BenevolentManacles

The Branches of Government Adrian de Sarkozy, John d’Arkent, Frederick Armas and Terrence May, discussing the potential formation of a Supreme Court, circa 1735 <--------------> <--------------> <--------------> <--------------> <--------------> None can deny the Empire’s change in these past decades. Once, feudal warlords and primitive despots decided the fate of our nation. Now, we have a robust system of legal recourse, a civilization in place of an anarchy, where even the lowest of peasants have the right to trial. In place of a dictator, we have a Senate which has been bestowed the power to legislate by the Emperor. None can deny the interest and progress that the Imperial Senate has made these past decades, innovating what it means to legislate and represent all of humanity. In place of oligarchs, we have a Cabinet beholden to the confirmations of elected officials. The Senate’s power over the executive authority of the Empire is a profound revolution in governance. The Cabinet of State executes not only the will of the Emperor, but the laws that the Senate passes. Yet the picture is not complete. Can the Cabinet be held accountable for defying the Senate’s law? Can the Senate be held accountable for passing bills in contrast to its foundation’s legal promulgation? For centuries, a Justice has been an instrument of the Emperor’s will. The Emperor drafts law with his voice or his pen, and the Justice does as the Emperor commands. If he does not, then the Emperor simply removes him, overturns his decision, and all is correct. In place of a despot, we have an Imperial Court. These courts are designed to run in stark contrast to the Cabinet of State and the Imperial Senate. The Emperor has bestowed us Justices with the power to rule in court in ways independent of direct influence. It is, then, our absolute duty to utilize our independence and become the final link between these arms of government. We shall set the precedent of legal recourse and the fine processes by which we determine the guilty and innocent, the legal and illegal. In this way, we complete our perfect circle. We shall not grovel at the feet of the Senate, reading their laws and nodding our head with complacency. We shall observe these laws as we do all things within the domain of our courts; with judicious suspicion. Should a bill pass the senate, or the Cabinet take executive action, they shall remain subject to judicial review in any court. If we cannot curtail any imbalance of power within the branches of our most glorious Empire, we are not only useless, but we are failures. <--------------> <--------------> <--------------> <--------------> <--------------> His Grace, John d’Arkent Duke of Sunholdt, Baron of Selm Justice of the Supreme Court

Ser John attempts to recall his tenure as the first Vice Chancellor, but fails, as he was too drunk, both then and now.

John drinks to Leonard’s retirement, recalling the day he had knighted the man. “A wonderful servant of the Emperor, and a great man.”

Cyril was masked and resents this blatant meta

This is so dumb wars aren’t meant to last this long it’s getting more toxic and shitty every week please make a warclaim or figure something out or I’m going to worldedit tythus’ house into the aether.

The Bear’s Crown Miles off the coast of Curon, a sleek schooner soars over the calm ocean waves like a knife. At the head, a mermaid holding a crescent moon in her hands guides the ship through the glass ocean. The wake the ship left caught the eyes of a man, seated on the stern of the ship atop the railing behind the ship’s wheel. His harsh brown eyes glanced over toward the woman who scurried to his side. She was mali’ame, and dawned the same cutlass as the rest of the salty soldiers that manned the ship. The girl yelped out,“I have it!” “Show me,” the Captain demands, turning on the railing to face her. She plunges her hand into her leather satchel, and slowly pulls from it a silver crown adorned with emeralds. “The Crown o’ Curon, Cap’n.” The man grins, seizing it from her hands and sliding off the railing to stand. He turns the Crown in his hands, “Was it a tough fight?” He asks the girl, entranced by the glorious headwear. He raises it over his shoulders, placing it on his head in a display of vanity. “Not for me, Captain. Faked a damsel in distress. Works every time. Though, uh, Greg, Johnny, an’ William are dead. And Yorick’s captured,” she purses his lips, thinking, “Think there were others. Don’t remember.” The Captain models the crown for her, not responding to the casualties. This was too easy. If these Orenians were so simple to fool, his next target would be like taking sweets from a child. They may be more vigilant after this attack, but they’ll never be guarding the right place. “Grab the wheel, Bonnie. Let’s add to the collection.” Bonnie complies, and the ship begins to turn toward their next target. ((Depending on the player’s choices between now and next event, the event may be altered in nature or location.))

Raiders from the Spice Islands Miles off the Imperial Coast, a gruff man with a short beard stands on the bow of a foreign schooner. His olive skin betrays him further for a foreigner, though those who followed him dared not ask him his origin. They had seen too many times his ire, and through too many failed mutinies his cruelty. It was not uncommon a sour look from one of the raiders had left them without eyes to see at all, doomed to tie knots by feel and light cannons by scent. He was a mystical man, this schooner's captain. His brutality and ferocity hid beneath it a genuine curiosity for the unknown and undiscovered, if only so he could seize it and take it for his own. He had very few rules, but chief among them was that anything the crew owned, he owned. The past few months, the captain had been ravaging the merchant routes from the Spice Islands, far off the Imperial coast. Too many ships had gone missing, and so the president of the South Island Trading Company had dispatched his best armed galleon to hunt down the schooner. Yet the raider's ship was too evasive, and the captain of the galleon had been forced to beach his ship for careening after months of hunting. It was then the raider had seen his opportunity, him and his men, hungry for the spoils to be had in seizing such a massive ship, dispatched from their stealthy schooner in the night, and laid waste to the Company's encampment. Of the few survivors, ten were pressganged, and one was dispatched on a small boat to deliver the raider's message. The raids would not stop, and the ports of Arcas were next. In hopes of achieving support in catching these deviant raiders, the President of the South Island Trading Company letters the closest known port, in the City of Avalain, in hopes of warning them. <--------> <--------> <--------> <--------> To the Prince, Wilhelm II Devereux As of late, the ships my Company has dispatched to my regular trade routes have been harassed, sank, captured or otherwise made incapable of completing their routes. These pirates will fly the flag of your country in your waters, to avoid detection and suspicion. Be wary. Their leader, whose name we know not, hunts for relics of times long passed. He has caught word of Orenia and its ancient histories and mystic treasures, and I am sure he has made you his next target, the only Orenian port, to establish a foothold. You will know the pirate's Captain by his brown skin and beard, and a thick foreign accent. Be wary! Be steadfast! Their ship is fast, sleek, and they will attack during the night, or when you least expect it. For the betterment of the Commonwealth, Rigoberto Magdaleno President of the South Island Trading Company ((This is a player run event line. Please contact me if you’re interested in participating in any of the events we have coming up as an actor.))

John applauds the young Governor-General’s diligence and penmanship. John had not had to lift his quill once, except to correct some slight grammatical errors!

A Memorial Ester Rose Devereux In honor of Ester Rose Devereux, His Highness, Prince Wilhelm II, sees fit to hold a vigil and memorial in her honor, in the Curonian Capital of Avalain. In three Saint’s Days, His Highness invites the whole of the Empire, from the Emperor to the Kings, to the lowest peasant, to embark on our journey of remembrance together. Please join us in honoring one of the greatest women of our time as we pray, and speak, and drink to her memory and goodness. We invite those who knew her well to speak to our gathering, as well as any man of the cloth that is able to make the journey. ((Wednesday, 12/11, 7:30 EST))

John suddenly regrets being tunnel buddies with Rickard.

John sighs, picking up his pen again.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZgIwr5bGGNI My fellow man, The fight we fight is not trivial. This is not a war for peace, not anymore. These demons have stolen from me, from you, from all of us. We lived once, not long ago, peacefully. Then this Godric threatened it. It was also not long ago that, during that peace, we were divided in ideal and goal, constantly pulling at each other for authorities and independences. Now we stand shoulder to shoulder, a bulwark against the dark future our foes would impose on the world. I’ve lost my Emperor, Alexander, and my Protector, Adrian. Now I have lost my Queen, my dear Ester, when it was not her time to go. The Duke Godric pretends that he has done something honorable in giving her a quick death. He fancies himself a nobleman, holding noble hostages, feigning honorable intention, delivering offers of ransom. Yet here, an innocent woman who had no army and who wanted only for peace and her people, was butchered in the street. His men dragged her body to the gates of Avalain and tossed it to the ground, telling our townspeople that if they stayed in Avalain, they would suffer the same fate. Godric is not noble, or honorable. He is a manipulative creature, and at his core lacking in all principle. He will do anything to achieve his goals, including discarding my Ester’s corpse on the ground, using her as a threat of impending cruelty. Yet he would pretend he cares for her or her children, whom he stole her from with no purpose other than to sew discord and chaos for his own gain. I can no longer spit the rambling, humble words of a man who hates conflict and seeks to fight a war in good spirit and without vindication. Now, the fire of vengeance consumes me altogether. I am a slave to it. I will avenge my dear Ester, or I will die trying. Yet I will not do it alone. I am but one instrument in our glorious symphony, whose movements are the vitals of our struggle. Ser John of Nowhere

John buried his face in his hands, swelling with rage.

John follows the doctor’s orders, having heard this tale second-hand from a chambermaid.

The Curonian Reformation Plan Sun’s Smile, 1743 <---------------------------------> <---------------------------------> <---------------------------------> <---------------------------------> On the Kingdom of Curon and its desire, and absolute need to undergo the processes of reconstruction and reformation. With horrible mismanagement of the government by the previous regent, resulting in a loss of basic trust, the Crown of Curon henceforth affirms itself as a new body, with new leadership, under the purview of new governing principles and ideals. <---------------------------------> <---------------------------------> SECTION I GOVERNMENT & STRUCTURE <---------------------------------> <---------------------------------> PART I The Cabinet Through the development of the Cyrillian Cabinet, the restructuring of the flailing and previously disrepaired Curonian council and government shall break from the chains of malleable ethical principles and morals. This new ruling class of Curon commits, in full, to be in keeping with its oaths of fealty, and the defense of its people, fellows vassals, and sovereign Empire. By designing a Cabinet engineered to be governed from the top down, the Crown hopes to ensure tangible upward mobility for the people of Curonia, and therefore increased productivity. No longer shall seats holding influence be held by those who never show their face and have allegiances faltering from the direct goals of the Curonian Crown. A government does not function without hierarchy and a level of bureaucracy necessary to ascertain true and tangible advancement of the goals of the Crown. PART II The Census As outlined in the Senate’s proposals regarding the return of Curon’s title to a suitable candidate, something of absolute and utmost important for Curonian solidarity and success, the Kingdom must achieve specific thresholds in the Imperial census. As such, the Crown will initiate a full fledged campaign with this goal in mind. This task is assigned to the Minister of the Exterior and, more specifically, the Secretaries of Imperial Affairs and Intelligence. The Crown henceforth sets the expectation that this goal is met within the next four years. PART III Recruitment Focus In this time of restructure, the Kingdom needs, more than ever, as many capable people to execute its directives as possible. As such, the Kingdom will require all of its councillors to utilize all of their resources to the best of their ability in adding additional manpower to all directives of this plan. <---------------------------------> <---------------------------------> SECTION II THE CAPITAL CITY <---------------------------------> <---------------------------------> PART I Renovation The City of Avalain shall undergo heavy renovations in order to put an end to the scars that the Void Tear left in our fair city. This task is assigned to the Minister of the Interior, and more specifically, the Secretary of the Homeland and any other ministers or undersecretaries necessary to be appointed to the task. PART II City Government The City of Avalain will reestablish a functioning city government, monitored and upkept by the Ministry of the Interior, and in keeping with the cultural identity of Avalain and the surrounding areas. This government will serve to provide the necessary tools to orchestrate a functioning city. This task is assigned to the Minister of the Interior, and more specifically, the Secretaries of the Homeland and Treasury. The Crown henceforth sets the expectation that this goal is met within the next two years. <---------------------------------> <---------------------------------> SECTION III SECURITY & DEFENSE <---------------------------------> <---------------------------------> PART I The Military The Crown shall charge the Secretary of War with the establishment of a functioning military force, capable of everything from basic city policing to the defense of the Kingdom and tall forms of military assistance to the Emperor’s directions. The Crown henceforth sets the expectation that this goal is met within the next three years. PART II Integration The Crown intends to integrate the standing armed forces of Curon into the Imperial State Army. Once the Curonian armed forces are fully fledged and capable of governing itself as a military body that will not be burdensome to the ISA. Alternatively, should the ISA provide to the Curonian military the means to accomplish its directives in the defense of the City of Avalain and the Curonian Crownlands. IN NOMINE DEI Her Highness, Ester Rose Devereaux Princess and Governess General of the Curon His Lordship, Ser John d’Arkent Baron of Selm, First Minister of the Kingdom of Curon

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OFgHy-ia8RM Addressed to His Holiness, I have read your declaration, and know you to mean well. It is good to see a compassionate shepherd, hoping to bring peace to the realms of Man. Yet you make a grave error. You assume that Curon and Suffonia are true, god-fearing folk who abide by the laws of GOD and man. Yet they have strayed from this path. You have failed to condemn and excommunicate those who call themselves Canonist, yet whom have aligned themselves with the pagans who now invade Canonist land. You have failed to condemn the pagan invasion against the human realms. You have stood idly by while our country is rife with the iniquity wrought by heathens killing canonists. Suffonia and Curon have shown they care nothing for the GOD’s children and faith. The murder of priests in Suffonia is a prime example, yet even worse is their abuse of the chaos brought by the pagans. They have used this invasion of GOD’s land to break away from the yoke of the Imperium which shelters all of GOD’s people, and thusly they have betrayed the values of Canonism altogether. How can a man fear GOD if he allows pagans to assist him in breaking his oaths of fealty, made before GOD and man? Now, you ask us to meet with you in Rubern, a country that has assisted in this pagan invasion and participated in the heathenous ritual of murdering Canonist peoples. I hope that you are simply ill informed and do not truly mean that your first act as High Pontiff since this conflict started is to assemble Canonist men with pagan sympathizers in a pagan land and ask that we have a peace which has not been earned. If you wish to have a meeting with those who proclaim themselves Canonist still, we shall have it in a Ves, a true canonist city, and the site of the Holy See for three decades. If you are not ill informed, and this is truly your intention and the Church has abandoned the only true Canonist nations, then it is you whom is in need of a shepherd. We men of the Crownlands and Haense will continue to pray to GOD for deliverance and seek the word of the Lord through our own interpretations. We are stalwart and stronger in our faith than any people the world, and even if the High Pontiff truly intends what I described above, we will continue to pursue GOD’s guidance through our own prayers and community. With all love for GOD and His Ministry, Ser John d’Arkent Vice Chancellor, Baron of Selm

In response to the recent address from the Barony of Warwick and the Kingdom of Curon, To the Barony of Warwick; Since I became relevant in Imperial governance you have groveled for titles and to be recognized, asking for thresholds you could meet in order to become a Kingdom, or gain Senate seats, or what-have-you. Ultimately you fail to understand that greatness comes from great deeds, and you are throwing a hissy fit over not being handed greatness or recognition on a platter. Do you think the men of Morsgrad care about you, or can make you great? They wish only to use you to further their aim, and you have fallen for their trap. Say what you will for the Empire, but when Morsgrad rallied to attack Haense, we rallied to its defense, and stood stalwart in front of our vassal, ready to die defending it. Remember that when this war is over, if you choose to assist the men of Morsgrad in armed combat, GOD will smite you for your heathenry, and you will have destroyed any reason any man in the world would have to trust you. Know also that even if you seek to proclaim neutrality, I will personally march over there and trim you a head short. Simply because you made a voluntary choice to swear fealty does not mean you can voluntarily absolve yourself of it. What a hideous, idiotic, honorless destruction of the values of GOD and man. To the Regent of Curon; Angelo, here I have something more delicate; at least in some ways. You and your wife shared drinks with myself and my wife, and so I take a lighter tone with you, yet with the same substance. The worst thing that you have done is betray King Pierce. You have dishonored him beyond belief, the man who, when pushed to the brink, chose to make the proper decision and remain a vassal of the Empire. A man who many times I spoke with in privy on matters paramount to the security of the state, and who I knew had the best interests of all of humanity at heart. You broke his oath of fealty for him, a contract that no man has the right to violate. You are a sniveling fool, and a coward. I challenge you to a duel to the death, for the honor of my sickly friend King Pierce of Curon, whom you have insulted with your snot-stained declaration. God save you both. His Excellency, Sir John d’Arkent Vice Chancellor, Baron of Selm

An old Knight picks up his pen.

Nice!

The Vice-Chancellor raises his hand, “I prefer the red with the purple crown, and thus that is my vote.”

John spits out his milk.

The aging Knight trails behind his younger fellows, the weight of his armor and his aching body from drink the previous night keeping him from his top condition. He had done it to himself, of course, as he always did, but it was embarrassing after such a long career of war and battle to be found at the end of the line. As the army comes to the front of the gates, he catches the main body of the army, grouping alongside them with shield in hand. His heavy breath, reeking of liquor, fills his helm noxiously. He pulls his visor up for a better view of the enemy as the Orenian soldiers group together for the assault, scouts dispatched by the General Elliot to survey the walls for weaknesses. Perhaps as soon as the scouts were dispatched, without word and warning, the arrows began flying, known only to John by the thud of one striking his shield off center. The Knight let a grin spread across his face, his vision clearing and his armor growing lighter as the familiar rush of battle returned to him. He was never a distinguished soldier in battle, but he knew how to fight with a group, and he had done so since he was a young boy nearly every year of his life. It was not long until the Emperor himself and his guard clashed against the enemy’s sally from the main gate, striking down the Orc who appeared to be the de facto leader of the ragtag bandits. The Emperor’s laughter resounded through the battlefield, and the men echo’d him, the humor infecting the entire ranks in the middle of pitched battle. Soon the entire formation was in uproarious laughter. John let himself laugh along, consumed by the charisma. It was not long before the scouts had returned, having noted a potential entrance to the fort that had been overlooked. John heard the General Elliot call the formation to move, and they circled the fort till the scout brought them to the tree which branches would allow the force entrance to the fort. The Knight sheathed his sword, clambering upon the tree with the assistance from his younger comrades. He gazed across the gap from the tree to the wall for a moment, before he felt the push of a man behind him. He had already hesitated too long, and he was forced to leap. With a heavy thud, his boots landed on the roof of one of the camp’s structures, safe from the short fall. The rest of the brigade followed quickly, bunching together behind cover. John closed his eyes, drawing his longsword again. He knew this moment a hundred times over, had lived it countless times. He adjusted his grip on his blade, and didn’t wait long. General called the charge, and John let out a blood curdling battlecry. As the force turned the corner, the enemy’s line buckled. A cascade of convicted Orenians, empowered by the presence of the Emperor himself, crashed against the line. On the left flank, John slammed his shield against a dwarven barbarian’s. They pushed against each other for a moment, but John was no stranger to fighting dwarves, and their low center of gravity. He relaxed his shield arm, stepping to the side to allow the dwarf’s pressure to propel the dwarf forward. The dwarf lost his balance, and while he scrambled to regain himself, John’s reeled his blade back, thrusting it at the dwarf’s upper spine. The weapon sank into the short creature with a grotesque gush of blood, splattering John’s armor. John ripped the weapon from the dwarf, which slumped over. John turned to see the enemy continue to break, and saw an elf dashing off toward the corner of the camp, attempting to outflank the Orenian left. He grinned at the elf, from behind his helm, and took a few steps forward, raising his shield and slamming his pommel on the front a few times with an aggressive stance. This got the elf’s attention, who backed itself into the corner, with nowhere to maneuver in the oncoming onslaught. John kept his eyes carefully on the elf as it raised its shield, preparing for the fight. John raised his sword arm into the sky, as if to strike the elf’s shield. The elf raised its shield, blocking its own line of sight. No doubt this was a novice. John roared at the elf, raising his right foot and giving the elf’s shield a powerful kick square in the center. The elf’s body slammed against the wall of the encampment, disorienting him. The elf dropped its sword, and quickly lunged its hand to grab the sword it had lost control of. Too late. John slammed his boot on the elf’s wrist, hearing it cry out in pain as its bones cracked under his weight. John threw his shield off his left arm, gripping the elf’s visor as it knelt, disoriented in agony. He ripped the elf’s helm off, tossing it aside, and swung his sword with great force for the elf’s neck. The elf made no sound as its head was cleaved from its body, rolling down the hill toward the cage that held the captives John and the others had come to free. John turned instantly to view the state of the rest of the battle, to see a quiet field with countless dead; and not one of them Orenian. The bandits had been butchered completely. The aging Knight knelt, wiping off his bloodied sword on the cloak of the dead elf, and sheathed his weapon. He returned to the company as they freed the captives, one of them an elven women, throat slit and bound. John grit his teeth with rage at the cowardice, to murder a woman captive. He unbound the dead elf, slashing its bindings with his dagger, and threw his own cloak over the corpse. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a deep breath as the end of the battle brought his age back to his body. The rush of battle seemed to be the only thing that kept him competent on the field. Perhaps this is how he would spend the next years of his life. Perhaps this made him feel more alive than any drink could. One thing was certain. These bandits were no match for the Imperium. To John, and the men of Oren, their deaths were a laughable waste of time.

A missive is distributed about the city of Helena. With regard to Andrew Owyn d’Arkent; In my first year with my dear wife, Vespira, I wept, for no matter how hard we tried, we could not find her fertile. With every herbal remedy and blessing we could find, we sought to remedy this to no avail. Thus, I took it upon myself; I would hide Vespira away to feign her pregnancy, and adopt a babe as my firstborn, to ensure my legacy carried on at least in name. Of course, we have found since then that her womb is as fertile as can be, activated no doubt by our increased passion for each other. Yet it has become apparent my supposed firstborn son is naught but a vagabond who seeks to disparage my name, and has no sense of loyalty. Thus, I admit to the world my grave error, and beg GOD’s forgiveness and grace. Andrew Owyn was never named Andrew Owyn, but was instead born Roderick Pine, the child of a peasant family who could not afford to feed him. I name him disinherited by virtue of his lack of blood relation. GOD save the Emperor. His Excellency, Ser John d’Arkent, Baron of Selm

“Only a coward kills himself,” John remarks to his wife between sips of ale.