ncarr

Marjoreya had, for some time, been at odds with her father - and the entirety of her family for that matter. But, her peace had finally been found, it was not as she would have wished it, but it was peace. Now she can choose to feel her father's pride, his love, and now he is not here to force her to feel otherwise with his stern gaze and cold addressment. Now she could no longer disappoint him.

ONCE MORE THE HAESENI FIELDS HAVE BROUGHT FORTH A BOUNTIFUL HARVEST. At once the farmers of our beloved Valdevic fields are called to present their wares unto the Haeseni populace. Within the month of Jula and Piov, in the year of our Lord 524 E.S., the people of Hanseti-Ruska shall gather in the hamlet of Waltonburg where this springtide market shall take place. In celebration of the impending coronation of our King Ivan and Queen Nataliya, the court sees fit to give patronage to the common-folk in their celebration of their beloved monarchs. Venture forth and peruse the stalls laden with cheeses, fragrant herbs, and Scyfling mead. Partake in merriment as you sample the savory pies, freshly baked bread, and succulent meats that our skilled cooks have prepared with care. Further, the efforts to fundraise are still at work and there shall be stalls dedicated to exactly that at the aforementioned market. HER EXCELLENCY, The Grand Lady of Hanseti-Ruska HER GRACE, Alexandra of Merryweather, Duchess of Valwyck & the Lady Chamberlain FIRRESS, Makaela Mondblume Venna

In private, away from the prying eyes of court, the Grand Lady allowed a single tear to slide through the peaks and valleys of her gaunt countenance. She would miss Amaya, though she would tell no one.

At her father's flank Calliope Analiese nodded intently at his words, secretly - and not so secretly per the letters she'd exchanged with her companions - the princess had longed for travel soon.

Majoreya, the Countess Malkovya skimmed the missive with fury behind her eyes. "Vy will niet fail mea." she muttered to her child, Casper ( @Mannyy ). The woman knelt to level with the boy, her eyes matched with his as her cold hands clutched his cheeks. "Vy can niet." she commanded him.

Beyond the Veil of Night An expedition into the Haeseni forest Issued By; THE GRAND LADY 11th of Jula and Piov 518 E.S. The Haeseni are a hunting peoples. These lands that we inhabit are abounding with wildlife awaiting capture. God has blessed us, following the settlement of this land by the bygone King Georg I, with plentiful harvest each autumn and bountiful game to hunt. Amidst all of this game and fauna, something lurks in the shadows of the redwood. In the dead of night illuminated eyes watch those who dare travel under the cloak of darkness, far off guttural roars send flocks of birds darting off in different directions overhead, and the glimpse of a dreamlike ivory stag cantering through forest catches anyone’s eye. These are all sights not uncommon to the Haeseni redwood. — And thus, it is imperative we seek to gain what knowledge the forest hopes to give. We, the Courts of Hanseti-Ruska, call upon the citizenry of the Dual Kingdom to venture forth into great Haeseni forest in search of what lurks beyond the veil of night. Those seeking to join this hunting party please make your wishes known by letter to the Grand Lady. Under God’s watchful eye, HER EXCELLENCY, Marjoreya of Vidaus, Grand Lady of Hanseti-Ruska, Countess consort of Malkovya, Viscountess consort of Venzia, Baroness consort of Bethlenen, and Lady of Vitraval

Winter’s Babe Twenty-first day of Wzuvar and Byvca, 518 E.S. A babe had been born, two royal children now born to the Barbanov Household and still the womb of the palace’s Grand Lady remained barren. Had her spirit been so unsettled that there was no place for a child to take root within her? Had she kept herself from pregnancy? Was she so far from God now that she could no longer foster life - what she was meant to do. Marjoreya prayed for a child, she petitioned the Patriarch to bless her womb and sought to pray alongside her small retinue of handmaidens at the break of dawn each morning and once more beneath the cloak of night. Though it was all for naught. Still she was without the thing she had wished for more than all else. She dreamt of her children; first a daughter who had hair similar to her own and eyes as verdant and bright as she - Marjoreya - and her siblings all bore. Second, a son, with tresses like his father’s and what she could only assume were strong Scyfling genes. She heard their jovial shouts and smelled the grass stains on their clothes. She could see them from the windows of Malkovya playing in the castle’s courtyard, the honey-yellow beams of light bouncing from their skin and reflecting from the puddles between which they jumped. This brought a smile to her face, one rarely featured upon her gaunt countenance. A warm and soft smile, one she pictured would have been present upon her mother’s face. Though, as a feeling so unfamiliar to her rushes down from her head and out to her fingertips. A feeling akin to the soothing warmth of a hearth from afar and yet as shocking as the cold of winter’s first day on one’s unready skin. Nonetheless she wakes. Her eyes rise to the dank walls of her suite at the Esrova Palace. The feeling she had dreamt of fell from her body and she sought to feel it once more, her eyes closed slowly shut as she formed her hands into fists as if to conjure the feeling up from where it rushed away, though her efforts were to no avail. She had been at court for many years now and seldom made trips to Malkovya in the country, however, after months of dreaming she was with child. It was as if she called forth the child from heaven and brought him here through sheer will. After a few short months of an arduous pregnancy, during which most of her time was spent locked away from the public eye, she wrote to the Lord Colborn of such news. Detailing the difficult few months she had been away from him and conveying her excitement for the impending birth of their heir. – Marjoreya sat, stony-faced, within the palace gardens, considering the perfectly-curated bed of roses that stood before her. Silence enveloped her for the first time in what felt like months, and she was left with only her sorrows for company. She reached toward a stem of roses – so beautiful and yet so embroiled in malice – as the grating sound of leather against gravel assaulted her senses. In the panic of the messenger’s approach, the Countess’s finger pricked a thorn in passing, and she cried out in anger. She thought to scold the approaching courier, with his haggard frame and frantic, breathless movement, but he soon pounded his fist to his chest and bowed before her. Mikhaila had fallen desperately ill, the courier informed Marjoreya. The physics were afraid she would not make it, and that the stress of childbirth might accelerate her descent. No sooner had the news been delivered than Marjoreya, in a fit of rage, ordered the courier to be gone from the palace. Pitifully, Marjoreya thought first of herself. Why had she been so forsaken by God? Why had He given Mikhaila a house full of smiling children - she who deserved none of them? And why had He given Marjoreya nothing? Crimson droplets of blood continued to drip onto the untainted snow, and all she could do was stand there idly, lamenting her misfortunes. – The labor was a harrowing ordeal, and it seemed God - despite her prayers - had been indifferent to her suffering. In the end, Marjoreya brought forth a pair of twins. An air of death hung over them, eerily familiar to the Count and Countess, though within her, however feeble she had become, pride lingered. She had made fools of all that thought her barren, all that doubted her. Her features were illuminated with the flickering light of a candle as her eyes languidly drifted across the otherwise silent room toward the screams of her children, her true pride was within them now. A faint smile crossed her pale lips as her eyes traced over the babies that cried across the room from her, their black tresses that resembled her own, but she felt unlike she imagined. The feeling was not as she had dreamt it to be, there was no warmth that swelled from within as if a hearth had been lit at her center. She felt cold. As she watched her children be prodded and examined by nuns, she felt herself begin to slip. Her eyes flickered shut and her breaths began to feel labored. Her chest rose and fell shakily as uneasy breaths dried her lips further and her shoulders began to sink inward. A hand shakily rose to press against her sweat-soaked face, and the room seemed to fall silent for only a second before it was pierced once more by the wails of the pair of newborn babes. Her eyes flickered shut and it felt as if her very life force was waning. She had brought two lives into this world, but at what cost? Was it her own life that she must pay in return? Finally her eyes remained shut and her breaths slowed, her hands fell to her sides and her head rested back into the pillows… To the citizens of Hanseti-Ruska, It is with great jubilation that the Comital House Colborn announces the beginning of its next generation.The first Colborn lord of his generation has been brought unto us by blessing of God after an arduous tenure of pregnancy. With immense delight we declare him Casper Colborn, born 21st of Wzuvar and Byvca to the Count and Countess Malkovya. Alongside the Colborn Lordling we celebrate the birth of a girl, born only minutes after her elder brother, Margarethe Colborn born 21st of Wzuvar and Byvca. With these letters we declare them our son and daughter as witnessed by Mother Vivienne. We pray to God for good health, safekeeping, prosperity, and preservation of them. Given under our Seal at Vitraval, Witnessed by us and Mother Vivienne on the 21st of Wzuvar and Byvca in the year of our Godan, 518 E.S.. Under the watchful eye of God, THE RIGHT HONORABLE, Cassian Colborn, Count of Malkovya, Viscount of Venzia, Baron of Bethlenen, Lord of Vitraval, the Protector of Scyflings HER EXCELLENCY, Marjoreya of Vidaus, Countess consort of Malkovya, Viscountess consort of Venzia, Baroness consort of Bethlenen, Lady of Vitraval, and Grand Lady of Hanseti-Ruska As witnessed by, Mother Vivienne of the West, Priestess of the Holy Church

The Grand Princess' Ruthern-born companion lets out a sigh of relief, though upon gazing toward her own childless womb, her thoughts are clouded with envious rage.

Caesonia Tiber, the foreign mistress’s mother, can’t help but smile from beyond the grave.

“Crystals have nie power.” spat Marjoreya of Vidaus. “Let us publish more true rhetoric.” she grumbled, beginning to pen a letter to the Haeseni Koenas.

Issued by the COMITAL HOUSE COLBORN On the 7th day of Jula ag Piov 511 E.S. Two Houses, both ancient in their standing, shall now be bound after many years living alongside one another. In times long past the two houses were bound once previously with the County of Metterden bestowed upon the noble House Ruthern by Eirik Colborn in the early 1500s. Despite the ongoing war in the East we may never rest. Life shall continue as it did prior and we shall continue to prosper as we did prior and as we shall once this battle against our anathematized foes is won. All of this to say, following a period of courtship a union is born between Count Cassian Colborn of Malkovya and Lady Marjoreya vas Ruthern to bring together two ancient Haeseni Houses. These nuptials are to be brought to fruition on the 13th of Grona ag Droba in the Everardian Basilica. Per Scyfling tradition, originating from days long past when the ancient Scyfling peoples first converted to Canonism, the pair shall proceed from the Grand Basilica to Malkovya where the ‘Wedi Bridlop’ may take place. T I M E L I N E The Jorenic Union Performed by the Patriarch Josef at the Everardian Basilica the couple is to be wed per the Jorenic Rite. Lord Cassian and Lady Marjoreya shall be bound with sword and cloak to conclude their courtship and thus binding them until death. The Wedi Bridlop Directly following the nuptials the newly wedded Count and Countess will proceed from the Basilica to their, now shared, seat in the Haeseni countryside to jovially celebrate their recent union. There shall be a feast, made with the Scyfling peoples of old in mind, served to the guests and tribute may be paid to the pair if the guests so wish. Signed, The Right Honourable, Cassian Colborn, Count of Malkovya, Viscount of Venzia, Baron of Bethlenen, Lord of Vorenburg, the Protector of Scyflings Her Ladyship, Marjoreya of Vidaus

"See.." sounded Owynina, wife of a late Lord Sarkozic, "Of course he shall add this title to his signature. The fat man only grows fatter with greed." she advised her peers with raised brows.

Adela of High Peak perked a brow, she is truly torn, though in the end proclaims her support for the now single King. Announcing such to the monks who had grown tired of the fugitive Queen living within their quarters..

Marjoreya peruses the missive with narrowed eyes, a familiar scowl upon her countenance as the words weigh one-by-one on her mind. Her nostrils flare, tossing the parchment, which she had taken from the notice board upon which it was posted - believing it had a better place with herself, into the flames of the hearth. It was no doubt her grandmother's death would be public knowledge no matter her actions, whether she burned the announcement or not, though she believed - in some childlike way - perhaps it would be undone if she burned the announcement. Though, in her heart of hearts, she knew this to be a lie; her grandmother was gone.

In secret, a girl with raven trusses peruses the document as she so often does, delighted to see her favorite Haeseni Ledi - Sonya - in the spotlight.