Digit___

Aviel Roy read of the passing of Princess Madelief, the governess of his wife, Selyne. "I'm sorry fer yer loss, my Star." He spoked as he passed the missive to Selyne (@Parasolii) with a somber visage and a frown, knowing how much Madelief meant to her.

“God bless, Cat’al, whoi would ya leave yar lass wit’out tellin’ her where the rest of yas going?” Fionnbharr O’Redmond pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. It would be up to himself and Medb to raise Ciara without her family around.

Aviel Roy would put in his candidacy form for the BURGHERRAAD. Silent murmured prays for wisdom and patience would be heard from the Helfgott Patriarch. "Amen." - "Let's get to work." He intoned as he clasped his gauntleted hands together before hurrying back home to begin working on his campaign posters!

Aviel Roy mulled in his thoughts as he debated whether or not to run as he leaned against the railing of his familial vessel, looking out over the waters where Janisport's harbor rested. "Grandpa Klaus, please give me the wisdom and the heart to deal with politics." The Helfgott Patriarch murmured jokingly, looking up to the Skies. "If ye can become a mayor, certainly I can become a senator, aye?" He inquired before straightening his posture and heading back ashore to being designing his campaign poster, perhaps his family could help too!

“The waves ‘re at your command, Yer Holiness, and my House backs ye. ‘Til sea swallows all.” Aviel Roy intoned to himself, making his way to his ship, The Menagerie, to prepare it for combat. Masts mended, deck scrubbed, and cannon bores cleared.

Seeing the missive, Aviel Roy made plans to attend the memorial and feast. “It’s only the kind thing t’ do, t’ support someone during a time like this.” He hummed, looking over to his children with a soft smile. “I may have not known his father personally, but I know when folks are hurtin’.”

Aviel Roy smiled the Sun's Smile as he read of his friend's rise to the bishopric of Oltremont. "Congrats, Solene, ye've earned it." The Patriarch of Helfgott hummed to himself before getting back to looking at the blueprints of the floorplan he drew up for his newly-acquired home!

Aviel Roy puffed on a blunt of Cactus Green, the window of the captain's cabin cracked open to let the vapors escape. "Seems like we've got ourselves a fight then." He hummed with an ornery smirk. "We'll see who the true successors of the Old Republic will be, those of the Eicherian tradition or those terrorists that call themselves Salvian." The Patriarch of Helfgott rose from his desk and closed the window before going to maintain his weapons and armor for the fight ahead.

Aviel Roy, a longtime-friend of the Baroness, smiled the Sun's Smile as he read of the Malory Matriarch's rise to the baronial coronet. "Yer efforts finally getting the recognition they deserve, Lady Phoebe."

Gilles Therin, brother of the excommunicated, found a frown permeate his usually bright countenance as he read the pontifical decree. “Edmund, you consorted with daemons and tried to overthrow our cousins?” The Petran’s brow then furrowed, a torrent of anger held in each prismarine-colored eye. “You are no brother of mine, return to the Petra and you will perish.” He stated, a promise made to the wind as he set his emerald-green coat upon his shoulders and left his room to get some fresh air.

“Ave Imperium.” Aviel Roy intoned, his voice rippling over the waters that surrounded his ship, The Menagerie. His ocean-hued gaze looking out across the waters that the whole of the Empire encompassed, ginger hair dance in the maritime wind like flame. “May this time last as long as God intends.”

Aviel Roy rose a brow at Salvo’s sudden declaration of REVOLUTION. “Weren’t these folks beaten enough in the war?” The Helfgott inquired of no one in particular while sitting in the captain’s cabin of his ship, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Mother!” Gilles Therin gasped and placed a palm against his chest, dropping the scone he was about to eat!

“Rest now, my friend, for ye must be prepared for the real war; the war we were always meant t’ fight.” Aviel Roy hummed as he looked out over the waters before setting the missive into a drawer of his desk.

“Damn, and here I thought there would be a little more fighting’ from the Orcs.” Aviel Roy sighed, filling the last of the war-related missives away. A smile slowly formed on his visage. “My children can finally know some peace, yet they come t’ learn there is an even greater war t’ be fought than what’s taken place.” That smile went somber at the apex of his thought as he thought of the Eternal War, the war against the Ibleesians and other dark forces.

From the captain’s cabin of his ship, The Menagerie, Aviel Roy read of the fall of Kal’Baraz and the Grand Kingdom itself. “Let the Dragon have its rest, for its flames’ll burn the banners of Krugmar next.” The Helfgott Patriarch thought for a long moment as he filed the triumph’s missive away in a drawer of his desk and looked over what notes he had for one of the tasks given to him by the High Priest. A decision soon made as Aviel rose from his chair; seeking to sharpen his weapons and maintain his armor.

“The Reinmaren have a quote about idleness, ‘Wer rastet, der rostet’. If ye rest, ye rust.” Aviel Roy hummed to himself. “Leadership requires nigh-constant motion, so if a future leader isn’t moving, they’re not cut out for the role.” The ginger added, rising from his seat and walking off to continue his work. ====== 🔥 ====== Matteo of Avistra would read the missive, finally learning how to read after many decades, a wide-eyed expression made. “Oh jeez, this is goin’ t’ be somethin’, huh?” He scratched the back of his grayed hair, thus he wandered into his forge to work on weapons and armor.

From within his ship, The Menagerie, settled in the harbor of Janisport, Aviel Roy set the missive down upon the wooden face of his dark-oak desk and clasped his hands over a silver rosary he had been gifted so long ago. “Almighty God, Greatest Healer, hallowed is Your Name. Rest Your Healing Palms upon the Earl, wash over the minds of his family Peace and Calm for he will recover under Your Vigilance. Saint Amyas, pray for Earl Charles, intercede and bring wisdom to the minds of his doctors and healing through their hands. In Nomine Dei, Amen.” The Patriarch of Helfgott pleaded with a righteous faith, then after rising from his desk and leaving the captain’s cabin.

A young Petrine, donned in emerald green, read the missive penned by the Master of Tomes. A soft grin permeating his sun-kissed visage. “I was just wandering how long finding a mentor may take.” Gilles Therin mulled to himself with a chuckle before making preparations to travel to the Idunian capital.

A young man looked over the missive with a prismarine-toned gaze, a somberness overtaking his usually demeanor. “A creation destroyed before it could be fully realized.” He hummed and rested the missive within a drawer of his bookshelf, yet another thought overtook his mind. “Guess I shall be in need of a new mentor. . .” That Petrine sighed, having naught one lesson in the arcane or been connected to the Void. Thus, he rose from his bedside, putting on his emerald-green jacket and wondered from his home and into the city.

An armored man, bearing a head crowned with long, flame-hued hair, stood among the markets and taverns neighboring Avistra; listening to the people gossip about the scourge that has befallen that peaceable village. “Interesting…” Aviel Roy silently murmured to himself, brandishing a small notebook and a thin stalk of charcoal wrapped in a blue and yellow-stripped cloth to write all he heard. He had been given a task after all, and he will see that all information related to the dark forces shrouding the village were documented and, eventually, exorcized in the Name of God.

The Patriarch of Helfgott, Aviel Roy, would come across a pamphlet and take a read. An inquisitive brow lofted in an upward arch as his eyes scanned the page. “Haven’t seen anything like this since I was a teen. Rather bold of this Lady Truthful to go for the Imperial Family in her first publication.” He quietly murmured to himself, thinking back to an old friend (@Kitomine) that did something similar decades earlier. “I wonder how she’s doing.” Aviel hummed as he looked out the window of the captain’s cabin of his ship, setting the pamphlet upon the desk.

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