Deets

Konstantin rolled about a cigar about his fingers which Marcel had gifted him some years ago upon the man's return to Reinmar. A sad smile creased the aging knight's features as he finally lit it, knowing now he would not have a chance to share such with his dearly departed friend. "I could not have asked for a better man to have been at my side throughout the Regency. May you find peace in the skies, Marcel." Once the cigar had faded, he began to scribble a letter to the man's son, Mattia.

Konstantin read through the missive, the aging knight pausing upon his good friend's first wish. "I shall make sure such does not come to pass." He said aloud with a glance towards a tome he had begun writing some months ago. The emblem of the Petrine Laurel was affixed upon its leather cover. "It has been a long journey we have shared. Your story will not be forgotten, or cast aside. Nor does it end here, my friend."

A Final Adventure He had lived many lives Karl thought to himself, many journeys which he’d been honored to partake in and obstacles to overcome. It had been a good life, and most of all it had been his. Days after his wife’s passing he clambered from bed once the sky had gone dark. As he attached his scabbard to his belt, he could not help but draw the steel it held for a final time: A blade forged by Annette. A shoddy thing, but one made with pure devotion and care. It brought him some comfort for what would come next, for he knew this night would be his last. He would be with her in this world, and in the next. His time had come, and in truth, he found some comfort that it had been Annette who passed first, for the pain it brought was not something he would have ever wished upon her. As Karl began down the steps of the Rose Tower, he found his mind wandering. He thought back on the many years of his life, and all those who’d been lost. Names of those he considered family and friends echoing throughout his mind as he did this. Gansk, Johanna, Reinhardt, Ves, Viktoriya, these names were burned into Karl’s mind. Above all, in recent days, the death of his beloved wife Annette weighed most heavily upon him. It began so long ago, and was an odyssey in of itself. Karl remembered little of where he’d been born. The keep of Hjoldenskarven had lain in ruin for decades, a reminder of a lost past and glory he would never see. His father had made sure of this with his actions. Born into the remnants of the Icathian Company, it was a childhood of tribulations, but one of great adventure. All he had learned of arms, he had learned the hard way. His body bore the burden of these scars proudly. A veteran of a dozen battles, the Waldenian could not have been prouder of this fact. He was born among fortune seekers, adventurers, and those who often found it difficult to remain in one place for a long period of time. Wandering beneath the stars afforded a life that Karl came to miss at times later in life. His life changed one uneventful morning, as the band of Icathian remnants began to pack up camp for the day’s travel through the desert of Southern Almaris. The previous day had been a difficult one, several of their number were slain in an ambush, and spirits were low. The stars had not been kind to those wandering the path below them. They rarely were. “There’s a conflict brewing to the north, lad. Whad’ya say about making some coin, eh? I’ll be heading up, and yer sword would be appreciated.” were the words Karl found himself responding to one morning, uttered by the Old Bear himself, Gansk Lamar. The aged Icathian had always been there for him, a man who by his birth had seen half a century of conflict. Impressive for a man whose profession rarely left men at the age to retire. “Aye, anything beats the scorching heat.” Karl uttered in agreement, rising to his feet then as he donned his sword belt. His tone seemed excited at the prospect. After all, anything beat another day in the deserts of the south. The latest contract of the company had seen them return to this accursed place, much to his disgust. “Where will we be going, Gansk?” He then inquired, his eyes lifting to meet the aged man’s own. “Ye still got that bar of gold yer pa left ye?” Was the reply. Karl searched his saddlebags in response, finding three bars of aurum, bearing a marking unfamiliar to him at the time, a Reinmaren eagle. “Reinmar, yer pa and uncles used to be close with them. That Friedrich Barclay fellow, a Duke I think.” Gansk would chuckle. “They’ll need fighting men, they always do.” Thus they rode for Reinmar, situated within the sprawling Kingdom of Haense. Arriving in the quaint village of Rozenfeld, the small band of a few dozen men with thick Norlandic accents equipped in mismatched and well-worn plate armor must have been a sight for the residents. The majority of the men made their way to the Drunken Landser, the tavern of the village, whilst Karl set out to parley with the Duke. When asked for the whereabouts of the Duke, a kindly, but understandably cautious fisherman at the nearby dock pointed up at a nearby hill, atop which sat a large keep. Riding towards Wilheburg, the seat itself of House Barclay, Karl encountered a man dressed in full plate. Hearing the hooves approach of Karl’s horse, the man turned to face Karl, greeting him with some suspicion. “Hello, do you need something?” The man inquired. Karl noticed the man’s eyes remained on his hands, as if waiting for any indication of threat. “Aye, looking for Friedrich Barclay.. Is he around? We’re fighting men, looking for work.” He replied, turning to reach a hand into his saddlebags. Lightly the man’s hand went for his blade as Karl did so, albeit this did not bother the young man, who turned back with a bar of gold bearing the Barclay sigil. “Icathians.” He added proudly, not knowing this meant nothing to the man. Although the name meant nothing, the sigil intrigued the man, who released his grip on his longsword, instead approaching to inspect the gold. Karl obliged, tossing the bar to the man. “How’d you come about this?” He questioned, eyes narrowing somewhat as he gazed at Karl. “My father, he and the company were friends of the Duke.” Reaching a hand out, the man introduced himself “I am Ser Conrad Barclay. Friedrich Barclay is not in charge anymore, Princess Johanna of Sutica is.” Karl nodded in response, his own hand reaching for Conrad’s, “Karl of Hjoldenskarven.” He introduced himself as, reaching back for the gold bar then. “Come with me, we’ll figure something out.” The knight said, motioning for Karl to follow. He obliged, dismounting his horse and heading into the next chapter of his life. It was there he met her. Seemingly out of an attempt to appease his friends that he’d agreed to meet Annette, having been asked by several residents whether he was married or not. This had been funny to him, at the time he never thought himself capable of doing so. After all, what did he know of this? He was raised among the remnants of mercenaries, embittered and hardened by decades of shame after their exodus. A somber solitude of penance roaming across the lands. His first meeting with Annette had not started as he had hoped. On the ride into the port village of Rozenfeld, he’d spotted a band of armored riders atop the nearby hillocks just outside the village. Their armor did not possess a design familiar to him, and this was cause for concern in the house guard. Riding into the town, he spotted the duo, Annette von Audrick and her older brother and guardian, Adrian von Audrick. He all but ignored the woman for a moment as he worriedly asked if the duo had seen any further riders. To his relief they had seen none, and that satisfied his curiosity. Dismounting from his horse, Karl first laid eyes upon Annette. She stood much shorter than he, with eyes as bright and blue as the ocean. He would soon find out she had a personality as bright to match. Karl had then felt something he was unaccustomed to, anxiety. He felt nervous as he laid eyes upon her for the first time. Surprising himself as he’d managed to keep a steady tone to introduce himself, a hand extending towards the woman’s own. “My name is Karl.” He said, his efforts expended at keeping his voice, and outstretched hand steady. Even such a simple task as an introduction felt as if it was a Herculean task to him at this moment. Worry filled him as questions of doubt ate at him. “I am Annette von Audrick.” She replied with a giggle. Her accent was one of heavy Waldenian influence, the people who inhabited the land which he for now called home. Although of Waldenian origin himself, he knew little of it at this time, though he hoped that this did not bother her, having heard stories of her family. Within moments, however, his fears were at the back of his mind. The conversation flowed easily thereafter as the two walked together. Annette seemed keen on learning more about him, his past and his family. This was not something he was fond of, though he was truthful about it. He owed her this much at least, and for her part she seemed not to judge, simply happy to listen and reply. For his part, Karl was taken almost instantly by Annette. She was kind and sweet, and each time her blue eyes met his own cognac hued eyes he felt a rush. Her every action endeared her more to him, the constant sweet giggling to his jokes, the way she rocked on her feet as they spoke, he found it all made him enamored with her. He felt in those moments as if there was so much more to his life that was missing, and that she could be that missing piece. “Where are you from?” Annette asked “I am of Hjoldenskarven, in Norland. Though my family are of Waldenian origins, originally.” He replied, his accent still thick with the influence of his homeland. “Hjold-..” She tried to repeat the name in reply, falling short of this goal with a laugh. Her face lit up with an apologetic smile as she looked to him once more. “I apologize, it sounds exotic though.” Her tone filled with interest. “Perhaps one day I can show you it, or what’s left of it. An adventure for the two of us.” He offered, his eyes moving to look in the general direction of his birthplace, however many miles away. For a brief moment, his expression dropped. A pensive sadness overtaking him before he returned his attention to her. “Perhaps, I would like to go on an adventure sometime.” Annette said in agreement. Her visage displayed excitement at the prospect of such a prospect. Cheers filled the Duchy of Reinmar one evening as drinks were passed around. What they were celebrating mattered little to Karl, in truth he’d forgotten the moment two bottles of the Duchess’ whiskey were thrust into his hands by his fellow houseguard, Ser Reinhardt Barclay. Contenting himself with taking large swigs from each bottle, Karl found himself wandering around Wilheburg. Although it was his new home, he realized to some surprise he’d never actually explored the castle’s halls. Scanning about, he found no one present beyond himself, and thus continued to wander. A moment later, shrill laughing and a loud thud echoed through the nearby halls. Finding himself drawn to such, Karl soon found Viktoriya vas Ruthern, and Annette. The latter was sprawled out upon the ground, evidently having just crashed into the wall against which she now sat. Viktoriya, with a look of concern stood above her. “Annie, are you alright?” Annette for her part refused to answer, and simply tried to run further, once more finding herself sprawled upon the ground with a few minor cuts to her legs. Soon thereafter Karl found himself carrying the woman down towards the castle’s kitchen in hopes of finding some ice for her, and bandages. Although not explicitly stated, it was clear that the two women had indulged heavily in the evening’s festivities, with alcohol and more. His own condition was poor, much too poor for the responsibility of caring for another and soon he too found himself falling towards the floor. Sparing Annette the brunt of this, he then found himself on the floor in a daze. Almost instantly, Annette had cried out. “Mein liebe, are you alright?” With clear concern in her tone. These words caused the room to go silent, the trio staring at one another. Although the two had been seeing one another, these words sparked the catalyst for the two to be married in the coming years. Karl had found a home in Rozenfeld, with Annette. And as the years went on, the two found themselves living within many different realms, and to them it mattered not where, so long as they were together. She would come to be the bedrock of his own existence, and he would find he wished it to be no other way. In the following years the two spent in Reinmar, their little corner of the world bore witness to changes of an enormous scale. It was not long after that the Kingdom of Oren devolved into civil war. Karl cared little, for his own youth had seen he and Gansk among others harrying Orenian patrols. Having befriended the Haeseni prince, Sergei, Karl found himself riding south. As the two neared the city of Vienne, it soon became evident that all was not well. The din of battle echoed throughout the region. Quickly then did Sergei motion towards a small path nearby the walls which afforded the two a view into the chaos. In later years, he did not find himself telling this story often. Though it was one which held onto fondly. For now, however, little changed. The two found many friends within Rozenfeld, and happy times were found in abundance. The friends he would make in this time came to be the ones he cared for most, and still thought of now more than half a century later. Reinhardt and his eccentricities which had come with a lifetime spent in the field, Frey of Astor and his ways, and own path which was walked in tandem with his own, Conrad and Viktoriya, Johanna, Zyn’ira, and Elias. Each one taught Karl something about himself, and of how to live a life worth the time he had been given. There was some irony too in that he often found himself giving advice, or acting as a parental figure to the numerous Barclay children who roamed about the duchy, though he never felt truly wise enough to impart wisdom. Of them, a fond smile would always spread across his face as he remembered the childhoods of Wilhelm, Wilheim, and Edith. In time, he found himself promising Johanna that he would keep an eye on the latter two, a favor for her as she found herself increasingly reclusive near the end of her reign. In the end, he did keep that promise he thought to himself. Edith became a Queen, and he followed after her some time later into Aaun. Whereas Wilheim ruled as duke, and became a man in his own right, no longer needing the watchful eye of the aging Waldenian. He knew Johanna would’ve been proud to see how they both turned out, and that he had fulfilled his promise made so long ago. As the world moved onward over the years, Karl was happy. He had Annette, and that was all he desired. Although their world might have been changing before their very eyes, they would continue to navigate this together, no matter what might come of it. Years later Karl found himself fighting for all he had built in his new home. the Carrion Prince marched on Karosgrad, and the Reinmaren Retinue was called to defend the city in tandem with the other forces of the kingdom. By this point, it had been many years since Karl had come to call Rozenfeld home. The young man had turned into a seasoned man-at-arms and had come to consider its denizens his family. He stood proudly shoulder to shoulder with the elderly Sir Reinhardt Barclay upon the battlements of Karosgrad as the two operated a cannon with another soldier of the retinue. As the battle reached its climax, Karl joined in the chorus of cheers as the largest foe seeking to clamber over the walls into the city was felled, landing with a thud within the Karosgrad Arena. It was then that the brunt of the Haeseni forces engaged with the Carrion Prince’s own, and the cry of “To the King!” echoed out across the walls. The Brotherhood soldiers along its length promptly rallied, as did the men of the Reinmaren Retinue. The ground, however, was another story. Even to his final days, Karl did not forget the chaos that greeted her and Sir Reinhardt. The King was surrounded, a handful of his Marian Knights acting as the final bulwark between him and the horde that the Carrion Prince commanded. Ser Conrad Barclay, the Knight Paramount, was slowly giving ground on the right, undertaking a fighting retreat as scattered forces began to converge on the gate, regrouping for a final stand. Seeing his friend Conrad in grave danger, Karl did not hesitate as he and Reinhardt surged right to join him as the lines drew nearer to the gate. It was a hard-fought day, and in the end, the battle was won, at a cost. In the aftermath, he had learned that his Duchess, and most of all, his friend, had fallen in the battle. Although having abdicated her titles, Karl remained a close friend and confidant of the Maus as he called her. Although eccentric, he could not have asked for a better friend. She too shared in her plight regarding her role and identity, and he found a kindred spirit in that regard. Their conversations shared in Starpool would remain with him for the rest of his life. Perhaps he would be the first man of his line to make something, something truly lasting. Not just for himself, but for those whom he cared for dearly. He would not be an ember snuffed out before becoming a flame. On that day too there was cause for celebration. For their devoted and unwavering service to the Barclays of Reinmar, Sir Reinhardt saw fit to make him and his friend, and fellow man-at-arms, Frey, hedge knights of Reinmar. Although not officially recognized, this was always the honor he would carry with him most proudly. Of the many titles and positions he would come to hold throughout the second half of his life, he still carried the title of the Knight of the Rosefields most dearly. It was an honor he would seek to live up to for his dear friend Reinhardt. As life went on, and his and Annette’s family grew, it came time to make their lives anew. Seeking out the kin of the Barclay of Reinmar, for a time Karl and his house came to live within the then Duchy of Minitz. For the next two decades, he would work diligently as its Chancellor, and at times Lord Regent. Through the worst of it, and the best, Karl could safely say that even years later he still remembered many of its denizens fondly. It was within the lands of the Reinmaren that his own family truly came into its own, into something that would last beyond him. Many of its wayward sons became men in their own right in this time. Karl could never truly put to words the appreciation and pride he felt at this. He remembered fondly of Theoderic meeting Calla, and Artel meeting Eloise. Of the two making families of their own, and of him acting as a father to the two. He came to see the two as sons, as much as his own son, Godric. His own children became men and women during this time too, his daughter Isavella marrying the Count of Warsovia. Karl often thought of Waclaw, especially after Isavella’s death during the Battle of Whitespire. The little Lechian boy who had fought shoulder to shoulder with him at Rolly’s Hill, and against the Mori in Neu Brandthof could not have been a better man to call his son-in-law. Godric married a Barclay of Reinmar, and had children of his own. Although he would vehemently deny it, Thérèse became his favorite grandchild as the years wore on. She reminded him of himself in many ways. She was uncompromising, devoted, and intelligent. He knew that she would make him proud, and that she possessed the qualities necessary for the future of their house once his time came to go to the skies. Some of his favorite memories he thought of often were the conversations they shared and the lessons he attempted to impart upon her. As he grew old, he found himself swelling with pride as news of her own life reached his ears every so often. Of her taking up the mantle of Chancellor of the Petran Commonwealth, as if repeating the steps of his own life. The only thing he could begrudge her for was in part her choice of husband, though at heart he knew that she simply pursued the one she loved, for one’s heart wants what it wants. He understood, for her own story bore many similarities to his own. Although as she grew older and did not visit as often as she once did, he knew that in her heart she knew he would always be there for her, with whatever it was she might need. Be it advice, or a story of his life. The stress of the years weighed heavily upon him too. He regretted many of the fights, and the tears which he caused his wife during this time. His own ambition had seen them move southwards, where bitter memories lay for Annette. In time, they became lords and ladies, and found their lives much different than they would have ever expected it to have been in Rozenfeld. Always one who would not send others to do what he would not, Karl found himself dancing with death time and time again, much as he had before he had met Annette. Arrows, blades, claws, all these and more came to mark his body, a painful reminder to his wife of the line of work he found himself drawn to time and time again. Beyond this, they argued on many occasions, and how he wished that he could take back all that was done and said. Even though the words said by either one of them had never shaken their devotion to one another, they were regrets he held with him now still as he exited the confines of Vissingren for a final time. As Karl slipped through the gates with the aid of a few sympathetic Astoran Partisans from his time as Viscount of Marignan, he could not help but be reminded of Rolly’s Hill as he entered the countryside. The border straddling the former holdings of the Stassionites layed in ruin, a byproduct of the recently concluded War of the Covenant. He began riding eastwards, the thud of his steed’s hooves upon the cobbled road was slowly drowned out by his wandering mind once more. Although decades had passed, Rolly’s Hill always remained the most harrowing experience of his life. That day had been the worst of his life, the faces of many a fallen friend still remained etched within his mind. He still remembered the army in its splendor in the hours before the disastrous clash. From his own holdings he had brought four hundred men to bear alongside the host, primarily composed of Reinmaren from Minitz. Although they had expected over ten thousand men to take the field, they were met with barely half this when the great captains and lordlings of Aaun took count of their assembled strength. The fighting was fierce, and as always he found himself in the thick of it. At his side was his ever-faithful nephew, Alphonse. Karl had always admired Alphonse, for he never faltered in the face of adversity, having overcome sickness and disability in the form of his legs. Mounted atop steeds from Einmont, the two desperately shouted orders as the battlelines broke amidst the masterfully executed Adrian counterattack. In an instant, Karl found himself upon the ground, gasping for breath after having slammed into it from his horse. The line had broken, and an Adrian spear found itself lodged in his side. The following moments remained a blur, though he was later told that Alphonse had near dragged him from the field, while most of the others he’d brought were not so lucky. That day loomed large, and it always served as a reminder for Karl that even years later, he was not free of the mistakes of his youth. That still, he might lose all which he had fought so hard to build in an instant. This lesson would remain ever-present within his mind as he entered the next chapter of his life. As he, and his family grew older, they found themselves increasingly unhappy with the land they called home. Of Waldenian origin, they often found their own values and beliefs at odds with the more traditional elements of the Reinmaren culture among other issues that arose over time. In time, a decision was made amongst the entire family to depart elsewhere. A year later, the now elderly patriarch found himself in Vallagne, the heart of the Petran Commonwealth. In stark contrast to the primarily Reinmaren holding of Reinmar, he found the Commonwealth to be a vibrant realm of many peoples from across Aevos. It felt as though a small slice of every corner of the world could be found, should one look closely enough. His family too seemed to thrive in this new home, offering their services to many of the Commonwealth’s offices, from the Chancellery, the Office of the Commissaire, and his son Godric in time leading the Commonwealth’s army. He knew that this would be his final home, and he was happy it would be so. His age began to show, and time began to catch up with the once energetic adventure. Soon he found himself more and more relegated to the keep he built, the energy to make the journey between it and Vallagne becoming ever more difficult as he aged. It frightened him, as he often confided in Annette. He had never believed that he would grow old, yet alone live out his golden years. In time, the trips grew less frequent, and his tower became home. Many nights were spent sharing a dinner with Annette as the two reflected upon their long life together. Although at times it went unspoken, Karl was proud of all of them. Great efforts were made on his part to pester the partisans and servants who roamed the halls for the smallest shreds of news of his family. Among these events included the birth of Sabine, and the drama surrounding Theoderic and Calla’s daughter. As well as of his great grandson questioning if any lived within his tower in the keep. The latter being a point of great contention, which saw a rare departure from his tower to chastise the poor boy. A weird sense of contradicting feelings always filled him whenever he heard of new news, on one hand he was proud they lived their own lives, and were prospering on their own. Yet still, a small trace of sadness always loomed large, that he was unneeded any longer to guide them. His time had come, and had passed. Though so long as he had Annette, it was a trivial matter. The two spent their twilight years tending their garden, or picking the grapes which would be used to brew the Zweigelt of which Annette’s portrait remained on each label, for she had been the inspiration to make a wine so sweet. A fate so quiet, for a man who had often found himself at the center of unfolding events in the world. One well-earned, many would say. The cool breeze of the Mardonlands drew Karl from his thoughts as he began down the road towards Renilcia. His mind focused on the journey ahead as he retraced the steps towards the rose fields which the region held. The two had taken several trips there before their period of reclusivity in the Commonwealth, and those fields reminded him of their first home together, all those years ago. It had been in the rose fields of Reinmar which he had first courted Annette, and asked her to marry him. To him, he could think of no better place to see the sunrise one final time. As he drew near, Karl sent away his steed in the direction of Vissingren, its saddlebags filled with letters to be distributed once it arrived. Whilst he slowly approached a nearby oak resting atop a hillock, pressing his weight against it as he took a seat to gaze upon the fields below. By now, the ride had taken several hours, and the early light of the dawn slowly came to illuminate the untouched fields which surrounded the ancient Waldenian. Karl held his gaze upon it for a few moments, taking in the scenery for a final time. He felt that in his heart, Annette was watching, and awaiting his arrival. With that, Karl closed his eyes, a smile resting on his face as he drifted off to sleep for a final time. His promise to Annette was fulfilled as he joined her in the Skies. Despite all that had changed in his life, at heart, no matter what face he wore, Karl had always been the same young man all those years ago in that desert, wandering beneath the stars. Some things cannot be escaped, but they do not define a man. In the end, it is what one leaves behind that defines them. And he had left so much behind. In the end, perhaps he was a good man. Ser Karl von Theonus, Viscount of Marignan (1857-1961) [!] Letters would be found addressed to the following, their contents known only to the recipients. To Frey, To Godric, To Thérèse, To Artel, To Theoderic, To Waclaw, To Aurel, To Alexandra, To Alphonse, To Alfred, OOC Note:

"No half measures." Repeated Konstantin to Aimo @ColdestPepsi as the news of peace reached the streets of Vallagne. The now aging Petran knight felt great relief that the conflict had come to a close finally, and that he might now return to his family. With this in mind, he did not linger long within the exuberant crowd which soon began to fill the streets as more heard of the Adrian surrender. Instead, he rode home, finally able to call it such once more.

A SURVEY AND DESCRIPTION OF THE REGIONS OF THE PETRAN COMMONWEALTH Issued and averred by Her Majesty In the year of our Lord 1961 The Commonwealth of the Petra is as vast as it is varied. It is a land called home by many diverse and unique peoples, from Heartlanders, to Waldenians, Farfolk, and even a sizable population of Elves and Mages. Each man & woman of the Commonwealth is afforded a freedom to make of it what they have it within themselves to be. Since the settling of Aevos in decades past, the Commonwealth has expanded beyond the confines of the southern shore of the River Petra, settling further inland as brave Petran explorers and citizens alike make this new land their own. As a result, it has become necessary to create a detailed accounting of the Commonwealth’s many regions, and the peoples who call it home, so that we may reflect upon all that has been achieved thus far. This survey is by no means a complete picture of the realm, and those who call it home. Rather, it is intended to depict some facets of everyday life within the Commonwealth, for both those within, and outside of its borders. In time, hopefully, a new survey of a similar nature shall be written in the years to come by either myself or any who take a keen interest in recording the development of the Commonwealth of the Petra. Foreword of the author, Sir Konstantin von Theonus. [!] A map of the Commonwealth of the Petra, drawn by Queen Catherine I in her youth with the regions that encompass the Commonwealth. Val de Lagne: [!] An artist’s rendition of the capital, Vallagne. The region of Val de Lagne is the oldest of the Commonwealth’s territories, being the site of the current royal capital, Vallagne. It is from here the Petrine people have set forth deeper into the Heartlands to establish their homes. Being the region in which Vallagne rests, and the oldest territory, Val de Lagne is where a majority of the Commonwealth’s population lives. The capital of Vallagne is a vibrant and bustling city. Vallagne is home to the House of Petra, the ruling house of the Commonwealth of the Petra. It is from here royal authority extends out into the Commonwealth. By consequence, the city is well fortified, being the barracks of the City Watch of Vallagne, who maintain order within the region from the Red Bastion. The Red Bastion is the site of the former River Guard, reformed into a city watch early in the reign of Queen Catherine I. Beyond this, the Vallagne Medical Society is responsible for the medical affairs of the Commonwealth, and maintains a strong presence within the city given the ever-present need for medical professionals. The city is not without less official landmarks, however. Equally present in the lives of the citizens of Vallagne is the Fairweather Pub, serving as the unofficial meeting spot of the residents in the evenings. From there, fine Petran wine flows as freely as the waters of the River Petra below. Another noteworthy location within Vallagne is the Raonòir Manor of House Reinhold, owned by the Co-Viscounts Sir Wilford & Sir Atticus Reinhold. This family is at the time of writing,a recently ennobled family within the Commonwealth. The manor is a recent addition to the city, serving as their seat of sorts. It is a fine building, resting near the Abbey of St. Edmund and the headquarters of the Vallagne Medical Society. A home where all are welcome, it is rare to see the manor not bustling with visitors and members of House Reinhold at any given hour of the day. At times, the manor surpasses even the Fairweather in attendance, and therefore is worthy of mention as a social hub within Vallagne. The market is another especially lively space within the city, being the end point where goods produced in regions such as Renilca, Solland, and the Mardonlands are brought for sale. One would be hard pressed to find the market empty, as numerous merchant companies vye for the hard earned coin of the residents of Vallagne, and the many visitors to the city each year. Apart from the market, several artisans have opened shops in recent years, plying trades such as jewelry from the Rosa Dorada, blacksmithing, and the selling of items of the arcane arts by Hokhmati mages. Vallagne’s market, although smaller, has many of the same amenities, goods, and services on offer by its dedicated mercantile base as larger counterparts upon the continent of Aevos. The region of Val de Lagne is also home to the Abbey of St. Edmund, which serves as the primary avenue of spiritual needs in the region. However, the church has in recent years been the target of many a heretic, heathen, and anathema. During the recent war with the League of Veletz and her allies, the church was unfortunately burnt to the ground in the aftermath of an attack upon the city. Despite this, on the orders of Queen Catherine I, the abbey has since been refurbished and is currently in use once more. Albeit it retains its new ashen color, serving as a symbol of the resilience of the Commonwealth, and of her strength not to waver in the face of adversity. In addition to this, above the village of Faubourg, just beyond the city of Vallagne is the Monastery of St. Juli’el. At current, this humble monastery is under the tutelage of Mother Rhosyn, an Owynist priestess of the Church of the Canon who has been a boon to the Commonwealth as a whole, being a provider of sermons and spiritual support to its people. It serves as the main avenue by which those who seek to pursue a clerical life and take up the cloth may do so, its doors open to all faithful of the Commonwealth. Young men and women adorned in the garb of the monastery have become a common sight within Vallagne in recent years. They have often been seen offering food to those in need, as well as zealously handing out fliers encouraging those souls who may desire it to take up a life dedicated to the Church. Within the hills north of the Monastery of St. Juli’el rest large deposits of coal. Upon the paths leading towards the Nortrebanc, Mount Catrinne, and the Free City of Chambery, are a number of mines dug into the sides of Mount Catrinne. It is from there that intrepid miners gather the coal needed in everyday life by denizens of the Commonwealth. A common sight beyond the city are the coal dust-covered faces of those hardy men and women, transporting wagons of the rock to market, and the royal storehouses. Another noteworthy product of the region comes from the numerous vineyards dotting the hills around Vallagne. Numerous breweries produce Petran Red throughout the year. Most commonly drunk within the tavern by the denizens of Vallagne, the excess of this product is sent through ships on the River Petra to be sold abroad at the end of the harvesting season. Several companies and breweries have become noteworthy for their endeavors in such, including the Wittenbach Company, and a number of individual vintners who sell their wine within the market of Vallagne. When one speaks of Val de Lagne, it is impossible to do so without making mention of the Free City of Chambery. Home to many merchants, sailors, and the Northern Geographic Society, the city is a bustling port resting on the southern bank of the River Petra. The city is a center of culture and art within the Commonwealth, possessing the extensive Chambery Library and the headquarters of the Northern Geographic Society. From these two avenues culture and arts are spread throughout the region, with the city on occasion hosting citizens from across the Commonwealth. Additionally, sitting upon the River Petra, the city is also the primary port of the Commonwealth. It is here that traders from Aaun, Norland, and Dúnfarthing unload their goods for transport into Vallagne. Along the riverbanks, another trade thrives. In tandem with the common sight of fisherman on the shore, and on boats in the river, those who dedicate themselves to the collection of freshwater mussels ply their trade. Although rare, these skilled workers on occasion find pearls produced by these mussels. These have come to be called Paulen Pearls by the jewelers who create works using said material. Arguably the most famous of these pieces is the Life of Petra, a crown created by the Rosa Dorada’s founder, Marisol Sólis. Ten of these pearls were included in the crown, in part symbolizing the contributions made by the everyday Petran, from humble shucker, to the highest lord. Other landmarks of the region include the former seat of House Halcourt, Clermont. The keep rests atop a plateau roughly midway up Mount Catrinne, connected by a small path from one of these aforementioned mines, and Vallagne. Briefly utilized as a garrison post by the Order of the Petrine Laurel in the years after the departure of the Halcourts from the Commonwealth, the keep now maintains its solitary vigil of the lands below. Most commonly today, it is used by travelers and merchants headed from Vallagne to the Free City of Hokhmat to demarcate a rough halfway point in their travels. Another landmark is the keep of Witten’s End, formerly the seat of the Barons of Wittenbach. Although still present within the Commonwealth, the keep was gifted to the House of the Petra by Baron Nicholas von Wittenbach. In recent years, the Viscounts of Temesch have rented the keep as their own seat has been constructed. Although, with the destruction of the bridge between Witten’s End and the city of Vallagne during the war by Hokhmati Magi on the order of the Queen, it too now sits as a solitary bastion upon the other bank of the River Petra. Nortrebanc: [!] The Free City of Hokhmat, the primary population center within the Nortrebanc. Nortrebanc is a relatively newly populated region of the Commonwealth. Centered around the Free City of Hokhmat, it is home to a collective of Magi who have made the rugged hills into a city of wonders and the arcane arts. Anyone who seeks to learn the arcane will likely find success within the city. What is considered wondrous to some is the norm within Hokhmat, as powerful Magi atop their Yisars perform stunning magical feats daily. The city as well is the site of occasional power struggles between Magi. As one rises, it may be at the expense of another. As one’s retinue grows, so does their power. It is easy enough at times to distinguish a Hokhmati Magister of the Chambers from their lessers, given this propensity of possessing large retinues as a show of status. Beyond this, golems, constructs, and many a magical weapon, item, or trinket may be found within the city. The land itself has also been affected by the increased presence of Hokhmati Magi. Much of the land within, and around the Free City has been warped, with the fauna and geological features being the most notable. These have been altered in part due to the void, and sights such as strange grass and features unnatural to the lands of Aevos. Among the more unique and strange sights are levitating geodes. Most striking are the trees, some of which, due to their alteration, have been made to appear crystalline. Thus, the land of the magi has been fundamentally altered, reflecting the extent to which magic runs deep within the lands of the Hokhmati. It is a way of life, one which has shaped every facet of the Nortrebanc. Resting on the border, Nortrebanc is a region filled with those who are no stranger to the accompanying troubles. Of these aforementioned retinues, many a mercenary finds employment under the eye of one of Hokhmat’s many Magi. That is not to say, however, that the Hokhmati themselves do not do the fighting. In fact, the opposite is true. Hokhmati Battlemages have been present when the Commonwealth has marched to war in recent years, earning much praise through their aid in felling the walls during the Sieges of Breakwater and Marcevna. The magical talents of the Magi has proven a most beneficial thing within the Commonwealth, as the Hokhmati have proven themselves an efficient, and loyal Free City. Similarly to Val de Lagne, the equally mountainous Nortrebanc holds large coal deposits hidden throughout itself. Mines, and their accompanying quarters have been created in recent years to better facilitate the harvesting of this resource. Equally as common as these Magi atop Yisars are the frequent coal caravans towards Vallagne. This road is the lifeblood of trade between Hokhmat and the Commonwealth, and sees its fair share of trouble. Masked men, bodies, and small areas wrought with destruction are not an uncommon sight on the road that straddles Mount Catrinne. Though such is the state of many border regions, beyond the Commonwealth too. With recent reforms to the Order of the Petrine Laurel, the Nortrebanc possesses a seated knight of the order. Given the unique nature of the relationship between Hokhmati, it is something of great interest to this author as to how the two shall work together in the coming years. The prospects are numerous, and only time will tell of the benefits that will come from increased cooperation. Solland: [!] A hamlet located within Solland. The lands to the south of Val de Lagne are a mix of fertile plains, hillocks, and birch forest. It is within these lands that in recent years many intrepid Petrans have sought to establish homesteads, and tame the untouched Heartlands. The region is dotted with small farmsteads, and communities of farmsteads which form small hamlets. These burgeoning centers of settlement are a testament to the spirit of the Commonwealth, of those who have sought to make the best of these new lands which we have but a generation ago built our homes upon. Sollanders as they have come to be called a hearty and industrious folk, fiercely independent and skilled in bushcraft. These skills have been crucial to the success of these families, and small communities of families in eking out an existence in the largely untouched region. A small class of merchants have emerged in recent years, selling a number of goods from Solland within the market of Vallagne. Exports from these hamlets include fine steeds, leather pelts from the burgeoning cattle industry, crop staples such as wheat and barley, and a small amount of blacksmithing surplus such as ferrum blades. Farmsteads of the Solland region often serve as the nucleus of the family which resides upon it. Given the lessened presence of Garmont Throne in the everyday life of many Sollanders, farmsteads are most often built to be self-sufficient in many regards. The crops and cattle raised by many Sollander families feed them throughout the seasons, while the excess is sold within Vallagne. Beyond this commercial relationship, many families remain amongst themselves for the most part given the arduous conditions faced in the countryside. Although lessened in recent years, the Dead Men at one time were a common sight in the countryside of the Commonwealth. In Solland, this was no different as many early residents often fended off small raiding parties eager to burn and sow chaos in the name of their lord. The latent danger of the region has contributed to this emphasis on the family unit, as it is only together that this idyllic frontier may be made into a home, safe from the weather, seasons, and those who would seek to do harm. Beyond the goods sent to market by farmers, the region is abundant in a number of minerals. Red and blue stones are mined near the outskirts of Vallagne, often used in siegeworks such as trebuchets and ballista, alongside the more common cannons which dot the walls of the keeps of the Commonwealth. From the base of the nearby Mount Catrinne, carts of goods are sent each month from Solland to Vallagne with the spoils of these mines. Beyond the fertile plains and birch forest, the rocky cliffside facing across from the White City possesses an abundance of veins of copper. In the aftermath of such a discovery, efforts have been made to begin harvesting this vital resource. Shipments of Solland copper are now an increasingly common sight within Val de Lagne, as many enterprising merchants and miners come to sell their goods in the city, or transport it abroad from the port of Chambery. Solland is also home to one of the seats of the Order of the Petrine Laurel. With recent reforms, each region of the Commonwealth has been afforded a seated knight whose duty it is to oversee the region. Given the agrarian nature of Solland, and the self-sufficient tendencies of those within the lands, how such a development will impact Solland remains to be seen. Mount Catrinne: [!] The Aldtree, central to Dame Catherine of Furnestock’s prophecy. Mount Catrinne is arguably the most unique feature of the Commonwealth. For it, it is where the enormous Aldtree is located. The Aldtree possess some significance to the Commonwealth’s current identity. It is said within popular folktales that Dame Catherine of Furnestock foretold prosperity for the Petran people should they come to live nearby the Aldtree many years ago, having been granted a vision by Saint Juli’el. Thus far, this tale has rang true, as the Commonwealth has continued to expand and tame the lands inland from the River Petra. Geographically, the region consists of a small mountain surrounding a valley in which the Aldtree sits. The peak of Mount Catrinne rests above the nearby village of Faubourg, and overlooks the region of Val de Lagne, and parts of the Nortrebanc. Plans have been spoken of as to expand the presence of the Monastery of St. Juli’el, and the newly created Bishopric of Casica, given the burgeoning tradition of making one’s vows beneath the Aldtree. Beyond the immediate vicinity of the tree, Mount Catrinne is home to mines which produce both ferrum, and on occasion gemstones. Ferrum from Mount Catrinne has proven to be the primary source of the material within the Commonwealth, with most refined ferrum products, from arms to cutlery, originating from the mountain. Gemstones including rubies named after the former Queen Renilde I have also been found within the mountain. Although not found in great abundance, these gems have been known to make their way into the market of Vallagne, fueling a thriving trade in fine jewelry among the wealthier residents. The Mardonlands: [!] Vissingren Castle, located within the Mardonlands. Encompassing the eastern border of the Commonwealth, the Mardonlands are a region of great importance to the realm. It is here where the border begins with the Halflings of Dúnfarthing and the United Kingdom of Aaun. The central feature of the Mardonlands are the Black Hills, upon which the castle of Vissingren sits. These steep hills define the geography of the region for the most part, with the crests of these overlooking the River Constance. Across these shores lies the United Kingdom of Aaun, primarily the lands of the Grand Principality of Minitz, and the lands of the Duchy of Styria. Further south in the Mardonlands lays territory sharing a border with the Haflings of Dúnfarthing. It is this region which produces the majority of the Commonwealth’s industry. The Mardonlands are a major population center within the realm, comprising the third largest population within the Commonwealth. Although smaller than the royal city of Vallagne, and the Free City of Hokhmat, the Mardonlands are home to the majority of Waldenians located within the Commonwealth. A large grouping of elves concentrated around the County of Maehr’nor which will be explored in greater detail in the following sections also make their home here. Overlooking the road north into the former rogue Principality of Stassion lies Vissingren Castle, from which House Theonus rules over the March of Marignan. Located within the Black Hills, it is from here that Daemite Crystals are found in abundance and harvested under the purview of the Garmont Throne and the Margrave. Within the walls of the castle, the Vissingren Foundry and other smaller forges illuminate the nearby countryside as smiths and miners work tirelessly to infuse these crystals into the ferrum procured from Mount Catrinne. A frequent sight on the roads into the heartlands of the Commonwealth are carts filled with this refined Daemonsteel, accompanied by armed men donning blue cloaks adorned with a sun and eagle. Just beyond the walls of Vissingren is where the Marignan Zweigelt of the House Theonus is harvested each year. Awaiting the time of year when the grapes freeze over, it is only then that the concentrated flavor of the harvested grapes may be squeezed, producing a sweet dessert wine which is then exported through the Icathian Company into Vallagne. Beyond these two primary exports, the March of Marignan is known within the Commonwealth for producing swift, yet hardy steeds. Marignan Chargers are the steed of choice for the Partisans, commonly called Blue Cloaks, employed by House Theonus, as well as a number of Knights of the Petrine Laurel, and general subjects of the realm. Being a realm of chivalry, such mounts are often the backbone of the mounted forces of the Commonwealth. Beneath the castle of Vissingren is the small dock of Port Artelis, named for its builder Sir Artel ‘the Flamebringer’. Small vessels fish and travel the River Constance from here, and the port is home of the “Cat Catcher”, an upgraded fishing vessel utilized in the rescue of Queen Catherine I from the infamous Deadmund and his Order of Dead Men, a tale of great import in the Commonwealth’s history. Now a gunboat, it patrols the waters of the Constance, the Cat Catcher is a common sight to those traveling through the Mardonlands. To the south east of the March of Marignan are the lands of House Adiler, who rule the County of Maehr’nor. A refuge for elves, and other peoples fleeing persecution, the lands of Maehr’nor represent a place of rebirth, and solace for many entering the Commonwealth. Notably, the county’s ruling family are elves, and are the sole elven family to have attained the status of nobility within the Commonwealth. Centered around a small valley beneath the Black Hills and the nearby Mont St. Godwin, these lands are home to many who have begun to forge a new life under the protection of this benevolent family. A center of culture, the keep which the Adilers reside within is often host to events that bring together the population of the Commonwealth. The lands of Maehr’nor are one of new beginnings, and provide an exemplar showcase of the spirit noted by this author within the brief foreword of the survey. It is a land where virtue, acceptance, and understanding is a constant, and a smiling face is always present to greet you. Renilcia: [!] Rikardsburg, the seat of House von Augusten. Comprising the most southwest lands of the Commonwealth, Renilcia is one of the newest territories which Petra lays claim upon. Primarily consisting of a large birch forest, Renilcia is a largely unexplored, and unsettled region. The secondary feature of the region, the large formation of rocks interspersed within the forest and nearby cliffside has served as the nucleus of activity within the region. It is here that veins of copper have been found, a good sought after by many realms in the production of siege weapons, and thieves who ply dishonest trades. Mining operations have since been established since this discovery, with this serving as Renilcia’s primary export, and focus. Its second is the birch wood felled by woodsmen who operate from camps established, and dismantled each season. The wood is cut, and prepared for transport within these camps before being floated northwards upon the River Petra before being collected along the riverbank, be it below Vallagne, or nearby the port city of Chambery. These logs are then refined, or chopped and sent to market, serving as a fuel for many fireplaces and stoves. Renilcia is also host to a number of flowers which grow in abundance. These flowers have begun to be harvested by enterprising entrepreneurs to be turned into dye within larger centers such as Vallagne. This burgeoning trade has become noteworthy, with stalls located within Vallagne becoming dedicated to selling the dyes produced within workshops. Renilcian Dyes as they have come to be called are prominent in the work of institutions such as the River Court, who often organize colorful festivals and events in the name of the Queen. The primary center of settlement within Renilcia are the lands of the Viscounty of Azor. Held by House Augusten, another noble family of Waldenians, from the castle of Rikardsburg. It is from this shining white tower that the fertile farmlands of the viscounty are overseen. Originally hailing from the United Kingdom of Aaun, House Augusten has since become one of the newer houses of the Commonwealth. Similarly to many within the Commonwealth, wine is one of the primary commodities produced within Azor. Azor Wine is renowned within the realm, often competing as a favorite of the palette of many subjects of the realm. In addition to this, akin to the farmers of Solland, the lands surrounding Rikardsburg are fertile fields, which are cultivated to great effect each year. Similarly to Solland, these fields provide ample food stores for both House Augusten, as well as the realm as a whole, as the surplus each year is sent to markets in Vallagne. Beyond the burgeoning lands of the Viscounty of Azor, there exists a presence of the Order of the Petrine Laurel with Renilcia. Given the region’s importance as the furthest extend of the Petran realm, a knightly tower of the Petrine Laurel stands large above the cliffs overlooking the River Petra. It is from here a knightly governor and small garrison of men patrol the forest, ensuring that none with ill-intent are able to establish a lasting foothold within the land. Further examination of the region will be required in subsequent surveys to note how the region continues to develop under the reign of Queen Catherine I. Seviel: Seviel encompasses the south easternmost lands claimed by the Commonwealth of the Petra. Comprising a series of birch forests and rocky hills, the region shares a number of geographic similarities with its western neighbor, Renilcia. Although claimed by the Commonwealth, little beyond exploration into the region has occurred thus far. Explorers hired by Queen Catherine I have been prominent in charting maps and exploring the forests of Seviel in recent years. A number of resources of importance have been found by these adventurers who have ventured into Seviel. Bordered by a large mountain range to the south, Seviel represents a likely natural barrier to the expansion of the Commonwealth given this geographic feature. With the mountain having been scaled by this author, further south is composed of dense jungles filled with ruins of an unknown civilization. Therefore, it is likely that given this terrain’s unfamiliar nature, further exploration south will be at a snail’s pace, at best. Of key interest within Seviel is a small peninsula within its easternmost extremity. Such a location is ideal upon which to establish a fortified hold in order to maintain control of the region. Beyond its strategic value, this peninsula is quite scenic, as is the rest of the area surrounding it. So far away from civilization at present, Seviel is an idyllic retreat from the world for any weary traveler. Like its sister region, Seviel also contains rocky hills, ample birch forest, and abundant wildflowers from which dyes may be created. Although, given the relatively low effort invested into the region at current, none have begun to be harvested. Authored by, Her Majesty, CATHERINE I, Queen of the Commonwealth of the Petra, Marquise de Val d’Estenou, Countess of Temesch and Moere, Baroness of Garmont, Valfleur, Vallagne-en-Petra, Brasca and of the Phoenixspire, Protector of the Meadows, Protector of Dogs, Maker of Two Maps His Lordship, Sir Konstantin von Theonus, Knight of the Petrine Laurel, Lord of Bingleburg, Seated Knight of Solland, Hero of Faubourg

"Sir Aimo the Bold.." Konstantin repeated quietly as he read over a copy of the missive. This phrase was becoming an increasingly common part of his vocabulary these days. August of Abrana scanned the Knight Commander's challenge to the Orateur with a wide grin, pleasantly surprised at Sir Aimo's boldness. "I can't help but agree in spirit. I can understand why the Field Trip was redacted. As for my request for men, it is a plain truth." The Prince-Consort commented to an Ausecan officer within the Red Bastion before continuing on with his day.

That night within the walls of Vissingren, not a sound escaped the Rose Tower. The usual murmurs shared between the two that escaped its confines had ceased, and its candlelight had been snuffed out. The tower sat eerily silent for the first time in many years, as if devoid of all life. Within it sat Annette's husband, Karl. For the first time in three-quarters of a century, he felt nothing but despair and doom, as if the world held nothing worth smiling for within it anymore. A man of little emotion in recent years, this stoicism was cast aside as the hours went by and the weight of the loss grew with each passing moment. The once proud man was reduced to a tearful mess, as each sob wracked his frail body. Within Karl's hand was held a small necklace bearing a portrait of Annette. He had drawn such for her decades ago, and it brought him a small modicum of comfort to hold such close after her passing, though he knew it would not be enough. "I am glad it was you first, for I would never wish this pain upon you." Finally, only after several days locked away did Karl move himself from despair. A resolve filled him as the ancient Waldenian donned his sword belt for a final time. A flurry of letters were written, sealed, and placed upon a desk within his room. For that night, he made ready for a final journey. With the aid of a handful of sympathetic Astorans within the garrison, a horse and saddle were quietly retrieved, and the gates lifted for a brief moment. Casting his gaze upwards, he uttered only a few hushed words before riding South, in the direction of the rose fields outside of Dúnfarthing. "I will see you soon, Annie."

In the aftermath of the battle, Konstantin pinned a rabbit’s foot to a charred post which marked the entryway into the burnt remnants of what was once Fredericksburg. “The Rabbits have come. And now look what remains of your wretched realm. “ Konstantin said quietly as he looked upon what remained of Stassion. His voice held a great deal of both anger and sadness as he spoke. With a glance cast upwards to the sky, he spoke once more. “A debt has been repaid tenfold, dear cousin. Those who murdered you in cold blood now lay within the ground, their home turned to ash and timber.” With that said, the name Ghorm was then carved into the post, just below where the rabbit’s foot now hung before the knight departed in the direction of Vissingren.

August read over the missive with a wide smile as he saw what it contained. He had needed no gift from his wife, Queen Catherine, though her actions resonated deeply with the Adunian. Quickly then did he surround himself with work within the palace, preparing to aid her in the governance of the Commonwealth. He would live up to this honor, to this kindness shown by Catherine he told himself. "We shall leave this Commonwealth better than we found it, for all who dwell within it." August said to the poor attendant tasked with organizing the flurry of paper that flew from his desk as he worked. "Not that it was bad before, though." He quickly clarified.

"Justice for Ghorm and Isavella. This is long overdue, they've caused ample harm throughout the Heartlands with their treachery." Konstantin said as the first of the Covenant's forces began to amass within the hinterlands of the Commonwealth. With that, a blue banner adorned with a rabbit's head was raised atop the battlements of Castle Vissingren and flown toward the principality.

Konstantin gripped the reins of a horse that stood at the wayside of the road following the conclusion of the battle. Several lances, and two fine Mardonlander Chargers had been slain under him in the course of the fearsome melee. Leading this newfound steed onwards, he rejoined his good friend, Aimo @ColdestPepsi as they returned towards the main Covenant force as it regrouped, a wide smile held under his helm for the victory in Balian. "I think a Haeseni knight owes a drink after this one, my friend." He said with a laugh before continuing onwards.

MC Name: Aubade Discord: _deets Image: Description of Image: A portrait of my and another player's character that we would like to be able to place somewhere to display it. Dimensions: 2x2 (2 high, 2 wide)

Reading over a copy of the new Margrave's missive, the ancient Ser Karl, now almost a centenarian, fumed as he spotted the comment about himself and his wife, Annette. Still very much living, he grumbled and griped to her regarding this line. "Wh-.. He, he... Nein nein nein nein nein! Ich am still very much alive, it is nicht our fault the little goblin does nicht visit us. The nerve, das is not like they are unable come check on us." After a moment of heated talk, Karl's temper cooled, and he realized that he had not been seen exiting from the Rozenturm in the better part of a decade and a half. He decided then that he would partake in the purging of whatever haunted the castle which he had helped build. Thus he began to very slowly waddle down the stairs, a warhammer older than he tied to his wrist as to prevent it from clattering to the ground as he moved. "Ich am coming, schiesseling." He mumbled to himself as he prepared to teach his great-grandson a lesson in the process. Elsewhere in the Commonwealth, Konstantin pocketed the missive before beginning to ride back to Vissingren. He too had come to a similar conclusion regarding the odd feeling of the keep in recent times, in no small part due to the keen perception of his wife Regina. A motley assortment of arms was then layed out on the two’s bed after he arrived in the castle, ranging from well-forged blades to the time-tested aurum bar in a sock as he prepared to aid in freeing the keep from whatever was haunting it.

Konstantin smiled as he read through the missive. Recent years had been filled with turmoil in the Commonwealth, though in spite of this, he was immensely proud of the Little Queen, and all that she had overcome. As he stepped down from his prior positions, he knew now the Commonwealth was in capable hands, both of the burgeoning queen as she began her reign in her own right, and of his sister, who would provide faithful council to his goddaughter in the coming years.

The Guardian of the Commonwealth stood alongside his dear friend Sir Aimo within the ruins of Breakwater Keep, his eyes scanning the destruction wrought upon the fortifications and those who had taken up arms to defend it. "We've cracked the rock this day, and too many have already fallen for it to be for naught." He stated as his eyes fell upon the fallen, intermixed from the fierce melee which had occurred once the Covenant had breached the walls. "No half measures." Konstantin repeated.

The foundry of Vissingren within the Margravate of Marignan blew smoke high into the air, the sound of hammers striking the anvil resonated across the Mardonlands. Dozens of smiths labored away forging blades, suits of plate, and munitions for the coming Covenanter campaigns. In the midst of this stood the Petrine Regent, recently returned from the battle-torn city of Whitespire. He too aided in the Vissingren Foundry’s efforts, handing finished blades to Mardonlanders who had begun to coalesce within his father’s keep as the banners of the Commonwealth were called to war. “For Ghorm.” he thought to himself, a rallying cry which brought some comfort as the enormity of what was to come sunk in. All bliss he had felt in the aftermath of the great battle in Whitespire had disappeared, replaced by unease and trepidation at the prospect of war, though he knew full well of its necessity. The survival of the Commonwealth, and the Heartlands was at stake, and thus he resolved to steel himself to see it through. Dipping his head in prayer, Konstantin could only remember what he had uttered upon taking the mantle of the Guardian of the Commonwealth some years ago, “God save the Queen. God save the Commonwealth.”

Konstantin set about summoning the men of the Mardonlands, preparing them, and he for what was to follow in the coming months. As he donned his plate, he knew would not falter, nor would the resolve of the Commonwealth. A curse upon the Heartlands needed to be removed once and for all, and the Covenanters would see this through, no matter the cost.

Konstantin strolled through the streets of Whitespire at the conclusion of the battle, accompanied by a small contingent of Mardonlanders who had made it through the bloody battle in the streets. As he gazed upon the corpses pilled into every street, alleyway, and building, he could not help but smile beneath his battered and bloodied helm as he saw burgundy under the plate of the majority of those slain. "The debt is not yet settled, Ghorm." Konstantin murmured with a glance upwards to the sky. "There is much work to be done still, Rabbits. I pray your sword arms have not tired yet." He stated to the ever-familiar men in blue cloaks before continuing on in search of any surviving foe.

Within the Red Bastion of Vallagne, Konstantin held a missive within either hand. Scanning yet again the account of the barbarity inflicted upon one of his cousins, he felt naught but disgust for his family’s neighbors just across the border of the Mardonlands. His cousin Ghorm had not been present at the first altercation, the only present from his family had been a Flame-Haired Hedge Knight, who had not struck the blow into the hand of the man who most certainly was a bandit. A senseless act of barbarism was inflicted upon his cousin he thought, no different to those already common to any denizen of the Heartlands. As he thought further, his mind drifted to several events, some not listed by his god-daughter within her own response. Of his good friend being stopped and harried just beneath the Langkette by men of a similar description, of several elves mutilated and hung across the border with Aaun by men falsifying their identities, and of the sordid tale of one who escaped the senseless massacre. After a moment, this first missive was crumpled, cast aside into the nearby flames of a fireplace. He held this second, newer missive closer before heading to the nearby church within Vallagne, praying for the soul of yet another so senselessly slain by wolves in sheep’s clothing.

Konstantin sat comfortably in a chair within the halls of Vallagne as he wore the new outfit. As he read over the notes of Marisol and the accompanying descriptions, he could not help but grin as he noticed the notes pertaining to the cape. Often one who needed to run across the Commonwealth or beyond, he greatly appreciated this attention to detail on Marisol's part for it would be a tragedy he thought should he fall on account of his a cape. "Well done, Mari. You've been nothing but a boon to the Commonwealth since your arrival." He murmured to himself before going about the rest of the day.

– SUMMONS FOR TESTING– Issued and averred by Her Majesty in the year of our Lord 1949 In recent times, it is undeniable that there has been a rise in the number of darkspawn hiding within Canonist realms, tainting the land with their presence. The Commonwealth is a vast realm, which prides itself on having peoples of all different walks of lives and cultures living within her borders. This, however, does not render it immune to the issues that plague many of our neighbors in the Heartlands and beyond. Thus, in tandem with the Diocese of Citrea, the Commonwealth shall initiate a set of mandatory testing for vampirism amongst the ranks of the nobility. With reports and accusations no longer being few and far between, it is imperative that we take the initiative to root out anything untoward within our midst lest it fester and cement itself within the fabric of the Commonwealth. Members of the peerage and their family members are thus summoned to submit themselves to testing for vampirism to be overseen by Mother Rhosyn of the Diocese of Citrea, and any other man or woman of the cloth she deems necessary in presence. In the unlikely case that any are found to be afflicted with this curse, they shall be offered the chance to repent and be cured of this illness. Testing is to occur within Vallagne, at a place of Mother Rhosyn's choosing. Within a Saint's Week of the publishing of this missive, it is expected that the households comprising the nobility of the Commonwealth send correspondence and arrange for the testing of their household with Mother Rhosyn. ON THE SUBJECT OF TESTING, I. Peers of the Realm and their adult family members are summoned to Vallagne to be tested for vampirism. i. While it is expected that the head of each household arrange for the testing of their ranks within the year, given the responsibilities that a peer may hold, it shall be at the discretion of the First Prior of the Monastery of St. Juli’el as to when exactly their members shall be tested. ii. As the curse cannot affect children, they are to be exempted from the process. Children below the age of sixteen are therefore to be exempted from the summons to testing. II. A list of all members of the nobility who have been tested shall be kept and maintained by the Diocese of Citrea through the clergymen of the Monastery of St. Juli’el to ensure confirmation as to the innocence, or guilt, of those tested. i. This list shall be kept up to date as the process of testing continues, and shall be made accessible to both the authorities of the Crown of St. Emma and the Church of the Canon III. Should a member of the nobility be found to be afflicted with this curse, and refuse to repent and accept the cure to this affliction, the Holy Mother Church may render punishment in accordance with Canon Law. AMONG RIVERS AND RAPIDS, STILL WE STAND, Her Majesty, Catherine I, Queen of the Commonwealth of the Petra, Marquise de Val d’Estenou, Countess of Temesch and Moere, Baroness of Garmont, Valfleur, Vallagne-en-Petra, Brasca and of the Phoenixspire, Protector of the Meadows, Protector of Dogs His Excellency, Sir Konstantin von Theonus, Guardian of the Commonwealth, Knight of the Petrine Laurel, Hero of Faubourg Her Excellency, Thérèse Amorie von Theonus, Vice-Chanzlé of the Petra, Deputy Defender of Liberty His Grace, Callahan Bishop Citrea Mother Rhosyn, First Prior of the Monastery of St. Juli’el

Konstantin sat at his desk for several hours upon the writ being published across Aevos. The newfound Guardian of the Commonwealth had spent the time in reflection, praying for Queen Renilde, the newfound Queen Catherine I, and most of all his dearly departed friend, Adrian @Zaerie. A determination filled him, a promise made so long ago to care to care for his god-daughter, to keep her safe with what life lay ahead for her. Konstantin determined then that he would not falter, nor would he waver. He would earn the moniker bestowed upon him some years ago during his knighting. "God save the Queen. God save the Commonwealth." These words resounded in his head, a rock upon which he anchored himself for the future of the realm.

From within a tower in the Commonwealth, Karl prayed for his friend as the news of his passing reached him. Opening a bottle of wine, he idly swirled a filled cup as he thought back on the numerous adventures and tribulations he had undertaken with his departed friend. Most of all, he remembered their first conversation within the city of Neu Brandthof, regarding his family joining the Waldenic Diet decades ago. "May you rest well, Ottomar. You were one of the best of our time."

Konstantin shimmied each leg in turn, attempting to awaken them after having stood for so long alongside many others within Veletz. He simply let out a long, and tired sigh as the letter was ushered by a courtier into the streets to be dispersed across the continent.

From within his tower, an elderly Waldenian smiled brightly as he read over the missive. It was then he called out for his wife, moving to embrace her as he spoke. "Ich am so proud of them all." Karl returned to his retirement thereafter, feeling only immense pride for his descendants and kin. @TaytoTot Konstantin looked up from the mound of paperwork within his office as the letters were dropped off. The Chancellor of the Petra took a moment to scan the letters patent before cracking a wide grin as he made his way through the halls in search of someone. "I am glad our contributions are recognized and appreciated. Father will be most pleased by this news, he truly deserves such." He remarked towards his sister, the Vice-Chancellor, as he entered her office unannounced.