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Tears befell the young prince as he read the letter from his beloved sibling. A surge of feelings mixed within him. Anger, guilt, sadness; he couldn't quite tell which it was, but each of them seemed to take turns occupying the lion's share of his thoughts. "Damn it all! We were meant to stand together clad in that blackened armor, and I looked forward to the day! God, why!?" The teardrops continued to flow down his face, leaving the brother's eyes reddened and bloodshot as he ruffled through his hair thinking over it all. "I should have been there... I should have done something...." Rodimar would remember this day, and what came before it. He'd swear to protect those nearest to him, to not let them suffer the same fates as his sibling and father.

THE AETHELING’S ASCENT DER AUFSTEIG DES AETHELINGS | AN AETHELING’S ASCENT Issued by THE PRINCE IN REINMAR In the year of our Lord 2079 ÖHNE UND TÖCHTER VON REINMAR, I HAVE WANDERED ABOUT THE VOICELESS HALLS OF MY FATHER’S LAND FOR TOO LONG, and with it came only a quick realization. Retreating for these many days to my scriptures, it must be grasped that as the prince cannot stand to gain from this; nor can the kinsmen I aim so eagerly to honor. I realized then that I had to awaken from my dormancy, for the tribe needs not a prince who sits idly by. The many months after my late forebear’s passing had left me adrift, and it is because of this we have been left without direction in this plight. However it is today that this shall be subject to change, as the light of God’s beacon in the skies has given me much hope for the tribe. As I exit from my hall atop the mount from whence I was brought into the world a mere eaglet, and emerge now an eagle. Our iron has begun to rust, the oak of the shields have begun to rot, and it is with this notion I declare there shall be a shifting in direction from which our shields hastily approach. The sacred moot hall shall roar with the voices of the Reinmaren, and there will be debate. My council shall be set in stone, and the warriors and laborers of my tribe will see their voices heard to the ear of the chieftain and the lawspeaker of the tribe. Wisdom will be passed forth to those seeking it with both head and heart. Blades will be reforged, much as the mind. Shields will be granted an immense and unmatchable sum of fortitude again, as will the heart; and the manes of our steeds will glisten like the golden fields of wheat that line Leonstadt. Be not late, and forget not the importance of this moot, for the tribe will prosper greatly under our kinsmen’s guidance. WER RASTET, DER ROSTET HIS HIGHNESS, RODIMAR 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

Rodimar, son of the late Prince in Reinmar, Siegfried, stood at the coast of Kanunsberg, next to the lighthouse where he and his friend Gundobad had stood once before overlooking the vast sea as the waves crashed into the jagged rocks lining their coast. This time, however, he stood alone pondering what allowed such a cruel fate to befall upon his father and leave him next to lead the tribe in the years ahead. Many thoughts materialized within his consciousness; some his own memories, others simply the words he had received from others in the past, from these thoughts eventually came only one thing... Peace... It seemed so distant in the years before, but with the sound of the crashing waves, the wind blowing his fair about, he felt a new kind of peace though his grieving that he had not once found in the past. Though, something stirred within his soul, a feeling that what was to come in the future would undo this Pax Imperia. He would need to take heed the advice he had been given from the Lawspeaker of Reinmar, from his closest of friends, his warriors, the knight who had squired him thus far. It would surely come handy to assist him in the future, for whatever lay ahead. For now, the boy planned to continue his lessons with the blade, and to ensure he would be ready for the day that hopefully in time he would avenge his father's death to the foul spawn that slew him. He walked his way back up the coastline, gripping the reins of his pale white steed as he rode his way past the green fields to Leonstadt. It seemed as though the wind blew with much more force than it had under the cover of the hill rested next to the shores. "Ride with haste, Hengist, for there is much to be done. You shall aid me in carving the tribe's future ahead."

Rodimar Barclay read the missive, somewhat confused as he continued to read on. He stood from his seat and made his way to the barracks to check if anyone had possibly stolen a suit of armor but found the stores untouched. How this could have happened left him rather baffled. He decided then that it would be no trouble to clear things up with their neighbors atop the mountain where Lorraine once stood. "Perhaps breaking bread would do us some good. All will be sorted and the good graces of the Chief of Chiefs will make all right again." He decided then to make his way back to the keep for a night's rest before he'd plan to meet with the Hartwells, though he struggled to rest, wondering still perhaps if the walls were compromised and someone had stolen from their armorer. It would all come to him when he awoke, surely.

Aerik celebrated, eagerly rushing to Wesenburg to share the news with his father Oswald and his Uncle Varik!

"I offer my congratulations, good Othmar! May your house prosper with this excellent news." Aerik rejoiced upon seeing the missive.

"I suppose we could always have two..." An aged Reinmaren knight pondered the idea of the Barclays having another Sutica title, scratching his chin.

In the lands of Wesenburg, a now middle-aged Aerik von Wesenburg recieved the word of the Chieftain's passing. He poured himself a drink, sitting in the empty halls of his keep, reminiscing on his memories of Erwin's rule... "An excellent Chieftain to the end..." He paused for a moment to sip. "I may hope to strive to achieve what he has for our tribe. Alas, I can only hope..."

Good Riddance. Telanir brings us good tidings once again.

why, we're flattered!