kaylacita

Within the Barony of Ghaestenwald, the Household's Lady spoke to her newly-wedded husband, "It'll do well for us to offer my nephew to make camp on the hillside, for now." Shortly thereafter did she put quill to parchment, and pressed a ring that bore the three-eyed crow onto hot wax.

MC Name: kaylacita Discord: kaylacita Image: Description of Image: A topographical map of the Southern Shores of Azuras outlining Crusade camps. Dimensions: 2 wide, 1 high

SECOND SON TRADING CO. CATALOGUE OF WARES Second Son Trading Company, Tarnavon Branch HAIL, MAN OF THE EMPIRE! Founded under the patronage of the Lady of Ghaestenwald, Vasilia Galahar, and named for her late father, Baron Josef, Second Son was established to trade in the goods of her domain and breed warhorses for her retainers. The company chiefly deals in mounts, ores, and alchemical goods, and maintains a presence in both the village of Tarnavon in the Duchy of Valwyck, and the city of St. Godwinsburg in the Archduchy of Alba. This catalogue presents the wares of Second Son as of 2052 A.H. All prices herein are subject to negotiation only by direct parley with an appointed representative of Second Son. Prices may vary between the Tarnavon and Alban branches of Second Son. Any damage, theft, or aftermarket peddling of Second Son wares will be investigated and punished by the retainers of Ghaestenwald. Any enquiries regarding the company or its wares may be directed to the Lady herself, who is to be reached by crow at her seat in Ghaestenwald. HORSE & TACK GHAESTENWALD COURSER The finest of the northern breeds, standing some fourteen to fifteen hands high and bred for endurance and speed. All coursers are well-trained and broken, guaranteed to possess a fine temperament and maintain composure on the field. The coat of the Ghaestenwald foal often lightens from black to grey as they mature, though a rare few among the current stock have grown pure white with age. A particular colour may be requested for an additional charge, according to the time and labour required to rear such to maturity. PRICE – 100 m HIGHLAND ROUNCEY A hardy mount, bred for general riding and fieldwork in the valley of Tarnavon. The rouncey is suited to both saddle and pack, and is fit for travel, labour, and limited combat. The current stock consists of many coats, though chestnut brown is most prevalent. All rounceys are presented as they are, and may be purchased from representatives at both the Alban and Tarnavon branches of Second Son. PRICE – 55 m ITEM AMOUNT PRICE Saddle 1 40 m Whistle 1 40 m Lead 1 5 m Horsecloth 1 100 m Iron Barding 1 150 m PROVISIONS CARRION BLACK A dark, potent spirit favoured in the northern marches of the Empire. It is said every lord among the Haeseni keeps a store of Carrion for the granting of guest-rites and the toasting of oaths. It has been enjoyed by the men of the north, and reviled by the lords and ladies of summer since at least the time of Sigismund. This particular bottling is dated 604 E.S., to commemorate the landing of Man upon the shores of Azuras, and the establishment of the first northern holdfasts of the Imperium. PRICE – 5 m ITEM AMOUNT PRICE Bread 1 loaf 0.1 m Steak 1 0.3 m ALCHEMICALS In partnership with the Alchemic Emporium. ITEM AMOUNT PRICE Blasting Potion 1 bottle 70 m Tanglefoot Potion 1 bottle 50 m Arctic Mists 1 bottle 35 m Tactical Greaser 1 bottle 35 m ORE & GENERAL GOODS ITEM AMOUNT PRICE Iron 1 ingot 2.5 m Netherite 1 ingot 3 m Copper 1 ingot 4 m Gold 1 ingot 3 m Coal 1 chunk 4 m Diamond 1 gem 0.5 m Emerald 1 gem 0.5 m Lapis Lazuli 1 chunk 0.5 m Redstone 1 measure 0.2 m Glass Bottle 1 1 m Chicken Feather 1 1 m Book & Quill 1 3 m Paper 1 0.1 m

GODANI KRUSAE BURGUNDIYE THE VALDEVIAN GRANT “And the city was still alight in flame and fury, dancing upon the earth, and the wicked were cleansed and blown away. But Owyn ascended beyond the earth, and he was nowhere to be found. And so the torchbearer took upon his duties, and he preserved the sacred flame which danced on the rubble.” The Confessions of Elreden (4:24-26) THE CITY OF NEW VALDEV ONCE SAT AT THE CENTRE OF MAN. It was raised in triumph by the Twin Crows during the years of peace won by the conquest of Aleksandr. A grand seat, from which generations of the Edlervik were to rule from the Westerwald to the edge of the Midden – yet this was not to be. The conquest is undone, and New Valdev shall soon be humbled by the fiery hand of the Living Saint. It is only through the mercy of Saint Raguel that New Valdev is spared the fate of old Hanseh. By his word, the seat of our rite, the Basilica of Saint Joren and the Broken Chains, shall stand untouched. So too shall the great walls and hold that protect it. All the rest is to be purged of its rot by holy flame. This cleansing will be no great tragedy. There are few souls who still roam the streets of New Valdev, for it has been long abandoned by the lords and burghers of what was once Hanseti-Ruska. Many have fled in a great exodus to the north, where they raise longhouses in the Nordling style, and write in runes strange to our people. While these men have forsaken their homeland for idolatry and comfort, their ancestors remain. It is in Valdev that the honoured dead shall rest for all time. And it is in Valdev that we intend to stay. We shall not abandon the ashes of Blessed King Sigismund III, by whose hand the tyranny of the Novellens was shattered. Nor shall we abandon Blessed King Robert, who led his banners in the reclamation of Ayr from pagan tribes. And so long as we live, none shall profane the tomb of Saint King Otto II, who brought together the squabbling realms of Canondom to conquer the godless kingdom of the Nordlings. As sons and daughters of the Tribe of Joren, we are duty-bound to defend the temple of our Prophet, and to revere our honoured dead. It is by their strength and wise-rule that our kingdom had once stood five hundred years – and though it has fallen, they shall not be left to rot. With the grace of King Tiberias of Burgundy, the city of Valdev and the former Crownlands of Hanseti-Ruska shall be incorporated into the demesne of my lord father, Josef of Galahar, Baron of Ghaestenwald, second son to the Twin Crows. He shall be made Warden of Valdev, to oversee these lands on behalf of the Burgundian Crown upon their cleansing by Saint Raguel, a duty that shall pass to his lawful heirs for so long as the ruin stands. May it serve well as a bastion of the Burgundian west, and forever remain the heart of our rite. HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, Tiberias I of the House van Aert, King of Burgundy, Duke of Middelan, Baron of Pestilles, Protector of Grense, Patriarch-Dynast of the Pertinaxi, etcetera. THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, Josef Galahar, Baron of Ghaestenwald, Lord of the Isle of Maenvestiyaeo, Warden of Valdev HER LADYSHIP, Vasilia Galahar On this month of, JOMA AG UMUND, 579 EHR SIGMUNDA.

In her chambers at Maenvestiyaeo, Vasilia Galahar clutched the missive to her chest. For 29 years she was Barrow. A bastard. No longer. Now she would be a lady, as she dreamed of when she was but a girl.

Vasilia Barrow dwelled in the tower of Maenvestiyaeo, where she had remained with her father. Neither had any intent of following their cousins into the Nordling waste. This was the land of their birth, a land of great kings and statesmen. A land of men who had bent the lesser Jorenites to their will for centuries. Now, Hanseti-Ruska was lost. Her people had been scattered. It was not by the armies of the invader, but by the hand of their rulers. But the spirit of the true Haeseni could never be broken. She would persist as her forebears had once done. They had remained united after the Courlandic invasion. They had remained united beneath the Empires of the past. She prayed that one day, those who remained might find the same strength.

For the days after her brother’s passing, Vasilia Barrow had sequestered herself to prayer. She had blamed herself for her inability to save him. She wished him a lesser man, that he’d left behind those he sought to save. Then he might still be alive. Or herself, a greater woman, that she might have saved him. How could lighting candles possibly make up for the loss? “I thought it was a bad dream, Mother. Vy must have seen him. Please, tell me vy have seen Sigmar? Please, please,” she pleaded, for anything other than the truth. That her eyes had betrayed her. For her senses to have misled her. Perhaps it was only one of her delusions, a cruel one. That was it. She grasped onto this hope, until her brother revealed his prophecy. Then there was nothing. “He was too far. Too far.” If I was faster. “I couldn’t reach him. I tried, I promise.” If I had seen it first. “I tried—I would have.” If I… He deserved a service. A memorial for his bravery. Something. Anything. And so, she petitioned their King.

Vasilia Barrow could not yet read nor vote, but knew through the regaling of her elder brothers that Lujza Korvacz was a worthy candidate for Grand Maer.

To the gracious Numenedain Queen, The actions of Sir Stefan af Don af Petra does not define the beliefs of the P.R.F. and our cause. We wish for peace, but the Sir unfortunately wrote without my guidance. Only in his elderly years did he learn to read. The senile man will henceforth be placed under constant supervision, as old and ailing as he is now. This most grievous offense will not occur again. Signed, Her Ladyship, Marie Charlotte Moere de Garmont.

Marie Charlotte clutched a copy of her work with ink-stained hands. Sir Stefan was not much of a writer, having only acquired the skill well into his fifties, and so much of this work had fallen onto her. “I pray that my cousins consider our most reasonable terms,” she muttered, as she lit a candle within the confines of their cramped cavern-home. “This bloodshed helps none.”

WRIT OF AULIC APPOINTMENT: LORD PALATINE OF THE REALM KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM Issued by the CROWN On this 15th day of Wzuvar ag Byvca of 536 E.S. VA BIRODEO HERZENAV AG ELDERVIK, IVO OF VALDEV WAS BORN TO NO GREAT HOUSE. He was a peasant, bearing little more than a distant relation to a dead knight. Yet there was no man more leal to his Crown, from boyhood until his death in the Reinmaren wood. His hand was firm, and his word harsh. The kingdom required such of him. His reformation to the Royal Duma breathed life into an institution which at one time elected the King of Hanseti and Ruska, and yet had rotted to the brink of dissolution. His contributions to this new Marian Order were great, and Godani willing, shall produce a warband of the highest quality. Pray for him, for he lived, and died, with honour To succeed him, the Crown has chosen Erik Kortrevich (@erictafoya), the Viscount of Krusev, to serve as Lord Palatine of the realm. By his guidance, the House of Kortrevich has dragged itself from the brink of extinction and to a place of prominence once more. He has reclaimed the Viscounty of Krusev through the merit of his leadership, and stablized the culture of a particularly volatile house. In recent years, he has proven to be a loyal servant to both Koeng and Koenas alike, and a capable warrior of sound mind. We entrust this man with the Golden Bulava, and to sit the throne when we cannot. May Holy Godani guide him in his duty. GODANI JEST WIELKI, HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, Ivan VIII, by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Hochmeister of the Marian Retinue, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Slesvik, Solvesborg, and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia, and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald, and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Markev, Nenzing, Siegrad, Torun, Toruv, Valdev, and Werdenburg, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Astfield, Buck, Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, and Rytsburg, Lord of the Westfolk, Protector and Lord of the Highlanders, etcetera. HER ROYAL MAJESTY, Nataliya I, Queen of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Hochmeister of the Marian Retinue, Princess of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duchess of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margravine of Korstadt, Rothswald, and Vasiland, Countess of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, Toruv, Valdev, and Werdenburg, Viscountess of Varna, Baroness of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, and Astfield, Lady of the Westfolk, Protector and Lady of the Highlanders, etcetera.

From the depths of Kastell Lesanov, Nataliya I had been tending to the ailing King, until a quiet knock sounded upon the door. A servant entered, and presented to her the parchment. “It is not good, Majesty,” they warned. Though the Queen paid no mind to their advice, and her demeanor rapidly dampened upon reading of her daughter. “The Edlervik think of me a murderer?” Her words whispered throughout the chambers.

WRIT OF AULIC APPOINTMENT: LADY EMISSAR OF THE REALM KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM Issued by the CROWN On this 6th day of Tov ag Yermey of 533 E.S. VA BIRODEO HERZENAV AG ELDERVIK, IT IS THE EMISSAR THAT ASSUMES THE DIPLOMATIC STABILITY. After the tragic death of the Late Duke, Viktor var Ruthern, the position has remained vacant. We pray the Duke has found rest within the Seven Skies. Though for many years, a successor had not been apparent, and thus the Crown had conducted diplomacy on their own regards, but one with potential has recently arisen. And so, in confirmation of her ability, previous years of good service as Cupbearer, and presented loyalty to the Royal Household, we do see fit to name the Lady Milena vas Ruthern (@MunaZaldrizoti), to the position of Lady Emissar. With Ivory Bulava in hand, we trust that she will remain dedicated to the Office. GODANI JEST WIELKI, HER ROYAL MAJESTY, Nataliya I, Queen of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Hochmeister of the Marian Retinue, Princess of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duchess of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margravine of Korstadt, Rothswald, and Vasiland, Countess of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, Toruv, Valdev, and Werdenburg, Viscountess of Varna, Baroness of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, and Astfield, Lady of the Westfolk, Protector and Lady of the Highlanders, etcetera.

CROWMOTHER “The pain and panic slowly ebb away, replaced by a cold, creeping numbness. An acceptance. Her last conscious thought is of her family, and what could have been.” THE CRACKLING OF FLAME FILLED THE SILENCE OF THE CHAMBER. The hearth had been tended to with firewood brought in from the Crowswood, soothing in that moment, for the winds were strong outside. Nataliya stirred awake to the sound, sunken back into a wooden chair. What? She wondered, and rubbed at her eyes gently as to observe her surroundings. Her husband sat beside her, barely masking his annoyance, though it was not with her. Meeting after meeting... Yes, that was it. If only they were livelier. Her thoughts were interrupted shortly by a sudden knock upon wood. “Which is this?” She posed to her husband. “I thought we’d finished for the evening,” to which he grunted, and rolled his shoulders in response. “Enter,” Ivan called, and the door swung open. A darkened figure stood in its frame, and Nataliya tensed; the Barrow of Kastell Lesanov. “Speak, then.” She swelled with anger as her leave was bade by the bastard. Her teeth clenched as she withdrew from them, and to her mind once more. She often took to this in his presence, cold to the ceaseless bickering between the pair. Their petty slights. Resentment. She lacked discernment between this conversation and the last with the Barrow. They all melded together into one. A brief moment of clarity overcame her, and with what little comprehension remained, she could scarce believe what she’d heard. “Nie.” She took to her drink. “It's niet vy I ask.” Andrey spat. The room spun around Nataliya, and her eyes met the candleholder overhead, pale in the light. More, and more insults hurled against her character. The Queen’s hands trembled as her fingers curled into a fist, then pounding against the table. “I should have seen vy undone!” She snapped. He was only a babe then. I should have, I could have! Her husband pushed himself to his feet in that moment, and took up a sabre that lay against the table. Andrey too ran a hand across the scabbard at his belt, eyes aflare. She scanned her surroundings without a weapon of her own, unusual of her character, when the walls suddenly enclosed around her into a haze of black. A GUST OF THE COLD, WINTER AIR BLEW INTO THE ROOM AND SET THE HEARTH’S FLAMES SWIRLING. Nataliya listened to the logs crackle and pop as her senses returned, and she inhaled a sharp breath. When her eyes opened, she jolted, and her hands pulled away from her daughter’s cheek. She had been pushing aside the little Princess’ stray hairs from her bedside, doting on the girl. Wasn’t I? Stay vyr tongue. By all rights it is hers. I told vy what would happen if vy spit vyr poison, boy. “... Mother?” Anastasya cautiously asked. “Is all well?” “I lost track of time,” she reassured her daughter, and herself. I’d almost forgotten you have my eyes, Ana. She pressed a kiss onto the girl’s cheek, and returned to her affections. “I must’ve been dozing off.” Worry washed over her daughter’s face as she hesitantly spoke, “But... Mother, vy’d only just arrived.” She is only what vy made of her, Father. “Eh?” She sounded, taken aback from the statement. “Nie, nie,- I was here. I was, wasn’t I?” She blinked in quick succession amidst her confusion, and clutched the Hussariyan cross around her neck. What is she saying? The silence between the pair was suddenly broken as the lady’s maids hurried in to prepare her daughter for the day. A dress to change from her bedclothes, a brush for the night’s tangles, and a stew to break her fast. The ladies weaved around the Queen, as she sat motionless in her disbelief, and certainly would not budge to their account. One of the maid’s combed through her daughter’s hair, just beside Nataliya, while the other maid offered the bowl of stew. The scent of spice and earth hit her nose; turmeric, and walnut? She rapidly grew alert, and shouted hysterically at the attendants, “Poison! Vy fools!” To her dismay, her shouting did no service, and she watched in horror as her daughter took a sip from the stew. Anastasya looked aside, puzzled and frightened, and in good health. “... I,- I think we need a physician, Mother... Vy’re niet vyrself.” “Nie! Niet after the last one!” She pressed a palm to her forehead as a pain throbbed. What was the last one, again? She pushed the thought aside. I have sound reason. “Where is Ivan? Where is he?” Her skin was pallid, as though it might turn green from her sick. “In the meeting hall, Majesty,” one of the maids answered, who gingerly ran her hands against the Princess’ arm, for her eyes welled with tears. Cease vyr bitching, or be cast from the halls of my family. The Queen stood, swaying as she clambered out of the chambers and to the balcony. What meeting could he possibly,- Her guts twisted into knots, followed by a dry retch over the railing. An unbearable pain rested in her stomach as noise and confusion enveloped her. Eyes lowered to the ground, and soon after did she collapse into that familiar black blur. MUTED LIGHT FILTERED THROUGH THE TOWER ALONGSIDE THE INCESSANT WHIPPING OF THE BLACK-GOLD BANNERS. Nataliya’s eyes snapped open, and found herself leaning against the red bricked wall of one of the turrets. Her heels clicked underfoot as they met the stone stairway. One cautious step after another, she was unsteady on her feet, yet none came to her assistance despite plenty of servants traversing the halls. Some brushed against her displayed shoulder, a grunt emitted to each one. This is torturous. Were the stairs always this long? Her eyes settled upon a set of doors. Not the right ones. Then a second set. Where are the boys, she wondered. I made nie complaint. Vy let this harpy drip her poison in vyr ear. Have I niet been leal? I have given vy nie reason for such scorn beyond vyr own great sordid shame. Vy would raise Stefaniya as a princess, as vyr own blooded daughter? I am vyr son - the elder. Those very doors flung open, and a girlish voice with great urgency called, “Vyr Majesty!” Eyes dart to the source, a young Ruthern of raven hair, Milena. The Queen wove a dismissive hand, and choked out the words, “Niet now.” The young noblewoman’s expression was grave, and she continued, “It is dire. I must warn vy again, my Koenas.” Again? This is the first I’ve seen of her today, she thought. “Speak it, then. I have elsewhere to be.” Vy are a jealous, vain little creature. Begone. “A murder descends around them, stabbing and squawking in fury. Two flocks, two armies,” she began to drone, her tone sapped of prior urgency. Her eyes were sunken and dark, restless. “In the end, one stands above the other, talons soaked in the blood of its kin. The other golden coronet sits amidst the pool of ichor.” The Ruthern stared ahead blankly, awaiting response. The cruelty which the Ruthern regaled with such sudden indifference shocked Nataliya, and sent a bone-chilling shiver along her spine. That warning gnawed at her, and she stood in a daze. Then, a warmness of familiarity. But this is the first I’d heard her prophecy. It must be, I should not forget it; Ivan always says I have the memory of a crow. She hesitated, and the Ruthern had vanished from sight as the hall melded into one with the shadows. AND SO SHE AWOKE IN HER CHAMBERS, AS SHE HAD BEFORE. The days fell to darkness for what felt like an eternity. Dishevelled, this morning she strolled out to the parapets. Her gaze lingered on the autumn leaves of the Westerwald as wild gusts of wind nearly yanked her back with such force. How long had it been, and still they do not fall? She could hardly recall the last time she felt the snows. It is no matter. I must tend to Ana. Nataliya turned from the railing, and made for the heavy oaken door that gave way to the halls. A blade of light cut into the darkness of the princess’ chambers, as the sun had barely peeked over the mountains. “Ana, have vy woken yet?” She called in a hushed tone. Her daughter stirred, and rubbed a hand over her tired eyes. “... Mother?” She groaned, half-awake, and sought to pull the covers over her face. “It is hardly light out, Mother.” “I know, I know.” The Queen grinned, and made to her bedside. She tugged those sheets away, and beckoned her upright. “I had thought we could paint before the servants rush in. What do vy suppose?” “... Paint?” Whatever fatigue that plagued her had all but disappeared in that moment. She bounced from her feathered mattress, and at once took her mother’s hand. Anastasya near dragged her into the halls. She had been so weakened by her illness, though Nataliya entertained her. Their stifled laughter echoed through the otherwise silent castle, until they found themselves before a set of easels on the westward balcony. Her daughter wasted no time in laying their canvas, while Nataliya beckoned a servant fetch them a palette from the cellars. The pair swiftly put brush to canvas once the servant returned, depicting the autumn leaves of the forests west. Every so often, she heard a faint cough, and looked over to her daughter. Streaks of orange bled into the waters of the rivers and the green of the grass. The Princess frowned, and laid down her brush. My sweet girl, it still looks fine. “H-Highness!” A gaggle of maids rushed in at the sound of her hacking. In one of the lady’s hands, she carried a bowl of stew. The scent of spice and earth hit her nose; turmeric, and walnut? “My, that smells delicious, Ana,” she said in some attempt to calm her, though she felt a pit in her gut. Is something amiss? Her daughter drank deeply of the stew, regardless of her thoughts. And when she did, the girl seemed at peace. There were no more coughs; no pain on the girl’s face. Nataliya took up her brush, and pressed it into Anastasya’s hand with a gentle smile. Blue painted over the orange streaks in the rivers, and fine green strokes to those in the grass. The sun was now visible overhead where the two admired their portrait. “I shall frame it for all the guests to see,” she spoke proudly. One of the servants still lingered, and cleared their throat. “Majesty, vy’re needed in the Aulic Chambers.” “Eh?” What possibly for? “Oh... Nie matter,” she looked once more to her daughter, and nestled a kiss atop her forehead. “Be good for me, da?” Anastasya nodded, and brought up her palm. She gave a final wave to her mother who returned the gesture, and slipped into the halls at the servant’s behest. HER HUSBAND LOOKED NEAR DEATH AS HE SAT ALONE IN THE AULIC CHAMBER. The hall was silent as the King’s head laid in his hands, wearing a deep scowl that was near hidden by the moustache on his lip. She took the seat to his right. “Skravi of Sigismund, this is the deepest of the hells!” Ivan growled, as he held up a flagon of Carrion. It was still hardly midday. “I ought to be riding. Fighting, blade in hand! Niet shuffling through sheafs of parchment like some damnable clerk!” Nataliya inclined her head, though did not speak. What followed was a blur, as always. One man sought a title, another an office. All meaningless, she sighed, and took note of each request. Her thoughts were interrupted shortly by a sudden knock upon wood. “Which is this?” She posed to her husband. “I thought we’d finished for the evening,” to which he grunted, and rolled his shoulders in response. “Enter,” Ivan called, and the door swung open. A darkened figure stood in its frame, and Nataliya tensed; the Barrow of Kastell Lesanov. “Speak, then.” Her leave was bade by the bastard. He is far too bold. Why must he always insist upon this? Her husband dismissed the notion. “She shall stay if she please,” and so she had. Then, a request. “Nie.” She took to her drink. “It's niet vy I ask.” Andrey spat. “It ought to be.” “All vy have was given unto vy by vyr husband.” “Stay vyr tongue. By all rights it is hers.” Ivan asserted, folding his arms loose at his chest. “I told vy what would happen if vy spit vyr poison, boy.” Nataliya withdrew to the depths of her mind. I had never been cruel to Andrey. I had never rose a hand to him, nor my voice. She pinched the bridge of her nose, and exhaled a sharp breath. “Vyr request will niet be honoured.” “Vy were born a Morovar, last I recall.” Ivan slammed his fist onto the table, shattering the plate that lay before him. “Vy speak to the Koenas of Hanseti and Ruska, niet vyr ***** mother.” Andrey scoffed, shifting his gaze. “She is only what vy made of her, father. Now vy send her off into the snow, and deny me even a private word? I am vyr son.” His words cut into her alike to that of a dagger. Aleksandr had done that over a decade ago, not my Ivan. While the two bickered, the Queen’s eyes trained past them and to a portrait on the wall. It depicted the Royal Household; Ivan, Nataliya, Marius, Josef, Anastasya, and Andrey? No, he is nowhere to be seen. “Vy've the manner of a daughter. Cease vyr bitching, or be cast from the halls of my family.” Ivan pushed himself to his feet, and took up the scabbard that lay against the table. “I made nie complaint.” He too ran a hand across the scabbard at his belt, eyes aflare. “Vy let this harpy drip her poison in vyr ear. Have I niet been leal? I have given vy nie reason for such scorn beyond vyr own great sordid shame. Vy would raise Stefaniya as a princess, as vyr own blooded daughter? I am vyr son - the elder.” Andrey’s words met her ears, but her reaction was muted, and she did not offer any retort. I’ve heard this before. The back and forth of the King and his bastard continued nonetheless, and they spoke as if she too hurled vitriol. I’d known better than to speak poorly of him to Ivan, but I was cold. I had no interest in him. I treated the boy as if he were a stranger, a thing. But, he was a danger to our children, how could I have shown care? The reality of her situation dawned upon her. How many times have we argued? How many times must we go in these circles? “Vy are a jealous, vain little creature. Begone.” The King demanded. “Vy are a bastard. Vy ought to make vyr lot with it, lest vy spend vyr life clawing at title and prestige like some Imperial palace woman.” “It is niet vyr crown I desire, Father. Let it choke about Marius' fat neck. But, I have earned a respect vy will niet afford me. I am vyr son!” He turned the chair aside with a palm, tightening the other about his scabbard. “Vy walk these halls by my will, I do niet deny that I sired vy on that Tiber wench. And for this, vy strut about like a chicken, squawking at my wife and trueborn children while vy whine of vyr misfortunes. The realm does niet weep for vy, who are dressed in silks, and look down upon them from a catered room in the greatest castle Aevos has ever known.” Andrey scoffed, waving a hand in short dismissal. “Perhaps niet. But there are those that might stand with me if I wished it.” “They might join Bossir Godunov and the rest of those shit-eating bastards at the gate; Spiked and rotting!” “And I besides them - is that it?” He turned the hand from his scabbard then, shifting it aside. “Fine, then. I do niet cower in fear of vy. On the morrow I meet the Patriarch. For when I was a fool boy, I swore to avenge vyr defeat in a duel of mine own. Perhaps he shall save vy the trouble.” It would not be right for him to die like that. The dishonour was no fault of the boy; Ivan had sired him. He had no say in his coming into the world, yet still he is punished for it. She knew it to be wrong, yet her fists clenched in anger. Nataliya wanted to strike the boy for his insolence as Ivan had oft done, but she could not bring herself to raise her hand against him. Would I not be so bitter had I been thrown into the cellars? My mother exiled? She found herself trudging toward the Barrow, who seemed to shrink away from her. Nonetheless, she brought him into an embrace. Her eyes closed tight, and in the darkness she heard the crackling of firewood once more. When they opened, she awoke in her bedchambers, her husband knelt at her side. A terrible dream.

JOVE WIELKAE VE HERZENAS I BARANYA THE DUCHESS OF BARANYA “WE COME AS CROWS” Issued by the CROWN On this 9th day of Msizta ag Dargund of 532 E.S. VA BIRODEO HERZENAV AG ELDERVIK, FROM HER EARLIEST DAYS, LADY STEFANIYA HAS BEEN A BEACON OF VIRTUE IN THE HALLS OF THE LESANOV. The young Crow may not have been born to us, but she has been raised as one with our issue. With our guidance she has grown into a diligent servant to the Dual-Kingdom, as all the sons and daughters of Barbov ought to be. She has brought to us the head of the man who stole the breath from our beloved daughter, the Princess Anastasya Milena, and has represented the interest of our blood in the Royal Duma for some time. On this day, in light of her meritorious service to the Dual-Kingdom, and her impending marriage to an Alstionite prince, we deem it fitting and just to bestow upon Lady Stefaniya a gift. By our will, she is recognized formally as that which she has long proven herself to be; a member of the Royal Household proper. From now until her last, let her be known to all as a Princess of the Realm. HER ROYAL HIGHNESS, THE DUCHESS OF BARANYA, STEFANIYA EDVARDA BARBANOV-BIHAR GODANI JEST WIELKI, HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, Ivan VIII, by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Hochmeister of the Marian Retinue, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Slesvik, Solvesborg, and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia, and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald, and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Markev, Nenzing, Siegrad, Torun, Toruv, Valdev, and Werdenburg, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Astfield, Buck, Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, and Rytsburg, Lord of the Westfolk, Protector and Lord of the Highlanders, etcetera. HER ROYAL MAJESTY, Nataliya of Ghaestenwald, Queen-Consort of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Hochmeister of the Marian Retinue, 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, Toruv, Valdev, and Werdenburg, Viscountess-Consort of Varna, Baroness-Consort of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, and Astfield, Lady of the Westfolk, Protector and Lady of the Highlanders, etcetera.