Da_Emperors

Quality, Tier A1, Fine fine work.

Peter Augustus Kaphro would take the blade out of the coward Dwarf’s chest as he fell to the ground. He took out a cloth as he wiped away the blood as he looked at the retreating foes. “Nearly five hundred of your kind dead on the roads away from Oren — You all must truly be a special level of daft. I should hope you continue to sing such foolish claims to your people, and continue to call them victories — so that one day your own wake up to how foolish you all may be.” He would move to toss the body into the river as he continued along side comrades to hunt the remainder of them for sport.

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"The Tripartite Forces lost more men, they ran back into the walled city, and hold no advantage or threat to the Empire. It is but foolish they believe they were capable of winning this battle regardless of them outnumbering our own in this Battle." Peter would reply to the false missive as he continued back towards his game of chess.

The Prince of Providence took visit to the Duchy of Cathalon just the day prior. The eventful tour of Cheval Hall was filled with true beauty of what the Duke had created with his family. Pleased with the visit, he spoke with Lord Helton before his departure, “I should like to return soon, your invitation is accepted and most thanked for — a hunt within Cathalon.” Soon after the Prince took his leave back to the Imperial Palace in Providence. When the news had been received the following Saint’s day of the passing of the Duke — the young man’s heart and mind would trouble him. “How foolish was I not to enquire of the Duke’s health, why did I not seek him upon my first visit to his lands.” He moved to pick up the quill placed to his desk as he penned letter towards Duke Helton to offer his condolences and prayers. As he finished, he whispered to himself, “Another titan of the realm has fallen, may he rest well in the Seven Skies.”

Prince of Providence Peter Augustus would read the pinned missive as he took in the words. “Perhaps I should speak to Father Draskovic. I am in the need of more tutors.” He smiled as he made his way to find him.

Peter Augustus whisper to his brother James, “Did old man Peter d’Arkent at least make good Snowmen?” @CharmingCavalier

@JoshBright I wanted to reach out and say that you have been such an exceptional role-player so early on in your days here in Oren and on LOTC. I understand the troubles in which you have faced and that may be a part of the experience for some but if it ever troubles you know that you have friends here and across LOTC that you can speak to at any time, including me. I have had the pleasure of roleplaying with you on my return back after a little break and I must say that it has been nothing but pleasant and wonderful. You are dedicated, ambitious and loved. Once in every few months does a roleplayer or member of our community such as yourself join LOTC and I would like to remind you that you are exceptional. I hope you know you have a community and friend group here in the Empire and in LOTC that you can rely on when things make you feel down. Regardless -- I am always around for you anytime. I look forward to our next memory. :)

Peter Augustus would smile. “New Providence City has the best grass. No grass could ever compare.”

The Prince of Providence would look at the words of the pope as he remained still. The youth would look to his blade that remained at his waist. "God shall know the true defenders of Canonism. Politics shall remain Politics." He would whisper to himself in his bedroom as he would prepare to find his Uncle Ivan.

Peter Augustus would remain in the palace chapel alone as the youth would close his eyes. He whispered, “God, I love you. My father loves you. Oren loves you.” The child was clearly learning first hand from events that erupted and began to develop a strong relationship to God and his faith.

Sir Ledicort d'Azor would speak to his aid, "The small men are not just small in size but that also in the capability to use their brain. May God teach them the errors of their ways and allow them to think logically."

Sir Ledicort d’Azor would flip over his files from the Saint’s week as he leaned into his chair, “Shall the desperation of an unstable and desolate wasteland echo to any of the ears of the Empire?” He would chuckle to himself, “Nonsense, simply nonsense.”

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Sir Ledicort d’Azor would smile as he raised his blade to his comrades, pagan blood dripping from it snd his chest plate. “One God, One Empire, One Emperor!”

The Archchancellor would smile as the two monarch's names would be signed upon the bottom of the Treaty. "May God smile that the Canonist's remain true to our faith and peace." He would move to the Emperor's chambers to speak of the progress upon the warfront.

Sir Ledicort d'Azor would offer a nod as the captive would release a statement of her views. "May God show the light to the many so they see the truth of this unjust war."

A life of servitude was said to be all that is given to servants of Empire. A life that is placed to concerns, trials and dedication to that in itself and nothing more. Ledicort knew this. Ophelia knew this. William knew this. Yet -- They had all given such to course. Ledicort would be seated at his desk as he pondered such thoughts from time to time. His dearest friends, comrades and fellow Nationals one by one had fell to poor health or elsewise. As he would think of such sad memory his aid would come into his office within Selm Palace. As he news was given -- the emotion was pour out. He thought not to break the coat hangers or scream into the abyss as when the news was given from Ophelia's passing; rather, he would remain still upon his seat as he looked forward to the closed door upon there leave of the room. Ophelia. William. His mind raced, "How poor of a friend -- of a comrade -- of a man. . .am I?" He would close his eyes as a single tear would drip from his left eye. "Shall I lose all that stood with me? Shall I forever live in the thoughts of how I have failed Ophelia and you, dear William." He would arise from his seat after a long blistering hour of silence to himself. A life of servitude was said to be all that was given to servants of the Empire. Ledicort would look to the window as the dark clouds would began to form and drips of rain would begin to trickle down from the gray clouds. A life of servitude, it was a life that Ophelia van Wick had lived -- and it was a life that William Theodore Auburt had lived as well. "Shall God keep you and see you to the Seven Skies my dear friend, I had only wished to be a better friend and brother to you while you had remained within reach. I shall hope you forgive me if I am to see you upon the end. Shall Ophelia and yourself find peace and happiness." @MCVDK@TheIchorDruid

It was a normal night in the Selm Palace as Sir Ledicort d‘Azor would work into the night. His aid would bring him a report from the Imperial State Army as he saw the contents, he would quickly rise from his seat as he looked out to his window. “Let the scum run with there tail between there legs, they have no courage to even stand in battle for there beliefs.” He chuckled to himself, “Traitors, Scum, and Cowards — can not even fight for what they stood for, which was very little.”