Lokvank

A certain former member of house Ludovar, Ilya Oakheart, would click his tongue upon hearing of the death of his cousin, unsure of how to feel or rect for a few moments. "Sometimes ea wish it could've been different" He would comment with a soft sigh, looking out of the window from his home in Lurin "surely ea can do something though, in the future perhaps" he pondered finally

A certain deceased musician, Gustaf Sigismund Morovar, would raise his eyes from the sheet music he was looking at and lower his reading glasses in order to set his gaze on the figure who had just entered the Seven Skies, where he had been residing for some time already "Ah, it took vy quite a while" he would comment while scratching his chin, then offering a small smile "Ea almost thought vy would never come, cousin" he added

Threat By Hamish Markus Kortrevich For the people of Balian IIt had been quite a while since the Haeseni musician and composer had seemingly vanished from the public eye as he attempted to find inspiration for his future pieces. He wandered, he traveled and he investigated, but it was one notice that helped him find what he was looking for: The Kingdom of Balian was under a looming threat it had never experienced, that being the Cloudbreaker. Without being able to take the issue away from his mind, the Kortrevich Lord would thus return to his office and set to work in order to orchestrate said threat into a musical piece with the instruments and harmonies available, aiming to portray the story of a potential outcome onto the notes.

A certain Ilya Oakheart would raise his eyebrows ever so slightly as he took a look at the missive "Well ea know of someone who'll niet be sad about this one" he commented with a slight shrug before frowning a little "Though ea do wish we could've put an end to our differences before this happened.." he would add, sighing somewhat before continuing with whatever he was doing at the time.

"Hey hey, maybe I es get to speak with my family again now that she’s niet in charge anymore" would comment Ilya Oakheart with a slight chuckle upon reading over the missive somewhat, leaving it on the table before shrugging and looking out of the window with a soft sigh "why would ea though?" he asked himeñf thereafter, not fining an answer immediately

How much Longer? [!] A painting depicting Gustaf Sigismund in his eighties One month had already passed since Gustaf entered the clinic, even more since he had begun to feel the symptoms. Several times throughout that span he could feel the ache increase, yet he simply waited for it to cease. Now the nights seemed like endless voids deepening further into their roots only to be surrounded by the sounds of coughs and breaths. Each day the elder would wake up wodering whether it would be his last, and leave to bed at night unsure if he would wake up the next morning again. How much longer, he asked to himself, would it take for it all to end? -+- One of those days the musician could be found laying on the bed he had learned to get used to after all this time, simply imagining some melodies and contrasts he would never bring to paper in order to distract his mind from his pains and struggles. At some point, the doors of the clinic opened, yet who had entered remained unclear at first "who.. might have arrived..?" the blind man asked, weak in his voice. "It's me, papej" replied Ser Jakob, son of the ill elder, before asking "how are vy doing?" "Well.. ea've been better.." would reply Gustaf to his son while nodding ever so slightly. Truly, this was one of the times he had felt less well in his lifetime "vy do niet look any better..." commented the knight, taking a deep breath as he took his father's hand with both of his own "Precisely.. niet much room for that.. anway" was the reply. Not too long after his son's arrival, someone else entered the clinic, wet boots making a squeaking soundagainst the floor due to the wheather outside. It was Laurelai, the medic who had taken care of the elder during his stay in the hospital, though they had already met a few months prior. This day she had come with some flowers, allowing him to feel them and writing the name of the sort on the palm of his hand due to her inability to speak and the elder's lack of sight to see any notes. -+- What had Gustaf accomplished? This question wandered through his mind and so he asked it out loud. Thus a small conversation arose which convinced him that he had been an inspiration for some, like Jakob, as he wanted to do things his father did, be like him, though that did not lead to much in the end. Despite this, the elder had no reason to be ashamed of his son "Ea'm glad.. regardless.. that vy got vyr feet on the right lane for vy... Now look at vy.. a knight.. one ea can be so proud of" he would state with a weak smile before sighing softly "Perhaps.. ea inspired some others too.. after all..". It did not take long before the mute woman, still holding Gustaf's hand, wrote the word INSPIRED on its palm, followed by a shaky exhale. At some point the blind man's eyebrows raised ever so slightly as he began to see a figure. It did not feel as if it was a dream or merely his imagination, but as if it had emerged from the nothingness he had got used to through the years. He was yet to recognise who or what it was, though it was certain that it was moving in his direction, and it was not doing it slow. With each step the figure took, the heavier his breathes felt, the faster his irregular heartbeat became. Once the figure was too close to prevent anything, it was revealed who the figure had been all this time. "A- Alicja..?" was the last word the elder managed to pronounce, not taking a single breath more afterwards. All this brief time, the figure had been his long dead daughter, welcoming him with open arms -+-

A deceased Josef Ludovar would offer a soft smile as he saw the former Komptroller enter the Seven Skies, where he had been for a tad longer than him "It took vy a while to come here, my friend, longer than Johann anyway" he commented before placing a hand on his friends shoulder "About time you got some rest, do vy niet think? Am ea’m sure vy’re glad to be able to see my handsome face again now that vy’re here" the Ludovar would chuckle a little at that

As Celine Vuiller read through the missive and saw her name within the invite list a gentle smile would form upon her features "Ich willl be there, hopefully!" She assured before setting the missive on the table she was sitting besides of "If ich ind the time, would be a shame to miss this" She would add

A certain Ilya Ludovar would blink upon reading the content of the letter "Other families did much more for the nation and got only a barony, if something. And vy’re telling me that the Romstuns got a principality just like that? They were niet even in the bsk!" The blonde man would then shake his head and click his tongue, though shrugging slightly thereafter "Dobry thing ea do niet live in that rotten place anymore.

The mentioned hopefully to be betrothed, Hamish Kortrevich, would gladly take Marcella’s hand as it reached him, squeezing it in hopes of reassuring her "Et es over now, surely" he stated "Unless he’s more of a fool than what he already proved to be.." he would add thereafter

The groom and soon to be husband, Ilya Barrow, would smile widely as he took a look at the missive "Well this took a while, but it's finally happening" he commented before sighing softly as his smile grew a tiny bit "Hopefully this means the troublesome times are over as well" he would add

"Long may he reign" would mutter the young musician Hamish Kortrevich along with the last sentence of the missive "Ah'm sure ye'll be a good duke, coz" he added thereafter with a small smile

"Well that took a while" would comment the long deceased Vulmon Heidan from the Seven Skies upon noticing the arrival of his first and favourite Lord Marshall

Somewhere, to the north of Almaris, the former Lord Ilya Barrow would need abit of time to get used to his new name. Despite this, he currently had other things to prepare and think about, like scheudles and plans. Regardless, returning to Haense anytime soon was not one of those

Upon taking a look at the missive for a little while, Hamish Kortrevich would have a short moment of silent contemplation. All those moments of pure enjoyment he had experienced while preparing himself for those two saint weeks he knew were going to arrive sooner or later, had they been worth it? Would he be able to provide what he had promised for that day? Those and more questions would only be answered in due time.