat on the lap of her handmaiden while she read it out, her hands preoccupied with brushing the Barbanov's wavy locks through. Mariya braided the yarn that made up her own dolls hair and listened to the news. It wasn't a bedtime story by any means, but she asked to hear what the missive held. She asked what every other word meant but understood nothing but upon hearing the name of the house under fire, her eyes widened, and her soft voice rang out. "Aedypapej? Is everyone mad at him?" The Handmaiden shrugged, folding the missive up soon after. "Yam sure you will learn plenty about it once you are grown, worry little, your highness, fore it is bedtime."

Alaesia Ithelanen forced a soft smile as she reached up to pull the crown that currently sat upon her own head. She stared down at it, her mind plagued with the worst thoughts.. It did not matter in the end, she was thankful she would no longer be what she was... Her position gave her a family, it gave her the son she has done nothing but adore. That was enough for her, even if she gave nothing back. Even if she did nothing to help the nation she married into. Regardless, she laid the crown on top of the missive detailing the coronation and she muttered something about relief and excitement for a new era.

So much is lost to those so small; Memories of those who held them, or the way the voices of their loved ones chimed about the rooms, how they were doted over, the attention they were once given. Mariya's eyes only took in the colors, her attention being pulled one way or another by laughter or idle conversation at that last dinner. Only then, in her father's arms, did she happen to catch glimpses of her grandmother. The little princess gummed on her fingers and simply watched: What would she learn from this woman? Who was she? How much would they love each other? Questions lost to the world as the woman faded before the girl's second year. However, the princess would eventually grow alongside the curiosity she held of her grandmother's nature, and she would adore the paintings of the late Queen Amadea and only hope she too could be as great as her.

Surely, even when Mariya was to age, the prospect of throwing animal shit on the side of her uncles keep was not very 'princess-like' or proper by any means.... But coercing other children into doing it for her was a more likely option.

Rhaella Ashwood would have read the missive sent to Elvenesse, ripping the page from wherever it sat as the perpetually tired gaze neared the end.. Her thin digits shakily moved over the words before she crushed the parchment in her hands, nearly tearing it with her nails as she pulled it close to her chest. Her eyes filled with tears as the crazed woman stumbled a bit to then sit on the stone of the seaside city.. "She knows I am here... And she will not even do me the service of... Sending me my own baby... -" Her jaw quivered still, the paper dropping from her hands to reach up to the tangled mess of snow white to pull at it from the scalp violently "All Jusmias should die- Vile self-righteous things... vile-" - "Only her head" Came the quiet mutter of a pained mother.

Rhaella Ashwood read through the missive, a smile growing as she reached its end.. "A.. Boat? They're putting all their Mali'ker on a boat? Oh goodness....." The woman giggled, shoving the parchment down to her hip as if shoving it into a pocket that her dress didn't even have.. The missive crumbled and fell to the floor anyways as the woman ran out of her home to make her way to Dark Hallow within Helious whom she thought she should visit more often. Aelia Morvayn sat on a boat somewhere, the miserable 'ker humming along to some song her crew of Mali sang behind her as she watched the water below their ship ripple about. The sea is just a much better place to be when times are tough.

The Death of Nikolai Mikhail Kortrevich 8th Baron of Koravia, 6th Viscount of Krusev. And 4th Count of Jerovitz “With Duty, Comes Honor” [!] A painting of Nikolai Mikhail Kortrevich, Esmee Kortrevich, and their eldest daughter Esfir Rose Kortrevich. “♫ Over the hill... And beyond the vast fields...♫” The soft tune carried out among the crops... It was less like a song, and just something the Knight had found himself improvising with some odd little melody as he worked... The scythe moved over the base of the wheat, cutting them down to allow the man to step over and pick them up in bundles, walking back and forth between the fields of Jerovitz, and the cart where the rest of the harvested wheat lay. “♫ There lies a man in the forest- awaiting his kill...-♫” Nikolai had stopped for a moment, setting the scythe at his side as he hummed the full tune once more as if trying to figure out where to go from there... He was unsure now... “♫ But as the birds sang above, a warning for all... It was he who was hunted, awaiting his fall...♫” - “♫ Fore the trees have eyes, and the wind howls loud; It were his screams that were silence, no trace of a sound...♫” The Lord Kortrevich was unsure why that was his string of thought... He continued to hum the same melody he just conjured, reaching down to pick up another bundle “♫ Tangled up in the vines and the branches above, the forest picked up the man a- ♫” His song had been cut off by a voice somewhere near the wheat cart. It was sweet, and despite the advice, playful. Merely a joke from the one who had listened to the man's singing as he worked... “You should really stick to fighting and farming...” Nikolai shook his head a bit... A dramatic sigh escaped his lips as he hugged the new bundle of wheat and turned to deliver it where the woman stood. There stood Isabel Fenika Kortrevich. The darker parts of her hair graying slightly now as they entered their sixties. “Ea think yam quite creative actually... Like Borris but niet as known for mea arts. Vy do niet think ea a creative like him?” Nikolai pretended to be offended by her words, setting the wheat down before reaching up with both of his hands to wipe at the sweat that began to bead on his forehead, stepping forward to meet the woman face to face. There was not a day that passed from the moment he met her that he did not think of her beauty. Her eyes are a shade of green that he has adored since he was ten... Her features still soft and full of youth despite the wrinkles that began to creep about her smile. Nikolai Mikhail loved her more than life, he was luckier than any man that he got the chance to call her his wife. He loved Isabel, and he would for the rest of this life, and to any that might come once he has left this plane. “Ea did not marry you for your art...” - “Does not mean vy can’t support mea efforts... Ser Nikolai Mikail Kortrevich... The Jovenaar, The Knight... The... Bard?” He raised a brow towards his wife, nodding some as if the idea sounded swell. “More pressing matters, My love. Rumors from the capital say that our Esfir has captured the Grand Prinzens heart, and Anton and Vlad are almost ready to do their knight trials...” “Two Knights and a Kortrevich Queen… And Margot was so mean to eam all those years, and all ea did was make absolute winners. Have they spoken any of the news yet? I imagine it would be good for the house...” Isabel shook her head, grimacing softly as they both glanced back towards the same Jerovitz Nikolai and his siblings had been born into. “I did not wish to have that conversation with her, I believe she was hoping to push Lady Alana towards the prince... She had really tried during the Lifstala season.” Isabel's hands passed over each other nervously, her lips thin at the thought. Nikolai simply reached to take them both is his own. “Yam sure she will be delighted... Besides Margot has calmed over the years, Ea think being the countess really took the energy out of her. Ea can niet imagine her sabotaging Esfir, and besides, their children are doing well for themselves… Vladrik told me he and Margot will be abdicating soon. Dobry! The old man needs a break... They both do. Erik is a little worried but he has them and us as well should he need help. Once Erik is Count, perhaps we can convince Margot and mea borsa to travel like he had been wanting… Perhaps we at some point can join them once Esfir and the others finally have their weddings.” Isabel smiled brightly at the prospect, her worry of the Komitas’ judgment seeming to melt away as she nodded in agreement. Absolutely perfect. Nikolai truly believed his life had grown to be perfect, just as he had hoped for... “Ea have a bit more work to do out here, but ea will be back up to the keep for supper, ai?” Isabel nodded, moving to stand on her toes to offer the Lord a kiss on his cheek before she headed back towards Jerovitz. He did make it home for dinner that night... Just as planned. Margot and Vladrik Abdicated to their first born Erik Otto and lived their lives just happily as planned... Nikolai and Isabel’s children, all six, went on to marry good wives and husbands. The Lord eventually retired as a Knight, as a Jovenaar, seeing that he and Isabel traveled a bit as they aged further. Meeting with old friends, trying new things, living their lives, before one day Nikolai got sick. So as life goes, he lived out his remaining days happily in the comfort of his wife, children, and grandchildren before in the night he wheezed his last breath with Isabel’s hand grasping his own. And so that was it. As it was supposed to be. As it was planned. But the truth is… He was afraid. Nikolai could feel himself deteriorating with each passing day. He was not an old man, in shape and active as much as he could be, ate well, and never was he a drinker… but sickness is not always something you can ward away. His nights were miserable, hidden away in his room so his children could not hear his murmurs of fever... Or the bloodstained handkerchief that sat in the pocket of his coat, the washes becoming more frequent. He remembered those that had passed before him; their hacking of phlegm mixed with that taunting crimson, their skinny bodies, and sunken features... The loss of strength and hope. Even nearly twenty later, he remembered each one; Johann, Sigismund, even his own brother Vladrik. Nikolai had gone through too much to die in such a miserable way. That couldn’t be him. He hadn’t told everyone in his family, he didn’t want them to worry. What would his wife say? Would she find peace in a quiet end, ignoring the situation until it could no longer be ignored? Would he be left to rot alone? What of his children? Would they count down the days to the inevitable? Each second that drew them closer to his death bringing them nothing but fear and mourning. He remembered what it was like to lose his father at a young age, but his children were grown and Nikolai could only imagine that at their age, watching their father slowly grow weaker would be more painful than anything. He loved his wife and children so much, he had spent a majority of his life selling himself to keep them safe... His morals, time, and energy was all for the family he had created with Esmee… He hoped it hadn’t been for nothing, as long as they could live happily after he was gone, that was enough for him. He festered in his thoughts near the end... The mistakes he had made, perhaps ways he could have been better as a father, or a husband. Maybe Herzen Ruthern was right. Had he not spoken to his wife enough? Had he been so useless? Nikolai spent so much time in his halls, dealing with issues that fell beyond his responsibilities as a count... The wars he had fought, the creature in Dobrov... Was the Ruthern right? Was he, Nikolai Mikhail... So pathetic? Was his countess the reason he mattered to anyone? She assured him otherwise, but that did not mean it did not sit there in his mind like a parasite. Even worse that his soul was burdened with the curse to feel nothing but a sort of malice towards himself, or his life as a whole... _______ He hadn’t planned his death. He had told Esmee he was going to Reinmar to see Josefina and his grandson, Manfred. The news of the baby born to the Herzen and Herzenas brought joy to the man, joy still hidden somewhere beyond that miserable host. When he got to the Duchy however, nobody whom he had been looking for was there, only some children playing dangerously close to the Dobrovi forest... They began to weave between the trees, their giggles resonating within the area. The Lord knew better than that, he had seen it play mind tricks before, but he could not stop himself from allowing the children to lure him into the trees. The closer he got to the city, the darker the sky fell... The children had disappeared by then, their laughter nothing but a lingering sound before it faded completely. Nikolai continued his peaceful walk and began to speak out loud, his words directed to the creature he had hunted all these years, knowing it was listening. One of the children had appeared at his side, pulling at his empty sleeve “Mister, there is no turning back, you know?” A few words were exchanged, words that slipped the Lord's mind as the end came... Something about how he was sick anyways. How ‘Normal Men’ would have wished to let the sickness take them, live out the rest of their days with their family, bedridden. “Normal men don’t tread these pines, Nikolai Kortrevich…” “Suppose that makes me at least… some interesting... Is that a good thing?” He felt he might cry, nervous laughter escaping him. the child had vanished once more... “Yam tired of fighting vy, ea think- Yam niet a knight, Just a lord. Ea do niet even like bein’ a Jovenaar anymore. All ea live for es mea children, mea grandchildren… En they are all… Already good enough without eam- Ea think Matviy is good.... As is Viorica....” The words fell from his mouth and out into the open air. A new voice had filled the area, one that was painted with many; Men, women, and children. This voice had been so familiar to Nikolai. “You know... You were always My favorite.” “So you have told me” “We are not long for this world, I fear our game will soon be at an end...” The two had talked some more, Nikolai’s walk continuing. They were familiar with each other at this point in Nikolai’s life. Even though he had hunted the creature since he was eighteen, this conversation brought him some sense of peace the longer it continued. Nikolai had faith that his children and friends would finish what they had all been working for. At some point, Nikolai had stopped somewhere on the trail, turning around to be met with the towering creature. The exposed deer skull covered in the moss and vines, greenery hanging from its branches and antlers of sorts. The grime and dirt that caked the host sat thick along it’s arms and legs, somewhere hidden along it’s shoulders and back sat the skulls and chains of those now long gone. Their conversation came to a close, and the elder Kortrevich knew it was about his time. “You will make it quick, Ai? Have ea earned that much over the years?” “It will be quick...” Those branches began to twist and turn, outstretching towards the familiar Lord. Nikolai closed his eyes as a pointed thin finger found itself to his forehead. In that moment, over the span of mere seconds, Nikolai had been shown a different life. One he dreamed of for many years; a peaceful life with all those he had lost due to circumstance... Or those he had gained in his true life of sixty three years. One where he became a knight, was never marked by malflame, never lost Isabel. When that life was lived, and his time had come, he would have fallen into the arms of the forest never to wake again. OOC Statement My Nikolai Art (+The Artists) Good Nikolai Moments (The last few are good)

Nikolai Mikhail Kortrevich was delivered the message while working in the farms of Jerovitz.. His lips pressed together after he finished reading through the missive "A shame.."

WRIT OF ABDICATION WITH DUTY, COMES HONOR Issued by HOUSE KORTREVICH On this 9th of Msitza Ag Dargund, E.S. 450 VA BIRODEO HERZENAV E EDLEVRIK, For the last thirty-six years, I have been the leading Lord of House Kortrevich. My attainment of the titles and the responsibility that comes with peerage was unconventional, that I acknowledge. I was born the second son to Jan Otto, fully aware that my elder brother would be the one to wed and pass the County of Jerovitz down to his children and so on. I reflect often on the years leading up to it; the relationship with my brother, or perhaps the emptiness of the halls. I do not think I am a perfect man, and in these last three decades or so there are plenty of things I could have done better as a leader, brother, friend, and father, but I take pride in the woman I have taken as my wife, and the family that we have grown together. They give me faith that after I am gone, that they will elevate the house far higher than I ever could. That alone is good enough for me. Naturally my titles would fall to my eldest daughter, Esfir Amelya Rose Kortrevich, however due to her ongoing courtship with His Serene Highness, The titles will pass from Esfir to her younger brother and my first born, Anton Otto Kortrevich. However, due to recent events, I have decided that it is in the best interest of House Kortrevich that Anton Otto Kortrevich be stripped of his ability to inherit the titles. Thus, I, Nikolai Mikhail Kortrevich, proclaim that all of my titles - Count of Jerovitz, Viscount of Krusev, and Baron of Koravia are to be abdicated to my second born son, Matviy Artem Rahoul Kortrevich. I wish him and his wife, Viorica Irena Kortrevich, all the luck in the world and long may they reign. IV JOVEO MAAN, The Right Honorable, Nikolai Mikhail Kortrevich, Count of Jerovitz, Viscount of Krusev, and Baron of Koravia

Nikolai Mikhail had remembered the first time he ever met Iulius.. His sister had come up to him mentioned a 'creepy man' who had seen her within the tavern, sketching her in a notebook while she slept. Nikolai loved his sister Vasilia with all his heart, though he was aware of the drama that followed her and the issues she caused.. It was hard to take her seriously, but being the present brother, he had to do his due diligence... The lanky teenager had walked up to Iulius, pushing on some intimidating tactic to keep the commoner stranger away from his sister. A threat perhaps? It was so many years ago that the conversation within the palace had slipped from his memory almost completely. But he did remember Iulius as he was met after- The intelligent Vernhart, a fellow student of Johann Ludovar. Nikolai didn't have many friends within the city, only the Ludovar that took him under his wing, and Iulius who encouraged him through his work towards becoming a Jovenaar and even after. Now they were both gone, a reminder of how quickly time moved.. The Count sat in silence that night, reminiscing on years now long passed.