Xarkly

8/10

georg is mauled by a fox.

I am King Sigismund, and I approve of this message.

The Final Act Sigismund, King of Haense, found his way to the throne room once more. The cloudless, frigid night let the crescent moon flood the empty hall with silver light. At the far end of the throne room from where Sigismund stood, down the illuminated aisle flanked by bannered pillars, the throne of Hanseti-Ruska stood atop its dais. Even alone, the quiet wooden throne radiated a humble pride beneath the massive stained glass window, depicting a stern Lady Haense with sword and scale in hand, which admitted the winter night’s light. With a rumbling sigh, Sigismund began the slow walk down the abandoned aisle. This was not the first time he had found himself alone before his own throne in the early hours of the morning. Often as of late, he found himself taking to walking the Nikirala Palace at night, where it was tranquil enough to think clearly without the drone of the city to distract him. Of course, he could not escape the vigil of his Knights, but they had reached an arrangement; he knew Ser Walton - the Wall - was a little way back in the foyer, protecting the King from a distance, but otherwise Sigismund was blissfully alone. With a limp - a reminder of his defeat in the Grand Tourney - he passed the first set of pillars, his hard stare fixed on the throne. Before he could limp another step further, though, the coughing came again. He, theatrical as he was, imagined the sensation like a snake rustling through dead leaves as the dry twinge in his neck transitioned into coarse, hacking coughs. Unphased, he raised his kerchief to his mouth in time to catch the splatters of blood that came out. He was not sure how long had passed - whether thirty seconds, or five minutes - but the coughs died down, as they always had … and yet the fit had grown longer, more painful, as it always had with each bout. “Tsch,” he grunted as he balled up the kerchief, stained from many past coughing fits. “Rotting lungs.” Inhaling a sharp, shaky breath, he continued his slow walk to the throne, and as he did, the Surgeon-General’s uncertain diagnosis echoed in his head for the umpteenth time. It could be just age, and the Rimeveld cold … He passed the second set of pillars, from which the banners of Hanseti and Ruska hung in the moonlight, facing each other across the aisle. … Or it could be a blockage in the lungs. With a wistful smile, he recalled from his childhood when he used to believe that the Royal Line was cursed. At the time, he had had good reason to believe it: his grandfather had been a young man still, driven to death by gluttony; his great-grandfather had taken his own life while his wife was pregnant with his fifth child; and his great-great-grandfather had died of wounds he took from a battle with marauders, all to save his wife. Of course, as his tutor had explained to him one day, it was no curse -- it had been the weight of the Crown. Well, perhaps that’s a curse in and of itself, he thought as he continued towards the throne. He had come to realize that himself, as he was sure all his forebears had; the weight of the Crown, the power it bestowed upon one man … the chilling, soul-gnawing knowledge that all the realm’s problems, and indeed some of the world’s, rested upon his shoulders, and that each judgment could mean hundreds of lives snuffed out … The knowledge that it fell to him - and only him - to give the lives, and deaths, of his countrymen meaning … “Well …” he mumbled to himself as the throne drew closer. “Maybe after thirty years of that, death is no curse at all.” He paused abruptly, staring at the transparent visage of Lady Haense above the throne. Do … Do I really mean that? Guilt swelled up inside him. His wife, his children, and a proud Kongzem, all remained as the product of the life he had led. The notion of leaving that behind … Well, he thought it would fill him with fear, that he would be petrified of actually dying. … And yet he was not. The coughing roiled up again, bringing Sigismund to a halt as he muffled the wheezes with his kerchief. He was certain this bout went on for longer, and when it finally abated, his breath was left raspy, and his legs wobbly. “You are a miserable prick,” he croaked as he glared into the Hussariyan Cross, carved into the high-back of his throne. “After all you’ve had me do, this is what I get?” But for all his disdain for God, for all the trials he had subjected Sigismund to, the vitriol of years past was gone. Now, it felt oddly like he was teasing an old friend. He suspected God probably did not see it like that, though. With his legs weak, he growled under his breath as he unbuckled the scabbarded blade - Aeternus, a work of the Ironclad Knight - at his waist. With an echoing tap, he pressed the scabbard to the floor, and used it as a walking stick as he limped forward once more. With slow, painful steps, the moonlight-shrouded throne under the judging eyes of Lady Haense drew closer and closer. The tap of the gilded tip of his scabbard resounded loudly off the wooden steps, like a pebble dropped in a cavern, as he finally heaved himself up the steps, and onto the dais itself. He met Lady Haense’s glass expression one last time, before he sagged unceremoniously into his throne, his legs and lungs aching from the exertion. “Ah…” he sighed as he looked down the throne room, in which moonshadows were the only courtiers. He remembered when he stood facing this hall at the age of thirteen, on the day he was proclaimed as his father’s heir before all the Kingdom. He had gotten sick with nerves both before and after. Now, even though forty-three years had passed, it still felt as if that fateful day had been just yesterday. How many times have I sat here? How many times have I passed judgment? He remembered the captives of House de Rosius brought before him during the war, and he remembered the Orc chieftain that had raised steel against Sigismund’s retinue, and died by his command. How many times have I delivered good news? So too did he remember proclaiming the birth of his heir, Karl, and his twin Sergei, after his firstborn had died at birth, and he remembered declaring victory of the long-fought war in Oren. He remembered that, and so much more. He remembered it all. And so, he also remembered those he had lost -- he remembered those whose deaths had delivered him to this moment, as an old man alone on his throne. Another coughing fit seized him, though this one was not so severe. As he blinked away strained tears, he could imagine their faces in the moonlit galleries of the throne room. He could picture Petra, his elder sister, standing there, resplendent in the moonlight, wearing that warm smile that had always made Sigismund’s worries fade as a boy. She had her arms around Marus, wearing his own goofy smirk, who had never outgrown his endearing immaturity, and whose laugh haunted Sigismund to those day. Beside those two, his half-siblings Anastasya and Andrik, only recently passed, stood astride each other, both of them wearing mischievous looks if they were about to make a smug comment. Then, of course, his mother and father stood behind his siblings, watching on. Sig managed a shaky, tearful laugh at that image. Of his whole birth family, it was only Sigismund himself that remained. The faces, however, did not stop there. Unbidden, others joined the benches of the throne room. Standing alert at the pillars leading up to the throne, shining in their mail and gold-worked cloaks, were his Knights, those who had lived and died for him. Dame Lynette, resolute until her last, stood facing Ser Cedric, the man who had been Sigismund’s closest protector as a boy. Even now, Sigismund could remember the old Knight Paramount acting as his chaperone when he went to a soirée in Oren as his first real social function, and had to counterbalance Aleksandr Ruthern’s advice on how to speak to ladies. At the next set of pillars, Ser Erwin the Headhunter stood. So often had Ser Erwin counselled Sigismund, and he had had such ambitions for his family, and yet he sacrificed all these ambitions to die in Sigismund’s service. He stood facing Sigmar Mondblume, Sig’s own nephew, at the opposite pillar, and Sig felt the tears tug at his eyes again as he remembered standing atop a tower in Richtenburg, overlooking the lake, and promising to serve as a father-figure to the young Sigmar, who had just lost his own. At the final set of pillars, Marie Ruthern, so recently perished, seemed to radiate pride at her post, as she had as a young energetic squire he seemed to want nothing more than to stand among the number of the Knight’s Table. Lastly, of course, there was Ser Ailred Steelheart -- the soldier that had taught Sigismund to fight, to strategize, to win, and the men upon whose shoulders Sig had stood in achieving victory against his enemies. As the tears silently rolled down his cheeks, he smiled through them, and the throne room continued to fill with the faces of the dead. Molia Luceafaru, her arms crossed dignantly, watched Sigismund with that small, slight smile of hers, as if she knew something no one else did. At the sight of her, the tears blurred his vision further, but he did not need to see to imagine those with her. There was Jan Kortrevich, the father in law that had made him promise to love and protect his wife, Emma, no matter what; a promise Sigismund intended to keep until his dying breath. There was Igor Kort, who had tutored Sig and his closest friend Kaustantin, and the first man that Sig had watched die. There was Henrietta, one of the first friends he had ever had as a child, and to whom he was eternally grateful for wedding his brother, as difficult as it had been. Then, of course, came Eleanor Baruch; learning that he could not marry her in spite of what he wished had been the first hard lessons Sigismund had ever had taught by the Crown. He even saw John Aurelian, who had died on Sigismund’s own sword, wearing a smile as bittersweet as Sig’s own. The throne room was filled to the rafters, now -- not just with those he had loved, but with faceless soldiers in Brotherhood gambesons and Knights in platemail. Weakly, Sigismund coughed again, staining the kerchief with more red. Old age … or a lung blockage. He did not wonder which, for in his heart, Sigismund knew. The summer had come and gone, and the fits had not. He knew. But he was not scared. No, for he was done being scared. He had taken the mantle of the Crown, and endured its trials. He had ridden to battle half a dozen times, when no other King in a hundred years had. He watched his son, an infant babe, die helpless in his arms mere minutes after his birth. He had declared war, and paid hundreds of Haeseni lives for justice, a cost which he still questioned he ought to have paid. He had seen people die for his choices - for him. He had loved, and lost, and mourned, and lived. In the face of that … there was nothing that could frighten him. No, now he only felt oddly at peace. A serene sense of … acceptance. He stood at the cusp of the new generation, and he was the last of the old to remain. It was the final act of his play, and he was the lone actor left. Smiling through his tears at the ghosts filling the throne room, Sig slipped his silver-worked flask from his breast pocket. He flicked open the lid, and raised the drink to them.

" ... Vyr Majesty?" Sigismund kept his back to the page that had come with the news. He stood at his balcony, hands on the balustrade for support, looking out across Karosgrad. Despite the warmthless winter sun that bathed the city in a pleasant, pale golden light, and despite the din of laughter and chatter that rang through the air, the colours felt dimmer, and the noise further away, than it had just a moment ago. " ... Spasiba," he managed at last, and he was surprised at the steadiness of his own face. "Vy ... may go." He waited until he heard the door close, and the scuff of boots fade away, before he released a shaky breath. Only ... his breath felt steady, and his heart still. Though it felt like the world had been robbed of some of its colour, Sigismund did not let the tears leave his eyes. They're ... dead. Anastasya and Andrik. My ... my last siblings. The last relic of my life before I wore this crown, before ... why am I not more upset? Slowly, he looked down at his hand, wet with blood. He sighed, and closed his eyes as he gently closed his fingers on his bloodied palm. He was no stranger to loss; each mile he had walked in this life had been haunted with grief for those he had lost, from Edvard, to Sigmar, to Petra. Not so long ago, he might have spiralled into despair, but ... not any longer. He knew, now --- and he accepted. For any cursed moment he had endured, it had come with a blessing. "Ana ... Andrik," he said in a low, hoarse voice. "I'll weep for you two, my little siblings, now that you're gone." He felt the warm trail of tears run down his cheeks, and over his lips, as he smiled softly. " ... but I'll smile for the time that we had ... Th-thank you both ... for waiting this long." When he opened his eyes again, the tears had stopped. He was resolute, now. The final act was upon them, and he was the last actor on stage.

Szerjka va ain Vazain Kossarz Sarsvot SUMMONS TO A SPECIAL SITTING OF THE KNIGHT'S TABLE KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM Issued by the CROWN On this 12th day of Tov and Yermey of 423 E.S. VA VE KOSSARZ SARSVOT My Knight's Table -- my beloved companions, who have fought and bled at my side, who have laughed and drank with me throughout these long years, and who have given life, body, and soul for this Kongzem that we call home. For years now, since the Steel Pledge that saw Ser Reinhardt the Unbroken elevated to First Knight of the Table, I have left matters of the Knight's Table to he and his Meyster. It has been the prerogative of the First Knight to call sittings of the Knight's Table since his election, but on this occasion, I - as your liege - call upon the Table to convene this coming autumn in Hallaburg Castle. For I need your help. Though I cannot yet put into words what the future holds, I have need to elect a Chosen Knight for an important task that will arise in the years to come. I cannot yet tell you what this task is, only that the Chosen Knight I require to complete it must be a true chivalrous warrior, and a true friend. To select this Chosen Knight, I will assign a Quest at this coming sitting of the Table. I hope to see you all there, my companions. [This Thursday, 5.30EST/10.30GMT] IV JOVEO MAAN His Royal Majesty SIGISMUND III by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lord of the Westfolk, Fidei Defensor, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera.

Valkskej i ve Koengz PEACE OF THE KINGS Agreed on this 7th day of Wzuvar and Byvca of 422 E.S. | 7th day of Owyn's Flame of 1869 A.H. Between the Kongzem of Hanseti-Ruska and the Kingdom of Oren No battle is eternal. As avowed by the Kongzem of Haense, never shall they turn away from sharing a hearth with their Heartlander brethren once the fog of war has cleared. With the Peace of Eastfleet concluded and her terms delivered, and the Orenian Empire formally dissolved, Humanity faces into a new future in which her people are scattered to the winds, from Haense, to Savoy, to Oren, to Westmarch, to Balian. Yet, despite this, some of the nations of man seemed better poised to break bread than ever before, now that the grievances of the past are gone and buried. As such, let the Kongzem of Haense and the Kingdom of Oren be the first to join hands to ushering in this new age of change with this Peace of the Kings. __________________ I These brothers in peace swear mutual recognition of their sovereignty and titles in perpetuity. II These brothers in peace swear non-aggression against each other, and the protection of their subjects in each other's lands, and that issues shall be resolved through diplomacy. III These brothers in peace swear to maintain embassies in each other's lands to house assigned ambassadors. IV These brothers in peace swear to engage in free-trade through the provision of stalls, exempt from tax, in each other's capitals. V These brothers in peace swear to uphold this peace for no less than ten years. __________________ IV JOVEO MAAN His Royal Majesty SIGISMUND III by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lord of the Westfolk, Fidei Defensor, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera. AD DEI GLORIAM His Majesty, FREDERICK I, King of Oren, forever August, King of Renatus, Curon, Kaedrin, Salvus, and Seventis, Grand Duke of Ves, Duke of, Helena, Novellen, Furnestock, Petra, Oltremont, South Arentania, and Lorraine, Baron of Renzfeld, Protector of the Heartlanders and Farfolk, etcetera.

Valkskej i ve Vikz PEACE OF THE VICTORS Agreed on this 8th day of Joma and Umund of 422 E.S. | 8th day of Snow's Maiden of 73 S.A. Between the Kongzem of Hanseti-Ruska and the Grand Kingdom of Urguan The Peace of Eastfleet comes with humbling lessons for all. These lessons, spelt out in thousands of corpses, reminds us that peace amongst the Descendant realms is a fickle thing. In the span of mere months, the lethargic peace that had gripped Almaris for so long was shattered with the eruption of the War of the Wigs -- a war which became the stage for one of the bloodiest conflicts in recent memory. Though the warriors of many lands joined to defeat the forces of the now-dissolved Orenian Empire, it was the mutual oath of defence between the Kongzem of Haense and the Grand Kingdom of Urguan that saw this war escalate across the continent, that endured through its darkest hour, and that emerged triumphant at the Battle of Eastfleet. Now, we face a new, fractured world. If nothing else is certain, however, then the bond of brotherhood between the Haeseni and the Dwarves shall stand strong to face this new world, and whatever challenges it may bring. ________________ I These brothers in triumph reaffirm their oath to defend one another if attacked. II These brothers in triumph shall hold regular joint military trainings and wargames with their armies. III These brothers in triumph shall engage in free-trade through the provision of stalls, exempt from tax, in each other's capitals. IV These brothers in triumph swear to uphold this peace for no less than ten years. ________________ IV JOVEO MAAN His Royal Majesty SIGISMUND III by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lord of the Westfolk, Fidei Defensor, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera. His Majesty, Grand King of Urguan, Orcsbane,

Doesn't look too bad but using is "well nobody has been doxxed!" Is a pretty yikes standard.

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THE MARIAN RETINUE OF SIGISMUND III It was in the chaos of the War of the Two Emperors that their legend was forged. A time of bitter betrayal, a time of bloodshed of violence, and a time where the honourable blazed in a world of the honourless. Since their inception in those fires, to be a Knight of the Marian Retinue has meant one prevailing truth -- to be a Champion. A Champion of the Kongzem of Hanseti-Ruska, a homeland deserving of their hearts and lives, and a Champion of the Crown of Lady Haense as embodiment of that belief. A Champion who foregoes the ordinary pleasures of life, and devotes their soul to the protection of a worthy Crown so that they might lead a Kongzem to be proud of. A Champion whose skill in arms can only be heaven-sent, such is their strength, and whose prowess is insurmountable in battle. A Champion who does not flinch - who cannot flinch - in the face of odds that would crush other warriors in despair. A Champion who pledges their sword, their blood, and their life, to the sanctity of the Crown. For these Champions of the Marian Retinue, whose names shall be draped in fame never to be relished in, know that their lives, and their deaths, shall be given exalted meaning through their service. ____________ THE UNWAVERING @FlemishSupremacy The Unwavering Knight; he who stood as most staunch protector of the Royal House as mentor and guardian both; he who stood as shadow and paragon of King Sigismund since his youth; he who stood astride Ser Ailred Steelheart as commander against the Nachezer Horde; he who bested the Oni Minotaur of the Rimeveld in single combat to earn his dubbing; he who staked his life to bring down an avalanche to prevail against the Nachezer threat and delivered unto them their demise; he who delivered the King's justice in answer to the slander of the Duke of Cathalon; he who, with his brothers in chivalry, charged the palace of New Providence to capture the Anathema; he who is elder and foremost of the Marian Retinue. ____________ THE BEAST @indiana105 The Beast Knight; he who was the scourge of Karinah'siol during the Silver War; he who brought death to a Nachezer parasite at the mere age of ten, his hand guided by God; he who stood against the Orcish warband that sought to shed the blood of King Sigismund; he who turned red the roads of the Anathema to avenge his murdered brothers of the Knight's Table; he whose hammer laid waste to the Interdict, exiled from God's grace, that stood against the Fidei Defensor at the Battle of Eastfleet; he who, with his brothers in chivalry, charged the palace of New Providence to capture the Anathema. ____________ THE VANGUARD @mkLouis The Vanguard Knight; he who stood for the honour of Prinzenas Elizaveta when none other would; he who forged the mail of King Sigismund and the Marian Knights to withstand the hordes of the Anathema at the Battle of Eastfleet; he whose strategy to charge at the low-tide brought victory to the Tripartite Accord, and justice to those murdered in the many battles that led to it; he who earned his title through his fearless charge at Eastfleet, and sundered the enemy lines, only to emerge unscathed; he who, with his brothers in chivalry, charged the palace of New Providence to capture the Anathema. ____________ THE SWORD-SAINT @Milenkhov The Sword-Saint Knight; he who stands decorated as grand champion of God's favoured realms of Haense and Savoy; he who prevailed as victor and hero at the Disgrace of Archisdorf; he who turned red the tide at the Battle of Eastfleet with the blood of the Interdict; he who stood against three attempts to usurp the throne of his Savoyard homeland; he who wielded God's fury and delivered righteousness by felling seven enemies single-handedly at the Miracle of Lvinsk; he who joined true the realms of Haense and Savoy as bastions of faith and virtue; he who, with his brothers in chivalry, charged the palace of New Providence to capture the Anathema. ____________

WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN Sigismund blinked. Suddenly confused, he looked around, but everything was as it should have been. The summer sun beat down on him from a clear blue sky marred only by a few wispy clouds, and the knee-high ocean of wheat around him glistened in the golden light. "What was I ...?" he began to ask himself as a gentle wind stirred the amber grains. With hands - dirtied and calloused from decades of labour - he scratched his stubbled cheeks. Something - something important - lingered just at the edge of his memory, but he could not quite grasp it. Getting old. I'm just getting old, that's all. He abruptly became aware of a weight in his hands, and looked down to see a bundle of chopped branches in his arms, and woodchips clinging to his rough farming woollens. Firewood! That was it. He had been out gathering firewood. Not that it would be needed - it was an unusually warm summer for Haense - but every sensible farmer kept supplies up during summer to help offset the demand during winter, and Sigismund was certainly a sensible farmer. He squinted up at the sun as a flock of geese crossed through the sky, and he whistled faintly when he realised it was dipping towards the horizon. "Nearly dinnertime already," he grumbled as he adjusted his grip on the bundle. He had dallied long enough -- it was time to get back to the farm, and for good reason, too; Emma was stewing lamb tonight. He hummed to himself as he started to make his way through the expanse of grain with the firewood in hand, in the direction of where his farm lay. It only took a few minutes of walking - and crossing from one field into another - for his farmhouse, his pride and joy, to appear on a grassy rise in the land a few fields over, thin streams of chimney smoke rising from its thatched roof. The sight of it filled him with a sense of accomplishment, but there was ... something else mixed in with that feeling. It felt oddly like a sensation of grief, but that didn't make any sense. Shrugging to himself, he climbed over a sty into another field - a cornfield, this time - and before long the cornstalks gave way to rolling, grassy pastures. A flock of goats grazed in the open pasture, and despite the presence of a nearby shepherd, they had wandered far in small groups. The shepherd in question was a tall, broad-shouldered boy just on a cusp of manhood, with the same dark curled hair as Sigismund, but he wore a frown as he stared thoughfully into the distance while leaning on his shepherd's crook. "What's the brooding look for, Sergei?" Sigismund called out to the shepherd - his son - as he passed. "Are the goats bullying you again, boy?" Sergei jumped, as if waking from a trance, and his frown deepened apologetically when he saw he had let the goats wander. "What? Oh, no, I ... uh, I was just ..." Instinctively, he cast a sheepish look towards the distant feels of other farms in the east, and Sigismund laughed. To the east was were Aloisa's family lived -- the girl who had doted on Sergei ever since the pair of them were old enough to dance. "Have you decided when you're going to offer her the marriage belt?" Sigismund asked through a grin, and his son blushed. "I ... I was going to do it at Barovifest," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck, "but then I thought it might be better if I ..." He narrowed his eyes as Sigismund burst into chortles again. "What? What's so funny?" "Ah, you'll see it when you finally wed her," Sig said with a dismissive wave. Everyone in every farm for miles around knew Aloisa would agree to marry Sergei, if he just worked up the courage to offer her the marriage belt and get it over with. "Come, now, you best get the goats back in the pen before you lose one. Besides, your mother will be serving up dinner soon, so don't dawdle, ai?" Sergei bobbed his head, and reluctantly took his eyes away from the east as he began to whistle for the goats while brandishing the crook as Sig continued on his way. By the time he took to the old dirt road winding up to the farmhouse, the sun had began to turn a deep, burnished orange, and cast sharp shadows across the land. His smile did not fade as he walked; for some reason, something about today just made him ... happy. Something about him felt profoundly ... peaceful. He did not know what, but he did not care to question the feeling. The hens clucked as Sigismund made his way across the farmyard, and the sound of voices greeted him even before he pushed through the door. "... it's for the chickens; not you!" "But that's not-" "Hello helloooo!" Sigismund chimed as he strode into his home, and his smile tweaked wider at the smell of roast lamb. The farmhouse's main open room served as kitchen and dining room both, and three women worked in it now. At the large long table in the middle, dark-haired Klara and plump Maya - his two beloved daughters - sat with their hair braided back, chopping an array of vegetables for the stew, while his wife - Emma - stood over a cookpot roasting above the firepit, flour staining her apron as she stirred the ladle. "That smells delicious!" he went on merrily as he deposited the firewood in a bin near the firepit, and pressed a kiss to his wife's cheek. "Maya got caught eating the chicken feed again, papej," Klara said with a sigh, and her sister's pudgy cheeks instantly reddened. "I did not!" Maya shot back. Sig looked to his wife for confirmation, and Emma nodded with a small, amused smile. "I told her not to go near the pantry, and then I found her out in the yard stuffing kernels into her mouth." "And so what if I did?!" Maya said, crossing her arms tightly. "It's just seeds! And there's loads of it! The chickens aren't going to eat all that!" "Are you a chicken, sweetplum?" he asked his daughter with a doubtful smile. "Then don't eat the chicken feed, ai? Firr Eirik charges me more than it's worth for that." Sometimes, he was glad they were but a farm of modest means -- he often thought that had they been rich with all the food they could need, Maya would gourge herself until she was fat enough to roll instead of walk. What a strange life that would be. He pressed a kiss to the back of Klara's head, who he could tell was smiling too. "Would you fetch the boys, Sig?" Emma asked as she took a sprig of thyme from the rows of herbs hanging above the cookpot, and sprinkled the herb into the stew. "I'll be dishing up in just a minute. Who's turn is it to lead prayers, do you remember?" "It's Maya's," Klara answered placidly as she finished dicing a clove of garlic. "It is not! I said it last night!" As his two daughters broke into squabbling - Klara with her usual calm, and Maya growing more befuddled by the word - Sig shared one last smile with his wife before he made his way out the back door to gather the rest of his sons for dinner. Salivating at the thought of the roast lamb stew awaiting him, Sig crossed the backyard to where the animal barns and the stables were, and it was there he found Karl and Josef. The boys had pulled the wagon of fresh hay around to the front of the barn, and were using pitchforks to shovel it over the barn's half-door to a crowd of waiting cows. "Hoi, finish up, boys!" Sig called to them. "Dinner's ready." The two boys looked over to him at his call. Karl's hair swung about in the breeze - he made a point to grow it down to his shoulders - in contrast with Josef's close-cropped cut. "Papej," Karl, the eldest of the two, spoke up, "settle a debate for us. Who would win in a duel -- Steelheart, or the Fervid?" "I keep telling you, it's Steelheart," Josef said with an eyeroll. "And I keep telling you," Karl rebut, "that they say the Fervid once fought three Rimetrolls at once!" "So? Fighting stupid trolls is different than fighting people." "Well, papej?" Karl asked with a stubborn set of his jaw. "You said you've seen them both; which is it?" Both the names of those famous Knights - Steelheart, and the Fervid - brought back pleasant memories. Sigismund had seen them both fight, even though the two knights were a generation apart; he had seen the unbelievable speed and precision of Ser Ailred Steelheart's blows at the 2nd Grand Tournament of Karosgrad when he had travelled to the capital for market during the celebration, and then, when he was just a young boy himself, his father had taken him to the festivities for the old King's second wedding, where Ser Antonius the Fervid had triumphed in the melee. "Steelheart," Sigismund said at last. "I'd put my money on Steelheart." As Karl frowned at Josef stuck his tongue out at his brother, Sig could not help but smile again. "Enough playing, though. You heard me say dinner is almost ready, ai? Get the hay stowed away again, and change into a fresh shirt before you go eat. Your mamej will have you by the ears if you sit at her table covered in hay like that." His two boys nodded as they set down their pitchforks and began to heave the cart back towards the shed. "Alright," Josef began as they worked, "what about Steelheart and the Lion Knight? Who would win that one?" Before Karl could answer, though, Sig spoke up again. "Is your brother not out here with you?" He had thought to find the last of his sons mending a harness by the stables, but as he squinted towards the stables in question, he saw the unfinished harnessed lying abandoned on a stool. "Oh, he took his sling up to the hill when he saw the geese fly by earlier," Karl explained, his voice strained a little under the weight of the hay cart. "He still thinks he can shoot one down one day." "Of course he does," Sig murmured with an endearing smile. "Well, you two focus on finishing your chores and getting changed. You can talk about knights at the dinner table, ai?" Both his sons grumbled their agreement as they continued heaving the heavy cart back, and Sig set off once again, this time to the hilltop just behind the farm. As he left his sons and the farmyard behind him, that strange feeling of mourning that Sig had felt earlier began to grow stronger. It felt odd, feeling both happy and peaceful, but with that longing intruding at the edge of his mind, like an itch he could not scratch. What is this feeling? Where is coming from, all of a sudden? It almost felt like something was ... wrong, or amiss, like something was not right. He could not place his finger on it, though. Doing his best to ignore that gnawing longing and instead enjoy the serenity of the day, he continued towards the hilltop. He ascended the narrow dirt trail until he found himself on the hilltop, where the evening sun bathed everything in a deep, golden light. A lone young man, broad shouldered and proud-faced, stood along on the grass, with a leather sling in his hand. For a moment, Sig just watched his eldest son, and as he did, the feeling of longing swelled inside him. He kept trying to ignore it. "No geese today?" he called at last. "I almost hit one this time," Edvard called back to his father without turning around. "You should have seen how close I was." "I wish I had," Sig smirked as he crossed the hilltop, and stopped next to his eldest son. Edvard had made a habit of trying to strike down a bird from the sky with his trusty sling, but so far he hadn't managed to hit anything. That did not stop the boy from trying, though; each failure only made him more determined, and his optimism never wavered. It was one of the many things Sig loved about the boy. "You'll get it soon, though. I'm sure of it." "I know," Edvard said, and turned to give his father a smile. Everyone said they looked alike, he and Edvard, but they were father and son, after all. Edvard arched a questioning eyebrow at him. "Are you alright? You look ... strange." Sig nodded slowly. "I'm fine. I've just had this ... strange feeling all afternoon." "A feeling?" "I ... I'm not sure what to call it, but ... ah, it doesn't matter," he said with a dismissive wave. "Today's the happiest I've felt in what feels like years. Just ..." From this spot on the hilltop, he could see the sun-bathed world for miles around them. He could see his farmhouse below where his family was gathering for dinner, he could see their crops preparing to yield a bountiful harvest in the surrounding fields, and the animals out grazing in the pastures. They did not have much - just enough to live by - but Sigismund could not imagine asking for more. He could not imagine a life more perfect, more peaceful, than this. " ... I'm just ... proud of all we've built here." For a long moment, there was silence. Sig's greying hair streamed in the wind as it briefly swelled. Finally, Edvard spoke softly. " ... You know this isn't real, right?" Like a cracked egg, the feeling of longing oozed all over Sigismund. It consumed him. Watching the farm in the sun, he felt tears brim in his eyes. " ... I know," he whispered back softly. "But can't I dream a little while longer?" "The real world will not wait while you dream," Edvard intoned somberly. Sigismund raised a hand - he was wearing gauntlets, now - and pressed it to his forehead. "Why couldn't it have been this way? I ... I don't understand. Why couldn't I have had a peaceful life like this?" "You ... know why." "Every farmer would trade their lot in life to be a king," Sig said in a hoarse voice as he felt the tears run down his face. "Why couldn't I have swapped with a peasant? Traded all the power and wealth and ..." " ... Responsibility?" Edvard finished. When Sigismund did not answer, his son nodded slowly, and went on. "Perhaps that is God's test for us. We are given what we do not want, and forbidden from what we seek." "What kind of test is that?" Sig asked through grit teeth. When he lowered his head, he felt himself standing in shallow water. Bloody shallow water. No longer did he wear his farming woollens, but he was dressed all in battle-mail, with the black-gold tabard of Haense on his chest. "You're not even alive," he bitterly told the image of the son who had never grown past a newborn. "You died in my arms. What kind of test is that?" "God works in mysterious ways," the figment wearing Edvard's face answered placidly. "I'm tired of God's mysteries!" he shot back, and his hands tightened around a sword in his hand, the blade of which was coated in blood. Around him, he was vaguely aware of men fighting, and dying. "I'm tired of being robbed of the only thing I seek! Why is there always one more battle to be fought, one more enemy to be slain! When does it end?" Edvard slowly turned to face him. The two of them stood in the shallow bloody water, with bodies lying adrift as soldiers clashed around them. "It doesn't end, Sigismund." The form of Edvard vanished, and the dream shattered around him. The shouting, the rasp of steel on steel, and the ceaseless splashing of water roared in Sigismund's ears as black-mailed Brotherhood soldiers drilled their spears into the red cloaks and burnished breastplates of Orenians as they clashed in the low tide. As the Battle of Eastfleet raged in the shallow waters around him, Sigismund stared at his bloodied sword, oblivious to the fighting, to the dying, to the ring of Marian Knights around him that cut down any burgundy-coated or red-cloaked Orenians who strayed too close. Despite the struggle for life or death happening before his very eyes, the memory of the farm, the memory of Edvard, stained his mind. It doesn't end.

are you a foul tarnished in search of the elden ring emboldened by the flame of ambition

@Nectoristcan we play a game of crab game together as a show of solidarity

i am incapable of rage all of it was burnt out when @Miopushed me in red light/green light on crab game

King Sigismund drew his sword. Despite his age, the blade felt much lighter than it had before.

IS THIS THEIR PEACE? KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM Issued by the CROWN On this 20th day of Tov and Yermey of 418 E.S. VA EDLERVIK I ALMARIS In my youth, I looked forward to one day sharing the mantle of humanity with our heartlander brethren. There is no denying my forebears held little love for the Orenians, for reasons both substantiated and invented. On the foundations of their distrust and grudges, I hoped to one day restore what was lost. My tutor took me to Providence as a boy; I played chess with the Imperials; an Imperial girl was my first true friend as a child. That, however, is now gone forever. Tell me, Oren. How many of your guest-rights will be broken, your honour decimated, in pursuit of broken pride and to placate rabid mercenaries? How many of your own people will you watch get cut down at court with no justice? How many times will you see attempted murder and assault pardoned, under the banner of patriotism? How many more tens of thousands of mina will be drained for unneeded land? Edlervik i Almaris, they think to say they have offered us peace. When the Dwarves declared their grudge against Philip the Fiddler settled, the anathema renewed the conflict with unmeetable demands. Is this their peace? On a whim, an attempt was made on the life of the High Pontiff to install a puppet; a schism that fell apart within a Saint’s night. Is this their peace? Josephine Tuvyic was murdered, hacked apart without last rights by the anathema, merely for who her mother was. Is this their peace? While selling grain to the poor in Sedan, Ser Erwin Bishop and Lord Sigmar Mondblume were captured and hanged without last rites. Is this their peace? Ser Abraham Othan was shot while guarding the Karosgrad gates without any provocation, while the Lady Laurentina Helvets was, at that very moment, welcomed as a guest in Haeseni walls. Is this their peace? When the anathema was likewise welcomed in Karosgrad and treated as a guest, the Haeseni party were slaughtered as guests on the lands of Archisdorf by Imperial soldiers. IS THIS THEIR PEACE? When the anathema demanded the Grand Kingdom of Urguan sacrifice their lands to the very soldiers who were applauded for their massacre, the anathema termed this a fair compromise. IS. THIS. THEIR. PEACE? Men and women of Oren, who shall bear the burden of this great and terrible final offensive - the Kongzem of Haense will always welcome you as a fellow Descendant. It shall always welcome you as a friend around our fire. No matter the outcome of this war, no matter the trials we see during it, we will continue to show kindness and mercy upon the common Orenian who is forced to pay this terrible price for mercenaries -- as we showed Laurentina Helvets, as we showed the House de Rosius, and as we showed the Empress herself. We know we will call you friend again, once this age of darkness has passed. Your leaders need only pull their heads out of their arses. IV JOVEO MAAN His Royal Majesty SIGISMUND III by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lord of the Westfolk, Fidei Defensor, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera.

"As my anti-emperor commands, so shall I obey." Sigismund III does a backflip.

Ve Marian Edykt THE MARIAN EDICT KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM Issued by the CROWN On this 13th day of Vzmey and Hyff of 417 E.S. VA BIRODEO HERZENAV AG EDLERVIK Since the Kossar i Haenz Edict of 398 E.S., Haeseni Knighthood has continued to build off the works of Knight Paramounts Ser Boris the Persistent, Ser Alric the Cavalier, Ser Cedric the Kind, and Ser Karl the Humble, to nurture a prestigious order of chivalric knight-errants and protectors of the Kongzem and Crown, with the 398 E.S. Edict incorporating many elements of Raev mythos into their creed and culture. In light of the recent appointment of Ser Reinhardt the Unbroken as Knight Paramount through the Steel Pledge, the pursuit of honing the structure of the Knight’s Table marches onwards to better meet the needs of the Crown and its people. Therefore, the Crown and the Knight Paramount jointly address the matter of the Marian Retinue. Since the reformation of knighthood in 343 E.S., the Marian Retinue was envisioned as an elite and personal band of protectors devoted wholly to guarding the wellbeing of the Crown, and this purpose was perfectly exhibited in the Marian Retinue of King Josef I and, for a time, King Heinrik II. In more recent years, however, the Marian Retinue has suffered from neglect while the knight-errants of the Order of the Crow have been the primary beneficiaries of the 398 E.S. reforms. Thus, the following is decreed: I. The Marian Retinue will no longer form part of the Knight’s Table. Instead, they shall return to their ancient form as warriors hand-chosen by the Crown devoted to the sole objective of their protection. II. The Knight’s Table shall consist of the Crow Knights and remain as provided for by the Kossar i Haenz Edict of 398 E.S., with the small change of increasing their maximum number of twelve sitting Knights, each of whom shall be given a numbered rank based on skill and seniority. III. Squires to the Marian Retinue shall be hand-chosen by Marian Knights and trained to achieve mastery in arms by their patron Knight rather than the Bogatyr Trials. At the end of their training, squires shall face their final test in the form of the Marian Reckoning -- a trial tailored to the specific strengths and weaknesses of the squire. IV. The Marian Retinue shall be subject only to the authority of the Crown, while they themselves shall be equal in rank. With this Edict, Knights within the Kongzem shall be categorised as follows: The Marian Retinue Ser Viktor the Beast, of House Baruch @indiana105 Ser Flemius the Unwavering @FlemishSupremacy The Knight's Table 1st Knight of the Table: Ser Reinhardt the Unbroken, of House Barclay @Capt_Chief26 2nd Knight of the Table: Dame Tavisha the Independent, of House Morovar @Althea_ 3rd Knight of the Table: Ser August the Merciful, of House Barclay @Ziggitee 4th Knight of the Table: Ser Abraham the Faithful @1_Language_1 5th Knight of the Table: Ser Elimar the Wayward, of House Mondblume-Luceafaru @Kujo 6th Knight of the Table: Ser Walton the Wall @Basil Moroul 7th Knight of the Table: Dame Mariya the Grey @EnderMaiashiro 8th Knight of the Table: Dame Marie the Marigold, of House Ruthern @sarahbarah 9th Knight of the Table: Dame Emelya the Temperate, of House Kortrevich @jaymock7 10th Knight of the Table: Ser Emil the Guardian, of House Barclay @Liokv The Crown seeks two more warriors to assume the prestigious post of Marian Knight following this distinction. IV JOVEO MAAN His Royal Majesty SIGISMUND III by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lord of the Westfolk, Fidei Defensor, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera.

Ve Koengz Kort THE KING’S COURT KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM Issued by the CROWN On this 2nd day of Wzuvar and Byvca of 417 E.S. VA BIRODEO HERZENAV AG EDLERVIK The Court exists wherever the Crown goes. Where the Aulic Council, since its consolidation as the Kongzem's foremost governing body, exists under the direction of the Palatine to lead the Aulic Government in its broad and essential functions - from the army, to economics, to diplomacy - the King's Court is envisioned as the personal retinue of the Crown, composed of courtiers with unique skillsets who accompany the Crown to audiences and events. They provide advice on their specific expertise, or carry out their prestigious services. It is the will of King Sigismund III that the King's Court be revived in pursuit of the traditions of kings past, and to build a retinue of skilled and reliable courtiers. Thus, the following positions and vacancies are announced: COURT ALCHEMIST Held by Lady Moliana Luceafaru | @UnBaed Responsible for the brewing of useful potions and the development of the Kongzem's alchemical knowledge, the role of Corut Alchemist is one of important utility. While also serving as a consultant on this complex school of science, the Court Alchemist provides the Crown with potions that to solve a variety of problems, from medical to warfare. COURT MAGE Held by Lady Theodosya Barclay | @marslol Akin to the Court Alchemist, the Court Mage serves the Crown as advisor on all matters of the arcane - a subject which the Kongzem has traditionally been woefully ignorant of. As the world continues to see threats of a magical nature, the position of Court Mage is born from necessity, and can even be utilized to teach schools of magic to students. ROYAL BUTLER Held by Firr Candle | @HurferDurfer1 The most trusted handymen of the Crown and first among their servants, the Royal Butler champions the prestige of the King's Court through the serving of the Crown, the Court, and guests during meets, audiences, and events. GRAND MAER Held by Lady Analiesa Ludovar | @_mady07 As most popular representative of the Haeseni people, the Grand Maer marks an important voice in the King's Court as someone empowered by the Haeseni populace to speak on their behalf. The role of Grand Maer is the only position on the King's Court not directly chosen by the Crown. ROYAL SMITH Vacant - Seeking Courtiers - Contact the Crown As a great appreciator and collector of weapons, King Sigismund III seeks to officially employ the services of a Royal Smith within his Court who shall be tasked with the forging of both decorative and combative weapons as gifts or new additions to the King's collection. The Royal Smith will also be responsible for the forging of ceremonial pieces, such as crown jewels, the Bulavas of the Aulic Council, and the Valkskej treaty swords. The Royal Smith shall be paid for their works. COURT POET Vacant - Seeking Courtiers - Contact the Crown The King himself has written musical pieces - such as the Song of Steelheart and Lord Johann's Blessed Axe - and thus seeks to promote the art through the official appointment of a Court Poet, who would undertake the responsibility of commemorating the deeds, history, and heroes of the Kongzem through song or prose. MASTER OF THE HUNT Vacant - Seeking Courtiers - Contact the Crown As it was in the days of yore, the King seeks a Master of the Hunt to organize hunting outings for the entirety of the Royal Court as a sport for the Noble Houses and other courtiers. COURT CHAPLAIN Vacant - Seeking Courtiers - Contact the Crown The Kongzem has always stood as the most devout of mankind's nations, and thus it is fitting that a Court Chaplain exist to speak to the Crown on matters of religion, and carry out prayers, ceremonies, and sacraments for the Court. COURT TUTOR Held by Firr Iulius Vernhart | @tcs_tonsils_ As he was in his youth by Firr Feodor May, the King recognizes the importance of proper education for the youth of the Court, and therefore seeks a Court Tutor to host lessons and educate the royal children, and other children of high-born heritage. ROYAL CHEF Vacant - Seeking Courtiers - Contact the Crown As a descendant of King Josef I, the current King is, naturally, a great appreciator of food. Seeking to impress family and guests alike, he seeks the service of a distinguished cook to serve as Royal Chef. ROYAL COURIER Vacant - Seeking Courtiers - Contact the Crown Despite the popularity of correspondence through messenger birds, the Crown has come to conclude that maintenance costs of aviaries and bird training has become a great burden.Therefore, where possible, the King seeks a trusted courier to deliver messages for them. For those who seek to join the King's Court as a courtier, the Royal Court shall sit on this coming Jula and Piov [Thursday, 5EST] as the best opportunity to nominate onself. The Crown can, however, be contacted at any time. IV JOVEO MAAN His Royal Majesty SIGISMUND III by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lord of the Westfolk, Fidei Defensor, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera.

Ve Zvaerd ag Zelka Edykt THE SWORD & SILK EDICT KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM Issued by the CROWN On this 7th day of Msitza and Dargund of 415 E.S. VA BIRODEO HERZENAV AG EDLERVIK Since its inception, the Aulic Council has served as the highest echelon of power and influence in the Kongzem of Haense. Throughout its history, it has taken many forms, from close friends of the monarch to powerful noble factions, but today the Aulic Council acts as the Crown’s most trusted advisors, to whom the essential duties of governance are delegated. Each seat upon the Aulic Council is born through representation of a major facet of Haeseni society, and thus all things that fall within the purview of the Crown should, in turn, come within the ambit of one of the Aulic Councillors. The Marshal leads the army and keeps the peace; the Speaker chairs the Royal Duma and appraises the Noble Houses; the Justiciar ensures that criminals are punished and disputes are settled fairly; the Treasurer safeguards the Kongzem’s wealth; the Envoy represents the Kongzem abroad; and the Palatine, of course, stands as right-hand man of the Crown and leads the Aulic Council on his behalf. The goal of the Aulic Council is to host an assembly that, together, represents each of the Kongzem’s vital institutions. In recent years, however, it has become apparent that there now exists some institutions that go without representation on the Aulic Council, and thus hinder the assembly’s ultimate goal. So that the Kongzem may speak, think, and act as one, this Edict shall address the status of the Knight’s Table and the Queen’s Council. Firstly, the Queen’s Council has, for generations, been responsible for cultural and social events within the Kongzem. While in its infancy, the body was minor in both composition and role, the works of Queens Isabel, Annika, and Emma have nurtured the Queen’s Council into a distinguished institution that undertakes a tremendous volume of work to manage the flourishing Royal Courts, host frequent social events, and the publication of cultural works, and the extent and importance of this work has, in the eyes of the Crown, come the solicit representation on the Aulic Council. Secondly, the Knight’s Table was revived as the Kongzem’s chivalric order of militant knights in 343 E.S., and when it began, it hosted only three Knights within its ranks. In the decades that would follow, the Table flared in size and prestige under Knight-Paramounts such as Ser Boris the Persistent, Ser Alric the Cavalier, and Ser Cedric the Kind. Having recently celebrated its 52nd anniversary, Knighthood is now a standard path on which many young noblemen and women, and even some exceptional commoners, embark upon to prove themselves. While securing the legacy of a standing knight order demands constant effort and improvement, it has undeniably cemented itself as a key Haeseni institution that warrants due recognition. With this in mind, the Crown enacts the following changes in the Haurul Caezk lawbook: ________________________ LAW OF THE KINGDOM VII Upon the Aulic Council shall sit: The Palatine (ve Palatin), who shall wield the Golden Bulava as leader of the Aulic Council on behalf of the Crown, The Speaker of the Duma (ve Herzen i ve Duma), who shall wield the Black Bulava as overseer of the Royal Duma and Noble Houses, The Marshal (ve Kengzhetmenn), who shall wield the Iron Bulava as commander of the Brotherhood of Saint Karl, The Justiciar (ve Vasriciar), who shall wield the Grey Bulava in carrying out the Crown’s justice, The Treasurer (ve Aranyiaz), who shall wield the Silver Bulava as keeper of the Crown’s wealth, The Seneschal (ve Styuard), who shall wield the Copper Bulava as administrator of the Crown’s lands, The Envoy (ve Szara), who shall wield the Ivory Bulava as diplomatic representative of the Kongzem, The Grand Lady (ve Haucherzenas), who shall wield the Rose Bulava as representative of the Queen’s Council, And the Knight Paramount (ve Kossarowain), who shall wield the Steel Bulava as First Knight of the Knight’s Table. VIII The Consort and Grand Prince of Kusoraev shall have the right to attend meetings of the Aulic Council. ________________________ It is the hope of the Crown that through these changes, all major aspects of the Kongzem beneath the purview of the Crown shall be represented on one whole body, so that Haense may think and act as one. IV JOVEO MAAN His Royal Majesty SIGISMUND III by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lord of the Westfolk, Fidei Defensor, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera.

Notice of City Development OPENING OF PETRA'S MARKET & MARUS' ARCH KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM Issued by the CROWN On this 17th day of Vzmey and Hyff of 416 E.S. VA BIRODEO HERZENAV AG EDLERVIK Following the opening of the new Public Tavern in the place of the old town hall within the Royal Capital of Karosgrad, the question of what to do with the substantial space of the old tavern has gone unanswered -- until now. Through the contracting of skilled architects, the Office of the Seneschal has overseen the construction of new shops and houses to meet the demand of the capital. Thus, it pleases the Crown to announce the opening Petra's Market and Marus' Arch as the latest additions to ongoing renovations to the Royal Capital throughout the reign of King Sigismund III. The opening of these new streets in the stead of the old tavern provide the following rental properties to subjects and traders: PETRA'S MARKET - LOCATED OPPOSITE THE GOLDEN CROW BANK ON THE MAIN SQUARE Petra's Market I - smithy seeking blacksmith - 200 mina to purchase and 30 in yearly tax Petra's Market II - 200 mina to purchase and 30 in yearly tax | Reserved for Johann Ludovar as compensation for his displaced shop Petra's Market III - 200 mina to purchase and 30 in yearly tax MARUS' ARCH - LOCATED BEHIND THE OLD TAVERN/PETRA'S MARKET Marus' Arch I - residential house - 150 mina to purchase and 20 in yearly tax Marus' Arch II - residential home - 150 mina to purchase and 20 in yearly tax Subjects interested in the new merchant or residential properties may express interest to the High Seneschal Dracomir Rorikov [','#0811], or one of his Stewards [@Steward in the Kingdom of Haense Discord, or contact one in-game using the city noticeboard opposite the new tavern]. May Karosgrad prosper. [Credit to @Gobbo for the amazing builds.] IV JOVEO MAAN His Royal Majesty SIGISMUND III by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia and Vanaheim, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lord of the Westfolk, Fidei Defensor, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera.

The Ballad of LORD JOHANN'S BLESSED AXE A Ballad in commemoration of Lord Marshal Johann Barclay's stand against two heartlander bandits with only a damaged axe Sung to the melody of: The north farm fence needed fixing, and so Lord Johann set out With an old cracked axe and his morning brew, his work he went about With that axe he chopped and pruned, and as he whittled the old wood Approached did two masked bandits, and upon his land they stood Clad in white and black in heart, the jesters demanded his surrender But Lord Johann told them no, with only his axe as his defender They clashed across the farm, old axe on mail, and spear, and sword But it would soon be clear the fools had erred in challenging Reinmar's lord Yet as he blocked and parried, Lord Johann noted with great fear That his old axe would not hold, for its cracks ran deep and clear Alas, he made his peace with death, for soon the axe would shatter His life had been good and honourable, and that was all that mattered Yet right before the axe gave way beneath a brigand's blade Lord Johann watched in wonder as the tide of battle swayed Surely Godan had smiled upon him, for the axe's cracks and rust had gone And so Lord Johann struck back, and overwhelmed them with his brawn The blessed axe cleaved through the legs of one, and forced the knave to yield Filled with dread at the miracle, the other fled in terror from the field So it was that Lord Johann had witnessed a miracle that day For he was a true defender of the faith, and no heathen he could not slay When the fool was drawn and hung, Lord Johann hung the axe above his fire Where it rested forevermore, as reminder of Haense's ire. ___________________________________ @Frymark

Letter to the Royal Duma: ON 'REGELN DER HERALDIK' KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM Issued by the CROWN On this 3rd day of Tov and Yermey of 414 E.S. VA BIRODEO HERZENAV AG ALDYLEVAR The Crown writes this letter as an appeal for clarification regarding the 'Regaln der Heraldrik' (Common: Rules of Heraldry) Bill as penned by the Lord Dietrich Barclay and passed with majority vote of the Royal Duma. While the Crown will facilitate the will of the Royal Duma, as representatives of the Haeseni people, whenever possible, on this occasion it must refer this Bill back to the Royal Duma for clarity on the following matter: While this Bill creates a steeped heraldic culture, the Crown must note that the Bill makes no provision as to how Houses are to acquire these many variations of heraldry. While there have been heraldic artists in the Kongzem over the years, they have rendered their services in a private capacity. Given the detail mandated by this Bill, the Crown is reluctant to place this requirement on the Noble Houses without a clear and efficient system through which they may adhere to the requirements of the Bill - in short, how will the production of heraldic art be ensured for Houses who are not versed in its art? The Royal Duma is asked to submit a clarifying response at today's session. IV JOVEO MAAN His Royal Majesty SIGISMUND III by the Grace of Godan, King of Hanseti and Ruska, Grand Hetman of the Army, Prince of Bihar, Dules, Lahy, Muldav, Solvesborg, Slesvik and Ulgaard, Duke of Carnatia, Margrave of Korstadt, Rothswald and Vasiland, Count of Alban, Alimar, Baranya, Graiswald, Karikhov, Karovia, Kaunas, Kavat, Kovachgrad, Kvasz, Markev, Nenzing, Torun, and Toruv, Viscount of Varna, Baron of Esenstadt, Kraken’s Watch, Kralta, Krepost, Lorentz, Rytsburg, Thurant, Venzia and Astfield, Lord of the Westfolk, Fidei Defensor, Protector of the Highlanders, etcetera.