Morphine

T’was early light before the birds woke that Siegfried set foot on board a ship, bound for the open seas. Following a path only few of his ancestors would venture down, the annals of Reinmaren history took fervent hold of the Prince’s mind. He was compelled by some will in his blood to wander and seek answers. Many miles from the shores of Azuras, the Prince’s ship steadied onward East into the rising sun. Upon first light, there beyond the horizon, a large mast rose from the depths. Her beams were rotted, turned to sponge after decades of being submerged. Her sails, thin as parchment yet never tearing. As the hull emerged, so too did it have the qualities of driftwood, caked in algae and barnacles. This wretched shape was merely no abandoned ship left behind. Nay, this were a dead man’s ship; the Withered Wail. A ghastly vessel, crewed by the most obscene and grotesque beings neither alive nor dead. Their skin rendered to jelly from sea-slug mucus, and their brains turned to soap. They did not seek riches or renown, merely acting on instinct for an insatiable bloodlust. Siegfried held firm, ordering his crew to prepare. His ship, no more than a mere trading vessel, was armed with a few cannons. The Withered Wail had no intention of engaging from a distance. Without warning, a swirling, raging storm gathered overhead. The gale filled the deadmen’s sails fully, allowing them to sprint across the water toward Siegfried’s ship. With a mighty crash, the Withered Wail rammed through the bow of the Barclay vessel, knocking good men off and to the depths. The deadmen aboard quickly vaulted from their deck with axe and sword. Without fear, Siegfried rallied his crew to charge the attackers head on. The storm grew worse, and a torrent of wind and rain swept across the ships. The Prince’s mace made quick work of the deadmen, but his crew were not so fortunate. Many had fallen to their blades, and those that cowered, leapt into the sea believing they could escape, but were soon swallowed by the waves. Soon the rain subsided, but the wind still rocked the ships violently. In desperation, Siegfried ordered what was left of his crew to gather the black powder and head for the bow. At the bow, where the Withered Wail had breached, the crew climbed aboard the deadmen’s vessel with kegs of powder, and set them along the walls of the hull while their crew was distracted. Leaving a few men to dispatch the deadmen still on deck, Siegfried climbed to the stern, dipping an arrow wrapped in cloth, into a barrel of whale oil before igniting it with a lantern nearby. One of the deadmen snuck up behind Siegfried and plunged his sword into the Prince’s back. He cried out in pain before turning around and bashing the deadman to pieces with his mace. Struggling to take aim, Siegfried drew back his bowstring and loosed the arrow onto the Withered Wail, striking the powder, and igniting a massive explosion. The blast obliterated the dead ship, but struck the powder inside the men’s ship as well, causing a chain reaction. Bleeding out from his wounds, Siegfried closed his eyes, breathed calmly, and gave a final prayer as he gazed upon his immediate oblivion. Siegfried Otto Barclay 2012-2077

LETTERS FOR THE BARONY OF ADELGAR BARONIE VON ADELGAR | BARONY OF ADELGAR Issued by the PRINCE IN REINMAR In the year of our Lord 2074 SÖHNE UND TÖCHTER VON REINMAR, FOR MANY LONG YEARS HAS OUR BELOVED BROTHER, Sir Rudolf Lothar Barclay, stood in service to Reinmar, his loyalty unbent by time and unburdened by expectation of reward, serving with some distinction as Herrenmeister these twenty-two years past, ever diligent in the ordering of war when duty calls, and in his tireless provision and keeping of fine Reinmaren Thoroughbred horses, by which Our forces have been made swift and well-mounted. It is therefore meet that We, in the fullness of Our princely duty, do now grant and bestow upon him the Barony of Adelgar with all rights and and honors thereto belonging; to be held in perpetuity, and passed onto his children, and their children, and so on. Further, We do decree that he and all his issue shall, as of this ascension, previously having been known as Barclay, take and bear the name of von Adelgar, and be known thereby in all dealings from henceforth. WER RASTET, DER ROSTET His Princely Highness Siegfried I, GMSTSR, Prince in Reinmar, Prince of Sutica and Minitz, Duke of Reinmar, Count of Kretzen, Neu Brandthof and Freimark, Burgrave of Langenkirch, Viscount of Tucay, Baron of Freising, Madvon, and Boriënwald, Lord of Sankt Johannsburg, Freisburg, Wilheburg, Rozenfeld, Erwinsburg, Leonstadt, Neuberg, Durres, and Holsord, High Chief of the Reinmaren

The old man Oswald grinned, knowing that he hadn't left this world before seeing his son marry.

Siegfried broke bread with Othmar and company, toasting the newly wedded pair. "May GOTT grant you long and healthy lives, and may He bless you with many children."

A certain Prince takes a close look at the missive. Then a look back at his titles. "Oh good, I thought there was some mistake."

"Hrm?" Prince Siegfried squinted at the mention of Suticans, quite confused as to what this meant.

Siegfried gave a hearty chuckle at the missive before continuing to read his other parchments of mail.

"You and mother were the pillars that kept this nation from total collapse. It is by your guidance, your model of leadership, I can only hope to mirror." Siegfried sat in silence near the warm hearth of his otherwise dark and clammy room. Questions of the future, feelings of regret, fear of failure; all of these speculations, laid bare at his feet.

The Baron of Sigradz and of Hussen partook in several hunting trips, gathering pelts for the inevitable ceremony.

Siegfried silently grieved his late mother's departure. Taking the time to reflect on family portraits and childhood trinkets, her memory is forever cherished in his heart.

Oswald peered the missive with delight. "Uncle, you've outdone yourself once more. I cannot wait to see what amazing works this venture will bring."

In the Year of Our Lord 2047 Effective immediately, I, OSWALD VON WESENBURG, in sight of the HOUSE PATRIARCH, do willfully and lawfully retire my tenure as BURGRAVE OF WESENBURG. The title of BURGRAVE shall pass down to my son and heir, AERIK LEON VON WESENBURG, who will, with utmost decency and fortitude, carry his House and title forward unto glory! My son has proven himself capable of the task ahead, in light of our departure from Aevos. Further service to my House will be in an advisory role. His Lordship, Oswald von Wesenburg Burgrave of Wesenburg His Lordship, Varik von Wesenburg Patriarch of House Sturmweber, The Stallion of Reinmar, Kastellan of Westturm