tilly

"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.

"Mostly the same, yet strikingly different. Fit for the times, av," Renilde said amid the Garmont Assembly who'd approved the bill, looking from left to right, nodding in encouragement.

Renilde the Lightbringer smiles a dazzling Sun's Smile.

"Huh, weird. No raid here." Renilde looked from side to side in the ballroom where 3200 Petrans enjoyed themselves over drinks and laughter.

“Aaahhhh!” Renilde gets scared, or at least pretends to be.

“Huh…” The former Queen of the Petra squints at the familiar handwriting and lowers her head with a long sigh. “The Veletzians and their forced letters… I do not understand.”

“And we stand by you,” Renilde smiled at the publicly dispatched letter, recalling a day in her youth when the worn and weary Xavier Adiler had made her acquaintance for the first time, the two enjoying a lighthearted chat in the war-torn square of Valfleur in Almaris.

“Love you, Uncle Konny.” Renilde pounded a fist to her heart twice before showing him a peace sign with her middle and forefinger. “You did an exemplary job, and I don’t know who will ever distinguish themselves as gracefully as you have.”

Renilde squints hard to try and decipher the dark-on-dark lettering of the missive before her. To no avail, she tried and tried, straining those aged peepers until she gave up with a huff and handed the letter to the Hostarius to read. “What does this say?” She grumbled. @HurferDurfer1

"That's some good stuff," Renilde nodded, wondering why it'd taken so long to begin with for this conversation to be started.

Renilde sits around, relaxing after the most recent battle, the Siege of Brasca, and waits to be reaped due to what she sowed. "If you threaten a Petran life on Commonwealth soil, the favor will be returned tenfold. And so it was."

A depiction of the Queen-Emeritus penning her first-hand account of the realm’s recent history, circa Atstana de Regne Petrère 99 To all who care to read, I have a historical narrative to share. Nearly a decade ago, I orchestrated the writing and signing of the Heartlander Accord. Aaun, Numendil, and Veletz leadership were all contacted and met with individually regarding the terms of the accord for the betterment of the Heartlands and the safety of our shared borders from whatever external threat may challenge us. This was our moment - the Heartlands’ moment to rise as one entity and show the rest of the world that we were not to be intimidated or trifled with. Yet, these tactics were used from the inside by the Veletzian kind in their greedy conquest to throttle the reins of all Heartlandic states they once swore to protect, respect, and work alongside. It was just a few years ago, months before my abdication. I was sent a letter via aviary from Gaspard of Veletz, him summoning me to their capital for a ‘discussion’. At this point, I was very aware of what the Captain-General wished to speak of and was not looking forward to chatting about the vassal they coerced from our land, or the keep they destroyed on our soil without our permission. I had already planned, months in advance, to abdicate in favor of our beloved Catherine I, and, while I was hesitant to attend this meeting, it was not a mess I wished to leave behind for my granddaughter to clean up. Attempts were made to have the Veletzians come to Vallagne instead, though the diplomats I sent to Winburgh were treated with nothing but disrespect and declined every invitation to come to Petra, which is how we knew something was amiss. I was even visited by one of their church-folks, Mother Oksana, who threatened that ‘time was running out,’ and that ‘the Captain-General’s patience is running thin’. Thusly, and in a resigned manner, I gathered the loyal Riverguards and leal Theonus bannermen to my side, and we rode to Winburgh, each of us on edge, and quite suspicious. Upon arrival, we were met by a member of the clergy whom I’d met before, though I couldn’t remember his name; he led us up that damned hill to the keep of Winburgh, and we were met by the Captain-General and his cronies. Might I mention, we weren’t even offered a seat or refreshment! Some host… The Captain-General, Gaspard, seemed eager to have us - unbeknownst to us yet what his plan was, though the tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Pleasantries aside, the business was gotten to: all of a sudden, we heard the scraping of metal gates being drawn shut, and the horses outside whickered uneasily. They weren’t alone; to my left was Konstantin von Theonus - better known as Uncle Konny or the Guardian of the Commonwealth - whom I exchanged a glance with, and instantly I knew we were of the same mind. Play along. We will figure out what to do about it afterward. That sound - the chilling finality of metal-on-stone as the gate reached the ground, closing in the Petran entourage for what could have been our final day. Gaspard stood there looking at us - appraising us - as if he were considering his words. The first matter spoken of was the Brascan migration from Petra to Veletz. Simply, that matter was conceded, for why would the Commonwealth want a vassal who didn’t want to be here to begin with? The matter was laid to rest as ‘water under the bridge,’ as Gaspard put it, thinking himself quite funny. Next, there was the matter of the Hohkmati bridge, a project which had been disbanded by my order to the mages far before I set foot in Winburg; we realized further up the river, there was already a bridge, so creating a second one would be rather wasteful. Lastly, we spoke of the Canonist League and its participants. This is where it gets interesting. “Aaun will defeat you in the race if you keep up with bolstering a lie and excuses, Queen Renilde.” Gaspard told me in murmured tones, though I really wasn’t certain to what he alluded to, and neither did anyone gathered at my flank. Was apprehension a sin? What about loyalty to the Mother Church after having made amends so many years ago and devoting the remainder of my reign to Her? “I worry about what repercussions there might be from departing with such haste,” I’d told Gaspard, trying so hard to level with him and his threatening demands. “The Church is a husk in wroth and in threat. You spoke before that you would depart from the League and declare it null,” he retorted, unwilling to see reason. “And I said we should all leave, together, as a united front, for legitimate and mutual reasons,” I’d said back, nerve unwavering in the presence of the future anathema. “We have already left,” he declared with a wave of a gauntleted hand, seemingly bored, yet excited to have done it first - was this his plan all along? “Aaun is leaving within the next two Saint’s days. By refusing here and now, you will align yourself not toward the shoulders of Veletz - or even Aaun as you care for. You will prove yourself more unreliable and potentially more damnable than Numendil - in their pacts with Haense and others. And if the church condemns? Let them waste ink and papyrus, and may that fill the coffers of aspiring inventors and their presses.” “What’ll you have me do then - author a document outlining our departure from the Canonist League?” Said I, impatient with the honorless fool before me. “You have shown little reason for one to sponsor or even to share beliefs of confidence, Queen Renilde - between Aaun or Veletz,” said the Captain-General, quite arbitrarily and rather hypocritically. “Let it be written here, then.” I countered, drawing my fountain pen - an elven invention, no doubt - and summoning several pieces of papyrus from the Petran men in attendance. Upon the back of Sir Aimo did I write what is known as the ‘Left League’, outlining our departure from the Canonist League with the half-promise from Gaspard that we might return home afterward, unmolested. When the document was approved by the Captain-General, or Aspirant Emperor as I like to call him, we Petrans were free to go - a shocking and final display of grace given to us. Unfortunately, this was not the end of their terrorism against the Commonwealth. Months later, I released my abdication letters and took to a well-deserved holiday on the RPS Adelina to enjoy the River Petra and her sights, only to be called back by a disheveled Prince Paul, frantically telling me that the Veletzians had strolled up to Petra and blocked Queen Catherine’s attempts to engage in diplomacy with the Kingdom of Balian - an act which violated the very first article of our Heartlander Accord: Sovereignty. Not only did they block our sovereign’s attempts to do diplomacy, but they threatened the life of my eldest son for standing up to these Bullies of the East who were tyrannizing a girl of barely twelve summers for making friends. It was stated by my son Albert that it ‘was not becoming of an honorable man to intimidate a young girl,’ after witnessing the Veletzians surround our young Queen. Truly, an act of terrorism on not only a child but a nation’s figurehead, again. A challenge to a duel was issued to my son Albert by Gaspard first, then Gustaf of Veletz, nephew to the Captain-General. Twice in a row, my son fought these desperados, and twice he was felled, having been ill-prepared for combat in the casualness of his own home. While he was still reeling, my Bertie was brought to sword-point by Gustaf of Veletz, wagering the Petran’s life for access to our nation’s copper resources. Queen Catherine I told Gaspard to get control of his man, which eventually he did through his clergyman in attendance, spewing a lame line that his actions were dishonorable. The whole interaction was dishonorable. Hastily, the Veletzians departed after their show of force and lack of control. I wish that were the last of it, but the crimes committed against the Petra and her citizens by the League of Veletz does not stop there. About a year later, the Prince of Valfleur was captured by Gaspard’s men, and brought to the rubble once known as Breakwater Keep; Paul was tortured by the men there, and held as incentive for the Petran forces to rally up and retrieve him from harm. I’m sure many of you saw the letter dispatched by the Captain-General’s cronies, the ‘Ferryboys’, taunting us regarding his capture. Nevertheless, the Prince was returned home, beaten and broken, disheartened by our once-ally’s betrayal that held zero purpose. For as long as it took him to heal physically from the brutalization they did him, it took twice as long for Paul’s soul to mend. There are so many more affronts to the Petran realm that have been committed against us by Veletz, whether it be in regard to the raid on Hohkmat, the razing of our Chapel of St. Edmund, the capturing and execution of many more of our innocent citizens, or the many petty attacks that have happened on the road. For what? Before this conflict was created, Petrans had never marched on Veletz. Petrans had never desecrated their lands. Finally, Petrans have never forsaken their oaths to the Heartlands’ betterment. Yet, the Veletzers have done all of the above - and somehow declare it to be in the name of the Heartlands’ vision. I speak now, in the voice of the Heartlands and as one of her oldest advocates when I say this: a true Heartlandic soul aims to build upon the ruins of the past. They do not seek destruction to their fellow kindred in all directions. A true Heartlandic state does not forsake their oaths to their allies or to GOD in the pursuit of acquiring power over others. This is not what the Heartlands stands for, and we refuse to be plunged asunder into ruin ever again by treachery like this. Veletz, and the allies you miraculously scrounged up, you all pervert the vision once raised by Heinrik Sarkozic, by King Charlie, by Joey Vasile, by Tar-Numenatar, by Aaun, by Numendil, by Petra, by me. The Heartlands are stronger now more than ever because we have finally stood up against you. We have stood from the chair you sought to place us in as petty queens and kings beneath a self-indulgent emperor who likes to hear himself talk. From this point on, the accord which bound the Heartlands has been made null and void due to the treacherous betrayal of the Veletzers. Yet, in the absence of such a treaty, the Heartlands still will flourish, without your domineering. The Heartlands will prevail, without your tyranny. The Heartlands will exist, without your hatefulness. The Heartlands will be, without you. Signed, Renilde Helena, Queen-Emeritus of the Petra, Privy Seal of the River Council, Patriot of the Heartlands

“The bridge has fallen. We shall not,” chanted the Queen-Emeritus to those who gathered ‘round the new ledge made by the bridge’s destruction. She smiled and sheathed her blade, satisfied with the progress made for the day.

“The return of the infamous Round Table!” Renilde chuckled, remembering many desperate attempts by random people to be on such an exclusive council.

"They're just mad that their cities aren't as POPPIN'." Renilde said with a roll of the eyes. "Do not forget who it was that protected and fought alongside your children at Breakwater."

I like cyan too. i believe we became friends the other day

Renilde scratches her head.

“Boy do I love public correspondence.” Renilde theatrically read the letters to her children and grandchildren alike, imitating the voices of each author with a goofy undertone.