milkyi

THE FUNERAL OF BISHOP VALWYCK Issued by THE CROWN On the 17th day of Wzuvar ag Byvca of 450 E.S. VA BIRODEO E HERZENAV, Upon the eve of the 16th of Wzuvar ag Byvca the Bishop Walwyck, Maya Ceciliya, died in bed peacefully due to a strange illness that doctors presume is from her hefty weight. On her deathbed she was surrounded by her husband and children in a cottage full of love in the home she built herself. She was the youngest of the late King Sigismund III and Queen Emma and took after her great-great aunt, Cardinal Katerina, in the upkeep of the Church of Canon in Hanseti-Ruska. She will be missed for her grand and lifelong service to her country and GOD. FUNERAL CEREMONY The Reverend Mother Maya, the daughter of the late Bishop, will conduct a funeral ceremony befitting of her mothers grace. In the square of Karosgrad, a pyre will be built and burned to send the Bishop to the seven skies. IV JOVEO MAAN His Royal Majesty KARL III by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant and Astfield, Lord of the Westfolk, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera. Her Royal Majesty, AMADEA OF SUSA, Queen-Consort of Hanseti and Ruska, Princess-Consort of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duchess-Consort of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margravine-Consort of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Countess-Consort of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscountess-Consort of Varna, Baroness-Consort of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lady of the Westfolk, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera. The Right Reverend, Mother Maya of Vidaus, Custodian of the Morrivi Prikaz

Full Name of Man - Siegfried Barclay Date of Birth of Man - 1865 Name of Woman - Giovanna Bella de Leuven Date of Birth of Woman - 1873 Location of Ceremony - Reinmar Chapel Date of Ceremony (Year) - 1896 Name of Clergyman who performed ceremony - Reverend Mother Maya

Full Name of Man - Vladrick Iov Robaire Kortrevich Date of Birth of Man - 1872 Name of Woman - Sadie Cristonia O'Rourke Date of Birth of Woman - 1869 Location of Ceremony - Chapel of St. Emma of Woldzmir, Petra Date of Ceremony (Year) - 1896 Name of Clergyman who performed ceremony - Reverend Mother Maya

Full name: Maya Ekaterina Godunov Summers’ old: 22 Clerical role: Reverend Mother Diocese of Service: Jorenus Minister of Ordination: Matriarch Katerina Cardinal Jorenus Racial identification: [!] “Human, child of Horen” had been filled out on all admission forms [!] Sex: Female [Username: milkyi] [Discord: milkyi#4083]

Odille af Acre traversed her way from Petra back to Castle Vilain, a certain withered woman trailing behind her, words tumbled from the mad woman's maw for the entire journey back - even as they both settled into the ivory keep, "Mother's are not to blame for their son's actions," The girl uttered to her with a nod of assurance following shortly after, "You'd stay if you loved me."

Full Name of Man - Lorence Arvid Colborn Date of Birth of Man - 1872 Name of Woman - Maesie Evelyn Morovar Date of Birth of Woman - 1872 Location of Ceremony - St. Carr's Chapel, Venzia Date of Ceremony (Year) - 1895 Name of Clergyman who performed ceremony - Reverend Mother Maya

The likeness of Lord Godunov and Mother Maya. c. 448 E.S. Following a nearly three-year courtship, Lord Ivan of Vladorgod and Mother Maya of Vidaus have recently found themselves eager to join hands and exchange their vows to be finally bound in holy matrimony as one. It is hoped that this conjugal union will facilitate a newfound era of friendship between both the houses of Godunov and Ruthern. As a part of the celebration of their soon-to-be newlywed status, both have extended an invitation to their families, friends, and peers. It has been requested that everyone attending the ceremony don attire containing a red hue, whether it be a coat or just a hat. The couple extends special invitations bearing the wax seal of Vladorgod to the following ; His Royal Majesty, Karl III, King of Hanseti-Ruska, Prince of Bihar, and his Royal pedigree The House of Ruthern The House of Godunov His Princely Grace, Wilheim II Barclay, Duke of Reinmar, and his pedigree His Grace, Valdemar Baruch, Duke of Valwyck, and his pedigree His Grace, Aleksandr var Ruthern, Duke of Vidaus, and his pedigree His Highness, Loran von Draco, Margrave of Eichenwalde, and his pedigree The Right Honourable, Adele Ludovar, Countess of Otistadt, and her pedigree The Right Honourable, Nikolai Kortrevich, Count of Krusev, and his pedigree His Lordship, Maric Colborn, Viscount of Venzia, and his pedigree His Lordship, Leopold Morovar, Baron of Ghaestenwald, and his pedigree His Lordship, Aurik Bishop, Baron of Ostervik, and his pedigree His Highness, Cesar de Pelear, Viceroy of Hyspia, and his pedigree Her Ladyship, Manon Yvaine Her Ladyship, Laurelei Komnenos His Lordship, Atilan Bishop Mister Felix Weiss The Brotherhood of Saint Karl SIGNED, HIS LORDSHIP, Ivan Godunov-Jaroslavich of Vladorgod THE RIGHT REVEREND, Mother Maya of Vidaus

ME PLEASE milkyi#4083

Yvaine Beitris of Acre still farms the same as she always did.

The Brasca Nuptials of 1892 . . . [!] Travelling between Lordships of the Harvest Confederation, a courier spreads a certain missive ; It is not often that marriages among men and women result in an occasion where one's duty to their people is strengthened. Thus it is with great excitement that we announce the binding of Bernard of Brasca and Yvaine of Acre in holy conjugation. Two strong figures among the Eastern Realms join hands to bring Brasca into a new tomorrow. Together, they hope to entreat their people to what a bright future has in store. A gaiety reception will be held within their newly constructed caer in honour of their lifelong commitment once their ceremony has concluded in the Chapel of Magdalena. The Lord Brasca invites the following for the occasion ; THE HARVEST LORDS Volker Vilain Harvest Lord, Baron of Acre, Patriarch of de Vilain, Father Of All, and his pedigree Heinrich Alstreim Harvest Lord, Prince of Alstreim and his pedigree Charles Alstion Harvest Lord, Prince of Alstion and his pedigree Leon Barclay Harvest Lord, Graf of Minitz and his pedigree Paul Temesch Harvest Lord, Regent of Petra and his pedigree FRIENDS OF THE BRIDE & GROOM Austina Aldersberg and her pedigree Antonia Vilain and her pedigree Ser Uther and his pedigree Orelia Darcheviede and her pedigree Nicoletta Halcourt and her pedigree Arlotto Green and his pedigree Alidorus Montagne and his pedigree SIGNED, Sir Bernard of Brasca Grandmaster of the Sovereign Order of the Petrine Laurel; Overseer of the Knightly Circles of Saint Emma, the Star, and the Eagle; Commander in Chief of the Republic; and Protector of Liberty, Justice and Chivalry

Yvaine cannot read, and thus does not care. Yvaine farms.

As her father had done before him, Odille waited patiently in her lonesome ivory tower until Hannes read her another story before bed, perhaps the one about the pest that ate the hay reserves. Positioned at the top of the stairwell, she stayed up late into the hours of the night and soon enough, the dawn began to kiss the golden fields which had surrounded Castle Vilain. The sunbeams graced her pallid features as her hues drifted down the ascent of the tower. “Bompa?” The flaxen-haired bairn called for him, but he never came

its really easy to see the amount of thought and planning that went into this, would love to see this being used in the future

Upon the eve of Gronna ag Droba, 443 E.S . . . [!] A courier travels spreading a certain missive which addressed the populace of the Kingdom of Haense ; The Patricians, elevated to their status by both birthright and the utmost effort, can be said to be the lifeblood of our great state. It is for this reason that we come together to celebrate the triumphs of our realm’s most loyal subjects & peers. The Patricians’ Regale is to be a banquet of grandeur in which the Houses of the Dual Kingdom are to bring their own homemade concessions, things which hold meaning to them, whether they be a dish or drink. A jollification which will be catered for the entirety of the citizenry to graze upon throughout the night, while they are encouraged to take part in conversation and observation of the honourable Patricians who have supplied the gathering. After the feasting has concluded, each Lord or Lady will present their fare before a few designated judges to determine which of those platters or beverages is the victor of them all. Hopefully the winner will have brought a heaping amount of courses, because in honour of their victory, the dish will be distributed amongst all of those in attendance to indulge in to the fullest until the festivities end. And to finish off their grand victory, the winner will be granted a gift most fitting for those who hold the most delicious culinary history in the land. SIGNED, HER LADYSHIP, Maya Ekaterina vas Ruthern

He has taken her skin, offered his cloak, a poor exchange, the tattered threads of binding. Like love unraveled, he bids her home, to unwashed dishes, a bed that smells of cinders. Children without feathers she must mind for years. And tears which, as a swan she never had to shed, so she can be close to the skin. Whoever says love can save has never been a wild bird; from egg to sky, that small leap, wind and rain harder than tears her only master. – JANE YOLEN From a young age, Eugénie de Savoie had known happiness. It came to her easily. As Eugénie danced across the polished tiles of the Orenian courts, eyes from all around graced her appearance. When she was a child, she delighted in playing among her older peers. Participating in papers and Rosehelm, she had always known peace and prosperity. Sadly, all things must come to an end, and her lineage, the very thing that gave her the right to such unadulterated happiness, was what started her descent. As a young woman, Eugénie met what she thought would be her future. A bright light that would cast her forward and help grow the family that she desired. Separated mostly from the rest of her kin, the hopeful youth met a man in her solitude. A man by the name of Viktor Baruch. They married quickly, a facet of her personality that would be reinforced in the future, though at the time she chose it due to her desires to flee from the family name that had been tarnished. There was little love in their relationship. Two separate people in one house. She spoke when spoken to, and was rarely listened to in return. She was tamed slowly. By this first husband, she learned silence. Respect for someone above her, though they had no reason to be as such. A wife in name alone. The man believed in himself, his bloodline, and little more. To him, there was little that was important about his simple wife. Any time Eugénie would bring up her family, she was berated for the mere thought. A life that was behind her, he said. A life that was not hers, for she was his. A crane no longer. Though he likely knew not of what he did, his eyes unable to see the unnatural form he had forced her to take. Relieved of her duties as a woman, she was given the duties of a wife. In this, her husband had great ambitions for her. Should she perform her duties perfectly, there would be no cause for strife. Alas, a woman is not privy to the fate that is divined upon her child’s conception. She bore several children to the man. With each female child, he grew only more bitter. Until eventually, she gave him the male heir he was seeking. A child to uphold the family line. A child of use. Even upon her eventual success, Eugénie was afforded little respect. First as a wife. Now as a mother. For she was only a mother when it was convenient to him. To the girls, Eugénie was the only light they would see. A roughly worked single parent, pushing her hardest for her kin. While the man stood back. Cold. Distant. If they would not benefit him to raise, he would not raise them. Marriage stock needed not the skills of a man. Yet the opposite was true of her son. When it came to the boy, she was not a mother. She was a provider. She was to provide food and shelter. He was to provide substance. Viktor would whip the boy into shape, and the boy would grow strong. For this was what mattered. What was right, to the man who owned her. Years upon years passed in this farce of a marriage. When her spirit was all but broken, Eugénie gathered the courage to leave him, the two mutually dissolving their marriage. And where once there was a pristine crane, now she had left herself behind. The whole of her happiness. Bearing the shreds of her hope and her daughters on her back, she fled to the once Empire of Oren. A place of opportunities, so she had been told. In this place, she met her second trial. On the streets of Oren, she found herself missing the warmth she had once felt. The woman cast her mind towards men she thought could fill the void that was missing in her heart. Even going as far as to have an affair with a priest, though the memory pained her later in life. The once-crane sat alone once more. In a heap, with the pile of her feathers, one would have wondered how she could repair her spirit. A spirit that was ultimately allowed freedom, from both her burdens, and her body. As a child, she had found herself struck by the peculiar nature of the land known as Dobrov. Following this drawing she had found herself lost in the land, met with a beast that had by chance chosen to spare her. Such an encounter left a mark on the woman. A feeling of excitement. This one place where she had experienced the rush of fantasy. Though dangerous, it had embedded itself in her mind. A moment of freedom. So she found herself once again in the lands of Dobrov. Devoid of her husband, devoid of her sense of self. She pressed into the ruins, seeking out an experience that would trump the one she had so long ago. An experience that this time, would be her last. Upon arriving she found herself caught in the web of one such creature. A being of the night who seemed almost as stricken with her as she was with it. Fyodor was his name. By chance, they met. In the starlit night, draped in an air of misery by the Demon of Dobrov, the two found each other amidst the ruins. Two souls, cut from quite different cloth. So they sat. So they talked. Of life. Of meaning. Of purpose. At that moment, they had an understanding. And when they gazed upon each other, they saw each other for what they truly were. Two beings, fallen from grace, once gorgeous cranes. One transformed into a meek beast of burden. The other, a ravenous wolf, bent on the end. They understood each other without a single word more. The wolf would relieve her of her burden. And so, though her first husband wilted her beauty, she was given one last chance to be seen as pure. Pure in spirit. Pure in blood. Dripping down from the fangs of her final end. As her hands grew cold in his grip, her eyes dimming, the crane finally regained her rightful form. Words slipping from her lips: "Thank you, Fyodor . . ." And as she slipped from his grip, she slid down against the dirt, her body floating gently into the waters of Dobrov. Her ethereal form drifting away. Free from the burdens of the earth.

Yvaine Beitris of Cathalon farms.

Evangeline didn't have hardly any time to even think about what was occurring to her. Just as soon as she had begun to grab another cigarette from her pouch, she was choking on the last. A fitting end, she thought for a moment. As her vision darkened, she could only think about how proud she was of her son, the Baron of Artois. Besides, if he did wrong she could always just return to haunt him. With this final amusing thought, she slipped away into the great empty. The former Baroness d'Artois was then stuffed away in the crypt of Chateau d'Aiguillion where she now lay in her tomb which she'd reserved for herself - at the helm of the catacomb. Pray she never rises, for no cigarette will be safe.

Yvaine Beitris wished a particular captive stayed a while longer. . .

The Campagnois Conjugal of 1882 . . . An illustration of the Heir-apparent of Artois and the Lady Preussens. [!] Traveling between vassals of the kingdom and Castle de Vilain, a courier wears the colours of gold and teal of Halcourt, spreading a certain missive which read ; As the Heir of Artois, Arnaud Godwin performs his act of chivalry among the courts by proposing to his first and only love, Lady Henrietta Wilhelmine of Preussens. The halls of Chateau d'Aiguillon are filled with the boisterous laughter and jovial feelings of those who had observed the strong and stalwart flame of young love. Their nuptials are proudly heralded by his beloved mother, the esteemed Baroness of Artois. In celebration of the pair’s life-long commitment, the Lady Halcourt invites the following to a convivial occasion in their newly constructed keep upon the Month of Tobias’ Bounty this year ; His Highness, The Prince of Providentia, Prince Frederick Aurelian and his Royal pedigree. Her Imperial Highness, The Duchess of Westfall, Princess Catherine Anastasia and her pedigree. Her Imperial Highness, The Countess of Carolustadt, Princess Victoria Emma and her pedigree. The Reverend Mother Anna Her Grace, The Duchess of Cathalon, Rosina Helvets and her pedigree. The Most Honourable, The Margrave of Grodno, Maciej Jazloviecki and his pedigree. The Right Honourable, The Count of Susa, Aleksander Basrid and his pedigree. The Right Honourable, The Countess of Halstaig, Sadie O’Rourke and her pedigree. The Right Honourable, The Countess of Azor, Mariana d’Azor and her pedigree. The Right Honourable, The Count of Temesch, Paul Temesch and his pedigree The Right Honourable, The Viscount of Rivia, Charles Galbraith and his pedigree. The Honourable, The Baron of Acre, Hannes de Vilain and his pedigree. The Honourable, The Baroness of Rosius, Roxana de Rosius and her pedigree. The Honourable, The Baron of St. Lothar, Arthur Komnenos and his pedigree. The Honourable, The Baron of Pompourelia, Franz Arthur de Sarkozy and his pedigree. The Honourable, The Baron of Minitz, Dietrich Barclay and his pedigree. The Honourable, The Baron of Ames, Vincent Keen and his pedigree. The Honourable, The Baron of Cherskavy, Andrezj Ivanovich and his pedigree. The Honourable, The Baron of Corwinsburg, Heinrich von Alstreim and his pedigree. The Honourable, The Baron of Aldersberg, Alexander Novellen-Aldersberg and his pedigree. The Honourable, The Baron of Guise, Conrad de Falstaff and his pedigree. The Honourable, The Baron of Castile, Elric Castile and his pedigree. The Honourable, The Baronet Of Westfall, Cesar Komnenos and his pedigree. The Honourable, The Baronet of Obedia, Solomon Obedia and his pedigree. The Honourable, The Baronet of Rochefort, Guillaume de Rochefort and his pedigree. SIGNED, THE HONOURABLE, Evangéline-Marie Lucille Halcourt d’Artois, Baroness of Artois HIS LORDSHIP, Arnaud Godwin Halcourt d’Artois, Heir-Apparent of the Barony of Artois HER LADYSHIP, Henrietta Wilhelmine von Preussens

The Princess Claudia was still sat on the couch where her sister had left her, blissfully unaware of the things happening around her. . .

Evangéline-Marie sought out to reconnect with her family amidst the chaos of the great Kingdom . . . Meanwhile, the Baroness of Guise ventured out into parts of the realm she'd yet to explore in her husband's sudden absence . . .

Evangéline Halcourt, the mother of Darius, had been wondering about where her son had gone! Subsequently wondering when her son had a change of name. . . "At least he's alive," The Baroness muttered lowly.

In the cold air of the summer’s breeze. My eyes gazed upon my family. And in their stead, I saw a pyre. In ages of light, pyres are synonymous with death. With loss and reckoning. In ages of dark, they are seen as bastions of warmth. Of cleansing. Of renewal. Though I am not some scholar to denote our times as light or dark, the pyre that I see before me is of the latter sort. Mighty Owyn. His flames coursing through the dark. Filling the streets. Filling my heart. Lashes of heat whip about, cleansing those spirits who might be lost. In Canonism I found love. It was a cool love. A comforting one. I felt myself safe and secure in the grasp of GOD. Though Canonism alone could not stem the coming storm. Our cathedrals torn asunder by wicked demons from the deep. Our lands plagued by bandits and butcherings. Beasts clawing out from the shadows of wicked woods. War driving brother against brother. If Canonism was gentle warming hope, then our adversaries were frigid icy despair. What could melt such a formidable foe? New litanies ring through my ears, spoken on the wind by blessed men of Faith. Their words echo mighty Owyn’s response to our cries. I knelt before the flames, my eyes enraptured by their power and glory. I spoke frigidly, an avatar of the dark, and the Lectors spoke with his very teachings, bringers of the light: “What will you do against our plight?” TO THE DARKNESS I BRING FIRE. “How will you deliver us to salvation?” TO THE IGNORANT I BRING FAITH. “Will you protect us against the coming storm?” THOSE WHO WELCOME THESE GIFTS MAY LIVE, “What will be done about our devourers?” BUT I WILL VISIT NAUGHT BUT DEATH AND ETERNAL DAMNATION ON THOSE WHO REFUSE THEM. My hand rests upon my heart. I remember the sermon like it was yesterday. Though I was a Canonist at the core, frigid times require fiery men. The White Flame will see us through. Before me I see a pyre. Of rebirth. Of renewal. I experienced it some time ago, and now I was extending it to those I loved. My family, my kin. Giving themselves to the pyre. Though soot and ash did not mark upon their brow. Instead, the love of GOD marked them as bastions of his light. May the White Flame guide both me and my lineage, Evangéline-Marie Halcourt d’Artois

"How do I apply?" Says Johanna

A likeness of the Baroness & Baron of Guise, c. 1877 It is with pride that the House of Ashford de Falstaff announces the recent nuptials between His Excellency, the Baron of Guise, and The Honourable Lady, Johanna Elizabeth. After the marital fallout of the Baron’s former companion, a union facilitated in his naive youth for largely political reasons, the two solidified their concord over past camaraderie during the Chancellor’s many visits to Royal court. The marriage was performed by the Lectors of Felder’s Rock, in a traditional Owynist rite: featuring a holy flame, Falstaff and Basridi heirlooms, and exchanged vows. The ceremony was done in private, with invitations to Their Majesties, the Privy Councillors, and shared friends of the couple. SIGNED, HIS EXCELLENCY, Conrad de Falstaff, Lord Chancellor to the Kingdom of Oren, Baron of Guise THE HONOURABLE, Johanna Elizabeth de Falstaff née Basrid, Baroness-consort of Guise