ibiou

The wife of CHARLES II had watched him grow from a boy with the lack of knowledge on the world, to a monarch ruling his lands. HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA could not be more prouder, and ready was she as his Queen-consort to support him and his endeavours.

"How do you feel now, looking back, that you were a man of the cloth turned into a king?" The question arose from a father to his daughter-in-law, amidst a personal conversation in the chapel. HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA thought of the very question as she looked over to JOHN OF AAUN now, lifeless, in the same spot not a month later. "I doubt a lot." She bent towards her CHARLES' side. All she could hear was the quiet sobs he uttered, and when her hands which trembled with the grief she knew was coming she could only think of what the Aaunic king thought of his life; God's punishment. The His Majesty's towards him the congregation echoed did not reach her ears as Charles was addressed. Her gaze seemed to fixate on him without a care for herself, entirely caught in the moment of observation. John would always be the authority figure they looked to for guidance in their upcomng positions; always the one to wield his power, with piety, whenever needed. They were children to her, merely inexperienced. Yet, she reminded herself, that even he had doubts too. A tether of humanity one could not lose. The new Queen-consort of Aaun was plagued with thoughts of obligation and doubt. On her wedding day did she vow in death and sickness, and so did Hedwig stay at Charles II's side thereon; a boy turned into a king, for how much will he doubt like his father?

An avid keeper of birds, the Lady of Alba made sure to note the location of this new stall and its location. "I will make the time soon to house one in my menagerie, and see that it is rehabilitated under my roof." HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA cooed to herself, eager to take on yet another pet.

Her first niece, and many more to come she assumed from her sister and brother-in-law. HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA made her way down the Hand of Horen upon the morn of little Lorelei's birth after returning from her months of pilgrimage, with a faint smile upon her lips. She thought she would be the first to have her own and settle down, given the years CHARLES and her had been married, with tensions running higher than ever. Hedwig had been so anxious about seeing the new babe, that when she finally got to hold her the feeling within her chest dissapated. A finger went to brush Lorelei's dark hair, which reminded her of tales her own uncles told her about her father with whom she never got to meet. Such promise, of youth and curiousity. Incense by Saint Calliope's tomb whirled into thin spirals in the midst of the Ulrichsburg crypts.

During her pilgrimage did news fall upon the Crown Princess-consort of Aaun's ears. Upon the trail towards the next stop did she take the time, with a servant that kept her company, to pick out flowers on the moorelands and rest them by a makeshift memorial. "May GOD guide her spirit, for Queen Catherine of the Petra can now be laid to rest." HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA uttered, raising herself from lighting a candle. The flame flickered violently in the wind as she traced the Lorraine. Then, another whisper; one more personal. "I shall be home soon, Charlie. You shall not bear the burden alone for much longer."

The Crown Princess-consort of Aaun, HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA, raised a brow as the courier made his rounds with the recent missives of the land. Most notably was The Gilded Quill, which she almost threw out before taking a look at its contents. "Social season?" She uttered, "If this new writer has professed it such, despite the masquerade not being for the very intention, then he or she is certainly making a challenge for me to keep up with." Without further delay did Hedwig call upon her handmaiden JENNÉT, with a huff and a puff. "Make the next events upon the Chamberlain's itinerary be, with hidden agenda, dedicated to accepting the challenge of this Bel Aurum. I must see whether or not scandal has befallen on our very Confederation." @Orphvius

Twas the third location of the ROYAL TOUR OF ALBA that led us a little closer to home. By the Petran province border it sat overlooking the fields of Aaun, unmissable in size. Whilst most of my childhood interests were spent in the company of birds and friends alike, my husband Prince Charles was invested in niche politics that preserved cultural heritages, such as the Waldenic Diet. Here, it was where he learnt of HOUSE VON THEONUS. The Lord of Alba and I visited VISSENGREN when it was only the Margraviate, but with their recent promotion I can introduce them now as the DUCHY OF VOHENHEM; our third tour date. The disruption of the Garmont Assembly led our visit to be short, yet not a moment was wasted. Upon this day did we decide to bring along Bishop Yann, Mistress of the Robes Lucia and Lord Demetrio Varoche, the heir to the County of Ves and a childhood friend of the Crown Prince and I. We were greeted at the steps by Lords AUREL, ARTEL AND KONSTANTIN VON THEONUS who swiftly prompted us onward. I admired their ability to keep to a time-constrained schedule, for they knew everything they wished to show us. Blessed we were for a tour of their glorious keep, who stands monstrous on the roads deeper into the Petran countryside. SIR ARTEL showed us the foundry, where many of their weaponry are made. Most notable are the cannons for the SIEGE OF ANTHILL, which Prince Charles found to be a tremendous piece of knowledge the family should be proud of. Here they craft out of rare metals like azhl and boomsteel, or treated with frost salt. I have yet to hold a blade forged from their smithery, but when I do I shall recall back fondly on being shown firsthand the time and care put into its creation. Now did SIR KONSTANTIN proudly show off their Petran war horses. The horse that was picked out for us to see was dressed in ceremonial armour. The suit of plate was gilded, bearing small engravings of the sun and eagle which, notably, was on the von Theonus crest. The name of this horse breed was the MARDONLANDER CHARGER, bred for travel and war. The Petran fleet rode these steeds into battle, from Hippo’s Gorge to Easworth Forest. Due to the difficult terrain, we were informed that the horses adapted overtime to being able to climb the steep surface of the mountains. I had asked in particular whether or not the ceremonial armour was made in their foundry, to which it was. In fact, because of their placement on the border the family had to learn to be self-sufficient overtime. What a commendable enterprise! It was Lady CALLA VON THEONUS’ turn to take us towards the gardens of Vissingren, whose flowers were in bloom upon the day of our visit, and are held in high regard. According to the tale, it was the rose frields of Reinmar that their late rulers, Karl and Annette, fell in love. Since then, the family have taken pride in including gardens into the different iterations of their keeps. The love in this garden, especially with how it was maintained, was evident all around us. I could not help but let myself be immersed in the romance of our surroundings. The kindness of Lady Calla was not only shown in her upkeep of the gardens, but through how she gifted us all with cookies of her making! Ribbons of white and blue decorated them, and they tasted delicious. It was with the gift that the tour did conclude, and we headed off towards Vallagne together. Despite our stay being one of the shortest thus far, we took delight in learning about the pride and joys of von Theonus, who showed us exactly why they were promoted amongst the nobility. The Duchy of Vohenheim shall receive a COMMEMORATIVE PIN in honour of their hospitality. WRITTEN AND SELF-PUBLISHED; In the Hand of Horen at Whitespire, On the 3rd of Horen's Calling, 1978. Her Royal Highness, HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA, Crown Princess-consort of Aaun, Lady Chamberlain of the Paradisian Court & the Lady of Alba

Even if she couldn't be in attendance, HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA made sure to tell her servants that a bouquet of white roses was to be made for the special day. In the next few days did she, alongside CHARLES ALSTION, seek out the freshest of the bunch in the entirety of the Heartlander Confederation. "Do you think these will be fresh enough, my dear?" She asked aloud towards him, bending down towards the florist's pick. "Although my presence will be absent, I'm sure a grand gesture will keep me there in spirit." @Olox_

"You think so?" Remarked the aforementioned wife, HEDWIG, who turned towards CHARLES to bear witness to his smile. Then did she mirror his, only brighter, the apple of her cheeks turning red. "We'll see with the coming years whether or not these changes shall be effective, and one day it shall be us to steer our vassals towards their right path."

I can only begin this volume of my publications by declaring wholeheartedly that this next location is one of the places I feel most at ease, even before the tour dates were drafted. I had grown up in the mountains of Langkette by the coast of the Silver Sea, yet something about being in the heart of the buzz of a port made me feel alive. Our second stop led us north of Vallagne upon the riverbed, for Prince Charles and I made ourselves at home in the FREE CITY OF CHAMBERY for the duration of our stay. Immediately upon my arrival into the square, I met an Oyashiwoman who introduced herself with the name DODAITOSE, explaining that she was the secretary to the President of the Northern Geographical Society. She was more than polite to talk to, and had a great presence to her that made her appear wiser than her years. She greeted me as well as one could as a total stranger, though she was well spoken in our small talk. Once conversation went underway with Miss Dodaitose, my company found themselves arriving into the square. The Lord of Alba and I were accompanied once more with the young squire George Halcourt, as well Prince Alexander Caius Alstion, my brother-in-law, and my Mistress of the Robes Lucia. Then also did appear NICOLAS VON WITTENBACH, the Bourgmestre of Chambery, with his usual cheer. The Mayor Nicolas has never failed to put a smile on my face, and his greeting made an already sunny day beam brighter. We were told by him that we were to go on a guided walk around Chambery, to learn of its vast history and culture. The guided walk led us to great depths as we explored the caves of Chambery. Early settlers found these extensive caves under Petra, and while houses were being built many came to dwell down there. The thought of living in a cave made me shudder, especially when Dodaitose mentioned that they believed it to be an isolated section of the continent’s underdark. I can only begin to feel what it must have been like living down here as the only source of shelter, even in its mysteries. This tour was more-than interesting, as we learnt all about the Chambery Underdark in depth. From exploring what is known as ‘The Odyssey’ to discovering the President of the NGS’ extraordinary abode, the history and magic that dwells here will be spun into tales I will tell my children, and hopefully passed down for generations to come. Once our tour of the caves came to a close, we were led back into the main square. The statue that loomed over, we were told, was Dame Celestine Herbert. Learning more about this woman, I found her incredibly inspiring; paving the way for cultures, scholars, artists and artisans through founding the NORTHERN GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY. With future research I dedicate my life’s work in the courts to becoming more like Dame Celestine, and it is all thanks to both Nicolas and Dodaitose for introducing me to the remarkable lady. Onward did our flank lead up the stairs in the NGS building, where a private exhibition was held in our honour about my husband’s interest in imperial history. Notable relics we saw were: helmets worn by King Olivier de Savoie and St. Emma, a quill that belonged to Joseph II, Emperor of Oren and a silver jubilee pocket watch of Emperor Peter III. What caught my Mistress of the Robes’ eye in particular was a magma cream, from the NGS’ expedition into the Nether. She asked whether or not one could drink the substance, which wasn’t recommended, but apparently lathering it on the skin sprouts the ability to resist the hottest of temperatures. Dear reader, if there was more magma cream in existence I would recommend it as a moisturiser in the morning, but alas; there is only one of its kind, and it is in the heart of the society’s archives! After a brief look of the library, we enjoyed some luncheon of beef and potatoes alongside wine and juice. This is where we came to learn of the wine menu, and one in particular caught my eye. Coronation Wine, from the coronation of King Josef I of Hanseti-Ruska in the first year of the Second Age. Immediately drawn to how Borgmestre Nicolas could of preserved this wine, he told me that HOUSE VON WITTENBACH is known for its long history in being winemakers and merchants. He offered me a drink of Petran Red, in which I humbly accepted, allowing for Prince Charles, Nicolas and I to engage in conversation. Not once did we feel alienated in our titles, and were made to feel at home as we dined together. I can only thank the Bourgmestre for allowing us to truly feel at peace. You can tell that the hardworking people of Chambery love their craft, for it is present through each street one can walk down. In my work of reforming the Heartlander Courts I shall find myself there more often, soaking in the culture. My dear readers, I implore you to take a trek to the north of the Petra province's capital and spend some time around the city yourselves, for my penmanship will never do this location justice. The Free City of Chambery shall receive a COMMEMORATIVE PIN in honour of their hospitality. WRITTEN AND SELF-PUBLISHED; In the Hand of Horen at Whitespire, On the 12th of Sun's Smile, 1976. Her Royal Highness, HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA, Crown Princess-consort of Aaun, Lady Chamberlain of the Paradisian Court & the Lady of Alba

"They left quite the impression, did they not?" HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA replied in tandem with her husband. She was beginning the next volume of her work, The Royal Tour of Alba: Free City of Chambery, in their little holiday home, the candlelight in their chamber flickering with the final flames of the night. "I dare say that we have high expectations now." Putting down her quill did she peer over towards CHARLES ALSTION with a gleam in her eye. "A good idea it was for both of us to engage with our future vassals. A success, surely. Knowing them personally has left me feeling rather inspired."

Counting down the months until I wed the Lord of Alba, together we had planned meticulously our pathway after marriage and the impending duration of our honeymoon. With the confederation only born only hours after the announcement of our engagement, I suggested to Prince Charles that we should embark on a royal tour whilst we are still young and full of optimism; a chance to know our future vassals, both of Petran and Aaunish origin. Thus, the ROYAL TOUR OF ALBA was born. Within the year did we begin to lay out the foundations of our visits, contacting noble lords and ladies alike upon their availability. Each location we are to visit will be recorded and published for the use of education amongst the PARADISIAN COURT, so that future generations will know of their noble peers and landholders’ humility; an example made of them. The first stop of our tour found ourselves in the heart of the Petran province: VALLAGNE. There, the VISCOUNTY OF STORMONT and seat of HOUSE REINHOLD reside. I confess, dear reader, that I had not known the VISCOUNTY OF STORMONT too well before our visit. Yet, upon our arrival into Vallagne we noticed that despite a lack of place of their own outside the once-capital of Petra, they had made themselves at home in their corner of town. Our entourage approached Manor Raònoir, and made our presence known. Upon first glance could I tell that both Sir Reinholds prided themselves on their gentility, for when they showed their faces did they beam as radiant as the sun. SIR WILFORD REINHOLD in particular took my interest, as he offered a polite bow and asked us how our evenings had gone. No time was wasted after first introductions, for we were welcomed into the manor before we knew it. SIR ATTICUS REINHOLD informed us that their newly-established family prided themselves on their artisans; craftsmen, painters, and architects. Whilst I found the space of the manor well-utilised for a makeshift exhibition of one’s family crafts, I could not help but feeling as though they would be better suited for somewhere humble, yet their own, to have rooms and rooms of artwork proudly displayed for all to see. Established art galleries instead of a salon-made. Yet, enough of my nitpicking. My royal husband is not one to engross himself in the arts, but that did not stop him from engaging with the paintings.Whilst I took to discovering the history of House Reinhold and how they came to live in Petra, he and our esteemed companions braved the parlour for artefact viewing. I will not dabble much into the history of House Reinhold (I believe you should, dear reader, take the time to ask the good sirs yourself), but I admired the devotion and work they put into establishing themselves amongst the ranks. Two great minds, each with different skill sets, came together to form a strong partnership. They are a testament to what great effort can award you in life. Here I note how incredibly informed LADY ADELYN REINHOLD, the heiress of Stormont, was. She did not hesitate to enlighten everyone on the painter, her aunt Angelina. She is an esteemed architect throughout the province. I was not familiar with her work before spotting her portraits upon the wall, but dare I say Princes Charles and I now are now fans of her artistry. In my eyes, Lady Adelyn should appear more in society so that she may grace others with her presence for she was a delight to be around. One piece that piqued my interest was an open sketchbook by Lord Oliver Reinhold. Sketches, both in colour and lack of, displayed various pieces of clothing. Some were formal dresses, others casual daywear, though it was clear upon further inspection that. There was even a mannequin in his tailoring. I express my utmost, and commend him on his fine needlework. I have yet to meet Lord Oliver, but when I do I shall put him in good word with my own Mistress of the Robes, Miss Lucia. From then did a man of our flank, squire George Halcourt, find himself engrossed in a blade displayed. Our attention was drawn towards the encounter, like a moth to a flame, that I could not help but marvel. Sir Wilford was the first to speak on the dagger, which we found out was his craftsmanship. George was able to wield the blade himself, which proved to the knights of Petra his future alongside them in the knighthood of the Heartlander Confederation. Sir Wilford's work was impressive, given his extensive years of refining his talents. One ought to seek the lord out for commissions. Due to the group’s size, Sir Atticus asked us whether or not we had an interest in archery. I opted to sit out of this activity as I wield particularly poor aim unlike my party-goers, who appeared excited for the opportunity to show off their archery skills. We found ourselves being led through the Vallagne square and out of the city walls, until we reached a point which one could only describe as a small campsite, with a few placed targets. The winner was Count Emilio Varoche, whose aim with a bow will remain victorious amongst the congregation. The reward he will be given is a weapon designed in his likeness by Sir Wilford. The game, whether spontaneous or planned beforehand, was a breath of fresh air and provided much needed fun to a day of sight-seeing. We look forward to seeing Sir Atticus and Sir Wilford Reinhold as they continue to embark on changing the legacy of the Petran province. Furthermore, we would be delighted to visit again in the foreseeable future and thank them for their time. The Viscounty of Stormont shall receive a COMMEMORATIVE PIN in honour of their hospitality. WRITTEN AND SELF-PUBLISHED; In the Hand of Horen at Whitespire, On the 10th of Horen's Calling, 1976. Her Royal Highness, HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA, Crown Princess-consort of Aaun, Lady Chamberlain of the Paradisian Court & the Lady of Alba

"Our cook is deeply accomplished!" Exclaimed HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA as she showed her husband the Butterfield Map. "My curiousity on his culinary skills only grows." @Olox_

"My cousin has a huge heart, of which his predicament hides." HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA , the distant cousin of the hunchback of Warsovia, told her husband-to-be. "I hope that our people give him a chance." Despite having seen him drink the fountain water in Whitespire's square, the young Lechian lady was optimistic. Perhaps... @Olox_

The bride-to-be had not known rest for the last few years upon the moment she accepted CHARLES REMAN ALSTION's hand in marriage. The talks of blessings and her impending responsibilities had much weight upon her shoulders, but HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA knew that this would be her normal now. Making her way down the Hand's stairwell in the preparations for the big day did she come to stop, take the moment in, and embrace it. Busy would she be, but all while with a smile upon her face and by her betrothed's side.

The Lady Chamberlain of the newfound Heartlander Confederation, HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA, turned to CHARLES ALSTION as they sat together now. "To the future." She whispered under her breath, unable to contain her grin. @Olox_

HEDWIG JAZLOWIECKI hadn't known her uncle, WACLAW, during her young life. Born in the last few years of his reign as the Count of Warsovia he had only been a voice within their home, or a rare sighting of his red hair escaping through a doorway. As the House of Jazlowiecki fell into a period of mourning, Hedwig could not help but feel the profound loss upon her shoulders; weighing her down. Before she slipped her riding gloves on to make haste to join her companions in the west, the Jazlowiecki lit a candle in her chamber's windowsill. "See how far we have come, uncle. Watch on as I take our name and legacy to greater heights."

II. THE FRIENDSHIP OF SAINTS The second PAINT THE SAINT night of the PARADISIAN COURT was once more hosted by Her Excellency, Hedwig of Warsovia, in the Hand of Horen. Following the success of the last session, the Lady Chamberlain sees fit to instate the artistic session as a yearly event, for the population of the great kingdom of Aaun to revel in artistry and embrace their creativity. Whilst the challenge of guessing Saint Godwin with descriptive clues bloomed fruitful art pieces, this session posed an intriguing question: OUT OF ALL OF THE CANONIST SAINTS, WHO WOULD END UP BEING GREAT FRIENDS? Purely theoretical, courtiers had the chance to group together saints based on their own justifications as to, if they were alive at the same time, whether or not they would be good friends. Additionally, they were handed a paper list of all of the saints; the choice of who they would pick being fully theirs. Once more did the attendees grab their paint brushes with eagerness, ready to unleash their artisan personas. The results of Paint the Saint night will be showcased below. Ser Sterling Whitewood @_RoyalCrafter_ “Saint Amya and Saint Arianne; Fides in Nature.” Lady Arowyn Whitewood @Frank_Dog “Mine is of Saint Michael of Cordobe and Saint. Arianne. Two patron saints of service, ought to get along with each other I think.” His Lordship, Guy de Lewes @Timer “Saint Edmond is the patron saint of baronial lords amongst other things, and I shall one day be baron myself, GOD willing.” Her Majesty, Amelya of Middelan @bickando “They are both saints and sinners. Gluttons, each in their own sense…” Her Highness, Josephine Florentia Alstion @Myochii “I thought it unlikely for an egg and a chicken leg to be friends. It's like an apple going back to its own tree to befriend where it came from. Isn't it weird?” Miss Jénnet @Orphvius “Saint Julia of Paradisus and Saint Judith of Czena; why, both patron saints are women! Mustn’t they be the bestest of friends in the heavens?” HER EXCELLENCY, Hedwig of Warsovia, Lady Chamberlain of the Paradisian Court

I. SAINT GODWIN The first PAINT THE SAINT night of the PARADISIAN COURT was hosted last saints day in the depths of the Hand of Horen. Hosted by Lady Hedwig of Warsovia, the twist on the usual art nights put on by courts of yore was inspired by the apostolic nature of the Kingdom of Aaun. Instead of painting whatever came to mind, courtiers would have a chance to use their Canonist knowledge to guess a saint based on three descriptive clues. Then, with those clues, one will paint an interpretation of the saint. The clues were as followed: He is one of the sons of Exalted Horen. The patron saint of the Heartlanders. A diocese is currently named after him. As one could guess, this session’s saint was SAINT GODWIN. A key figure in Aaunic society as its first king, it was only appropriate that the night should pay tribute to him. Everyone present took to their canvases and paint brushes in the instant, and began to work on their masterpieces. The results of Paint the Saint night will be showcased below. His Lordship, Demetrio Varoche @PufferfishTrash His Highness, Johannes von Alstreim @Balthasar His Royal Highness, James Marcel Alstion @Sefardi Her Excellency, Hedwig of Warsovia @ibiou Her Royal Highness, Josephine Florentia Alstion @Myochii HER EXCELLENCY, Hedwig of Warsovia, Lady Chamberlain of the Paradisian Court

The Investiture of Alba, to HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA, was something that loomed over the presence of CHARLES REMAN ALSTION for quite some time. She had listened to his ramblings for hours upon end, each ounce of enthusiasm and concern, that when news had reached her she wasn't surprised. Rather, she was elated. "I shall seek out a gift for him." Murmured she, "It is the least I can do." Once she was back home from her ventures, Hedwig ushered a servant aside to arrange a bouquet of white roses to be delivered to the Hand of Horen.

The merriment of HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA as of late was apparent. As she received word of her summoning to Royal Court did she, with grace and dignity, humbly accept to be in attendance. Reaching for a quill and paper upon her vanity (whilst spilling a few blotches of ink in the process), Hedwig began to pen the LORD OF ALBA, with whom she would express her excitement to. @Olox_

THE NAME-DAY CELEBRATION OF LADY HEDWIG & LADY ALICJA OF WARSOVIA Issued by the COUNTY OF WARSOVIA on the 14th of Sun’s Smile, 1971 Hear ye, he ye, across the Apostolic Kingdom of Aaun… rom the COMITAL HOUSE OF JAZLOWIECKI are the twin sisters, LADY HEDWIG MARIA & LADY ALICJA JULIA, regarded as familiar faces around Aaun. Yet, time has passed since the pair were on the uprise of their childhood. In the eyes of Aaunic society, they will become women upon the dawn of their eighteenth name-day. Both Lady Hedwig and Lady Alicja will debut in a celebration known as KUPAŁA NIGHT, to honour their Lechian heritage. Made from the wild herbs and flowers of the Langkette mountains, the wreath becomes the symbol of fertility, health and one’s future prospects. Both ladies will have wreaths tailored to their liking, different from the rest. From there, the garlands will be tossed into the river by the women present with a lighted candle. If it is to be fished out by a present bachelor, it is meant to signify a quick marriage with hopes in mind of gaining the man’s favour. If it was left to float, or burned in the candle flame, or even became entangled in the riverweeds it is assumed that the girl would not marry soon. Upon these followed rituals, the merriment of celebrations shall ensue. Beverages shall be widely available, as well as the companionship of dance. Attendees are encouraged to don lighter colours, such as pale blues, greens and yellows or white. All those of royal, noble and common blood in the Apostolic Kingdom of Aaun are encouraged to attend, though special invites are extended to the following individuals: HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, Charles Reman, Lord of Alba HER ROYAL HIGHNESS, Josephine Florentia of Alstion HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, John Valentinus of Alstion HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, James Marcel of Alstion HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, Alexander Caius of Alstion LORD Leufroy Otto of Velen LADY Guinevere Milena of Velen LADY Siegmunda Agnes of Velen LORD Guy Olivier of Virdain LADY Catherine Éloïse of Virdain LORD George Lothar of Halcourt LADY Eloise Aleksandra of Halcourt HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, Elianos Hadrian of Balian HER HIGHNESS, Kareena Isabel of Nasrid MISS Lucia MADAME Lulu Izar and Itri HIS LORDSHIP, Krzysztof Pawel Jazlowiecki, Count of Warsovia LADY Hedwig Maria Jazlowiecki of Warsovia LADY Alicja Julia Jazlowiecki of Warsovia

By her mirror did HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA spin around in a dress option for the Ball of Castle Monstresor, only to be met with the chirps of applause by her birds. "Oh, settle down." She told them. "It cannot be something too lavish, or too plain... eugh-" With a heavy sigh and woeful swooning did she fall onto her bed, hair sprawling out atop of the covers. "I must make my presence know, but how?" And at that did the poor Lechian girl spend hours anxiously worrying about the coming night.

he subtle breeze brushed by curtains, dimming the candlelight upon the mantlepiece. Its flame flickered with much intention, trying to stay alight, yet were snuffed out before their attempts could become of use. The height of the night had fallen upon Nowa Warsovia. Dream sequences; heavy sweats, unable to be cooled. HEDWIG tossed and turned. Sleep came and went for her, yet in bursts did she find herself swallowed in its embrace. She had been lost in the realm of dreams for days upon end. This one, in particular, was different. __________________ Half-bird, half-man; an abomination far known to the likes of Hedwig Jazlowiecki, yet ached with familiarity. With its human hands he reached out for her, skimmed with fingertips the back of her own, before joining them in union. The beady eyes of the bird’s head looked back. “You have betrayed the very thing you swore will fulfil you in this life, little dove.” The voice, clear, rang in Hedwig’s ears. There was an uncertainty to whether she could even respond in this realm, wherever it may be. She, aware of her slumber, only looked on with a distorted stare. The voice continued with question after question: “Do you yield? Will you cower, and accept it as it is?” “Why should I?” Hedwig sorely replied, croaking. Her tone had surprised her almost, that her eyes largely widened. She was too stubborn, too headstrong, too proud. Why should she? Yet she did, so invitingly, that it sickened her with a gut-wrenching feel she could not swallow. Her insides felt as though they were being wringed out like a wet cloth. The more she looked towards the bird-man, the more she was able to pick his features apart amidst her nausea. The head of a crane sat on the shoulders of a grown man, donning an attire of all-black. What spouted from his back were a pair of wings. The way he appeared was too natural for the hybrid to be in existence. One would assume that he was a frankensteined creature, but it did not appear to be the case. He was a mystery. “Little dove,” He started, “I have not come to you to give into your needless self-sacrifice. Rather, I possess the power of perspicuity. Obsessed with knowing, with certainty, that you forget yourself. You depend upon the actions of others that you tear yourself apart to make them whole. When will you have your share?” Hedwig, taken aback, pressed her lips shut. The bird-man continued. “Your suffering does not come from a place of honesty to yourself. If you were, would you not be content in your hurt?” “You ask so many questions—” “And yet, little dove, you answer none.” A moment, then, did Hedwig pause for her next response. “I cannot give you the answers you desire, for what I have done has passed. I cannot change what happened.” Little did she speak, yet in her words did she prove him right. If a beak could contort itself into a grin, it would have. Instead did the bird-man look blankly at her. She was too self-conscious. “I swore to myself not to come to regret my decisions.” “I did not mention regret.” His words, stern, were somewhat contradictory to his softened tone. He let go of Hedwig’s hands and turned her back to her for a few moments. She caught a glimpse of his wings speckled in cosmos and starlight. In other circumstances, she would have asked to touch the feathers; not now, in this state. Curiosity had always gotten the best of her. “You were willing to carry the burden of a thousand lifetimes and it still was not enough. Do not seek out pity from the earth and wallow in it. Metamorphosis—become, adapt, change. There is still hope. You are more than you think you are.” “And what, then, will I become?” He turned around, at last, to reveal the sharp talons where his hands once were. Sprouting with feathers was he directly at his chest, and the bird-man grew in size. Before Hedwig did he morph himself into a majestic crane. He was ten times the size of her now, that if he stepped closer he would engulf her completely. She was mesmerised by his otherworldliness. Those wings that belonged to the night sky stretched out on either side of his body and flapped, once. It was the sound of a beating drum, though much louder, echoing within the void they found themselves in. The gleam in the crane’s eye was vast and unreachable. He was another being now. Her stomach churned. “The depths of your possibilities are endless, little dove. You do not have to become a martyr for your cause. Watch then, the flames of rebirth embrace you to be something greater than they will ever behold.” The sounds of rhythmic drumming — his wings — once more ensued. Faster this time, more frequent. He was to fly off. His legs lifted from the ground and he swung himself around, soaring. As the crane went off into the null distance, Hedwig’s vision blurred… __________________ Bloodshot were her eyes when she found herself awake. It had hit her hard in the chest, gasping for air, panicking. Immediately did Hedwig’s gaze fix itself to the window. The rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter, spilling sunlight across the wooden panels on the floor. Her hands lifted to her cheek, and felt her eyes, for the first time, fill with tears. The dream—vivid now more than ever. She wrapped her arms around herself and weeped. For the rest of the month of Godfrey’s Triumph, little was seen of HEDWIG JAZLOWIECKI around the Apostolic Kingdom of Aaun.

Upon her countenance was the pull of her lips downward as her cousin's servant brought her the invitation. HEDWIG OF WARSOVIA, a girl much recovering from her own turmoil, let out a shaky breath. "Now, of all times?" She had asked herself, aloud. The bird by her had chirped back some reply, but alas, she did not bother listening. The invitation was left on her vanity as Hedwig took to sitting on her window ledge. "Perhaps I ought to go and show face. It would be rude not to."