CopOwl

The dim, indistinct form of Sébastien reconciles itself on the far side of the veil. There is no warmth here; only the bright pallid sunlight, coupled with the suffusion of tranquility, the muted sensation of fingers interlocking with his own, the brief glimpse of a familiar face. A presence long consigned to oblivion, their being bleary and undefined, their voice distant yet tender . . . "You have done well, my dear. ." For a moment, as his seafoam eyes adjust, the outlines of the forms and faces misalign themselves as he rises, blinking, into the sunshine. "Come; you will be comfortable." As he proceeds, the indiscernible figure moves beside him, and they step forth into the radiant sun. .

The Ancient Guardians of the Forded Grasslands Kin of Agneta the Abstinent House Vordel, originally the “Vordellir” Clan; meaning “Guardians of the Forded Grasslands”, are a Scyfling House devoted to stewardship and protection of the natural landscape. The Vordel lineage can be traced back to the fabled sage Agneta the Abstinent, an ancient chieftess of the Vordellir whose virtue and wisdom led them to adopt a gynocentric and matriarchal way of life. At present, House Vordel has again taken residence in the Scyfling March; lands shepherded by the historical Scyfling House of Colborn in the Dual Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska. The Scyfling March houses a people consisting mostly of other Scyfling clans, and the clanless. Hundreds of years in the past, in the lands of Aegis, the small Clan Vordellir settled along a river in a quiet northern valley nestled in the Curzken Highlands which by merit of its location, so bordered by many ridges, enjoyed a far more pleasant climate in the colder months than the surrounding areas of more mountainous terrain. This temperate weather allowed the Vordellir to prosper and grow in number as they fished, farmed, and frollicked in peace. Soon enough, travelling merchants from other Scyfling clans and even larger civilisations began to frequent the Vordellir's valley. This was due to its ideal placement along a major trading route through the mountains. Travelling merchants from other groups of people identified the Vordellir's valley as a far safer alternative to trekking along the craggy pathways through the peaks, and thus made their way through Clan Vordellir's territory - some even traversed the river in foreign rowing vessels - while selling their wares, and forming relations between the friendly Vordellir and these intruding groups. Eventually, however, conflict between the clans from which these travellers hailed broke out. While this did not interrupt the flow of goods through Vordellir Valley, it did cause aggression when merchants from groups at-odds encountered one another along the trade route. As a result, fights frequently broke out within the bounds of Vordellir territory due to the valley's convenience as a safe haven to stop and rest along the journey, causing merchants to aggregate there in large numbers at times. To combat these disputes, the Vordellir took up arms. The Vordellir decreed that none shall fight within their territory; they refused to allow foreign visitors to desolate the natural order of the valley in their petty squabbles. Vordellir warriors patrolled the valley each day, laying down their law of pacifism between guests. Over time, merchants travelling through the valley sought it as a safe place free of violence and external disputes affecting their homelands, and the Vordellir gained a reputation of fierce hospitality and a strong ability to mediate. It was only then that Clan Vordellir obtained its name. Vordellir; meaning Guardians of the Forded Grasslands in the original Old Scyfen dialect. *** The next most notable achievements of Clan Vordellir took place during the life of Agneta the Abstinent. Agneta was born to Chief Ragnar Vordellir, and later grew to succeed him as his eldest daughter. She possessed unwavering courage, kindness, and relentless determination in leading those under her charge. These superb merits of character were surpassed only by her wisdom and extraordinary beauty; the kind that could captivate the hearts of all who laid eyes upon her. So notorious was her reputation that suitors from far and wide sought her hand in marriage, drawn by tales of her profound fairness in both looks and nature. Yet Agneta's hand belonged to no man, nor would it ever. As a young woman, she had taken an oath of abstinence, dedicating herself to providing for and protecting her chosen family in her clan, as well as maintaining the Vordellir Valley as a stronghold of peace and prosperity for everyone within its confines. She had no desire to be bound by marriage but instead sought fulfillment through her intellect and acts of compassion. To illustrate her celibacy, Agneta chose to wear a headdress typically worn by brides whenever she ceremonially took petitions from the people; symbolically presenting herself as “married” to her devotion to god and leading her people, rather than any man. The news of Agneta's oath of chastity soon reached the ears of a local king. Intrigued, he decided to test her resolve and loyalty. The king sent a trusted advisor, one of the most beautiful and wealthy men in his kingdom, and had him disguise himself as a passing merchant in order to seek Agneta's hand in marriage and tempt her from her values. However, upon his arrival in Vordellir Valley, the advisor was taken aback. Instead of showering him with attention and admiration, as he found was usual whenever he was introduced, Agneta was engrossed in teaching a young orphaned girl to read, which the advisor observed with astonishment. Once Agneta finally approached him to welcome him to the valley, she invited him to pray with her. When asked for what she prayed, she said that she asked God to protect the valley, spare its inhabitants from bloodshed, and she prayed that no more children be orphaned, even though it would have been normal for an unmarried woman of Agneta’s status to pray for a partner and many children. Recognizing the true depth of Agneta's commitment, he departed from her abode to report what he had witnessed. Soon enough, rumours of Agneta's vow of celibacy and her wisdom spread quickly throughout the lands, as more came to witness her enlightenment in person. Yet, no longer for her hand in marriage, but for her counsel and guidance. Many travellers believed that, due to her vow, she held words of divine wisdom. Over time, Agneta's name became synonymous with abstinence, for even when the most beautiful, cultured, noble, and wealthy men visited her, she did not falter. She became a beacon of light and hope for all who aspired to live a virtuous and fulfilling life. Her legacy extended far beyond her physical appearance, for she had found true fulfilment by nurturing her mind and soul while serving as a guiding light for others who did not wish to fall prey to the misdeeds of man. Agneta upheld the legacy of her father in her capacity as a chieftess, and she was crucial in educating her people as well as maintaining the historic truce of nonviolence in Vordellir lands. A brief succession crisis took place among the Vordellir following Agneta's death, naturally because she never married or had children. Her eldest child should have succeeded her, yet she had none, and therefore the responsibility was divided among her younger brothers who were married with children. Yet, a curiosity arose because each of her brothers - of which she had four - had bore exclusively daughters, despite collectively having produced over ten children between them. Many among Clan Vordellir interpreted this as a clear sign from god that a woman was meant to lead them henceforth, and reinforced Agneta's reputation - even posthumously - that she was a chieftess blessed by the heavens. Agneta's eldest niece succeeded her as the chieftess of the Vordellir, and the remainder of the Clan followed their lead. Agneta's legacy transformed the Vordellir into a matriarchal society; the first of its kind among Scyfling people, and the descendants of the Vordellir have been consistently led by women ever since. *** In the centuries since the settling of Vordellir valley, the Vordellir people have naturally migrated elsewhere and adapted to changing conditions like other Scyfling clans. Most obviously, the linguistic shift to the modern Scyfen language compared to Old Scyfen has altered the pronunciation of “Vordellir” - much like the emphatic drift between the original “Kolburanaz” clan to the present House “Colborn” - resulting in the still-living kin of Agneta and descendants of Chief Ragnar Vordellir being named simply House “Vordel”. In honour of their Patron Ancestress, House Vordel's crest remains an icon of Agneta, a beautiful fair-haired figure, standing as the guardian over a sacred river, so that her bold leadership and wisdom may never be forgotten. Evidently, due to their very different way of life, House Vordel has diverged in places from other Scyfling clans and societies. This is mostly due to their matriarchal succession practice - of which they are currently the only Scyfling group to employ - however the Vordels’ peaceful way of life also set them apart. As a Matriarchal Scyfling clan, Vordel succession is elective. Generally, the Matriarch and Elder will select a viable candidate from among the House, however - in cases where the Matriarch dies unexpectedly - the House will organise a meeting where a female successor is chosen. Notably, both men and women of the House are capable of taking leadership positions, however Vordel superstition states that only women are capable of connecting with the Patron Ancestress’s wisdom and obtaining the Ancestors’ permission to lead them, thus only women may succeed and become the Matriarch. As with the rest of Scyfling society, men and women are viewed as being just as capable as one another, with matters such as marriage practices and occupation being choices for the individuals themselves to decide, not for the House Matriarch to dictate. Moreover, House Vordel has upheld the base differences between itself and other Scyfling clans, as each group tends to follow its own philosophy when it comes to choices of clothing, profession, household rituals, and funerary practices. For instance, House Vordel tend to bury their dead in the ground - allowing the deceased’s body and spirit to return to the earth it sought to protect in life - unlike the prominent House Colborn, which prefers to burn the corpse upon a pyre. Nevertheless, even the Vordellir observed the majority of Scyfling cultural practices, such as the wearing of Bunads, the maintenance of the coming-of-age rite, and participation in the Clannting. In the burial example, House Vordel - like many Scyfling clans - still transcribes ship imagery onto gravestones as a symbol of safe passage to the afterlife. For particularly important figures, such as the chieftess, they are buried in a ship setting - where many gravestones are arranged in the shape of a longboat. *** In modern times, House Vordel remain steadfast guardians of the natural world they inhabit and live with in harmony. Since ancient times, many Vordels have trained as fierce warrior protectors and resilient negotiators, as they have dedicated themselves wholly to the preservation and stewardship of the environment that nourishes and guards them in turn. Different members of House Vordel manifest this belief in their own individual way of life. Some become ferocious guardians and knights charged with nature’s protection, some pursue peace through the diplomatic arts as mediators of conflict, some become proficient artisans or alchemists as mina-making methods to procure funding for their conservation efforts, while others choose to study the mechanisms behind the ecosystems sustaining the earth and employ this knowledge to help nurture them. Vordel children are encouraged to learn about their environment and come to their own conclusions regarding how best to protect it, and then to pursue those avenues to the best of their abilities. Due to the emphasis placed on environmental wellness and propagation among House Vordel, many Scyfling practices have been adapted to fit the Vordels’ beliefs. For instance, while some Scyfling clans erect shrines and podiums honouring their ancestors, Vordels prefer to memorialise notable individuals within the natural world. They do this by carving the faces of deceased loved ones into trees, allowing them to keep watch over their home and family even after death, and especially honoured individuals - usually patron ancestors - may have an outdoor pedestal carved in their honour. This could be anything appropriate to the ancestor’s personality; such as a wooden signpost or boundary marker, an ivy-covered post supporting a young tree, or even a birdhouse. By memorialising the dead in natural features, Vordels honour their ancestors and keep them as constant presences in everyday life. *** It is from these deep-seated beliefs regarding the sacred nature of the surrounding environment that many Vordels choose a pacifist lifestyle to live by. It is highly ingrained into Vordel culture to refrain from willfully harming living things, and some members of the House extend this to cover all beings - flora, fauna, sentient or otherwise. Others decree that for each life they take from the earth, they shall return another to it; whether by replanting a sapling for each tree they chop for firewood, or only harvesting their cattle after calving season. As with the individual’s attitude towards nature, Vordel children are supported in making their own conclusions in this area. Some Vordels will be absolute pacifists, for some it will be conditional or selective, others may choose to pursue a route of active pacifism whereby they promote peace, while others will reject pacifism altogether and follow their own personal philosophy. This practice is, naturally, a modern continuation of the ancient Vordellir decree against violence in their lands. Likewise, following in the footsteps of the sage Agneta, each Vordel Matriarch takes an oath when she ascends to her position. Unlike their patron ancestress, this oath does not have to be one of abstinence, however it is her individual choice as to what value she swears herself to for the remainder of her life. Often, the Vordel Matriarch takes counsel from the House’s Elder before she decides upon her oath, as the Elder’s wisdom shall assist her in making a virtuous and sensible choice. Furthermore, to prevent exploitation, many Matriarchs have refrained from revealing what oath she is sworn to, although this, too, is up to her own discretion. The oath taken by the Matriarch may be one of Honesty, Pacifism, Resilience, or she may even elect to follow in Agneta’s footsteps with an oath of Chastity, or any manner of other significant quality. On occasion, the oath may introduce conflicting values, requiring the Matriarch to choose between the two. For instance, Agneta was known widely for her extraordinary beauty, however she placed no value on this part of herself - and in fact swore her oath to deliberately shun this aspect of her. The purpose of the Vordel oath is for a Matriarch to dedicate herself to living a virtuous life, like her ancient ancestress did, and that by emulating Agneta she may inherit her divine wisdom in order to lead her people as well as possible. As such, the Matriarch places extreme importance on upholding her oath, as it is this which tangibly links her to the wisdom and strong leadership of her ancestors. If the Matriarch’s oath is ever broken, she is required to first purify herself and then seek forgiveness from her ancestors - and God, for it is he who she swears to - in a ritual ceremony. Although the exact happenings of this ritual are mysterious, the Matriarch is to await a sign decreeing the patron ancestors’ approval or denial of her request for forgiveness. If she is forgiven, she reswears her oath before them and is to become doubly dedicated to it as penance for her prior failure. If she is denied forgiveness, she is required to cede her position as Matriarch to either: the next in line, or another entitled woman of her House. If she does penance for her misdeed and later receives forgiveness, she may be entitled to become the Matriarch once again if necessary. If any of this interests you, take a look in the spoiler <3 Cecilia Evelina Agneta Vordel, Matriarch of House Vordel, Guardian of the Grove

The haggard hand of a very elderly woman stirs as the sun's morning rays filter into her dusty, long-undisturbed room. Slowly lifting her hand to faintly pull aside her curtain, allowing the light of the rejuvenating sun to enter her cloudy eyes, she whispers senselessly. "I sense a shift ... The Afors ripple anew. The legacy of the seed grown from the blackened soil continues... May the flame of the Kolburanaz never go out." She slowly lowered her hand, and slipped back into a deep slumber, much to her nurse's confusion.

I LOVE YOU “... Like someone …?” The person asked, eyes snapping up towards him as they desperately tried to appear as though they were not hanging off of his each and every word. They listened with such intent to the slight figure before them, their mind quivering on the precipice of some tremendous truth, that the faintest drop of poison entered their perception and everything soured. Soon they found themselves listening in rapt to the memory of the words of a deceiver, and their thoughts recoiled at the theory. “If vy’re messing with me- ea need vy to tell me right now.” They found their lips breathlessly speaking, although their rationality could not appreciate the concept; he has never made a joke once in his life, I am being ridiculous. “He is being respectful, da?” Enquired the voice of the Grand Lady, sitting with the person in counsel, although she cast a threatening glance to the dagger concealed upon her hip beneath layers of coats. “AI, OF COURSE HE IS - !” They replied in despair, “He spooked me- ea-” They sighed dramatically as their muffled voice emanated from where they had concealed their face within the folds of their gown; knees raised to rest their feet on the comfortable tavern chair they were seated upon. “Mari, what am ea meant to do? Ea can’t keep avoiding him forever.” They implored of their patient cousin. The Grand Lady, for her part, hugged the recently matured person before her closer as a poorly concealed chuckle escaped her. “It can be soh very scary.” She began, gently placing her head upon the person’s own, “But if vy like him, and he likes vy …” Marian Weiss herself grew faint even as she continued to speak, for the memory drifted away from the person’s recollection. The colours of the scene grew murky and obscure, tinged layers of each object in their vision beginning to separate out as sleepy darkness encroached, ultimately enveloping their sight as though they were falling asleep once again. The boy stares at the person with founded confusion, “Eam … Niet joking.” He rightly murmurs, advancing on them but furrowing his brows in in concentration as he strains himself to focus his gaze upon their eyes. He appears to examine them for a moment before being forced to avert his gaze and look away, “Ea like vyr eyes …” He murmurs, “They … Have a comfortable warmth within them.” The person meets his gaze for a few seconds; their own eyes wide as their breath catches in their throat. They glance down to his feet as he proceeds unerringly towards them, and they step back in turn as their heart continues to thump upon their chest like a ferrum-soled boot. “That’s-” They glance about for a moment. “Vy’re-” They stutter, their breathing quickening as their mind races with anxiety. “Spas-” Beads of sweat begin to seep from their pores, even in the Haeseni winter chill with flakes of snow falling around them. “That’s- that’s real nice of vy,” As the memory flickers in their unconscious mind, they recall speaking the boy’s name, but can extract neither his name nor his face, despite being able to remember the sincerity of his gaze with precision. They remember the stumbling thud of their boots upon the snow-laden ground as they mumbled their jittery apologies and begin to retreat. With the recollection and reality of her heartbeat pounding in her ears, Elena Viorica Kortrevich awakes with a start in the midst of a wintry nocturnal disturbance. Even in the intense cold, the room’s fire withered where its hearth once blazed, perspiration again dots her forehead as she reorients herself and begins to relax. She whispers quiet reassurances and prayers, though among her consolations are the hopes that “Ea though ea had outgrown nightmares …” Once comforted, she begins to note her memory of the vivid dream shrinking away from her clear recollection, and thinks again on her resolution after discussing the matter with Marian. The rises slowly from bed and lights a lamp, careful to restrict her gentle movements to avoid waking anyone sleeping in the rooms beside her own, and fetches her miniature pocketbook and Koravian poetry volume from her effects. Her face illuminated by oiled lamplight, Elena begins to whisper rhymes and jot down the lines and stanzas of her next poem. Her efforts proceed through the hours of howling winds until the ambient light accompanying the sun’s majesty begins to bleed through the shut up windows of the poet’s bedroom. She glances up, only now noticing the sad misery of her burnt-out oil lamp, and fatigue encroaches in. She returns her exhausted gaze to the poem before her, as yet Untitled, and she glances over the brief notes she had made before the dream dissipated in her mind. With her persistent heart once again beating with insistence, she feels as though an anvil were sitting upon her heart, and only one phrase echoing through her groggy mind. Elena extends her quill forth towards the header of the poem’s page, and scrawls three simple words embodying her entire feeling and being in that moment. “I Love You” The following piece of poetry is published, in homage of I Hate You by VKML Borris Kortrevich: “I LOVE YOU” BY ELENA VIORICA KORTREVICH 509 E.S. The pain of loving you, Watching you drift away I knew, Everything between us two, Would one day be through, But oh, how I love you. My strain is no fault of yours, But all I seek is sweet assures, To supply my heart its cures, For the endless pain it endures, In service of me loving you. As I await your arrival, My beating heart enduring trial, I recall your gaze’s spirited revival, And suddenly I feel I’m going viral, Because of my love for you. Yet standing before you all naive, My voice lost; all it can achieve, A quiet utterance as I leave, Since all I can do is disbelieve, That you chance to love me? Each word you speak enters like an axe, But a boy unaware the agony he exacts, Asks just how can I make up my lacks? For all my heart does is crack, And with what worthiness can I Love You?

Issued by the Naf zwy 11th hag i Jula ag Piov i 509 E.S. "The LORD PALATINE is the penultimate authority of the realm, second only to the Sovereign of Haense, and leads the realm as Head of Government and first aide to the sovereign at his/her behest. Historically, the Lord Palatines have held massive authority, rivalling that of some modern monarchs, and traditionally operate as one of the crown’s most loyal and zeal subjects in accomplishing its interests and goals. The most likely candidate for selection has typically been from Haense’s sprawling nobility and gentry, though there have been cases where clergy (V and IX) and even commoners (XIV) have held the seat." - The Lord Palatines of Haense; 131 E.S. As the Aulic Council inquest continues, the time has come for the Office of the Auditor to summon the occupant of the office of the Lord Palatine (New Marian: Herzen Palatin), Walter Leòn Weiss to speak before the Royal Duma. The Auditor’s summons are intended to answer questions regarding ongoing circumstances within the Dual-Kingdom, and to allow the boyars of the Duma to question the Palatine on his works and plans in a public forum. His Majesty’s Duma hopes to see the Lord Palatine, if possible, at the next session of the Royal Duma so that he may address the hall’s inquiries at his convenience. Her Ladyship, Anabel Elia Colborn, Countess-Emerita of Malkovya, Keeper of the Book, Lady Auditor of the Royal Duma, and the Secretary of the Esrova Courts

Issued by the Naf zwy 10th hag i Wzuvar ag Byvca i 505 E.S. "The Lord Emissar (Herzen Vykomyn) is the highest official to represent the Crown in foreign affairs. Under the Emissar’s expertise and guidance, the Aulic Ambassadors manage the Crown’s foreign relations. The Emissar has the Crown’s designated authority to judge and enforce His Majesty’s Will outside of Haeseni Borders." - Ministry of the Emissar; 468 E.S. The Office of the Emissar has been notably more quiet than usual in recent years. Therefore, the Auditor of the Duma wishes to summon the incumbent Lord Emissar (New Marian: Herzen Vykomyn) Viktor Siegmund var Ruthern before the legislative assembly to report upon his office, his current and future plans for the kingdom’s diplomatic ventures - particularly in light of the prospect of war on the horizon - and to allow His Excellency to report upon the state of the nation’s foreign treaties. His Majesty’s Duma hopes to see the Lord Emissar, if possible, in the next session of the Royal Duma so that he may address the hall’s inquiries at his convenience. Her Ladyship, Anabel Elia Colborn, Countess-Emerita of Malkovya, Keeper of the Book, Lady Audtior of the Royal Duma, and the Secretary of the Esrova Courts

SIEGE UPON THE SENSES Nestled away within the peaks of the frozen north, the City of Valdev lay bare its inhabitants to the Blizzard. The Blizzard and the City were at war, and the Blizzard was winning. Many of the citizens of Valdev had lost sight of how long the Blizzard had been wreaking its chaos on them; the young had grown with it, and the old had forgotten life before it. One morning the tempestuous snowfall erupted from the chalky clouds gathered above without warning; arising from magickal means. Great swaths of wintry matter carpeted the streets and houses as colossal freezing spikes of ice and niveous material erupted from the pavements alike a volcanic peak emerging from the seabed. Soon enough, the hardy Haeseni were strangling themselves in scarves, and overlaying each garment with slabs of insulating fur before venturing into the constant snowy cloudburst hovering just outside the firelit safety of each domicile. The basilica doors were shut, the taverns were boarded, and fireplaces were alight all over the city as each citizen dug in to survive the ongoing nightmare. Although the City had not caught a glimpse of the exiled sun for months, the operations of the Haeseni continued with as sunny a disposition as ever. Few lost the battle to the Blizzard, but those who did were remembered fondly and burnt; in celebration of their lives, and to remind the survivors who they died for. As the flames of the funeral pyre licked at the logs amidst the squall, they emitted a warm glow that represented, for many, Hope. Any external endeavour became more difficult than ever, and messengers soon learnt not to dawdle on their journey as they may once have. Those traversing the streets stooped, bundled in hats and scarves, with their shoulders offering counsel to the ears as they hurried furiously onwards through the tempest to a veritable galaxy of diverse destinations. Stories echoed through dimly lit taverns describing the boy whose uncovered ears came off when he arrived in Valdev, or the old man whose collapsed body in the snow became icily encased thoroughly enough to replace a broken palace step, being buried and unnoticeable under so much snow. Such myths of horror filled the imaginations of the unfortunate pilgrims hiking through the desolate cobbled avenues as the gnawing teeth of the wind bit at their skin with burnt needling pin-pricks. Nevertheless, as the furious flurries slammed against the frosted windows, a very heated battle was taking place inside one of the most prominent tavern's walls. The child felt like they had been there for weeks rather than hours; sat impatiently by the fire as muffled sounds had emanated from within a locked bedroom, strange figures had rushed about, and the Blizzard's anguished screams echoed through the streets all the while. Their anxious fingers rapped against the leg of their stool as blank figures rushed past them and out of sight once more. Enquiries were made, until a shrill voice rang out throughout the room and the fire crackled; the fiery figure's face lit by flame. “Nie one ****ing asks!” Matching them, the other person rebutted their shouts until the pair were engaged in a battle of furious wills – who would crumble first under the other's ire? The child watched all of this in horrified rapture; what had sparked this pillar of vengeful fire they saw before them? Their face grew red and hot from the intense heat of the scene of burning bloodshed before them. Only people with such fierce love between them could inflict pain of this scale on one another; is this the fate to befall all who care so deeply? The child, frightened by the display, clasps their clammy hands over their ears, burying their head to distance themselves from the fight. Their heart ached with the weight of betrayal and rejection, and they thought of the whispers about that old man. Maybe he, like them, had felt so burdened by the struggles of life that he had simply laid down for the winter storm to embrace him, a mother greeting her child once again, and felt the life drain from his husked soul. Eventually, the child's turbulent emotions washed over them and the pain they felt from watching their loved ones tear each other limb from limb became too great; they lifted their rubicund head, grief-stricken tears slipping down their rounded cheeks, and shouted: “STOP!” They cried out, “Just stop! Please stop fighting-!” And, like the child, the Blizzard's mistral roared as the tavern creaked under the strain… The following piece of poetry is published, reflecting on the ongoing blizzard: “SIEGE UPON THE SENSES” BY ELENA VIORICA KORTREVICH 504 E.S. In Piov the high skies grew nebulous, Winds whistled while ground shew tremulous, And parents and progeny grieved, 'God is punishing us' they cried, As I wonder why I have not died. Pocketed in the fires crackle, As clans and cads alike collect, They fester like a beetle’s nest, Packed closely in by house arrest, While rowdy outwinds yip in jest. Through the rows the squall raced by, The cyclone shrieked a pained reply, Blankets of snow cloaked the ground, Woe betide, for those outside, Lost bearing and drowned. While the blizzard shrieks, so do I; To douse the striking sound, As ferocious rioting ‘rupts around, My fam’ly ties all but torn, As we pray for coming dawn. Its fate Haense has accepted, A solution we’ve neglected, One morn soon the day shall come, When we’ll warm by glowing sun, So death upon this snow-filled bomb!

<3 <3 <3

Even as the first copies of the Haeseni Customs Vol. II were being distributed, the sedulous Secretary of the Esrova Courts was making her final adjustments to the study. A red-faced, sweating Scyfling servant sprinted through the frigid streets to Valdev to Queen Amaya's office in the Palace; sent with the final manuscript from Malkovya. He hammered senselessly on the Queen's door, "It's from your Mostir, your Royal Maj- Esty-!" The poor soul had to pause for breath in the middle of a word. Meanwhile, elderly Anabel Elia Colborn was wiping the sweat from her brow. "Phew- crisis averted." She murmurs, ink still dripping from her quill. "May the Council's voice never be perverted under my watch." The aged woman clasps a hand to her heart, before taking in her personal copy of their work. "And may this history never again be forgotten." Then, the old overworked woman rises from the desk and heads to sleep off her late-night editor's exhaustion. Until the next project comes along-!

Published from the County of Malkovya ISSUED ON THE 11TH OF TOV AND YERMEY, 501 E.S. As our society marches unendingly forwards, the Countess Anabel Elia Colborn has fulfilled the duties assigned to her following the abdication of her eldest son, Carolus Ivan Colborn. For 18 years has she ruled justly and with great warmth over the growing Comital household, however age and the onset of senility draws her away from the forefront of peerage towards the pleasant home that she built at Vitraval upon Afors. Therefore, Lady Anabel wishes to abdicate her position as the Countess of Malkovya and Matriarch of House Colborn to her well-trained Grandson and Heir, Lord Cassian Colborn who has proven himself quite qualified. As such, Cassian Alarik Colborn shall henceforth be recognised as the Patriarch of the House of Colborn, the Count of Malkovya, Viscount of Venzia, Baron of Bethlenen, Lord of Vitraval, and the Protector of Scyflings, and Lady Anabel retired to her Council position as the Keeper of the Book of Colborn. Her Ladyship, Anabel Elia Colborn, Countess-Emerita of Malkovya, Keeper of the Book, Lady Auditor of the Royal Duma, and Secretary of the Esrova Courts The Right Honourable, Cassian Alarik Colborn, Count of Malkovya, Viscount of Venzia, Baron of Bethlenen, Lord of Vitraval, and the Protector of Scyflings

Issued by the Naf zwy 8th hag i Joma ag Umund i 500 E.S. "At the head of the court sits the Grand Lord or Lady, charged with administering the Morrivi as a whole. As the most venerable and competent of the council, they shall strive for excellence in all things, seeing to it that their underlings are diligently put to task. In addition to this, they are to shepherd the Haeseni culture and serve as advisor to the King and Queen on all matters pertaining to such." - Ve Morrivi Kort | The Formation of the Royal Court; 453 E.S. Following the retirement of the seasoned Fabian d’Arkent-Kortrevich from his position on the Aulic Council, it seems pertinent for the Auditor to summon his appointed replacement; Grand Lady (New Marian: Ve Haucherzenas) Marian Blackwood-Weiss @CasChaos before the Royal Duma to allow her to report on the workings of the Esrova Prikaz Courts. Furthermore, these Summons are to allow the Grand Lady to answer any questions that the Haeseni populace is certain to have for Her Excellency, specifically regarding any planned revisions for the reformed Courts and her personal goals for her tenure upon the Aulic Council. His Majesty’s Duma hopes to see the Grand Lady, if possible, in the next session of the Royal Duma so that she may address such quandaries at her leisure. The Right Honourable, Anabel Elia Colborn, Countess of Malkovya, Viscountess of Venzia, Baroness of Bethlenen, Lady of Vitraval, the Protector of Scyflings, Keeper of the Book, Lady Audtior of the Royal Duma, and the Secretary of the Esrova Courts

Little Elena Viorica Kortrevich peers with wide eyes at her wiser senior cousin's newest work of poetry. "Ea wish ea could write like Leo," She murmurs, recollecting the conversation she shared with the very same Leonid Kortrevich months prior concerning how to find poetic inspiration. "But niething really grabs mea attention like it did years ago..." The girl muses. Truly, nothing could quite compete with the terror of the weightlessness of a body adrift in water. "Ea should go ask Leo what his poem is about," She decides for herself, hopping up from where she was sat and scrabbling off in search of the Poet Kortrevich.

Published from the County of Malkovya ISSUED ON THE 9TH OF GRONNA AND DROBA, 499 E.S. After years of construction and labour under the watchful gaze of Countess Anabel Elia Colborn, she is pleased to announce the completion of the House of Colborn’s holding within the lush County of Malkovya. The wise Council of Colborn, with special guidance from the Heir, has after much deliberation decided to dub the newly-constructed keep: Vitraval upon Afors, or simply Vitraval. The name is derived from the Scyfen word for the centrepiece of the domicile; a glistening white tree, known as the Carrsten Tree, without leaves whose seed was carried by the Colborns that migrated from Almaris to the new continent, and after whom St. Carr was named. Some Scyflings believe that the sap of such trees has magical healing properties, although its sap has not been harvested for a long time. The Scyfen word “Vitraval” translates to “Walled-in White Tree” in honour of this iconic symbol of House Colborn around which the keep’s walls were built. Additionally, the area of river upon which Vitraval is built has been named the “Afors”, meaning “Where the river meets the Falls”. Vitraval in its grandeur boasts a multipurpose ballroom, comprehensive library for hosting the Colborn archives, stables, gatehouse, Burgrave accommodation, Barracks, Training grounds, extensive housing for Colborn kin, an alchemy tower, crypts, Council chamber, and the Hall of Patron Ancestors. The Countess Colborn wishes to thank those who aided her in the organisation and construction of Vitraval, and hopes that the discerning eye of the Haeseni populace shall deem their hard work to have been worth it. However, due thanks must first be given to those loyal helpers: Amelia Ceciliya Colborn Karyna Rezalin de Pelear Alfred Konstanz Barclay Mikhail Ulrik Aleksey Colborn Charlotte Henrietta The Right Honourable, Anabel Elia Colborn, Countess of Malkovya, Viscountess of Venzia, Baroness of Bethlenen, Lady of Vitraval, the Protector of Scyflings, Keeper of the Book, Lady Auditor of the Royal Duma, and Secretary of the Esrova Courts