tilly

"Av," the former Queen of the Petra stood tall after reading the lengthy missive, mind overtaken by all of the battles where the coalition had triumphed, and moments where the Covenant had failed - yet learned from. Unbeknownst to the elder Renilde, tears had begun to stain her cheeks, and relief coursed through her body as though a lead apron had been lifted from her shoulders. She was proud of what all the nations had accomplished as a singular entity, and even more so of the loyal Petrans, who'd all come together, no questions asked, to defend their homes and their Queens' honor - both the former and the new Queen. "This is finally over," Renilde told Catherine after she'd left in a tizzy to find her granddaughter, still weeping gleefully. The older ginger clung to the young Queen, and murmured over and over again, "It's over, it's over, the gates are open, it's over!", while prancing around in a circle, perhaps a bit childishly.

“Temesch on top,” she told her blind cousin of sorts.

“Finally.” Renilde Helena Temesch finally breathes a sigh of relief, the burden of being shackled by the Novellen curses and their mistakes being a weight off her shoulders.

“So, are we still marching?” Renilde asked of her granddaughter and her council as the day of the battle drew nearer. @Zaerie

"Oh BOY." Renilde polishes her chestplate.

BRO WTF This WAS SO NICE. and it has always been the goal to be somewhere for anyone. <3 thank you for saying this.

here i am clicking this bait so fast so that i could see petra was in the top three. shame on you. i love petra. every day.

"Another march from Petra! This time from the sorcerous Hohkmati city. This certainly won't go well for them." Renilde hyecked from her seat at the fireplace.

"What did you expect?" Renilde saw the missive, and shook her head with a mirthful grin. "This vassal was once Norland's, once Petra's, and once Urguan's; each rendition of Redclyf has promised ire to their former liege lords who casted them out for their treacherous behavior. Each time, they've gotten weaker, and yet more complacent... At least the orcs might do something about it, bloodthirsty as they are."

“GREAT GRANDBABIES!” Renilde couldn’t wait to spoil them.

“Stassion no more. The original plan has been completed.” Renilde remembered the day one treacherous Stassionite had strong-armed her into an agreement she’d never liked, set up by someone without such authority. “They had no interest but their own in mind every step they took.”

The tune is whistled by the entire staff of the House of the Petra, by command of the Majordomo.

Renilde compares the Brascan title in the Queen of the Petra's signature to the bequeathing of the title of Brasca in the missive she received. She shrugged, and put both documents down, declaring, "Not like they have an estate or anything for their family..." Flashes of the Siege on Brasca overtook her vision, a battle in which the Coalition had emerged, yet again, victorious from the rubble once known as Beaumont - or whatever the 'baroness' called this rendition of the replicated keep, once standing on Petran soil.

“That’s what happens when you’re a trustworthy man.” Renilde spits in the general direction of ALMARIS, where the remains of her first husband laid in the waste conquered by the Mori’quessir.

“STASSION WILL DIIEEEEE,” Bellowed Sorcha, the majordomo, beside the poet laureate, enjoying a dram of whiskey.

"None of them had any follow-through." Renilde cackled.

“Ignorant Stassion fucks, nary worth the mere Mina we sold them for.” Renilde recalls the fateful day where she and her council made the play of the century in trading the treacherous vassal to Aaun, in return for nothing save peace in the Commonwealth. "They will learn."

"What do you fight for, Hohkmat?" The Queen-Emeritus had asked of the people representing the Mages of the Hohkmat Enclave, giving them a mighty cry from the dais where she stood, overlooking her fellow soldiers. "We fight against the Antethema, against Veletz," shouted Master Fatebinder's reliable second, Isabella Sanz. "They are both terribly evil, and we are determined to put them into the ground. We fight for Petra, we fight for Hohkmat. Petra is our oldest and most benevolent ally, so we shall follow them wherever they go, even if that means to the trenches and back!" "That's beautiful," remarked Renilde, before going on to the next proud soldier, and asking the very same question. @Minuvas @Dj_McMuffin

"That's some good shit." Renilde put the lyrics to a tune on the pianoforte in side room of the foyer.

"So good." The Queen-Emeritus of the Petra stood among the citizens of the Commonwealth, bearing the minor wounds endured from a less-than-eventful, decisive battle. "They mother ****ing thought. You Veletzians can raid us, you can bandit us, hold us for ransom - but you cannot win on the field of battle. You do not learn, and that shall be your downfall."

“My son,” Renilde murmured to herself as she read the letter to her treacherous neighbor. “I’ve never been more proud of you; seems you inherited that unstayable tongue of yours from me.” In a new light, the Queen-Emeritus saw her son - a changed man, perhaps with a brighter outlook than she once thought he’d had in their estranged days. Quietly, she made plans to see him - for prayer or familial pleasantries, who knew.

"Another title for this treacherous idiot to add to his signature of stolen, unrightful titles. Fitting." Renilde pushed away the missive, holding no empathy for the lowland lowlifes or their outcasted once-vassal.

"Wub dah zkah?" Renilde, ever the curious woman, tried the brutish tongue of the common orc or uruk, finding it quite the fun phrase to use instead of the cry of her mother tongue.

“******* love Master Fatebinder.” Renilde pinned the recent missive to the city notice board of Vallagne.

"The Adrians of that time were not the Veletzers of this time. Heinrik was my friend, and we had alike minds full of mutual thoughts. There is nothing similar to what Adria was then and what the League's tyranny has turned it into. This is not what Heinrik wanted, and not what his Adria was intended to be." Renilde pondered over the snippets of history laid in her lap, bouncing her leg as the memories played before blank eyes.