Viscen

"I always knew Uldar was a snake." States Titus Valentinian.

Lucien rolls a glass of wine on the HMS Godfrey.

High Pontiff Lucien I cries real tears.

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bretty gud :DDD

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Le XD Denims, the first in his name, claimant to house Denims-Therving looks over the parchment detailing the joint house. He wrings his hands together instinctively, plotting a proper coup.

Name: Roland Ashford Race: Human Aligned House: House Ashford Location of Dwelling: The County of Castern By signing you agree to follow the laws of Kaedrin. You also agree to allow those recognized to uphold the laws of Kaedrin, within the boundaries set by the laws- Roland Ashford

Amidst the discussion, Lucien hefts up a single hand, signaling silence. Slowly but assuredly the ranks of clergymen cease their speaking, eyes focused on the central podium. "Venerable Priors and Clergymen. It is not without trembling, yet with a conscience free and tranquil before God who lives and sees me, that I open my mouth in the midst of you in this august assembly. From the time that I have been sitting here with you I have followed with attention the speeches and outs that have been made in this hall of the creator, hoping with great desire that a ray of light descending from on high might enlighten the eyes of my understanding, and permit me to elect the pontiffs of the Oren clergy." "The importance of the bishops of Oren proceeded not from a divine power, but from the importance of the city in which they had their seat. the Bishop of Westerland is not superior in dignity to the Archbishop of Salvus; but, in spite of that, Westerland gives him a consideration which he would not have. That which is true in the religious order is the same in civil and political matters: the Metropolitan-Bishop is not more a prefect than the Archbishop of Hanseti; but civilly and politically he has a greater importance." "As the Conclave dims to a close, it has dawned on me that I will appoint such clergymen here to these diocese, and as my personal council." Lucien pauses, eyeing the sea of clergymen. A faint smile forming; it was his work that the faith had come from such a low. As his eyes trail the sea, they stop at the aged Goddard. Goddard had a calm exterior, but under the rough skin was a burning passion for the Creator. One that he, himself couldn't even cure. "Brother Goddard." He says, remembering the day he met Goddard. "You shall accompany me on the holy roads we must walk. To bear the weight of the light, and to ensure the true faith." He pauses, eyeing the reaction. "I name you, Goddard, as Pontiff of Oren, Archbishop of Salvus, and Metropolitan-Bishop." He stops, moving his eye towards Goddard's former novices. He nods, finding Osterwald. "Brother Osterwald. You will assume the role as Archbishop of Renatus. I believe it will suit your skills." Lucien inhales deeply, he hadn't prepared enough for this; he had not chosen a Bishop for Renatus. "Adeodatus." He says, grinning when his eyes meet his old friend's. "You will retain your office of Pontiff, and will serve under Osterwald as Bishop of Renatus." Lucien nods, jutting his eyes around in search of Pius. It hadn't come as a suprise that Pius neglected to attend. "Pontiff Pius, for his lack of attendance will be emasculated from his position as Pontiff. And, on that note- Any remaining Pontiffs who have not hereby been elected by me here and today are geld from their office."

The grandiose, brass bell of Aldersberg's cathedral chimes in a steeple overhead, causing a brisk ringing to echo about the industrial city. It quickly permeates the temple's rough exterior, catching the ears of the holy men nested within the compound. Upon hearing this concordant tune, the various debates, exchanges and general conversations settle, ushering a silence about the conclave. One by one the assortment of clergymen lay their eyes on the sanctuary's entry: a set of lofty, oaken doors, detailed with carvings depicting Saint Owyn's patronage of the church. As if on que the portal is heaved open, permitting Lucien and his entourage entry. A host of laymen flank the high pontiff, their forms adorning a simplistic, white robe and leather belt. Several of them carry golden incense burners, the devices swinging by the chain to which they are bound. Proceeding towards the central podium, the group of laymen chant lowly to themselves: “Da pacem, Domine, in diebus nostris Quia non est alius Qui pugnet pro nobis Nisi tu Deus noster.” Within a moment's notice the laymen break off from the high pontiff, their chanting falling silent as they find seating among the rows of wooden pews. Lucien swiftly ascends the podium's short steps, standing to address the entirety of the conclave. A miniscule sense of anxiety sweeps across him; it had been several centuries since the previous documented conclave, predating the untold destruction caused by the undead in the times of Aegis. Now was an era of rediscovery and, to an extent, reformation. The opportunity to breathe life into a once revered establishment was weighed upon the actions carried forward within this convergence. Drawing in a deep breath, the holy man proceeds with addressing the conclave. “Brothers of the Faith, fellow servants of the Creator and Holy Light; it brings me great joy to see us gathered here together not as independent men, but in communion, as a single body. We have converged in this first conclave of the Church of Oren not to aggrandize ourselves, but establish a firm foundation for the one, true Church. What is a house that bears no firm foundation? Surely it will fall to the elements and be swept away, only to be forgotten in time! I say with a heavy heart that our Church has suffered in the times past, much tradition and structure utterly lost during the dark age of culture under the decadent Sheffield dynasty. We, men of the Lord, must ensure that our culture is preserved through the Church inso that another age of turbulence and forgotten knowledge does not befall Oren and mankind as a whole. Children of Horen, purveyors of the Holy Light. Let not our minds be fixed on the past, lamenting the mistakes of our forebearers, but rather on the forthcoming age. In this blessed assembly we are not mere men, but those which are guided by the Creator's everlasting Grace and wisdom. Revered congregation, do not take action in your will alone, but enlightened by the Creator's everlasting Light. A myriad of points and issues will be presented during this conclave along with proposed systems set forth by many of our ambitious members of the clergy. However, I beseech you, esteemed congregation, to put forth any affairs we face before such sweeping changes are implemented.” Lucien gently rests his hands on the podium's slick surface, awaiting a response from the myriad of clergymen.

Declaration of Low Crown Authority Issued and to be confirmed by Imperial Majesty Godfrey first of his name of House Horen, by the grace of the Creator Emperor of Oren, King of Renatus and Seventis, Defender of the Faith, Protector of the Realm, Regent Eternal of the Kingdom of Haven, Duke of Ardania, Crown Lands, Marna, Balamena, Count of Saltridge, Alnfayat, Alzlam Alardy, Hrq Rmal, Garath, and Gwent, and Most Holy Emperor of the Land. Blessings upon you and your house, We of special interests pay heed to the petition set forward by the most honorable houses of the Holy Oren Empire. As the Empire is not in a state of urgency, Medium Crown Authority will be reduced for the first time since the original sightings and subsequent attacks carried out by the vile, scaled beasts. The Empire will hereby revert to a state of Low Crown Authority. In such a state His Imperial Majesty may strip the titles of rebellious vassals, but none other. Inter-realm warfare is permitted between territories and noble houses if a sufficient claim or casus belli is presented before his Imperial Majesty. At the will of His Imperial Majesty the Holy Emperor Godfrey I, the Empire is hereby declared in a state of Low Crown Authority. This document awaits the official Imperial Seal so that it may be distributed to the appropriate channels.

Mulling about the moneychangers' stands in Salvus, a figure adorning dark finery catches word of the petition to lower Oren's crown authority. The fellow instinctively clasps his hands together, wringing them about deviously. A wide, mallicious grin takes hold of his visage, unwavering as several proletariat shoot quizzical glares towards him. The man mutters to himself, musing, "And so it seems Oren wishes to fall back on its traditional system, hmm? Good...good...I must inform my family of these potential avenues!" Eradiaclly the man twirls about on his heels, pacing towards the inner city. As he strides off, a strong wind plucks a card from his hat, the name, "Pavel Rosenburg" written on it in fine calligraphy.

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