Mady

ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ AS THE SUN FINALLY SET OVER THE CLIFFS OF MYRINE, an unexpected notice arrived to the Ducal rooms of Trident’s Peak. “A war?” The Duchess questioned the courier, placing three gold farthings into his palm. “For your troubles.” She bid, allowing the man to depart. As CAERINE set her gaze over the moonlit sea and listened to the melodic song of the ocean below, she knew she was not as surprised as she thought she ought to be. “It seems I have much to consider.” ⋆ ｡༻───────────────────────────────────────────────༺｡⋆

ISSUED AND AVERRED BY, THE DUCHY OF MYRINE ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ON THIS DAY OF, 8TH OF GODFREY’S TRIUMPH IN THE YEAR OF 654A.A. ⋆ ｡ ༻───────────────────────────༺ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ༻───────────────────────────༺ ｡⋆ TO THE GOOD PEOPLE OF THE EMPIRE AND AZURAS, AS THE TIDES ROIL AND CHANGE, so too does the happenings of man, and as such, the Duchy of Myrine now turns its gaze towards the future. The citizens of the Empire and its allies are hereby invited to attend an evening of investiture and presentation in honour of Her Ladyship, Caerine Mareno, who shall formally assume her place as Duchess of Myrine before her peers, allies and the Imperial Court alike. What begins as a solemn recognition of duty shall, in equal measure, serve as a debut into noble society following years of study and refinement abroad and within the Imperial lands of Azuras. Beneath blue and white banners, guests shall gather for an evening of courtly celebration, music and dancing as Myrine welcomes not only a new Duchess, but a young lady stepping into her station with grace, dignity and promise for the years to come. ⋆ ｡༻───────────────────────────────────────────────༺｡⋆ I. MYRNISH INVESTITURE ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ THE EVENING SHALL COMMENCE WITH THE FORMAL INVESTITURE OF CAERINE MARENO, marking the official transfer of stewardship and authority over the Duchy of Myrine. Presiding over the ceremony shall be Her Ladyship, Circe Mareno, who has faithfully served as Regent during this period of transition within the Duchy. Before the assembled court and honored guests, Lady Circe shall formally bestow upon its heir the title and responsibilities of Duchess of Myrine, symbolizing the continuation of House Mareno’s legacy. Through this solemn and ceremonial rite, the young Duchess shall be presented not only as heir, but as the rightful lady of her people, stepping fully into the dignity and duty her station requires. Those in attendance who deem themselves a friend of the Duchess will be welcomed to speak up and share words of wisdom for her journey ahead. ⋆ ｡༻───────────────────────────────────────────────༺｡⋆ II. DUCAL DEBUT ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ FOLLOWING THE CONCLUSION OF THE INVESTITURE CEREMONY, the evening shall transition into a grand celebration in honor of Duchess Caerine Mareno’s formal debut into Imperial society. Beneath glowing lanternlight and the banners of Myrine, guests shall be welcomed into an atmosphere of music, dancing, and lively courtly amusement befitting such a joyous occasion. A selection of games and entertainments shall be held throughout the evening to encourage merriment among the gathered nobility, while the ballroom itself shall remain open for dancing well into the night. Friends, companions, and prospective suitors alike are warmly encouraged to join Her Grace upon the dance floor as she is formally welcomed into the social sphere of the Empire. While gifts are by no means expected, any offerings presented to Her Grace shall be received with sincere gratitude and appreciation. ⋆ ｡༻───────────────────────────────────────────────༺｡⋆ III. FORMAL INVITES ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ CONCLUDING THE EVENINGS FESTIVITIES, A competition shall be held to recognize the best dressed gentleman and lady in attendance, with each winner receiving a monetary prize. Guests are encouraged to embrace the colors and elegance of the sea through their attire, drawing inspiration from pearl, sapphire, seafoam, silver and the times of Myrine itself. House Mareno eagerly awaits the presence of friends, allies and honored guests alike for an evening of celebration, courtly splendor, and new beginnings beneath the banners of Myrine. Formal invitations are extended as such: HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, Marcus I, Emperor of Man and his Imperial pedigree. HIS SERENE HIGHNESS, Willem van Aert, Prince of Blackvale and his Princely pedigree. HIS SERENE HIGHNESS, Rodimar Barclay, Prince in Reinmar and his Princely pedigree. HIS SERENE HIGHNESS, Edward Alstion, Archduke of Alba and his Princely pedigree. HIS GRACE, Lothar d’Amaury, Duke of Lorraine and his noble pedigree. HIS GRACE, Antonius Helane, Duke of Valmont and his noble pedigree. HIS GRACE, Duncan Baruch, Duke of Valwyck and his noble pedigree. HIS GRACE, Earoslav Rostova, Duke of Krukiv and his noble pedigree. HIS GRACE, Marlon d’Asturia, Duke of Asturias and his noble pedigree. HIS GRACE, Heinrik Ludovar, Duke of Kvasz and his noble pedigree. THE MOST HONORABLE, Her Ladyship, Arya Altwegg, Margravine of Avistra and her noble pedigree. THE RIGHT HONORABLE, His Lordship, Ezra de Senna, Count of Edessa and his noble pedigree. THE RIGHT HONORABLE, His Lordship, Volker van Hurst, Count of Totenpfalz and his noble pedigree. THE RIGHT HONORABLE, His Lordship, Robert Montalt-Rovin, Count of Aesterwaldand his noble pedigree. HIS LORDSHIP, Cassius Tiber, Baron of Hartwell and his noble pedigree. HIS LORDSHIP, Franz Galahar, Baron of Ghaestenwald and his noble pedigree. HER LADYSHIP, Anastasia Basileus, Baroness of Cascanova and her noble pedigree. HER LADYSHIP, Phoebe Malory, Baroness of Sternfell and her noble pedigree. ⋆ ｡ ༻───────────────────────────༺ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ༻───────────────────────────༺ ｡⋆

⋆ ｡ ༻───────────────────────────༺ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ༻───────────────────────────༺ ｡⋆ IT HAD BEEN WEEKS AT SEA WHEN A SHIP CARRYING A MARLIN CREST FINALLY SPOTTED LAND, and per the Myrnish custom an offering was poured out into the ocean's waves. Stood along the bow in her usual contemplation perch, CAERINE couldn't help but breath out a sigh of relief as she spotted the white caps of the waves upon the golden shore of her homeland. She had been away for years at this point and even now as she breathed in the salted air, she knew without a doubt that she was finally home. It took a night and half a day for the ship to reach port and dock, the cawing of gulls and the thumping of footsteps upon wood seemed to echo betwixt the lines of boats nested side by side. The young Princess watched and waited until it was her time to step back onto land, her eyes scanning the horizon beyond the crowd of merchants and families awaiting their returned kin. It was upon the steps of the cliffside where she first spotted the familiar girl of fair hair bounding down, and behind her a frail elder stopped for a rest. CAERINE knew both forms all too well, and she could not help the squeal of excitement which escaped her. As her feet hit the dock, a quick breeze ripped around her, causing her sensible curls to flutter and frame her visage. In the midst of her plight and battle with steadying herself against the sudden gust, the Mareno would feel a caress against her cheek and a soft whisper, 'The sea binds us. . .'. It took all but a few seconds for her to regain her footing and settle her hair, and by then the utterance had gone, leaving her in a confused stupor - at least for another second before the cries of her younger cousin grew nearer. CAERINE was home, but it was not the same one which she had left some years before. Each cloud and tree appeared the same, though the sense that something was missing lingered in her chest. ⋆ ｡༻───────────────────────────────────────────────༺｡⋆

ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ THE SOUND OF BREAKING WAVES AND THE GROAN OF A WEATHERED SHIP ECHOED ACROSS THE PLACID SURFACE OF THE OCEAN, a sound all too familiar to the Mareno Princess. It had been only a month since she received her letter from the new Empress, a request to return to her homeland and CAERINE was electrified with anticipation. As she leaned against the bow of the ship, she could almost make out the golden etchings of its name: LUNA AUREA. “Princess, you should come inside before you freckle!” The call of her chaperone broke through the thoughts which buzzed through the Mareno’s mind. Looking to the ships starboard, the familiar plate of her Imperial envoys threaten to blind her if she looked too long. hum to herself as the glimmering reflection of the sun upon the ocean reached her view at last. “How many more weeks until we reach land?” CAERINE called out as she traipsed across the deck of the shop and joined her fair haired chaperone in ducking into the cabins. “I have a Coronation to attend and I’d rather not be delayed.” ⋆ ｡༻───────────────────────────────────────────────༺｡⋆

ISSUED AND AVERRED BY, THE PRINCESS CAERINE MARENO ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ON THIS DAY OF, 9TH OF HARREN’S FOLLEY IN THE YEAR OF 646 A.A. ⋆ ｡ ༻───────────────────────────༺ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ༻───────────────────────────༺ ｡⋆ TO MY LOYAL FRIENDS AND FAMILY, TIME SEEMS TO PASS QUICKLY WHEN YOU ARE NOT SURROUNDING BY THOSE YOU CONSIDER DEAR, and it has become abundantly clear how much I have come to miss you all. Although I am still some years from my graduation, I am happy to report that my time spent in Novo Horos and the Collegium has been beneficial. The food and styles - even the air feels foreign to me, though that only means I am experiencing new things as I had set off to do. One thing I am happy to share with you all is a pamphlet that is similar to what we have within the Empire of Azuras, and I was even mentioned by name! I will write to you all again soon, and I will be counting down the days until my return. [!] Sent along with the letter, a crate of pamphlets would join for all Caerine’s friends and family to divulge in. ⋆ ｡ ༻───────────────────────────༺ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ༻───────────────────────────༺ ｡⋆ , HER HIGHNESS, CAERINE MARENO, Lady of Myrine.

ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ WITH THE NEWS OF THE ASTURIAN PRINCE’S PASSING REACHING THE PRESTIGIOUS INSTITUTE IN AELDIN, the young Mareno Princess would drape black veils from her windows and over her mirrors. As CAERINE donned her mourning gown and made her way down to the white, sandy shores of Novo Horos. she could not help but recall the jolly laugh of the dailor, his moustache curling up with each mischievous grin he flashed to his Royal daughter.“Princess Valentina must be devastated. . .” She'd hum to herself as the glimmering reflection of the sun upon the ocean reached her view at last. With sand finally underfoot, CAERINE would stand vigil for a time, recalling her fond memories of the fallen Asturian as the roaring of the waves settled down into a soft rhythm. In silent reflection, the Mareno would release a parchment boat carrying her final goodbyes scrawls amongst its folds. “May Myrine guide your journey and the next.” ⋆ ｡༻───────────────────────────────────────────────༺｡⋆

ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ ACROSS RUGGED SEAS AND GOLDEN PLAINS, the pontifical announcement found its way to the Collegium of Courtly Virtue for Noble Ladies. As such scandal does not often breach the pristine walls of the institute, the halls were abuzz with gossiping young ladies, though such news seemed to impact a young Princess specifically. “And after all that wedding planning!” CAERINE cried out, aghast that her name would now be tied to such shame. Quickly the Mareno would make her way from the salon she had been sitting in, past the intrigued glares of her peers and into her rooms. There she would begin to pen a letter. “To Her Imperial Highness. . .” ⋆ ｡༻───────────────────────────────────────────────༺｡⋆

THE COLLEGIUM OF COURTLY VIRTUE FOR NOBLE LADIES ISSUED AND AVERRED BY, THE PRINCESS CAERINE MARENO ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ ON THIS DAY OF, 9TH OF HARREN'S FOLLY IN THE YEAR OF 644 A.A. ⋆ ｡ ༻───────────────────────────༺ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ༻───────────────────────────༺ ｡⋆ TO THE HEADMISTRESS AND LADIES OF THE COLLEGIUM OF COURTLY VIRTUE, AS A DAUGHTER OF THE PRINCIPALITY OF MYRINE, and currently a devoted ward of Her Imperial Highness, Crown Princess Valentina of Asturias, I have always sought to carry myself in a manner worthy of my family and the court in which I am being raised. It is my hope to one day become a respected lady of the court, known for her grace, wisdom, and steady character. For this reason, I humbly seek admission to the Collegium, believing its guidance and instruction will help me grow into the role I aspire to fulfill. A letter of recommendation has been attached to this application for your consideration. In accordance with the curriculum and tuition of the first semester, I have forwarded the admission and tuition fee, along with a small donation of 10,000 Imperial Farthing to the Collegium. As per the application guidelines, I have included my selected courses for the first term below: ༺ Advanced Courtly Etiquette ༺ Comportment & Bearing ༺ Poetry & Patronage ༺ House Alliances & Noble Genealogies I thank you most sincerely for your time and consideration of my application. It would be the highest honor to be received among the students of your esteemed Collegium, and I await your response with both gratitude and hopeful anticipation. LETTER OF RECOMMENDATION ⋆ ｡ ༻───────────────────────────༺ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ༻───────────────────────────༺ ｡⋆ , HER HIGHNESS, CAERINE MARENO, Lady of Myrine.

ᐝ ꕀ ☼ ꕀ ᐝ AS THE MISSIVE found its way to one of the mentioned Moreno ladies, a gasp was let out in shock! CAERINE could hardly believe that someone would dare write so boldly and without shame - especially about those amongst the Imperial Family. From now on, the already anxious Princess would look over her shoulder more often when wandering through the Imperial Capital. For all she knew, anyone could be Lady Truthful. . . ⋆ ｡༻───────────────────────────────────────────────༺｡⋆

Lounging upon a plush loveseat, a Mori woman would read over the missive published by her kin, chittering proudly. “This is only the beginning…”

Gently scrubbing any ink or paint which clung to her palms upon the completion of the wedding invitations, CAERINE was enjoying her moment of respite. . .though it did not last long as she realised she must pick out a gown for the event! “Eirene! Have you seen my blue dress?” @sarahbarah

Upon receiving her cousin’s missive, the Myrinish Princess seemed to break out into hives, her anxiety raising quite extensively. “Oh goodness, do you think I am ready?” CAERINE turned to her tutor, a burly Norn with a rough exterior. @esotericas

Brushing her hair in front of her vanity that evening, CAERINE seemed to find a few stray specks of powder tucked in her hairline. A knowing smile graced the lips of the young Princess as her eyes wandered to the abandoned habit now hidden in the back of her dresser and the mischievous antics it represented.

The clicking of heels upon tile flooring could be heard as a fair haired maidservant produced the parchment upon a silver tray to the young Mareno princess. “Oh cousin, we must attend and meet the ladies of society together!” Declared CAERINE, turning from her piano keys and flashing the parchment to her kin. @sarahbarah

Issued by the Principality of Myrine · · ─ ·✶· ─ · · On the 10th of Dragon’s Roar, 635 AA The Princely House of Mareno is seeking the services of a qualified piano tutor to provide proper musical instruction to a young lady of the household. The ideal candidate will possess proven skill in pianoforte, a refined manner, and the patience required for the education of a child of high birth. Instruction is to be conducted within the Mareno household and the Imperial Capital, at times and terms to be arranged through appropriate guardians and retainers. Discretion, professionalism, and adherence to noble decorum are expected. Those wishing to present their credentials may submit a notice accordingly to the Mareno Household.

∾ ∘ ∘∘ ∘∘ ∘∘ ⋄✧ ⊰⊱ ✧⋄ ∘∘ ∘∘ ∘∘ ∘ ∾ Nestled within an ornate bassinet, a swaddled infant cooed softly, her dark eyes drinking in what little of the world she could see from her sheltered perch. Despite the quiet bustle of the castle’s daily rhythms, CAERINE found her surroundings peaceful, the call of the sea rising above all else, a constant, gentle presence amid the murmur of life around her.

“ʙʟᴇssᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴄʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴜɴᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ fᴀɪᴛʜ, fᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇʏ sʜᴀʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ sᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀɪᴀʟs ᴏf ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ.” ~ ᴠɪʀᴛᴜᴇ 4:19 From the halls of heritage and hearth, let it be known that we announce the forthcoming union of Devana vas Ruthern and Ser Severin Black. This union comes not from courtly design nor ambition, but from quiet trust, shared duty, and the quiet guidance of the Scrolls. Through times of uncertainty, war, and exile, their devotion has remained constant. What began as companionship in uncertain times has now become a vow — steady and sincere. Their marriage shall be solemnized in accordance with the Canonist Rite. All those who walk in friendship, peace, or kinship with either are welcome to stand in witness to this bond. May the Heavens bless what is built in truth, and may virtue, not vanity, be the measure of their days. ALL ARE WELCOME TO ATTEND, THOUGH SPECIAL INVITATIONS ARE EXTENDED TO THE FOLLOWING. . . His Imperial Majesty, TIBERIAS I @Tide1 His Imperial Highness, HADRIAN TIBERIAS @Werew0lf Her Imperial Highness, MARCELLA ANTONELLA @Rainalyn His Excellency, HUGH LE GRAS @CharmingCavalier His Grace the Duke of Valwyck, DUNCAN BARUCH @Pureimp10 His Lordship the Baron of Basarab, ISTVAN IVANOVICH @North Her Ladyship, AERA DE SENNA @TaraJess His Eminence, Patriarch-Cardinal ALARIC @Lortime Sir GEDEON and his close kin @blesseuropa Dame ESTHER and her close kin @bumblefina Knight-Aspirant VANYA and his close kin @Nen Her Ladyship, ANASTASIA VAN LEUVEN @PeachLova

“The Lord is the Lord GOD without peer, but you have failed in your defense of His word. Indeed, your own brothers mingle the word of lesser beings among His, and lapse in His commands for favor of new and foreign ways.” ~ Spirit [2:6-7] I was not raised by warmth, nor by faith—but by silence. In Karoslund, the snow buried what little remained of my name. My prayers fell on deaf stone, whispered like contraband in the night. The saints, once sung in my blood, grew quiet with each passing year. No incense. No bells. Only the cold, and the ache of memory not my own. I read the names in the tome—Ruther the founder, Joren the rebel, Boris the Black. Men of blood and broken oaths, yet bound always to a Kingdom and the Church. Their ghosts stirred in the pages, pressed their fingers into my spine. “Do not forget us,” they seemed to say. “Do not let the sea freeze over.” But my House did forget. Or perhaps it was led to forget—driven from its chapel into the far north, where new gods howl and old altars rot. My aunt made her peace with exile. I never did. I lit candles beneath floorboards. I traced the Lorraine with gloved hands. I prayed into the air, hoping that one day, someone would answer. No one came. So I must go. I am of age now—still young, but old enough to know when a soul begins to rot. And mine has. Slowly, quietly, beneath every gesture of patience. So I leave. Not in rebellion. Not in betrayal. But in penance. I do not return to the Empire—for I was never truly part of it. I go to it now, barefoot in the snow, with nothing but a name, a dagger, and a prayer that my ancestors might still remember me when I knock upon the gates. If they do not, I will carve a place. I will not let my house become a relic. I will not let our faith become a ghost. “So the horn of GOD pours out upon the world, and it is inundated in the waters of Gamesh. And lo! I see the face of GOD, and from His mouth are falling tomes of prophecy. They are washed out upon the world, and the virtuous are perfected before Him.” ~ Auspice [3:6-8] To His Imperial Majesty, and to all those who dwell within the Heartlands of Man, I, Devana vas Ruthern, the matriarch of House Ruthern, do hereby declare the following: That I have departed the domain of Karoslund, where I have dwelled since my youth under exile and spiritual silence. I depart not with hate nor with vengeance—but with grief and solemn purpose. For too long have the banners of my House flown beneath strange skies, away from the covenant of our ancestors and the fold of the Faith. The legacy of Ruthern, a name forged in Carrion blood and Canonist devotion, has been allowed to drift into shadow. I write now to see it restored. I make this solemn vow: to join the Empire not merely in body, but in purpose. To bring House Ruthern into the light of the Holy Canonist Church, and to serve once more beneath the Crown as my forebears once did—those whose names are etched into the annals of history through sacrifice and fire. Let it be known that I seek not title without duty, nor honor without cost. I come to you as one born of noble blood but hardened in silence, prepared to earn the grace and recognition of my people through action, faith, and unflinching loyalty. In the name of Exalted Sigismund, of the saints, and of every Ruthern whose grave lies beneath imperial stone, I offer my hand, my House, and my heart. Devana vas Ruthern

“ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙɪɴᴅs ᴜs, ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏʀᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴇsᴛs ᴜs, ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀs.” In the heart of Norland, where the wind carries the voices of our ancestors and the flame never dies, the Ash Hall rises — not as a seat of judgment, but as a hall of spirit, story, and celebration. It is here that the culture of the North is guarded and given life, where the old ways are honored and the new are shaped with care. Founded in the values of honor, kinship, resilience, and truth, the Ash Hall serves as the Kingdom’s cultural court — a place where tradition is not entombed, but lived. Within its walls, feasts are hosted, hunts are called, lore is written, songs are sung, and the next generation is raised with pride. It is a gathering place for the people — a place to remember who we are, to uplift one another, and to keep the flame of Norlandic identity burning through every season. The Ash Hall stands not for one house or one name, but for all Norlanders and their allies who call these lands home. Let this be your invitation — to stand among us, to share in our customs, and to shape the story we pass on. ғᴏʀɪɴɢɪ ᴀᴠ ᴛᴇɪᴛʀ At the head of the Ash Hall stands the Master of Revelry — the guiding hand and voice of the court. Charged with overseeing all pillars and their workings, the Master of Revelry ensures that tradition, celebration, and cultural memory are upheld with strength and purpose. From the quiet planning of lorekeepers to the raucous roar of feasts, nothing within the Hall moves without the Master’s eye. It is a role of leadership, balance, and enduring devotion — the heart around which the court turns. ᴜɴᴅᴀɴ ᴠᴏʀðʀ Serving as the right hand to the Master of Revelry, the Under Warden acts as the court’s steadfast second — a figure of trust, duty, and discipline. They assist in the oversight of the Hall’s pillars, ensure order in daily matters, and may speak or act on the Master’s behalf when needed. Whether guiding the Under-Kin, supporting court affairs, or stepping in during absence, the Under Warden is the quiet strength behind the Hall’s flame, ever ready to uphold its mission. ɢʟᴀðʀ þᴏʟʟʀ Within the Ash Hall, the Glaðr Þollr stands as the steadfast sect of rhythm and revel. This sect of the court is charged with the planning, execution, and spirit of gatherings — from solemn rites to grand feasts, clan moots to festival hunts. Just as the tide shapes the shore, so too does this pillar shape the flow of life within Norland’s heart. VORÐR AV HOLT The Vorðr av Holt, or Warden of the Wilds, is the Ash Hall’s master of hunt, hearthland, and untamed earth. Tasked with organizing hunts, games, and outdoor rites, they keep Norland’s bond with the wild strong and sacred. More than a mere huntmaster, the Warden of the Wilds teaches survival, honors the beasts, and leads kin into the forests not just for sport — but for tradition, test, and tale. They are the howl on the wind, the arrow loosed in silence, and the living memory of Norland’s primal roots. VORÐR AV VEIZLA The Vorðr av Veizla, or Feast Warden, is the Ash Hall’s master of merriment, charged with bringing kin together in celebration and kinship. From grand festivals to humble gatherings, the Feast Warden oversees the planning and spirit of each revel — ensuring the tables are full, the horns are raised, and the fire burns bright. More than a host, they are the heart of joy and fellowship within the court, keeping tradition alive through song, story, and shared flame. Where they walk, the Hall stirs with laughter, warmth, and the strength of unity. VORÐR AV LEIKA The Vorðr av Leika, or Warden of the Grounds, is the Ash Hall’s keeper of contest and challenge. They oversee the games, tournaments, and trials of strength that stir the warrior’s spirit and honor Norlandic prowess. From axe-throws to sparring rings, they ensure that sport remains sacred, fair, and worthy of song. Through friendly rivalry and grand tourneys, the Warden of the Grounds reminds all that glory is earned not only in battle — but in skill, courage, and kin-born pride. sᴋʏɴ þᴏʟʟʀ The Skyn Þollr stands as the faction of Norland’s soul — a sacred pillar within the Ash Hall tasked with preserving the tales, truths, and traditions of the northern folk. Where the Glaðr Þollr stirs the present, this sect guards the past and guides the future, ensuring the flame of culture never fades beneath the weight of time. In the Skyn Þollr, memory is not a relic — it is a living fire, and those who serve it are its faithful tenders. VORÐR AV RÚN The Vorðr av Rún, or Warden of Runes, serves as the Ash Hall’s voice upon the page. Tasked with crafting announcements, missives, and cultural writings, they ensure the Hall’s words are clear, honorable, and steeped in tradition. Through careful quill and steady hand, they carry the court’s will to the people, preserving its message and sharing its purpose. Whether recording deeds or calling kin to gather, the Warden of Writing is the quiet herald of the Hall’s living legacy. VORÐR AV DANZLEIKR The Vorðr av Danzleikr, or Warden of Song, serves as the Ash Hall’s keeper of poetry, music, and the voice of the realm. Tasked with crafting verse and melody in honor of Norland’s traditions, they breathe life into tales of kin, glory, and heritage. But their words are not only for remembrance — they are a tool of inspiration and unity, used to stir hearts, rally loyalty, and carry Norland’s image far and wide. Through song, satire, and stirring prose, the Warden of Song weaves pride into the people and projects the strength of Norland for all to hear. VORÐR AV VARÐA The Vorðr av Varða, or Warden of the Watch, serves as the Ash Hall’s vigilant steward — a guiding presence for both visitor and kin. They are the first face many see upon entering the Hall, offering direction, welcome, and order. Charged with helping schedule events, guide the Under-Kin, and maintain the Hall’s rhythm, the Warden of the Watch ensures all flows smoothly beneath its roof. Ever observant, ever ready, they are the quiet lantern at the threshold — keeping the Hall grounded, open, and ever-burning. The Under-Kin are the young blood of the Ash Hall — aspiring minds and steady hands who serve under its seasoned leaders. Taken on in wardship, these children learn the ways of culture, kinship, and duty by directly assisting a Pillar or court elder. Whether tending scrolls for the Vorðr av Rún or carrying horns beside the Vorðr av Holt, the Under-Kin earn their wisdom through service, observation, and toil. To walk as Under-Kin is to be forged in the quiet moments between ceremony and legacy — to learn not only the craft of the Hall, but the spirit that keeps it alive. The Ash Hall stands open to all who feel the call — be they proud Norlanders or honored allies of the realm. Whether you seek to shape culture, host grand revels, preserve the old tales, or simply learn beneath the guidance of seasoned hands, there is a place for you within our ranks. Those wishing to serve, assist, or walk the path of the Under-Kin are warmly encouraged to step forward. To inquire or apply for a role, reach out to Hall Warden, Her Highness Princess Oliviya Lorina Barbanov-Bihar, and take your first step into the heart of Norland’s living legacy. HIS MAJESTY, Haakon av Edvardsson Ruric King of Norland, High Chieftain of the House of Ruric, Jarl of Vjardengrad & the Lowmarch, Blood of the Herald & Lord of the Ashwood Throne, Protector of the Highlanders. HER SERENE HIGHNESS, Oliviya Lorina Barbanov-Bihar Mistress of Revelry & Inn Askr Höll, Duchess of Greywyn, The Princess Royal of Hanseti-Ruska.

Issued by The Red Council, on the 20th of Inn Ríkismánaðr, IAÁ 560, Age Of Dragonsfyre To the Eldrhird of Norland — the faithful Thegns, Chieftains, and noble Lords — and to our allies and sworn kin, By decree of His Majesty, King Haakon av Edvardsson Ruric, all loyal to the Ashen Throne are summoned to gather in the capital of Vjardengrad, before the sacred seat of kings, the Ashen Throne. A Royal Court shall be held to address matters of the realm: to speak on the trials and triumphs of our people, to look ahead to the coming season, and to strengthen the bonds of flame and oath. The King shall speak. The Red Council shall listen. And those with wisdom, grievance, or hope shall be given the right to petition the Crown. Allies of Norland are welcomed with open hearths and guarded honor. Your presence shall be recognized, and your words heard. Jarl of Vjardengrad & the Lowmarch, Blood of the Herald & Lord of the Ashwood Throne, Protector of the Highlanders, High Chieftain of the House of Ruric & King of Norland, Haakon av Edvardsson Ruric Lord Purifier of the Order of the First Flame, Hand of the King, Ægir Edvardsson Ruric

ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴢɪᴇʀs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴇ ʙᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴡ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʀᴇᴅ ᴇᴍʙᴇʀs, ᴄᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ғʟɪᴄᴋᴇʀɪɴɢ sʜᴀᴅᴏᴡs ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴᴄɪᴇɴᴛ sᴛᴏɴᴇs. sɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡʟᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏɴᴇs ᴇɴᴛʀᴀɴᴄᴇ, ᴍᴜғғʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ʙʟᴀɴᴋᴇᴛ ᴏғ ᴄᴏʟᴅ sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʟʟ-ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ sᴛᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴀɢɴᴀɴɪᴍᴏᴜs, ᴄᴀʀᴠᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪʟʟ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏʀᴛʜᴇʀɴ ᴋɪɴɢᴅᴏᴍ. ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs sᴀɪᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ɪᴛs ʜᴀʟʟs, ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴅs ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜʏ—ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀᴍɴᴇᴅ. ᴏʟɪᴠɪʏᴀ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏɴᴇ ғʟᴏᴏʀ, ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴠɪsɪʙʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғʀɪɢɪᴅ ᴀɪʀ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴏᴅᴇɴ ғᴀʙʀɪᴄs ᴅʀᴀᴘᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜᴇʀ ᴀɪʀʏ ʀᴏʙᴇs ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀᴍ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴜɴsᴇᴛᴛʟᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ. ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇs. sʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ sɪɴᴄᴇ sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ—sᴏғᴛ, ᴀᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ғʟɪᴄᴋᴇʀs ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴡᴀʟʟs. sᴏᴍᴇ ᴄʀɪᴇᴅ, ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs ʟᴀᴜɢʜᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ғᴇᴡ sɪᴍᴘʟʏ sᴛᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴇʏᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜs ᴛᴏᴏ ᴡɪᴅᴇ. ʜᴇʀ ᴄᴜʀsᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ɢɪғᴛ. ᴠɪsɪᴏɴs. sᴘɪʀɪᴛs. ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴄɪᴇs. ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴜɴʙɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴏғᴛᴇɴ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʙsᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴋᴇᴇᴘᴇʀs ʜᴀᴅ ʟᴇғᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀɴᴄᴛᴜᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴛᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴄʀᴇᴅ ғʟᴀᴍᴇs. ʏᴇᴛ ʜᴇʀ ғᴇᴇᴛ ᴄᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʟᴛᴀʀ, ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴇ’s ɪɴɴᴇʀ sᴀɴᴄᴛᴜᴍ—ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴡɪɴᴅɪɴɢ sᴛᴇᴘs ᴅᴜsᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ғʀᴏsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ sɪʟᴇɴᴛ. ᴀ sᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ, ᴍᴜғғʟᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴀʀᴘᴇᴅ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴇᴄʜᴏᴇs ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ. ʟᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ. ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ. ᴄᴀᴡɪɴɢ. sʜᴇ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴇʀsᴇʟғ sᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴇɴᴛʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴʙᴇʀ, ʟɪᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ʙʏ ᴀ ғᴀɪɴᴛ, ᴘᴜʟsɪɴɢ ɢʟᴏᴡ. ᴀ ᴡᴇʟʟ sᴛᴏᴏᴅ ᴀᴛ ɪᴛs ᴄᴇɴᴛᴇʀ. ᴀɴᴄɪᴇɴᴛ. ᴄᴀʀᴠᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴏʙsɪᴅɪᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʀᴜɴᴇs sᴏ ᴡᴏʀɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʙʟᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴀ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ ʀᴀᴅɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ɪᴛ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀʟʏ ᴄᴏʟᴅ. ʜᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʙᴇᴀᴛ ʟᴏᴜᴅᴇʀ, ǫᴜɪᴄᴋᴇʀ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴜғғʟᴇᴅ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇs ɢʀᴇᴡ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ sʜᴇ sᴛᴇᴘᴘᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇᴘᴛ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴏᴡʟᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ʟᴀᴜɢʜᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴇɴ sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ɢʟᴏᴡ. ᴛʜᴇ sᴏғᴛ, ᴘᴜʟsɪɴɢ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇʟʟ sᴡᴇʟʟᴇᴅ, ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ, sʜɪғᴛɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʟɪǫᴜɪᴅ sᴛᴀʀʟɪɢʜᴛ. ᴏʟɪᴠɪʏᴀ ғᴇʟᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ. ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴇᴍʙʟᴇᴅ ᴀs sʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀɪᴍ. sʜᴇ ʟᴇᴀɴᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ, ᴅʀᴀᴡɴ ʙʏ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ. sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴄɪᴇɴᴛ. sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ғᴀᴍɪʟɪᴀʀ. ᴛʜᴇɴ— ᴀ sʜʀɪᴇᴋ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴇxᴘʟᴏᴅᴇᴅ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡɪɴɢs. ᴀ sᴛᴏʀᴍ ᴏғ ᴄʀᴏᴡs ʙᴜʀsᴛ ғᴏʀᴛʜ ɪɴ ᴀ ғʟᴜʀʀʏ ᴏғ ғᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴀᴡs. ᴛʜᴇʏ sᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇs, ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴜʀsᴇs ᴍɪxɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʀɪᴇs. ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴛᴀʟᴏɴs ʀᴀᴋᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ғᴀᴄᴇ, ᴅʀᴀᴡɪɴɢ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋs. sʜᴇ sᴛᴀɢɢᴇʀᴇᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴋ, ʜᴀɴᴅs ʀᴀɪsᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴠᴀɪɴ, ᴇʏᴇs ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ. ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ. ᴀ ʙᴇᴀᴍ sᴏ ʙʟɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ɪᴛ sʜᴀᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ, ғɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʟʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ʙʀɪʟʟɪᴀɴᴄᴇ. sʜᴇ ғᴇʟʟ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ᴋɴᴇᴇs, ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜʟᴇss, ʙʟɪɴᴅᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇs ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ—ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴜғғʟᴇᴅ ɴᴏᴡ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇʀʀɪʙʟᴇ, ᴀ ᴄʜᴀɴᴛ ɪɴ ʀᴜɴᴇs ʟᴏɴɢ ғᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ. sʜᴇ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴏᴏᴅ. ʙᴜᴛ sʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴛ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ɴᴏᴡ. ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴡᴀʀᴍ, ᴘᴀɪɴᴇᴅ, ᴏʟᴅ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴍʙᴇʀ ᴘᴜʟsᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴᴛɪɴɢ sʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴏᴡ ᴅɪᴍᴍᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡs ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ. sʜᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ—ᴀɴᴅ sᴀᴡ ɴᴏ ʀᴇғʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴏɴʟʏ ᴇɴᴅʟᴇss ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss. ʙᴜᴛ sʜᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴡ. sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀᴡᴀᴋᴇɴᴇᴅ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ʜᴇʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴᴛɪɴɢ sʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ, ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴇᴄʜᴏɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴇʟʟs sᴛʀᴜᴄᴋ ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ. ᴏʟɪᴠɪʏᴀ’s ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴘᴏᴜɴᴅᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴇsᴛ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴅɪᴍᴍᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀ sᴛᴇᴀᴅʏ, ᴜɴɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ɢʟᴏᴡ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴᴇᴅ—ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀsɴ’ᴛ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ. ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ. ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ sᴘᴏᴋᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ʟᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ, sᴛᴇᴇᴘᴇᴅ ɪɴ sᴏʀʀᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ. ᴛʜɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴏғ ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ. ɢʀᴀᴠᴇʟ ᴀɴᴅ sᴛᴇᴇʟ, ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴄʀᴏᴡɴ ʟᴏɴɢ sɪɴᴄᴇ ʙᴜʀɪᴇᴅ. sʜᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ɪᴛ. ɴᴏᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ, ʙᴜᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs. ғʀᴏᴍ sᴛᴏʀɪᴇs. ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ғʟɪᴄᴋᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴄᴀɴᴅʟᴇʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴏɴ ᴏʟᴅ ᴘᴏʀᴛʀᴀɪᴛs ɪɴ ғᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ʜᴀʟʟs. ᴀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ sʜᴇ’ᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ sᴘᴇᴀᴋ ʜᴇʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴘᴀssɪɴɢ—ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ɪɴ ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴄʏ. ᴀ ᴋɪɴɢ. ʜᴇʀ ʟɪᴘs ᴘᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ, ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴄʟᴏᴜᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ᴀs sʜᴇ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ, “ᴡʜʏ ʏᴏᴜ?” ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ. ɪᴛ ᴍᴇʀᴇʟʏ ʟɪɴɢᴇʀᴇᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ sᴍᴏᴋᴇ, ᴄᴏɪʟɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴏɴᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇsᴛʟɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sᴘᴀᴄᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs. ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇʟʟ ʙᴇɢᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ғᴀᴅᴇ, ᴘᴜʟsɪɴɢ sʟᴏᴡᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇɴ sʟᴏᴡᴇʀ sᴛɪʟʟ, ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴᴇᴅ. sᴛɪʟʟɴᴇss ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴍʙᴇʀ. ᴀ ᴍɪʀᴀɢᴇ ᴏғ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋʟᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋ, ʀᴇᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴀɪʀ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ɪʟʟᴜsɪᴏɴ ᴅɪssɪᴘᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ɪᴛs ᴇᴅɢᴇs. ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡs ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏɴᴇ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴏɴ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴᴇᴅ. sʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ғᴇᴇʟ ɪᴛ ᴇᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ ʜᴇʀ, ᴀ ʀᴜɴɪᴄ sᴄᴀʀ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ʀɪʙs. sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴀᴅ sᴘᴏᴋᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ. sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴋɪɴɢ sʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴇᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴛ ғɪɴɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ. ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴇᴛ.

12th of Joma ag Umund 579 E.S. As the final frost melts and the countryside awakens in bloom, the denizens of the Karoslund warmly invites all goodfolk of the Kingdom Norland and its allies to join in celebration of the season’s bounty at the Karoslund Farmer’s Market. This gathering marks the end of spring and welcomes the long, sunlit days of summer with cheer, trade, and festivity. Vendors from across the kingdom will arrive to display and sell their spring harvest—lush produce, fragrant flowers, hearty meats, baked goods, and handmade wares. The local tavern will offer fresh mead, berry wines, and seasonal dishes prepared with care and tradition. Music will fill the air as the day stretches into evening, with folk songs and traditional dancing around the fire bringing neighbors and travelers together in good spirit. Children may enjoy lighthearted games such as apple bobbing and a scavenger hunt. Whether you come to trade your harvest, sample the fruits of others’ labor, or simply share a laugh and a drink with old friends, the people of the Karoslund welcome you with open arms. Let us gather to give thanks for the abundance of spring and to greet the coming summer with joy and fellowship. Signed, Nadya Barbanov-Bihar Hesir of the Karoslund Her Ladyship, Devana vas Ruthern, Countess of Metterden, Protector of the South, Lady of Barrows

Yes oh my god please!!

The noble House of Ruthern, a mighty and revered lineage within the realm, has long been famed for its martial might and unyielding ferocity in the field of battle. With a history rich in conquest and bloodshed, the house earned its fearsome renown through victories decisive and plunder ruthless, leaving in its wake a legacy of both awe and dread. Their warriors, steadfast in loyalty and fierce in combat, bore upon their flesh the marks of their past—each scar and symbol a solemn record of victories won and hardships endured. These marks served not only as personal testaments to their trials but as a living chronicle of the house’s indomitable spirit, ensuring that the memory of their battles would endure, unforgotten, through the ages. In Raevir symbolism, the hammer tattoo holds a sacred and esteemed place in the lore of the Ducal House of Ruthern. This emblem, harking back to the mighty weapon wielded by Ruther Barrow—the Bastard of Carrion and founder of our noble house—represents strength, protection, and unyielding resilience. It stands as a symbol of divine safeguard and the steadfast will to overcome the most dire of trials. More than a mark of physical power, the hammer speaks to an indomitable spirit and the unwavering fortitude that flows through the veins of every Ruthern. It is a bond to our ancestors, a solemn vow to defend our values and our heritage with unflinching courage, embodying the very essence of the house’s storied and unbroken legacy. The coin tattoo is a revered symbol of prosperity, fortune, and the eternal cycle of wealth. It marks the bearer as one who seeks not only material abundance but also holds reverence for the ancestral legacies that have shaped their path. Each coin, steeped in the histories and tales of old, signifies a pledge of stability and the transformative power of prudent investment—both in worldly pursuits and in the nurturing of inner riches. This sigil serves as a constant reminder that true wealth is not counted solely by gold, but by the harmonious union of material success and spiritual depth. In accordance with the house’s storied legacy of pillaging and naval might, the ship tattoo holds a cherished and honoured place within the heritage of the Ducal House of Ruthern. It is far more than a mere likeness of a vessel; it embodies the eternal voyage that spans both the mortal and the spiritual realms—a symbol of life’s uncertain and ever-changing course. In the ancient lore of the Raev peoples, the ship signifies not only the bold pursuit of uncharted waters and new ventures but also the unyielding resolve required to weather the fiercest of storms. For the Ruthern, whose lineage is steeped in seafaring tradition and a steadfast devotion to discovery, this emblem stands as a tribute to their enduring spirit and the indomitable will to navigate the unknown with courage and honour. In historic symbolism, the skull tattoo doth often signify the cyclical nature of life and death, as well as the enduring spirit of one's forebears. The skull doth represent both the fragility of mortal flesh and the resilience of the soul, acknowledging the certainty of death whilst honoring the strength and wisdom borne of life's trials. It is also a symbol of protection, a solemn reminder of the fleeting nature of existence, and a call to the wearer to live with boldness and honor their heritage. By bearing the skull motif, the tattoo shall bind the wearer to ancient Raevir traditions and the belief in a lasting bond betwixt the living and the realm of spirits. As a house borne from a warrior, the sword tattoo is a mighty emblem of valor, honor, and protection. The sword, often linked with legendary warriors and ancient sagas, does h symbolize martial prowess and the defense of one's land and sacred values. It reflects the wearer's strength, courage, and unwavering readiness to face both mortal and spiritual trials. Moreover, the sword represents the warrior spirit of their ancestors and the enduring legacy of those who fought to preserve their heritage. This mark, borne with pride, serves as a constant reminder of the wearer's solemn pledge to uphold justice and courage in all things. Via Ruskan Orthodox symbolisms, the eye tattoo is a sigil of vigilance, wisdom, and the hidden truths that govern the world. It marks the bearer as one who gazes beyond the veil of the ordinary, blessed with sight both sharp and far-reaching. Woven into its meaning is the ancient belief in the warding eye that turned aside misfortune and repels the gaze of ill intent. To some, it is the ever-watchful presence of ancestors, guiding their kin from beyond the mortal realm; to others, it serves as a reminder that clarity of mind is the greatest shield against deceit and despair. Whether seen as omen or ward, the inked eye stands as a testament to the wearer's pursuit of wisdom and the unyielding vigilance of their spirit. A bird tattoo is a sacred emblem of unfettered freedom and spiritual ascendance. Etched upon the skin, it marks the bearer as a seeker who soars above the burdens of the earth, a silent messenger of divine will. In the ancient lore of the Raev, birds such as the crow and the vulture are endowed with mystic power and prophetic sight, foretelling omens and guiding the soul on its difficult path toward enlightenment. This mark serves as a constant reminder of the ceaseless quest for balance—a vow to foster both worldly growth and the inner sanctity of the spirit. For the kin of Ruther, these ancient runes are no mere symbols; they are a living testament to the resilience, strength, and unyielding spirit of their bloodline. Each mark, whether it tells of victory or loss, is borne with pride, for both triumph and trial shape the warrior's path. As the runes embody fate, transformation, and perseverance, so too do the Ruthern's embrace each battle as part of their enduring legacy. Through ink and scar, they carve their history upon their flesh, ensuring that every conquest, sacrifice, and struggle is not merely remembered, but honored as a living proof of the house’s unbreakable will.

Issued By 13th of Joma ag Umund 577 E.S. At the heart of the noble House of Ruthern lies a tradition ancient and deeply rooted—one of strength, honor, and wisdom—virtues that have guided our forefathers through the trials of old. These rites are not mere customs, but a living reminder of the resilience and unyielding spirit that has shaped the Ruthern bloodline. It is with great pride that we proclaim the restoration of these sacred rites to our people, that the legacy of the House of Ruthern may endure, thriving in the present and in the years yet to come. All Rutherns, regardless of age or station, are encouraged to partake in these rites at any time in their lives, as a means of personal growth and to reaffirm their fealty to our noble house. Yet, it is a binding requirement that the heir to the Ducal House undergo these trials before claiming their inheritance, ensuring they are fit to lead with the strength, honor, and wisdom that our line demands. The rites shall be conducted under the watchful eyes of three esteemed members of the House—elders, who shall each bear responsibility for one of the sacred trials. Together, they shall ensure that all who partake in the rites are truly worthy of the legacy they are called to uphold. Through these trials, the House of Ruthern reaffirms its pledge to nurture strength, honor, and wisdom within our bloodline, safeguarding the legacy of our ancestors for the generations to come. In the culture of the Raevir, strength is held as a pillar of leadership, not solely in bodily might but as a symbol of unwavering resolve and endurance. Those chosen to lead must bear the fortitude to withstand both outward struggles and inner trials without faltering, standing as living embodiments of the virtues of their kin and their realm. The trials of strength are devised to test an individual's perseverance, whether through the clash of weapons or the steel of the mind. These trials are many, each testing a different facet of strength—be it the brute force required in combat, the stamina for long and grueling labours, or the cunning demanded in the hunt. Each test stretches the limits of the contender, requiring not only skill but the sheer will to endure and overcome. These trials also serve to confirm one’s place within the family and the Kingdom, for success marks not only one’s strength but their readiness to guard and govern. The duels, fierce contests of martial prowess, challenge the spirit and skill of those who would face their foes. Feats of endurance, grueling tests of both body and mind, strengthen the mettle of those who push themselves to the edge. Hunts, a test of strength and wits in equal measure, prove one’s ability to act decisively in the heat of the moment. To triumph in these trials is to make a powerful declaration—one that earns the respect of both kin and elders, marking the individual as a steadfast guardian and a worthy representative of their lineage and their Kingdom. The Rite of Honor is a sacred trial, fashioned to reveal an individual’s steadfast virtue and devotion, not only to their kin but to God Himself. It is a journey both spiritual and personal, demanding the participant to prove their integrity, selflessness, and unwavering commitment through deeds of duty and service. The one who undertakes this rite is often set upon a quest or charged with a burdensome task that serves the greater good of their family, their community, or the Kingdom. These deeds are meant to manifest the participant’s dedication to noble ideals, placing the welfare of others above their own desires. In many instances, the Rite of Honor entails long and grueling tasks that test both the heart and the flesh. The undertaking may require the participant to forsake comfort, face perilous trials, or endure great hardship—all for the sake of duty. Whether defending the Kingdom, aiding those in need, or restoring order within their house, the Rite of Honor stands as a clear testament to one's loyalty and virtue. To succeed in this sacred trial is not only a personal victory but a mark of one’s faith, honor, and unshakable commitment to their kin and the broader realm, securing their place as a respected and virtuous member of Raev society. As the years pass, the strength of the body may wane, yet the power of the mind remains ever steadfast. In the culture of the Raev, wisdom is held as a most vital virtue, one that flourishes with age and experience, granting those who possess it the ability to adapt and continue serving their kin and their Kingdom with purpose. It is through this enduring wisdom that the noble line of the Rutherns has endured, preserving their influence and stature across the ages. Though the body may grow frail, the mind sharpens, with the power to judge wisely, think critically, and impart knowledge only growing with the passage of time. Thus, wisdom is treasured not only by those who lead, but by all within the family, ensuring that the legacy of the Rutherns is passed down through the generations. The Trial of Wisdom stands as a key rite of passage in Raev society, placing value upon intellect and discernment over the mere strength of the body. Unlike the Trials of Strength, which seek to measure one’s endurance and might, this trial calls upon the participant’s ability to navigate through complex challenges with the mind. These trials often take the shape of intricate quests or riddles, tasks demanding a deep understanding of strategy, history, and the ways of man. To succeed in the Trial of Wisdom requires not only the sharpness of the intellect but the ability to solve problems with cunning, make sound judgments, and act in the best interests of family and Kingdom alike. This rite underscores the importance of mental fortitude, affirming that the wisdom of the mind is as vital to the Rutherns' legacy and leadership as the might of the body. As we restore these ancient rites to their rightful place, we honor not only the history of our House, but also the future of the House Ruthern. Each trial is a sacred rite of passage, a means to forge character and cultivate the virtues that have upheld our house through countless trials and triumphs. These rites are no mere tradition; they are a potent reminder of the strength, honor, and wisdom that flow through our blood, and the weighty responsibilities we bear as Rutherns. Let these trials stand not only as personal challenges but also as living testaments to the legacy we carry. They are a summons to those who would uphold the noble ideals that have guided us through the ages, to rise above and show their unwavering devotion to our house and its future. Each soul who undergoes these rites shall not only affirm their place within the House of Ruthern but also contribute to the continued growth and success of our lineage. The trials lie before us, and with them, the chance to prove one's worth—not merely to our forebears, but to the future generations who shall look to us for guidance. As we step into this new era, may every Ruthern rise to meet the challenge with steadfast pride, unwavering resolve, and a deep dedication to the values that define us. Together, we shall ensure that the legacy of Ruthern endures, mightier and more enduring than ever before.