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AULIC COURT OF THE KINGDOM OF HANSETI-RUSKA Krawn z. Ringo 11th of Msitza and Dargund, 415 E.S. Jovenaars Firr Iulius Vernhart Prosecution Johann Barclay Defense Ringo Testimonies THE FOLLOWING CHARGES WERE BROUGHT AGAINST THE DEFENDANT; V Let he who attempts or conspires to commit a crime be guilty of Attempt, to be punished as if they had committed the crime itself. VIII Let he who harms another outside of battle be guilty of Assault. XIV Let he who defaces the property of another be guilty of Vandalism. XVII Let he who aids criminals and frustrates justice be guilty of Obstruction. (Jura I Kirma) THE FOLLOWING CLAIMS WERE BROUGHT BY THE DEFENDANT; The defendant, Firr Ringo, admits guilt to all crimes proposed.. THE FOLLOWING IS THE RATIONALE FOR THE DECISION FROM THE PRESIDING JOVENAAR; Jovenaar Iulius delivered the opinion of the court on the topic of guilt: The defendant is found guilty for all charges claimed. - Attempt (Murder), Assault, Vandalism, Obstruction of Justice - Jovenaar Iulius delivered the opinion of the court on the topic of punishment: The defendant, Firr Ringo, was to be burned at the stake for the act of Arsony against both the church and against the people of Haense. It is so ordered.

Iulius Vernhart scanned the missive containing the result of the trial. He folded the sheet of paper and placed it onto the shelve before picking up a plain sheet of paper to write a congratulations letter to Lord Nikolai on his first complete trial.

Selection of Poetry - Vol. 4 [!] A portrait of Borris Iver Kortrevich 24th of Msitza and Dargund, 415 E.S. “Mind of Mud - Extended” It comes upon the midnight hour, When my mind twists to a moldless slush. A jumbled knot disguised as elegant verbiage. Yet, when dawn comes, I know it was a ruse. Therefore, the words we write gnarl Into some type of horrifying beast. A creature once thought of as elegant at it’s conception, sours by the end of night. When memories no longer activate, As we force our eyes open just for them to close again. When all we know and want becomes Interspersed, separated only by broken lines. It can be an ever-growing, spiteful cadence, Of what was and what will become. The heart and mind fight a match to the death, Their blood is the toil upon which we slip. “I Dreamed a Dream I Dreamt.” I linger here, if just to see The hope of a glorious revival. A maintained pasture of something Far beyond the scope of a man’s denial. That awful and wonderful dream I dreamt, A glowing orange that illuminated The sky, in a stark contrast with the dark Crimson that stained the entire hill. That awful and wonderful dream I dreamt The trees swayed gently in the nothingness. Streaks of light fell from the Seven Skies around me, As if to pick and choose those who could come. That awful and wonderful dream I dreamt Where the birds of the fallen shrieked In a pitiful agony, yet their voices were But a faint cry to my own broken soul. That awful and wonderful dream I dreamt Where the sky crackled as dark clouds Zoomed over the growing night sky. Their forms hid all of the stars. That awful and wonderful dream I dreamt Where the world morphed into dull Colors. Boring and simplistic, it was. A rush of something dwelled within. It was on this this hill, amongst The silent thousands that I found myself again. Tears streamed down my face as the darkness Creeped in and consumed everything I knew. “Along the River’s edge” I sit upon the water’s edge The breeze a relaxing feeling. The numbing of cold upon my skin. A pleasant and sweet surprise. The touch of grass upon my fingers Their blades, tickling my hand. I hear a giggle come out of my mouth A different and weird sensation. I watch the birds as they fly, moving with such elegance. It is this peace here, that I do find a piece of me not known.

Iulius Vernhart sighed as he read over the missive. He shook his head, knowing full well that every lie ever told had a modicum of truth behind it. He folded the missive, then stuffed it into a brand new journal to be copied and placed in his bookshelf for storage.

Absolutely! Very glad to see him given the spotlight. He is a fantastic person to role play with, a great mentor, and a close friend. Always there to answer a question or listen to my explanation a difficult situation. Congrats @Raijen Stars, you definitely deserve this!

Iulius Vernhart smiled as he read through the invitation. "It am perfect." He shared softly, looking back up from the paper to look into her eyes. "Ea'll send these out at once." He stood up, moving around the dinner table to embrace her gently before moving down the stairs. He gave an a letter to every bird, then sent them on their way.

AULIC COURT OF THE KINGDOM OF HANSETI-RUSKA Krawn z. Ruina 15th of Wzuvar and Byvca, 415 E.S. Jovenaars Firr Iulius Vernhart Prosecution Lord Johann Barclay Defense Firress Ruina Testimonies THE FOLLOWING CHARGES WERE BROUGHT AGAINST THE DEFENDANT; VIII Let he who harms another outside of battle be guilty of Assault. X Let he who extorts tolls under threat of arms be guilty of Banditry. XII Let he who intrudes on the land of another, be it fief or building, be guilty of Trespass. (Jura I Kirma) THE FOLLOWING CLAIMS WERE BROUGHT BY THE DEFENDANT; The defendant, Firress Ruina, admits guilt to all crimes proposed. The defendant states that she was misled to the true nature of the situation. Firress Ruina asked the court to remember she turned herself in freely and compiled throughout the process. THE FOLLOWING IS THE RATIONALE FOR THE DECISION FROM THE PRESIDING JOVENAAR; Jovenaar Iulius delivered the opinion of the court on the topic of guilt: The defendant is found guilty for all charges claimed. - Assault, Banditry, and Trespassing - Jovenaar Iulius delivered the opinion of the court on the topic of punishment: The defendant, Firress Ruina, will be required to pay a sum of 200 Mina to the Kortrevich party as compensation for damages to Jerovitz. Additionally, Firress Ruina’s right hand will be severed. It is so ordered.

AULIC COURT OF THE KINGDOM OF HANSETI-RUSKA Krawn z. Alec 23rd of Wzuvar and Byvca, 415 E.S. Jovenaars Firr Iulius Vernhart Prosecution Lord Nikolai Kortrevich Defense Firr Alec Testimonies Lord Nikolai Kortrevich Lady Primrose Gendik Firras Ruina THE FOLLOWING CHARGES WERE BROUGHT AGAINST THE DEFENDANT; VIII Let he who harms another outside of battle be guilty of Assault. X Let he who extorts tolls under threat of arms be guilty of Banditry. XII Let he who wrongly slanders the name and honour of another be guilty of Defamation. XII Let he who intrudes on the land of another, be it fief or building, be guilty of Trespass. XIV Let he who defaces the property of another be guilty of Vandalism. XXV Let he who lies with another outside of matrimony be guilty of Fornication. XXVI Let he who lies with a Descendant of another race be guilty of Miscegenation. (Jura I Kirma) THE FOLLOWING CLAIMS WERE BROUGHT BY THE DEFENDANT; The defendant, Firr Alec, admits guilt to all crimes proposed. The defendant gave no further reasoning as to why. THE FOLLOWING IS THE RATIONALE FOR THE DECISION FROM THE PRESIDING JOVENAAR; Jovenaar Iulius delivered the opinion of the court on the topic of guilt: The defendant is found guilty for all charges claimed due to the defendant’s own admission of guilt. - Jovenaar Iulius delivered the opinion of the court on the topic of punishment: The defendant, Firr Alec, will have both hands severed from his body, then will be executed via hanging. It is so ordered.

A Rose in the Snow - Chapter III [!] A portrait of Borris Iver Kortrevich 13th of Joma and Umund, 414 E.S. Chapter III Borin shivered. A gentle breeze blew over him as he lay in the thick mud. Borin tried to open his eyes, but a wave of exhaustion fell over him as if attempting to pull him back into unconsciousness. After a few moments of waiting, he forced his eyes open, pushing past the mental barrier that had kept them shut. Although he was successful, the difference between open and closed was minimal. There was nothing—nothing but blackness. Eventually, however, the darkness developed into shades of black and gray around him as his eyes adjusted to the vacancy of light. Borin realized there were silhouetted shapes that stretched upward toward stars that were visibly clustered together, separated by immense voids of darkness. The stars gave barely any light, but a little light was better than none. Questions flooded his mind as he tried to make sense of what was happening. But it was all so incoherent. A heavy feeling of incompleteness, emptiness, and solitude fell, surrounding the air. A deepening silence enveloped the multitude, even in his head. Borin felt his mind being consumed by this void. Everything was utterly vapid. Borin continued to peer into the vast space above him. The stars twinkled ever so slightly, almost bringing a sereneness to the moment—time seemed to be irrelevant. It was all charming and yet dreadful. Suddenly, a feeling of deep pain emerged from Borin’s side. In an instant, the emptiness had been replaced by a burning sensation latched onto his gut. The pain advanced, reaching his chest and legs. Borin tried to open his mouth to groan or scream, but no sound came. In fact, Borin was unsure if he even opened his mouth at all. Borin just grimaced and bore it; the pain now enveloped his entire body. Yet even in all this, Borin didn’t try to move. Even in the soreness and aching, he felt a sort of calmness to everything. It was only at this time did he realize he was lying down. He placed his hands behind him, and they sank a couple of inches in the grit-filled mud before finding the bottom. His arms flared in pain as he sat up. As soon as he got upright, the pain moved down to the muscles that now held up his body. His abdomen throbbed. This stinging sensation was something he had never felt before. Gritting his teeth, Borin looked around for anything. He saw nothing but the blackness that stretched everywhere. The black silicates he saw earlier connected to the ground below him. Borin turned to his side, still bearing the agony that moved around his joints, and stood up. His whole body shook as he kneeled and eventually got to his feet. He ached in every place—his feet barely held his weight. His head swam both from the pain in his side and from the questions running through his mind. It pounded hard. He felt his heartbeat through his temples and more pain with every pulse. He closed his eyes, trying to think about what had happened and why he was here. “Callum.” He whispered, his gritty voice barely reaching to his own ears. His mind fuzzed, and he stumbled to the side a bit. Borin caught himself, his eyelids blinking rapidly to keep himself awake. Borin stood, scanning the forest. Then he closed his eyes, listening to everything around him. The wind blew through the trees, making a low whistling sound. He knew he had to get leave, find help, find… His mind trailed. He blinked, his hands softly rubbing his temples. If I stay here much longer… his thoughts trailed off. Forcing open his eyes, Borin looked down to where he had laid in the flattened crimson snow and mud. Borin rubbed his hands together, blowing into him. The warm hair was of little help, though. His hands were numb at this point. He probably had hypothermia and frostbite at this point, but Borin was not willing to think about that right now. Borin felt himself stumble forward, not because he was dazed, but instead, he found his body pushing him to move. He didn’t know where he was going. His feet seemed to carry on their own. He tried to understand what he was doing, where he was going, why he was here, but tiredness swept over him and wiped his mind clean every time. He paused, head-clearing for a slip second the pain faded. Despite the lack of pain, his body sometimes shook violently, causing him to have to prop himself up on a tree so that he didn’t fall to the frozen ground. There was more rough terrain up ahead as the flattened forest began to turn into a hill with pretty deep gorges, the bottom of which lay more significant streams of water. The stream wasn’t as deep as it was wide. It wasn’t even fast-moving, but landing in it wasn’t something Borin wanted to do. So he steadied his foot against the base of the tree as he mentally mapped out the safest way through the forest. The hills were not particularly steep, but they were enough that he could quickly tumble down if he lost balance. In the distance was a massive rock face. The gray rock extended up past the line of the trees. Borin sidestepped in front of him, the side of his foot digging into the browned rotting leaves and snow below him. Borin grabbed a tree in front of him, making his way step by step on a mental path to the rockface. He made sure to place his feet sideways, parallel to the hill, in a way that would prevent sliding. It worked for the most part. However, he felt his side throb and pulse with sharp jagged pains with every known twist and turn. He groaned, his side hitting a particularly rough spot, scraping against his shirt and the stabbing he currently endured. Borin would slide partially down the hill before regaining his balance by digging his hands into the dirt, snow, and leaves or by grabbing trees and regaining his balance. Borin breathed in profoundly, recovering for a second after a particularly long slide. He continued as before, making his way across the slope, down and over the water below and to the hill on the other side. Over the crest of the next mount rose a large cliffside, the rocks overhanging a larger river of water with which multiple smaller streams ran into. The rock face extended into the distance. The stream ran almost parallel with the canyon wall, sometimes weaving underneath the overhanging rock face then back out. Borin slid carefully down the last hill, his arms keeping contact with the frozen ground to stabilize his descent. Hopped up as he got to the bottom, his feet made a soft thud against the stone. He shoved his hands into his pockets, moving them around to try and warm them up. Now being on the bank of this brook, which was only a few feet wide, Borin could see down the massive gray wall protruding from the ground and up several hundred feet. A soft smile fell on his face as he stared up at the outer wall of the keep. A small keep gate stood covered in ivy and growth, a clandestine entrance to the warmth that seemed so close. The water was frigid, although Borin knew it would have been even worse if he had not been out here for so long. He looked up, his skin flooding with goosebumps as he walked up onto the rocky shore on the other side. The rock face and the row of trees made a barrier that forced the wind to move in one direction like a wind tunnel. Borin rubbed his arms once more, maneuvering his feet onto flat rocks, aware that every sharp point felt ten times worse while his feet were almost numb. He threw himself at the gate, hastily clawing away the brush. Gasping, he gripped both hands onto the door, pulling towards him with as much strength as he could muster. Brush, dirt, the gate, it all moved as he yanked back. Lunging, he dashed through. “Rose!” He yelled forth, busting through the front doors of the keep, his mind fading in and out. “Rose! Fetch the doctor!” Rose poked her head into the doorway before quickly rushing to his side, her hand grasping his and flinging his arm over his shoulder as she propped him up. “My lord, what happened?” She yelped, her voice sharp with worry. Borin shook his head, and the noise of her pleading faded into silence. His body drooped, his total weight being placed on Rose’s shoulders. At Least I will die at home, he thought, a pitiful smile creeping onto the corner of his lips. His eyes shut, and darkness overtook him. Borin fell into unconsciousness once more. Signed, Borris Iver Kortrevich

Selection of Poetry - Vol. 3 [!] A portrait of Borris Iver Kortrevich 14th of Msitza and Dargund, 414 E.S. “Keep upon a hill” There is something special About a keep upon a hill. This one looking down upon the Thatched-roofed homes of Louisville. A peaking fortress Which stands above the clouds. Set apart from the town, a beacon upon the mound. Shrouded in silence, these White and red walls stand stoic. The deep pain that lays within Them, Leaves me dysphonic. I stand in awe, hands clasped, As if before the borealis I yearn to enter those wooden Doors of this olden palace. So please let me in, Even if only to compare, The differences of the keeps Contrasting here and there. “Between Bitterness and Beauty” The cold numbs my skin as Stones prick my dangling legs. I sit upon this ledge, feet hanging And eyes affixed on the stairs. This thick winter snow Full of wonder and bitterness. A blanket of white, Yielding a neverending stillness, O’Gentleness, O’Warmth Why do you leave me when I sit? The frigid wind howls, the trees waving to me from where they stit. The wheat before me glitters in The sunlight like shimmering glass shards. Oceans of gold flowing in waves, Speckled strands of everything ours. Betwixt the bitterness and the sweet, There is always something in between. An undefined center of perfection, A hope of peace we clandestine. “Change” I hurt you, I do not know how. I do not know how, but I hurt you. Everything changes but I wish it wouldn’t Change so often and so quickly. I feel like the world is passing by me. Nikolai told me to slow down, live it out. I did not listen and now it feels like Everything is going to move differently. Now I am changing, growing up. But it had been harder than I thought. Because with change comes loss. With loss comes hurt. And so I change, and so I hurt you How do I change back? Clear the hurt? Can we ever be just as we were years ago Young, silly, and good friends, best friends. “Jumbled” It comes upon the midnight hour, When my mind twists to a moldless slush. A jumbled knot disguised as elegant verbiage. Yet, when dawn comes, I know it was a ruse. Signed, Borris Iver Kortrevich.

AULIC COURT OF THE KINGDOM OF HANSETI-RUSKA Laomir z. Baruch 17th of Gronna and Droba, 414 E.S. Jovenaars Firr Iulius Vernhart Prosecution Laomir Defense Sigmar Baruch Testimonies Sigmar Baruch Laomir Rellis Al-Ghazawi THE FOLLOWING CLAIMS WERE BROUGHT BY THE PLAINTIFF; The plaintiff, Laomir, claims that the defendant killed Sooty the sheep, which he “swore to protect.” THE FOLLOWING CLAIMS WERE BROUGHT BY THE DEFENDANT; The defendant, Lord Sigmar Baruch, admits to the guilt yet claims it was caused by accident as he had tripped down the stairs and fell on the animal, effectively killing the sheep. THE FOLLOWING IS THE RATIONALE FOR THE DECISION FROM THE PRESIDING JOVENAAR; Jovenaar Iulius delivered the opinion of the court: The defendant is found guilty for killing the sheep, Sooty, as a deed done by negligence is seen as done by intent by the legal system and does not exonerate from guilt. The defendant, Lord Sigmar Baruch, will pay a compensation of 35 mina to the plaintiff for the loss of his livestock. It is so ordered.

Borris Iver Kortrevich leaned back on the stone wall as he held writings close to his face. He read fervently, not setting the piece down until he was finished. He read the last word, then slapped the piece of parchment with the back slide of his hand. “Da! Excellent! Another poet around. Perhaps ea shall meet him vone day.”

A Rose in the Snow - Chapter II [!] A portrait of Borris Iver Kortrevich 17th of Vzmey and Hyff, 414 E.S. Chapter II Having eaten to fill, Borgitta and Borin excused themselves. They moved to a narrow courtyard enveloped with bushes and vines and flowers of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Several feet above their heads, the bushesknotted together, forming a dense canopy of leaves and vine. It was so rampant, in fact, that lanterns had to be hung to provide enough light to move through the courtyard. "Ea have never seen so many flowers." Borin smiled, looking around in amazement as he stepped into the garden. "Et es quite something to behold," Borgitta replied, moving by his side as they began walking. The courtyard was more like a hallway in actuality. While it did open up to the outside of the palace, the gnarled thickets and bushes formed impassable walls. The opening in the center was maintained by cutting back overgrown bushes a few times a month, as they barely fit them walking shoulder to shoulder. Lucky, neither of them had bulky frames. "So vy came to see eam" Borigitta said, taking her time with each step. "Ea did." He glanced down at her, keeping a slow pace as she did. Borgitta stayed quiet, staring at the ground as she walked. Still, there was a pink hue beginning to surround her cheeks now. Borin smiled softly, then looked up and around. Then, she took his hand, a silent yet quick motion. Her hand was warm in contrast with his. Borin noticed her shiver some, but that didn't keep her from interlocking their fingers. "So vy didn't tell eam about all of… Well, this." He smiled, looking around the room and gesturing with his free hand. "The garden of the palace?" He said, looking up to him for the first time. "Well, the… both ea guess." He chuckled, looking down at her. "Da…" She trailed off, looking back at the vibrant colors around her. "Ea didn't vish to scare vy off." Borin only responded to the comment by squeezing her hand lightly. They took small steps through this room. Every once in and awhile, she would pause, telling him about this particular type of flower or this unique type of plant. Borin just bobbed his head up and down, occasionally smiling as she talked. He had never been one for plants, but he didn't mind learning about them either. "Thes one es mea favorite." She said, gesturing to a small plant with a long drooping purple flower. It was wrapped around itself, forming an elongated bowl shape. In the center was a small yellow stem connected to the flower's middle. The tips of the pedals were flattened outward, forming a lip on the edge. At the base of the flower was a ring of leaves. "What am it called?" He asked, his body twisting so that he could better view the flower. "It es called a 'Cup and Saucer" She smiled, touching the pedals gently. "Because et looks like a cup that es sitting on a plate." Borin nodded, standing back up straight as he turned. They had been walking for a decent amount of time, and they were still only about halfway through the room. He found himself chuckling at the thought of spending so much time here. "Do vy come here often?" "Niet as often as ea would like to. But when ea let meaself forget all of the flowers en thes room… coming back and remembering es wonderful." "So what do vy do around here then… ea mean… what am it that a Prinzenas such as vyrself does around here.?" As he spoke, he turned from the flower towards her. "Mea mamej and papej keep mea very busy with many tasks as ea grow older." He readjusted herself, them looked up at Borin. "Talking vith subjects, vriting, learning, going to balls and vhatnot." "Sounds exhausting." He exhaled, shaking his head back and forth. "Et es." She simply stated, looking back to the flower. "Ea vish mea brother vas here… he vould know how to do all of thes." Borin's lips stated together as he remained silent. His face excluded a slight frown from her comment. "Vell… ea should probably let vy get back to vyr home." She said suddenly, his head bobbing back and forth as she pivoted to greet his eyes again. "Ea could stay a bit longer." "Nie… nie… as vy said before, vy are a busy Duke, and vy mustn't stay gone for too long." A pep resounded in her voice as she started to move towards the entrance. "Besides, vy have to get ready for our next meeting." "Our next meeting?" He lifted a brow, a smirk finding a way onto his face. "Da. Yam throwing a ball in a few saint's days… and vy will be there." She smiled softly, a permanent pink remaining on her cheeks. "Oh? Perhaps ea will if vy say it so, vyr highness." He chuckled, moving towards the door. "Don't call eam that." He pouted. “Borgitta es mea name… so use et.” "Fine fine, vyr highness Borgitta." She rolled her eyes, opening the wooden doors at the entrance of the garden and gesturing for him to follow. So he did. Borin nodded to the man as he waited for the gate to open all the way before walking through. The guard yawned, looking back to the town square before leaning over. He stood, grasping the chain with both hands and pulling. The gate lifted, revealing the town square in all of its intricacies. He dipped his head to the man before moving through them. There would be a cough and some muttering before he heard the chains rattle again. The gate began to close. Borin turned, studying the massive palace before him. Pivoting back, he left, walking directly out of the square, through the streets of Yodengrad, and out of gates. It was not a terribly long walk back to the palace, but it did have times at which it felt endless. It was especially so in the vast snow-drenched forests surrounding the city. Frequently, he felt as if he had seen the same tree a thousand times in the same walk. Physically exhausted and out of breath, Borin stopped at the foot of a thickening forest before the duchy. The only thing that changed was that the forest began to get cluttered. The tree's canopy stretched out, choking out the already sparse sunlight. The blackness consumed the forest as the sun now only barely poked through the canopy. Borin looked around, looking for anything, but there was nothing, nothing they could see. It was all just a forest. The terrain shifted upward, rising higher on both sides of Borin now. This valley gave him a grave disadvantage. The parts of the forest seemed to be rather steep like the path Borin was following, which sloped downward before finally flattening and then beginning to decline upward on the other side. As Borin came upon the main road that led to the Duchy of Crawnber, he noticed a gentleman waiting for him on horseback a couple hundred feet in front. He moved towards the man, greeting him with friendliness. Offering a hand, he made his way till he stood before him. "C…" He trailed off, his eyes going wide. Borin felt frozen. In an instant, his entire body felt cold. His whole body felt numb as his mind attempted to pick him up and run. The man stalked towards him, securely shaking his hand. Then there was a jerking. It was quick, but Borin felt it. Sam saw his mouth moving, but he couldn't hear anything. Suddenly, Sam felt the sharp pain encapsulate his entire side. Now he felt like he was burning, a starch contract from seconds earlier. He glanced down, noticing the man's arm was extended to Borin. A dagger was plunged into his side, the shirt soaking up the blood as it slowly spread across the fabric. The pain engulfed him. He wanted to die. He felt like he was going to die. He slank down into the bush. He felt dead. Signed, Borris Iver Kortrevich.

Character: Borris Iver KortrevichWorks:

Selection of Poetry - Volume 2 [!] A portrait of Borris Iver Kortrevich 1st of Msitza and Dargund, 413 E.S. “Beyond my Reach” What is hardest to understand does Not often reveal itself to be stone. Flesh and blood and mind and soul, Complicated together, complicated alone. How does one express themselves When they cannot form the right words? A hopeless attempt to show the feelings, The correct answers, barely submerged. They stay inches from the water’s edge, But they never seem to be reached. Those perfect, simple words That only rarely finds their beat. “Constructor” Snow-covered Forest. Sun peeking out behind trees Until darkness comes. Five, four, three, two, one Ready or not, here I come I’ve come to find you. There is more I do, I learn how to write poems I learn to write well I try to keep flow Keeping the words close to me Ever moving still Then I hesitate There is power in writing One which I now wield The stroke of man’s pen, One word built up empires The next, tore it down “Savagery” You twist the words I use into a weapon to wield against me. Then use that morphed verbal dagger To murder my hopes and dreams. “Palace of Haverlock” You pull me into this wonderful place in which I do not recognize. Flawlessly, scrubbed, white walls And dustless dark oak floors. I could have sworn that I Saw little specks of twinkling around me as I moved past. What started as a maze, quickly became a game. We duck in and out of rooms, trying to open every Locked door. We run down hallways and spiraling stairs On which, often only leads us back to where we began. It is an Ironic thing, a place large enough to Awe at, yet close enough to barely stand Shoulder to shoulder within the hallways. It is a beautiful, confusing, complex work of art. “Warm Feelings” There is a roaring fire that consumes my chest. Flames engulf me Yet I dare not protest. Intense heat upon my face yet I feel no pain. There is also something else So I choose to remain. I feel my heart pound, a pulsating drum moving, To the beat of a rhythm Unfamiliar, but soothing, I sit and wonder now, With every new thump If you see my chest vibrating Going bump bump bump. Do you know this feeling? I don’t know what to do. Am I doing something wrong or Are you feeling this too? I try to think of what to say But nothing now complies. My mind had turned to goo As I look into your eyes. So we sit here in this vocal silence, With light heat upon my skin. But there is comfort, that which lies Between heat and what's within.

[!] Borris Iver Kortrevich scanned the missive, knuckles white as he balled his hand into a fist. "Nie, vy are niet... Et es a trick! They are lying to lure vy outside the gates!" He protested.

A Rose in the Snow [!] A portrait of Borris Iver Kortrevich 5th of Vzmey and Hyff, 413 E.S. Chapter I The brick walls of the keep were cold. Most of the balconies were still iced over from the freezing rain that had fallen a couple days before. Borgitta watched from her window as the snow fell softly; the individual snowflakes mutated into the blanket of white that stretched across the entire landscape. The hillside was distorted into rolls of white and light gray. It always snowed here, and even when it didn’t snow, the rain was freezing. The keep sat between two great plains. On one side were the extended snow-covered foothills, and on the other, the ocean. Being on a cliffside, When Borgitta turned from the fields, she was met with the vast expanse of ocean. She often wondered if there was land beyond the endless waves of blue and white. It was here that she spent a majority of her time, though lately, she had been coming here less and less. It was, however, not by any choice of her own that she did this, but rather because she had been pulled away by a multitude of preparations for this and that. It seems like her family always needed her to do something, talk to this person, and that family, make a lunch date with this prince or that nobleman. As she approached twenty, it became increasingly more disruptive for her family that she had not married yet. But here… she didn’t have to think about any of that. Here she could just stare out the window and wonder. Borgitta was not a tall girl, but her slender frame often made her look it, especially if she was standing alone. Her hair was a deep brown color, the very tips of her hair colored slightly darker than the rest. It was long enough to reach past her shoulders and stopped just above midway down her back. While she usually kept it up in a bun, frequently, when she was alone, she let it down. Her long hair had accented her longer face well. Her deep steel-blue eyes sat upon a thin small nose. Borgitta’s eyes were just the proper distance, not too close together, but not too far apart either. Her delicate eyebrows sat just above the socket of her eyes, allowing her to seemingly never show anger. Her pink lips, tender, never chapped. She sat with one leg extended away from herself. The flat of the foot rested against the bookshelf. Her other leg was tucked tightly into her chest, arms keeping it in place. Borgitta felt as if she had been sitting there for hours on end, letting the light slowly fade down further into the sky. Borgitta sat with a look of wonder as she watched the waves crash against the rock face below. The waves crash with such force; it is impressive to me that they do not break the rock face entirely, taking the cliff and Keep with it. She thought, going to rest her head on her knee. Borgitta sighed, glancing at the setting sun as it kissed the ocean. Slowly, she watched it dip into the waters like it was being consumed by some ancient beast. The waters glowed yellow and orange and red, the colors distorted slightly as waves crashed and turned into white suds in rows all the way out of sight. Borgitta let out a soft sigh as she noticed the light grow on the ceiling above her, then spread all around the room as a torch protruded from the staircase on the other side. “Borgitta?” A deep, male voice called from the stairway right before a head poked out of the hole in the floor. She spun, letting her legs dangle from the bookshelf before she jumped off and landed with bended knees. “Vhat es et?” “There vy are! Please stop retreating up here. We have too much to do for vy to run and hide for hours on end.” His massive bulk of a body exited from the stairwell and stood before her as he talked. He wore a tight white shirt, almost too small of a man of his stature. In fact, Borgitta was unsure how it didn’t rip with every twist and turn that the man-made. Over it, he wore a dark red coat with gray stripes running down its back. His slacks were looser than his shirt, though they were too small for him. Borgitta stood, dusting off her own dark blue dress. She always stood up straight when he was around. He had a commanding presence about him, so reverent and robust. So she stood, straight, peering into his pale eyes that were wrecked of weariness. He has a rather plain face. It was pale, with a shaggy set of ruffled brown hair sitting on his head. His eyes were a darker blueish-brown, though the dullness often made them appear lighter. Although he was still at a reasonable height, his bulk always made him loom over others. His shoulders were broad, and his legs bulged from under his pants. “Szam!” She blurted out quickly, her hands moving to clasp behind her back. He stood, watching her in the growing darkness. “How was the ball?” “Fine, Dobry.” She shrugged. “Did vy learn anything new or, better yet, meet anyone new?” He asked, standing perfectly still. “Uhm… nie, niet really.” Borgitta’s head shook lightly, each side of her face obscured into darkness as she went from side to side. The man lifted his brow, a small smile forming on the corner of his mouth. “Oh? Well, Yam niet so sure, considering that there es a man standing at our front gate asking for vy.” Even though the low flickering torch light, he could see the deep red blush enveloping the girl’s cheeks. She looked away, a smile forming on her face. The smile only grew as she regained eye contact and nodded. Borin stood in the entryway to the palace, his helmet placed snugly under his right arm. He hummed softly as he waited, shifting slightly every so often when his feet felt tired or sore. He wasn’t sure how long he had been waiting. Maybe an hour or so? He thought, arm moving to adjust how he was holding the helmet. Nie, Nie… Ea have been standing just at the gate for at least an hour. Borin shook his head, though it was barely noticeable. He sighed, letting his feet drift apart lightly and taking a more relaxed stance. Borin was a handsome man by the standard of the time. He had dark brown well, groomed hair which was brushed over to the side. He was tall, perhaps 6’6, with a thin face and a long, firm chin line. He was clean-shaven, most likely before he arrived or the day before, as there was little to no stubble. He looked maybe 22, though when his beard grew to a certain length, it made him appear 10 years older. His eyes were deep blue, such as many of his fellow countrymen. Upon looking back up from the ground, Borin noticed a particularly large painting resting perfectly in the center of the right wall. He wasn’t quite sure how he missed it when he first walked in. Perhaps he had just been too focused on what he was doing here. Taller than even he was, the painting was of three people. They were held within a gilded frame and in front of a soft green background. In the foreground, Princess Borgitta sat in a dark wood chair. She was wearing a blue dress, a gorgeous rendition of her classic flowing silk dresses. Her legs were crossed, and her hands clasped resting on top. Behind her to the left stood her mother, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, sturdy-looking woman who had one hand resting on the chair and her other arm to her side. She had a simplistic purple dress that belled slightly at the bottom as it touched the floor. She was a thinner woman, though her stern facial expression lacked any sign of weakness. Next to her, with his hand also resting on the chair, was a burly, hulk of a man. A dark brown cloak draped over his shoulders, the man towered at least a foot above the woman standing next to him. He wore a dark gray vest over a black shirt and pants. A thick, gold crown sat upon his brooding pale head and shaggy brown hair. Borin read the plaque below the painting, his lips pursed somewhat. King Maghnus and Queen Nikolette Balyaev with their daughter, Prinzess Borgitta Iva Balyaev. Borin stood dumbfounded in the center of the room. Prinzess Borgitta? He thought. But… His thoughts trailed off as the sound of a door opened somewhere in front of him. He heard talking from the grand staircase before him straightening his body. Soon after, the woman he had on the last saints day walked down the stairs standing beside the man he called king. Immediately he felt her eyes lock in with his as he stared at the Princess. He blinked, then forced himself to bow before the royal family before they reached the bottom of the steps. “Priveja, Vyr highness.” He tilted his head up to see them as they walked closer. “Ah, Lord Borin.” He said in a deep, amused tone. As Maghnus walked closer, his hands clapped into a clasp before him. “Vhat a pleasant surprise.” Borin stood back up, shifting the helmet again under his arm. Even though his nervousness, he found himself smiling as his eyes fell on Borgitta again. Quickly, however, he redirected his gaze back to the king while retaining his smile. “Da. It am a surprise indeed…” He simply nodded, placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “So, vy are here for mea daughter?” “Yam.” He stated. “Vy must be a very confident man to stand out en the cold for such a long time en hopes that vy may see the prinzess.” Borin hesitated, not exactly sure how to respond. “Ea…” However, before he could, Maghnus bellowed out a laugh as a larger smile crept up his face. “And et would seem vy are as humble as vyr father.” “If vy say so.” He managed to get out. Borgitta just stayed silent, eyes fixated on the floor and a permanent pink hint resting on her cheeks. “Are vy hungry?” Maghnus asked, shifting to adjust his belt. “We vere just about to sit down for dinner. Vhy don’t vy join us.” “Ea would lov…” He started before being cut off by the king. “Dobry! Vell, come, let us dine.” He turned, moving towards the massive doors to the right. Borgitta followed closely behind him, and Borin hesitantly followed, his arm numbed from holding his helmet for so long.

Selection of Poetry [!] A portrait of Borris Iver Kortrevich 17th of Msitza and Dargund, 412 E.S. “Gone” It dipped into the depths, this last light of mine. Entrenched in this darkness, I waste away in this Gloom ridden tower. The skies floods with dark, Warm colors.. I shout, but I am consumed by The echoing of the waves upon rocks On the cliffside. Nothing remains for all shall Fall into ruin. Just as the sun disappears behind The sea, so too shall you disappear under the earth. “The Perfect Flower” You are a dream, a myth, a ghost Running through meadows in hopes Of finding the most perfect flower. A trophy to hold up, the greatest boast A shadow to be sung of only in odes The broken stem of a perfect flower “You Left” Grounded in nothing but a fool’s lost hope. A silent, shadowy, wisp of a thing stalks us, It hovers, growing closer, yet its face becomes More obscured. It grows and consumes and Leaves chaos in its wake. Even so, it walks the Line of good and evil, like a spectre trapped Between two worlds. The promise of staying. “Concealed” Frost’s bloom holds a hidden smile. It grows in secret, under a blanket of white. Held within a thicket of reason and pain, I Wait for you. Ensnared, enveloped, entrenched, My words fall upon their own swords, smearing Deep red ink into things I do not intend. I try to Paint the beauty I see underneath, but the path is Clouded by thorny brush. I try, yet I can’t get to That bloom which holds a hidden smile.

Borris Kortrevich jumped up and down, his hands clapping after he was read the poster. . “A party at Jerovitz?! Yam so excited! Yam going to invite all of mea friends!“

Leadership and Philosophy: The Candidacy of Iulius Vernhart 11th of Msitza and Dargund, 411 ES [!] An exquisite drawing of a hand with a quill sits on the top of the page. How does one lead with a firm, yet generous hand? How does one take a position of power well, using it’s abilities to bolster those under them as well as glorify Godan? One thing stands undetected throughout history. The way one acts when power seems to be within their grasp is very defining. However, the way one acts when they actually hold that power is just as telling. Power can be strangling. It can pull you deeper into envy and desperation for it. Power, position, and status, can leave one gasping for breath, ensnared by the deafening realization that life as a ruler, manager, lord, even parent, whatever it is that deals with power, has yet to be defined as self-gratifying. We need those who are willing to put those around them before themselves. This is why I, Iulius Vernhart, announce my candidacy for the position of Alderman in His Majesty's Royal Duma. Both my extensive knowledge of Haenesi culture and law, as well as my understanding of common society gives me a unique perspective among many of the Lords and Ladies that also may sit on the Duma. My voice in the Royal Duma will be the voice of the common man of Haense-Ruska. Rather than being a representative of the common man by someone of noble blood, the common man can represent themselves directly. Furthermore, voting for me ensures a vote for someone in which you can trust to always have your best interest in mind. Impartiality, Fairness, Boldness, and Scholarship. Impartiality, so that I may be able to listen to both sides of the argument, understand all facts that may rest within the nooks, then make a decision. Fairness, so that I, when I make a decision, may make it in such a way that benefits the most peoples, regardless of status, title, or, even, gender. Boldness, so that I may not be hesitant to speak out on such matters that are harmful to the peoples of Haense-Ruska. Furthermore, so that I may not be hesitant to speak on matters that may be difficult but will, in fact, result in a better society. Scholarship, so that I may be able to understand the background of a situation at hand, clarify questions if needed, and further define terms and ideals that others may not be knowledgeable about. All men should strive to excel in these four areas, especially leaders. These are four areas in which I strive to enhance day in and day out. It is with these qualities that I will make an Alderman that allows for the people to speak through and into the assembly. For what is an Alderman but an extension of the people of Haense-Ruska. With this in mind, I beckon all men and women of this great nation to allow me to be your voice and tool! Signed, Iulius Vernhart - Tutor, Philosopher, Scholar.

IGN: Tcs_tonsils_ Character Name: Iulius Vernhart Age: 22 Place of Residence / Street Address: Karonyz Corner IV Position: Alderman

A Juxtaposition of Power and Envy 3rd of MSITZA AND DARGUND, 409 ES | 5th of HARREN'S FOLLY, 1856 [!] An exquisite drawing of a hand with a quill sits on the top of the page. Why does frost and bitterness define so many hearts? Why is slander incessantly spewed about the highest standings in Haense, regardless of certainty or truth? Perhaps this gossip is truly a misunderstanding of pretense, the facts of the matter being distorted in some undevised way? Perhaps the gossip is true, these deep dark secrets that noble men and women try to hide? I think not, for a majority of these statements are declared to be false shortly after public conception. No, it seems that there is a deviousness behind these personal attacks, one which is set forth with a certain precision. These words, a well-executed knifestroke directed at the heart of order and reason. A divisive letter written to chaos, with blood ink. It is the perfect mix between fact and fantasy, truth and deceit. This is the stench of deep-seeded hatred, envy, and scorn. One young lad that I had the pleasure to talk to, described Haense as “One of the most beautiful places in all of Almaris.” Indeed these land are gorgeous, but where beauty generally is, so too does jealousy reside. Where people have thrived, so too are there people who envy of such success. Gossip is not a new idea nor fashion. Though, as of late it seems to be growing in scale. To this fact, I ask, what is the nature of the origins of gossip? The concept is rather simple, and most people understand the why, so I will give only a brief synopsis. People crave power. People fear power. People are envious of people who have more power than them. People are cautious of people who have the same power as them. People oftentimes wish to claim power over others, sometimes, these people will do whatever it takes to get there too. Though, it must be said, there is a difference between being envious of power and acting on such envy. There is also a difference between working hard to gain a prominent position and tearing others down to achieve one’s goal. [!] The image is the same as that of one on the missive, “In Friendship and Truth” The grand reconciliation and unveiling of truths in front of the Hexer Camp depicted circa 1855. In an important side note to reasoning this out, a statement had been given regarding the current hearsay involving the Prince. Such a matter is concluded by a statement given in an article titled: “In Friendship and Truth” A N N O D O M I N I 1855 16th of Joma ag Umund, ES 408 Written by, Her Highness, Nikoleta Barbara Morovar and Her Excellency, Lady Vasileia Ekaterini Basrid For the sake of brevity, I shall not define everything that was said, for the missive is pinned all over the city. All one has to do is read. In this most recent hearsay, it would seem that the accusation regarding the Lady of Savoy and the Prince of Haense is nothing more than just that, hearsay. It is accused that the Prince and the Lady had a secret relationship or even desire for one another. Yet, according to the publication by these notable Ladies, it has been assured to the reader that there is no such relationship besides a purely professional one. In light of this previous outbreak of gossip, specifically referring to “Hearsay of Hanseti-Ruska - IX,” I want to understand why it is that this gossip starts. From this question, Two paths emerge: Path to Chaos There is not a question that these hearsay letters are meant to spur on one specific thing, chaos. Though, the question of a purpose behind this chaos is unknown. Perhaps it is chaos for chaos’ sake. A sickening thought, surely, that one should choose to see panic spread like wildfire for their accursed amusement. That the only reason one may spread such lies is to strengthen fear for no other purpose than for a twisted sense of pleasure am rather despicable. For one to be spreading such malice on a whim just to sow the seeds of chaos, one must be devilishly evil. However, it seems that no man or woman, despite how hurt they feel, would do such a thing without trying to get something out of it. This is why the second option seems so much more appealing and logical an answer. Path to Power As stated numerous times, people crave power. Power can also lead people to achieve great things. Yet, Power can also make a man go mad. The purpose, still, is unknown, but perhaps it is chaos for the sake of gaining power or seeing others fall from it. Historically, every set of Hearsay to come out has been a blast against some nobleman or royal member. This tells a daring and important truth. The author is coming from a place of deep concern or perhaps fear. This concern leads to the direct or indirect attempt to sabotage those they are concerned about. Perhaps it is because they wish to claim the spot in which another noble or royalty holds and their attempt is a defamation so that they may overtake the weakened party’s position. Perhaps it is as simple as wishing to grow distrust between members of a noble house, across noble houses, or even, as we have seen, across nations. Yes, yes.... This seems to be the nature of letters such as these. One further question emerges. Why does gossip spread? There is a love for gossip, a crave for it in fact. Perhaps it is because there am nuggets of truth mixed in with the lies. Perhaps it is because people love to believe lies as long as it is a good story to tell to friends. As a question a dear friend once posed. “How many lies will they continue to believe about the people of Haense? How many people must be harmed for the sake of some small piece of twisted entertainment?” Signed, Iulius Vernhart - Tutor, Philosopher, Scholar. Exert from a book

Iulius Vernhart studied the text on the article meticulously. He jotted down so notes in his journal after the 3rd or 4th time reading the paper. He nodded, a brief smile of satisfaction sat on his lips before disappearing into a steady, emotionless expression. He walked away, writing things in his journal.

Hello… Yes it is me, the interesting, annoying, line-teetering, meme many people have come to hate. There are times in everyone’s life where they look back and asks themselves what the hell they were thinking in a situation. I recently looked back on almost all of my forum posts and had that same question. Then I remember vividly some of the actions I took over my 8 or so years of playing and there are things I cringe at now. More than cringe though, so are just downright unexplainable. While there are times I thoroughly enjoyed or just laugh at such at the whole story arc of Chagrin Frostbeard, the Black Riders of Urguan, or of Oliver Jacques, Advisor to house snow, many of my other endeavors I wish I simply didn’t do. I feel… I know that my shitty role play and horrible personality really hindered some one else’s ability to enjoy the server more than once. For that I am sorry, truly. Hopefully, there is redemption for me- I surely wish for there to be so. For now, all I can say is I am changed. So moving forward, I hope that my roleplay will be solid and enjoyable and my OOC actions will reflect my maturity. I look forward to this next session, ask me anything about now or then. Sincerely, Alamo | Tcs_tonsils_