tcs_tonsils_

15th of Tobias’ Bounty, 1958 “We are those who look Eastward.” “At last, foul bunch, we shall meet upon jungle grasses. With every fiber in our beings, you shall be reduced to loam and ashes.” Upon both plant and dirt shall brittle blades meet avenging steel. By the teeming river bed shall this evil be repealed. -=+=- The bulk of Gaspard’s forces did finally come to fight. While they were quite ravenous, they were not wise enough to seek flight. They marched from their homeland to take on covenant forces outright. They snapped their jaw towards the enemy to strike fear with their bite. -=+=- Then when, at last, those low-toned horns announced it was time. The allied heads of every nation sured up their army’s lines. Battle commanders on their calvary told the men to prepare for a charge. Roars of exhilaration boomed through the ranks, the beginning now at large. -=+=- Armorclad, in full glory, the brave swordsmen advanced. The foot soldiers charged forth and the bowmen held firm in stance. Veletz pushed to meet them, the distance between, closing quick. It was an explosion waiting to happen, drawing closer with every hoof click. -=+=- Orcish warriors, in crazed battle-rage did frenzy and attack. Clydesdales fitted with the finest armor, the enemy held nothing back. They slammed into the Covenant line in hopes of breeding disarray. But quite quickly they came to regret ever stepping foot into the fray. -=+=- They lurched violently backward as hundreds of shields met spearheads. When Bull’s horns met an unmovable body, the bull began to bend. Even after lines shifted and the combat became more singular. These moments declared no force could be the Covenant’s equal. -=+=- The fighting raged on till at last seeing eyes revealed the phonies. Sir Gaspard and all his cronies couldn’t even defeat the unarmored ponies. And while they managed to journey back to Veletz with their heads. They wobbled off the battlefield, their tails between their legs. -=+=- There was an uproar of celebration in the armies of the eight. This tired, wicked enemy seemed to slowly meet their fate For the third time, the mighty Coalition reigned victorious. The win, in spectacular fashion, will remain forever glorious. SIGNED, Sir Marius ‘Wordsmith’ Lovetts, Appurtenant to the Chancellor, Poet Laureate of the Petra, Knight of the Order of the Petrine Laurel of the Rapids, Protector of the Drakewood, Keeper of Fyreswake.

Sir Marius Lovetts bobs his head along as he listens to the bards sing it hours before the battle.

Cyrus Lewitt smiled brightly at the news. "Briliiant!"

103 | Astana de Régne Petrére What man can say his lineage does not fall back to Horen? Our roots run deep, tracing backwards in an arrow like pattern. The tree of life is diverse, its branches ever expanding outward, stretching far past our sight. These branches intertwine with themselves, weaving odd patterns, like paths of lightning. No path is the same. For every inch of branch there is a different memory to be had. For even in ten-thousand souls, there is never one that is the same as another. Still no man has been blessed with perfection as we walk the earth. To be man is to toil at our own projects, build empires, and watch them fall. We are entrapped within a cycle, a pained reality which exalts the people who climb the pyramid, whether by hard work or birth. It is by their deeds and actions, but also their faith, strength, or wit, that they stand at the forefront of our manhood, leading us as they have seen fit. Despite the numerous generations in which we carry on, their wheel continues to turn in this way. Shall it ever stop following the footsteps of the former? We stand in the latter part of history, one which has already witnessed 1900 years of humanity in its struggle. From the first kings of Aaun to now, we have witness nations consolidate then crumble, rebuild then return to ruin. Why? One would think that in almost two thousand years, man would be able to seek a peaceful resolution to theirs struggles. One would think that the leaders would be chosen, not based on their boldness or their aggression, but rather their humility and wisdom. The power one wields can come with growing anxiety and stress. No nation has thrived with corruption and terror about its very core. While it may expand for a time, it soon collapses under its own weight. For when mistrust is placed at the very center of society, it shall soon enter into devastation. Likewise, I have yet to read about a revered Military Commander, Knight Lead, King/Queen/ArchDuke, Chancellor, etcetera, that surrounded themselves with ill-willed, even evil people, and thrived. No, for those who seek council from the untrustworthy and disloyal will reap the consequences. Why then would the people of Petra choose to surround themselves with those who are not a good influence? Why would they choose to entrap themselves in a cage by keeping those who do not wish the best for you around? So, tell me, good people of Petra, why then choose a Member of the Garmont who does not understand, nor intend to make good on, promise to protect and serve you? You would not unless you also wished harm on your nation, city, peers, and family! In my continued effort to best serve this city which began as a lowly court poet, then as a Knight of the Realm, then becoming Appurtenant to the Chancellor, I seek to fight for the people in the Garmont Assembly! This great nation that found its’ founding in the Knighthood now finds itself with a Knight willing to fight for it not only on the battlefield, but in the law rooms as well. This great nation gave you a common man who battles for the interests of the common man, while also helping adjudicate on matters of Nobility with the Chancellor! I have YOUR best interest in mind. I have already dedicated myself to this city. Let me do so in the Garmont as well. VOTE SIR MARIUS LOVETTS FOR GARMONT SIGNED, Sir Marius ‘Wordsmith’ Lovetts, Appurtenant to the Chancellor, Poet Laureate of the Petra, Knight of the Order of the Petrine Laurel of the Rapids, Protector of the Drakewood, Keeper of Fyreswake.

Username: tcs_tonsils_ Persona Name: Sir Marius Lovetts Persona Age: 29 Place of Residence / Street Address: Dame Catherine’s Way IX

101 | Astana de Régne Petrére “We are those who look Eastward.” Dear Friends, Family, and Loved ones, You are cordially invited to the wedding of Sir Marius ‘Wordsmith’ Lovetts and Ellsi Maeve MacPherson The wedding will take place at the Abbey of Saint Edmund on the Horen’s Calling, Astana de Régne Petrére 102. We hope you can be a part of our special day. SIGNED, Sir Marius ‘Wordsmith’ Lovetts, Appurtenant to the Chancellor, Poet Laureate of the Petra, Knight of the Order of the Petrine Laurel of the Rapids, Protector of the Drakewood, Keeper of Fyreswake. Ms. Ellsi Maeve MacPherson, Medic to the armed forces of the Covenant.

Somewhere, a figure leaned down from where his coins were casted. He tilted his head ever so slightly, aged fingers caressing a dress of purple silk. His eyes loitered upon that fabric before lifting to a table set in the center of the room. Decrepit and old, the wood had began to rot. Upon it, a letter. A grin spread across cracking lips. “Excellent…” The figure then twisted, his breeze of his cloak blowing out the candlelit room so that all was shrouded in darkness. {Spoiler: Very well written piece! Keep it up, Cop!}

101 | Astana de Régne Petrére “There are days even the faithful face relentless trials.” MUSIC: MUSIC SHEET: LYRICS: SIGNED, Sir Marius ‘Wordsmith’ Lovetts, Appurtenant to the Chancellor, Poet Laureate of the Petra, Knight of the Order of the Petrine Laurel of the Rapids, Protector of the Drakewood, Keeper of Fyreswake. Lady Emeline Barclay

Sir Marius prepares for what shall be a great week of festivities.

“Hey oh! That is me up there!” Bellowed a drunk Sir Marius from the tavern bar. “We made it.” @Jtit

8th of Sun’s Smile, 1954 [!] Depiction of Queen Catherine being anointed by God and Saints alike. Rejoice, all of Petra, For at last the day has arrived. For the Queen has come age, Many trials she has survived. Give thanks, nation of Godan, For her sword fights for us. Her heart pours out for the people, She shall lead till her time is up. Follow, Knights of Petrine, Where she goes, you reap rewards. She is wisdom in the night. Always to bring the nation forward. Listen, River Guard, Your commander is not afraid, On the battlefield she was beside you. She’ll bleed with you on those days. Be still, faithful teachers, For the Queen is a pious woman, Holding fast to canonist teachings, Using its words to guide her hand. Rejoice, all of Petra, For your Queen is now proclaimed, And she shall serve without hesitation, Till she is put down in her grave. SIGNED, Marius Lovetts, Poet Laureate of Petra, Squire of Order of Petrine Laurel, Baron of Ballads, Registrar of Rhymes.

"Ave Petra, Ave the Queen!" Marius called as he stood within the palace.

"Hmmm. Even so, Veletz seems to have screwed the pooch on this entire thing." He chuckled, folding the paper to put into an envelope. Marius kicked his feets up and watched the fire blaze after their victory at Brasca.

10th of Tobias’ Bounty, 1954 “We are those who look Eastward.” Banners waved, casting shadows under streaming sun beams. Horses stamped and archers shook, anticipation paneled at the seams. The Covenant stared across the battlefield, scanning the enemy’s line. Each man prayed to God above, “Lord, do not let me die”. -=+=- Soldiers steadied in formation, holding firm on the decline. Their supple thirst to charge screamed deep inside their minds. Yet these trained men knew never to break from their rank. Every single man was the protection for his fellow man’s flank. -=+=- The catapults of wood and steel lined the once flowered fields. Pastures that had once held plants of yellow, orange and teal. Cannons laid wheel to wheel across the vast open plain, These were the tools of death, the siege defender’s mortal bane. -=+=- Then, at last, the horns blasted like a dragon’s fierce roar, Those catapults and cannons let loose with an unholy score. And volleys of iron-tipped arrows blackened the sunlit sky, Sending both mothers and husbands all to lowly lie. -=+=- The entire realm stuttered with a violent, sickening tremble, The thunder wouldn’t stop till this keep of traitors was leveled. Spheres of molten iron pierced stone like knives through heated butter, Boulders ripped holes in towers causing the foundation to shudder. -=+=- Screams resounded from those now breached fortress’ walls, Veletzian men were sent plummeting over the backs of the alures. Despite this, a courageous few still fired from atop the parapet-walk, Whilst other fled from the edge, cowering from the falling rock. -=+=- At first trumpet’s blow, relief oozed through the armies of the Eight. Yet the growing urge to move into battle tickled at their feet. Still, no man faltered from their position till the order was given. For every strike that the coalition devised was a carefully planned incision. -=+=- Hours later, that horn sounded through the crisp morning air. Drummer’s rhythm echoed off ruined ramparts that were beaten bare. Every spear and tower-shield pounded to the tempo in the dirt. Till finally, their anxious feet, launched forth towards the fort. -=+=- Bolts and arrows zipped closer as onward they were to press. Many shafts found their marks, imbedding both in armor and in flesh. Yet rallying forth in full assault, this force pushed ever closer. They navigated through man-made hail, line neither broken nor shouldered. -=9=- Despite the cracking fortress walls, Veletz managed to stay put within. They drew the Covenant ever closer in hopes to enclose them inch by inch. The lines of men in hasty march rushed to the decrepit battlements. The orders were all given out and the troops, on their way, were sent. -=+=- Eight armies entered those very treacherous enemy ruins. Cautious to not be lured into traps lest this place become their tomb. Barricades were altered to throw the Covenant’s warriors off balance. Small bridges and deep pits made Brasca perilous to traverse. -=+=- Combatants moved through the keep, securing every room. But engineered pit-falls and gates sent many to their doom. Despite hundreds of losses, they rooted out every standing soul, For Veletz was a plague upon the land, so extinction was the goal. -=+=- Thousands of troops converged as each hoped to be the other’s end. Every armored fighter prayed they skewered foe and not their friends. Steel met cold iron; voices were drowned out by the clashing. Onward Covenant’s forces pushed, the end slowly amassing. -=+=- Deep crimson blood stained the cold stone and soaked between spaces. Men fell in that traitor keep, never again raise their voices. Soldiers stumbled over bodies, even trained knights lost their footing. This building turned graveyard; the corpses began their rotting. -=+=- After hours had become countless, the shouts began to quell. Enemy soldiers scattered from that place which was their utter hell. Those brave men that were foolish enough to stay soon fell still. For the saying shall always stand true, “Comes due does the bill.” -=+=- Banners waved, casting shadows under streaming afternoon beams Flags were hoisted marking sigils of the 8 allied kings and queens. They were placed in every window and tower that had enough stone to stand. Banderoles draped over palisades to show those now in command. -=+=- Cheers cascaded over the hillside, echoing down into the valley below. Even the wind in usual whisper shouted their victory in bellows. Yet while men shall celebrate with drunk song all throughout the night. Every man realized, with no peace, there shall be another fight. SIGNED, Marius Lovetts, Poet Laureate of Petra, Squire of Order of Petrine Laurel, Baron of Ballads, Registrar of Rhymes. The bridge fell, but we shall not.

Marius Lovetts nodded. He approved of this fellow poet’s more detailed battle description! “What an excellent piece.”

The Siege of Breakwater Keep The 11th of Sun Smile, 1953 When the open sky, Alit with cannonfire, Smoke fogged clean air. Dense metal balls, After fiercem calls, The tree splintered in two. Then hell rained forth, Showered stone and dirt. Death was no longer subdued. Men were blasted from battlements, Arrows struck both foes and friends. The smell of blood spread like wildfire. Walls were blown to pieces, Shards of glass littered the trenches. The precision that has been sired. And all of Veletz cowarded behind their walls! They were all lacking the balls! Ignorant and Obtuse, the arrogance of this Brood! When keep was laid to rubble, They knew they had faltered and stumbled. They had surely lost this feud. And the Coalition charged in with their steel. With every ounce of honor, courage and zeal. And erased such a hideous blot! Victory was ours to claim this day, Glory to Godan he made a way. Guided this fierce, loyal lot. SIGNED, Marius Lovetts

The Doom-Whisperer’s Duality “When men shake hands with nightmares, Restful nights shall surely cease.” Blood on the Grass They will fill histories about your bloodlust, Build monuments to your shame. They will garnish the streets with dark wine, For the all the people you have slain. -- Called menace, willful aggressors, No real manhood can you foster, Oppressors who view all as lesser. Controlled by the pettiest of monsters. -- You have idled in the doorway, Held breaths on the edge of the long night, Now when war comes to your doorstep, What action have you but cowardly flight? -- You shall watch your cornerstones crumble, while witnessing the defeat of every ally. For when we stepped into the fray, Our war cries drowned out your weak rally. From the Ashes of a Dying Star We are those who look eastward, To the rising of the Sun. You are one who looks downward, Wondering when night shall come. -- Despites and Traitors You breed the worst of monsters, The sum of all your plundering, Are our walls built back stronger. -- Uproot, you blight, You sickening disease, For the day will soon come, Where tirades will cease. -- You will cry out, As your empire falls before you. You will contemplate failures, Cursing your lack of fortitude. -- And from ashes will rise, Those brave enough to stand. Those who you dismissed with ease, The ones you scuttled and damned. -- And they will build it back, With more humbled hands than you, With eyes that watch for wearied, The lowly fires of the few. This is a warning You wish to take from us what can never be taken. We shall never relinquish that which lives within us. Strength, Honor, and Hope shall shine forevermore.

Laketown Avenue A poem by Marius Lovetts --- To my muse, the reason I stayed. --- Star’s glint to dew’s drip, World spinning round. History repeats itself, My words, in you, to drown. Tongue to always twist and tie, Your light is so bewitching, That moment when you call my name And breaths grow too heavy. And when you pause to take my hand, What shivers now are running. For butterflies still fly at night, Some are trapped inside me. These words of love I feel for you should flow like gushing waterfalls, Yet every time I meet your eyes, The universe, it stalls. What simple phrase could capture you? Describe eyes of living wonder. What synonym could assimilate? Heart beats like roaring thunder. Effervescent vivations. Your embrace is all I need. Bring me forth, into your light, That endless shining sea.

“How delightful, a City watch.” Hums the newest Petran Squire, Marius Lovetts

The Trees Have Eyes A poem by Marius Lovetts --- We are surrounded by silent watchers, Postures firm, reaching ever higher. Do they speak about us when we are gone? Do they wait for us to leave to sing their songs? Do they laugh at us, For we are lost? We are completely alone, Desperately missing home. We are lost without guide Without a map or place to hide. They wave to one another, Telling of our fateful blunders. Yet they sit there and watch, Our misguided approach, They stare at us and speak, I can hear it in the creaks. I know they gawk, As petty beings fought, While their faces are disguised, I know the trees have eyes. ---

Borris Iver Kortrevich leaned back in his seat. “If I am doomed fall, let me fall without reproach. For when I am at the bottom, there is only one way to go.” The Kortrevich then smiled. “Fly on, dove.”

Farewell, our beloved Jenkins! LOTC will miss your creativity and writing skills!

Borris Iver Kortrevich watches the proceedings in Haense with his feet up, whilst munching on a bag of popcorn.

[!] A neatly written note would lay beside the aged man who had slumped on his desk, his quill resting beside his hand. I am dying. I feel it coming when I lay down and when I get up. Yet I am not saddened by this. I have lived a life worthy of writing about. And so, I have dedicated my last few years to recounting it. In those pages I continue onward. In those pages, the memory of who I was lives. I am a storyteller, and I have told my story. I have been writing for a long time and yet I find some new story every day. There is not one that goes by that I regret the things that I have written, for each piece holds aspects of reality. The Kingdom is so different than it once was. I am one of the few who remain from my time. So many have passed on and yet I continued to write. Now I am the one passing on. There is freedom in that, I think. I am finally able to see those long past. I long to hear their voices and to witness them smiling again. It is close now, I feel it slipping away from me. My eyes grow tired and I have no reason to resist. So I say the last thing that is to be said, a final piece, perhaps, my best piece. Now, it is my time to sail beyond the tides, that place you cannot go. ~~ Beyond the Tides The night draws hither, O’ wintered breath, The jovial turn to cold display. Aged leaf from thrones on high, Welcomed to the ground below. The hour draws thither, O’ crippled touch, The desperate pray upon weak knees. Purest light of God above, Watch over as I take my leave. The time is nye, O’ faded sight, When at last the soul relents. A spark that fell from dulled eyes. Trailed by quivering exhales. The end is here, O’ Fallen Lord The quill slipped from my grasp. Taken to my olden friends, To rest with those I love. It dipped before the depths, This last light of mine. Descending betwixt sky and sea.

The Life and Complete Works of Borris Iver Kortrevich Published the 12th of Msitza ag Dargund, 482 E.S. Introduction and Autobiography Borris Iver Kortrevich, like his predecessor, is recognized as the foremost poet throughout Hanseti-Ruska during his lifetime. As a continuation of the Poetic Renaissance, many young Haeseni found themselves enraptured by the works of the late Van Jungingen and Feodar May. Thus, it led to acclimation and passion for the lyrical arts. During this time, many poets and writers expanded upon what they had seen from previous vital figures. In around 1850, about the middle of King Sigismund III's reign, many artists stepped up in this pursuit. Some other notable figures were Dorothea Ruthern, Klara Elizaveta, Gustaf Morovar, and Sofiya Ruthern. This era was undoubtedly dominated by the product of the expansion proposed by Kristoff Brunnings in his Introductory work of Van Jungingen: Complete Works. ~~~ Born in 1852, Borris Iver Kortrevich never knew his parents, the reclusive Lothar Kortrevich and Juliya Ludovar. Instead, the Kortrevich was abandoned, left in Jerovitz. He was cared for then by his cousin, Nikolai. When he was three, war broke out between Oren, and Urguan, which, coincidentally, pulled Haense into its grip the following year. Synonymous with the rest of Haense, the Kortrevich's life stood dominated by this conflict. Even though the boy strived to become a part of it at a young age, it was not until Borris was older that he would become fully involved in the conflict despite enlisting in the BSK at ten years old. As an adventurous young Lord, the Kortrevich had often sought out those his age. During the majority of his childhood, he would spend time with a small group of friends who had deemed their club 'The Flowerlings.' This group, originally consisting of the Borris, and the twin sisters, Eileen and Freya Baruch. It yielded a child-sized wooden fort in which the group could play. This fort, Fort Flower, would be a staple of the group throughout their childhoods. Borris' childhood was often plagued by misfortune. Most of these problems sprouted from the actions of his cousin, Vasilia Kortrevich, an older sister of Nikolai when she left to pursue a man in Oren. Having been close with his cousin, the boy took it poorly and reverted to locking himself within Fort Flower for days. Only then did his real journey into poetry begin, using the pen to express the situation he was a part of and his emotions. Then, in 1859, Borris released his first volume of poetry, A Selection of Poetry, from Borris Iver Kortrevich. This first volume consisted of four poems, the most notable being Gone, the first poem he had written. All four, in some way, related to his cousin leaving him. From then on, Borris' volumes would be published annually, most of them consisting of four poems as a continual remembrance of his original publication. Only in adulthood would his Volumes be published more sparsely as he took up other projects. Inspired by the imaginary knight games The Flowerlings would play, Borris set his mind on writing a novel depicting the heroic adventures of a Knight attempting to rescue a princess from the clutches of his brother. While the book started as a simple idea, it became a reality when Chapter One of A Rose in the Snow was published in 1860. The first couple chapters yielded him national praised after he won Third Place in the Ve Zvaerd i Jungingen, a literary contest hosted by the crown. A couple of years later, Nikolai Kortrevich proposed celebrating Borris' works by hosting a Poetry night at Jerovitz. This party attracted attention from around Karosgrad. Even the King chose to attend and write a poem that he dedicated to the memory of his late friend. The party was an immense success and would inspire similar events later in the Kortrevich's life. Borris moved through a stressful event between the achievements and publications as he and his cousin Nikolai were captured and taken to Oren following a raid on Jerovitz. This raid, led by Vasilia's husband at the time, yielded the Kortrevich's first visit to the Empire. Having been bashed in the head, the boy was sent directly to the clinic once he arrived. There, he met Dr. Primrose Gendik, who would treat him, then smuggle the Kortrevich out of the city. This led to a lasting relationship, despite a war between them. The two often met at St. Lothar to discuss the war or other general things throughout their lifetimes. The Kortrevich would come to refer to her as his mother. Though despite their relationship, they both had an understanding that should they meet on the battlefield, neither one would relent. The Kortrevich often referred to his earlier poetry as far more fundamental and personal than many of his later works. If one were to scan through any of his Volumes I-VII, they would see that most of his poetry revolves around expressing his feelings towards his surroundings, his friends, and his romantic interest at the time, Carolina Milena, a princess of Sedan. They met during a social event in Haense and became good friends. Poems like Palace of Haverlock, Warm Feelings, and Nervous were all written for this De Joannes. Unlike the poetic experience of Van Jungingen, someone whom he greatly admired, Borris Iver Kortrevich wrote much about love and the feelings and emotions surrounding it. As Lifstala, the Haeseni social season began following the Kortrevich's 16th birthday in 1866, the boy teenager found himself inspired to write once again to the prinzenas he now sought to court. Amidst the male presentations, the Kortrevich performed poetry instead of selecting a traditional event. This presentation yielded him a public endorsement from the Koenas for his poem Above the Rest. It was the first of the Kortrevich's Poetry to receive fame and recognition. The Kortrevich, seeing the response to his poetry, began to think more about his career path. It was only then that Borris focused his gaze upon obtaining the position of Court Poet, serving King Sigismund III in an official capacity. The amateur poet was tasked by the King to prove himself by producing a quality work following the well-fought Battle at Eastfleet, officially named Philips' Folly. Thus, the Kortrevich wrote and soon published Death at Eastfleet, which won him not only the favor of the King but also secured him the position of Court Poet. Even with Borris Iver Kortrevich's strong start, both in his career and Lifstala, the tables quickly turned as his romantic interest was found to have been having relations with an elven prince. Whilst overcome with grief and anger, He wrote his most well-known and admired piece in 1868, I Hate You, which garnered the Kortrevich attention from all across Almaris. Despite the turbulent times, the Kortrevich’s reputation as a strong poet continued to follow him. The Lord Marshal at the time, Johann Barclay, approached the Kortrevich, hiring him as the Battle Bard for the BSK. His first task was to create a series of poems bolstering the image of the Brotherhood by telling the tales of battles from the War of Whigs. Later that year, Borris published his first Anthology titled Anthems of Brotherhood, which consisted of five poems about memorable war events. A few months after publication, the War of Whigs ended with the Eastfeet treaty. As Borris focused more on his poetry in his personal creations and those for his jobs, yet another door opened for him. Ser Reinhardt, the Knight Paramount at the time, sought out the Bard to commission him to write a piece describing his valiant Bogatyr's trial. The Kortrevich excitedly accepted the challenge and produced The Tale of Ser Reinhardt. The Knight's Marshal received the piece so well that three more poems were commissioned. The Kortrevich was also offered the position of Knight's Bard, which he promptly accepted. Due to his success, the Kortrevich received a nomination for Knight of Queen Maya and the Lily in 1869, passing nearly unanimously through the Royal Duma. Then, during court that same year, he was officially knighted by Sigismund III, Kossar Borris Iver Kortrevich KML. He is still the youngest person to have received the award, knighted at a mere 17 years old. ~~ While working on the Knight's pieces, the Kortrevich also began to take more commissions as the Lifstala season ended and the wedding season started. The bulk of his works in this period surrounds the idea of marriage and romance. Despite his frustration with his relationships, the Kortrevich could not pass up writing about such an in-depth and expressive topic as love. Eventually, while doing this, Borris found hope in the friendship of his close friend, Eileen Baruch. After a year of conversing, the two would begin the courtship process. It was a new page that had been turned. The affection that the Kortrevich had upheld only in the words he wrote now found their way outward. That is not to say he did not still write poems about his dearest Eileen, for many poems can be traced to this subject, such as You Are, You are I, We are we, I are you, and The Bench. In 1872, Borris and Eileen got married in St. Henrik's Basilica. 1872 was also a turning point for The Flowerlings as the group quietly went their separate ways after two group members, Eugen Barclay, and Soairse Baruch, vowed to run away together to explore Almaris. The Flowerlings said their goodbyes to one another in Fort Flower that evening. However, despite their break, all group members looked forward to symbolically burning down the fort as they had all grown too large to use it. Eileen, a year or two later, would give birth to healthy twins. The words he had spoken for his children were copied down and published. The Kortrevich named it My Child and dedicated it to his new son and daughter. ~~ Later that same year, the Kortrevich found himself in conversation with the aged koeng, Sigismund III as they stood and watched the Snailula One race at Odistadt. Borris, having been familiar with Van Jungingen’s ode to King Andrik III, wished to do the same for his Majesty. So at that moment seeking he challenge to emulate the man he admired, the poet humbly asked the koeng if he could write a similar ode. While the koeng only jested that he would have to make a poem that flatters him lest the Kortrevich be put to the sword for treason, Borris was far more nervous about the piece than he led people to believe. It was a long process, taking a few months of work to publish a piece titled, An Ode ve Koeng Sigismund III. Later that same saint’s day, the Koeng would pass away, surrounded by the thousands of Haeseni who came out to pray for his quick recovery. The Poet watched as the Koeng marched down the steps and challenged Ser Walton to a duel, his way of completing the warrior’s end. The Poet watched as his Koeng met the end he had wished for. The Poet watched, unsure if the Koeng ever read his ode to him. It would not be until a few months later, during the reading of the will, that the Kortrevich would learn that he read the piece. Perhaps one of the greatest honors of Borris Iver Kortrevich’s life was the compliment he received from the koeng in his will, in which the excerpt is written below: “To read, and even be the subject of your poetry has been one of the great honors of my later life. Despite your young age, you have become one of the greats of Haeseni culture, eclipsing even the likes of Dietrich van Jungingen. I will watch with pride from above now, and on that day you will surely be named Valtakossar.” Bolstered by the late koeng’s compliments, the Kortrevich continued writing as he did. The next task he chose was writing a poem on the Coronation of the new king, Sigismund’s son Karl Sigmar. He titled this The Dawning of a New Day. An appropriate title for a new king, the poem explored the setting of an era from Sigismund and the rising of a new age for Karl. Over the next few years, the Kortrevich’s work was far more spread out. For the first time, Borris did not publish his volumes every year. Instead, the Kortrevich would begin publishing his volumes every three years while also working on other projects. An unfortunate death occurred as the former Lord Marshal, Johann Barclay, was murdered along the road in 1875. As a tribute to his years of service and dedication to the people of Haense, the Kortrevich released The Tale of Johann Barclay. This commissioned piece by the new Lord Marshal, Heiran Mephestus, displayed the life and leadership of the Barclay. The Poem stands as one of his larger pieces. In the same year, the Kortrevich took the time to write out his griefs, jotting them down and publishing them in a piece he titled Call of the Weary. The work instantly resonated with a vast multitude that felt a similar absence from Godan. Then, in 1882, war broke out between the Dwarves and the Orcs. Subsequently, the remnants of Oren and Haense also joined the battle. Borris used that opportunity to write about his own experiences during the war. The Kortrevich wrote Decisive Blow after the EATO’s first official victory at the Acre, whereas he praised those who died fighting for our victory. While no other poems about the war was published during the Kortrevich’s lifetime, War of an Island and Peace at Last were made public following his death. The Kortrevich participated in multiple skirmishes throughout the war. One of these events leads to the overtaking of the Vienne after being let in through the gates by a child. As already stated earlier in this biography, that child was Timothy Komnenos, the grandchild of the Kortrevich’s dear friend and adopted mother, Primrose. Taking the opportunity, he smuggled the child out of Haeseni's control and safely returned him to the care of his father, Arthur. However, Borris, fearing that he might be charged with treason, opted to stay hidden within the Komnenos’ manor rather than return to the raiding party. During this time, Borris regained much of his contact with Dr. Gendik, allowing them to catch up on years lost. They talked about the insanity of the war and how it was ridiculous that both of them would have to live through two wars in their lifetimes… not to mention that they were on opposite sides of the conflict. It would be the last time Kortrevich saw his adoptive mother before she passed away a couple of years after the war. From his grief of such loss, the Kossar shut himself away for a multitude of weeks, taking the time to recuperate and recover. His recovery period, however, was swift, as the poet would drown himself in work. The Kortrevich found time to finish his long-awaited anthology. Over the next three years, the Kortrevich would take it upon himself to write a poem dedicated to the knight trial of every knight in the Bogatyr’s age and a few extra poems centered around knighthood and the lifestyle adopted there. This idea led to him gathering information on each individual, often reading through stacks of books to find critical details. The Kortrevich would often host interviews with those close to the individual to catch glimpses of the storyline so that his poetry may reflect the event perfectly. This project, which he titled The Silver Crows Anthology, yielded a total of 16 poems that were dedicated to the individual knights of the realm. The work was published in 1885. After this, Borris Kortrevich began to think about working with other poets to make a masterwork. So he set off to talk with poets throughout the kingdom, looking for people to join him in writing. Through this hopeful collaboration, the Haeseni Papyrus was born. The first issue was published in 1888. It consisted of nine poems from six writers, Klara Barbanov, Borris Kortrevich, Felyx Colborn, Ipera de Falstaff, Euleriphis of Karosgrad, and Hieromar of Karograd. An additional Papyrus was issued ten years later. In addition to these anthologies, the Kortrevich continued to write inspirational war poetry over the next ten years, such as Why He Fights, Fall of an Enemy State, The Call to Crusade, and Light’s Faithful Triumph. ~~~ Note: The Kortrevich often used very lofty, metaphoric language to paint a picture to the reader, juxtaposed to straightforward language like Van Jungingen. A flaw with a few of the Kortrevich's works is that the words he uses are too imaginary; it fogs up the idea of what the author is trying to say. One such example is his piece, The Fall of an Enemy State. Originally titled Fall of a Nation, the work was first published during turbulent times in the Kingdom when a rift between those in the Aulic council debated fiercely against the accusations of nepotism and favoritism within the leadership as proposed by Jakob Vernhart, the Grand Maer at the time. Fall of a Nation used non-specific language, leaving it ambiguous, even though the piece was about the late Kingdom of Oren, who had just fallen a couple of years prior in 1884. Instead, such ambiguity led many to believe that the Kortrevich was not talking about Oren's demise but rather about the possible fall of the Hanseti-Ruskan Kingdom. Shortly after its publication, the piece was recalled. It was then republicized later in his lifetime under a different name. ~~~ However, this reinvigorated period was cut short by the growing sickness of the King, Karl III, who was a long-time friend. During these final days of the King, Borris sat down and wrote an ode to him, just as his father did. This poem, titled Oede va Koeng Karl III, marks the second death of a king dear to him the Kortrevich lived through. Over the next twenty years, he shifted how he would write and publish his poetry. The Kortrevich spent long periods in his room in deep contemplation before writing his poetry. Not only did this diminish the amount of poetry he was writing, but also the length between publication times. Through this time, the Kortrevich focused much of his poetry on the Church. He wrote over 50 Hymns, publishing them in waves of volumes he titled Hallowed Adoration: A Canonist Hymnal. In addition to this, Borris Kortrevich published CANONE SANCTORUM: SANCTITAS ET VIRTUS, a 10 poem about Saints of the Canon. Despite this, The Kortrevich wrote poems of strength and war. During these years, he also published many Anthologies, including Songs of Swords in 1906 and Ballad of Brethren in 1910. He finished his next anthology of Knights, The Iron Crows Anthology between these times. It was published in 1907 and consisted of 17 poems. Then, in 1908, he wrote a piece regarding King Georg’s coronation titled, From Circlet to Crown. Following the beginning of a war between the Canonist League and Adria, Borris Kortrevich released Children of Horen, which attempted to represent the bloodshed during the war vividly. Men of the Morning, published around the same time, gave a similar sentiment to the destruction that conflict causes. In 1916, Borris Iver Kortrevich was awarded ValtaKossar, “The highest possible civilian honour in the Kongzem of Hanseti-Ruska.” He is noted as a figure of great works and poetry within the Kingdom. He stands as the third person to receive this honor. Continuing his previous collaboration, the Kortrevich wished to reignite the Haeseni Papyrus. However, the Kortrevich began reaching out to other poets, not only Hanseti-Ruska but also Balian and Aaun. After several years of gathering and writing, he and 4 others published the third volume of Haeseni Papyrus in 1918. Four years later, the group released the fourth volume. Following this, the Kortrevich agreed to take on several wards to mentor them through poetry, including Klara Ludovar and Stefaniya Ipera. During the final months of Almaris, as the Mori were raveging the city, Borris Kortrevich wrote and published Engulfed in Flames, which symbolized the utter destuction that they left. In 1829, Borris Kortrevich published his final poem, Oede va Keong Georg I, following the King’s death. Poetry Volumes of Poetry Volume I………Published 412 E.S. Volume II……...Published 413 E.S. Volume III…….Published 414 E.S. Volume IV…….Published 415 E.S. Volume V……..Published 416 E.S. Volume VI…….Published 417 E.S. Volume VII……Published 418 E.S. Volume VII.V…Published 419 E.S. Volume VIII…..Published 420 E.S. Volume IX…….Published 421 E.S. Volume X……..Published 422 E.S. Volume XI…….Published 423 E.S. Volume XII……Published 425 E.S. Volume XIII…..Published 429 E.S. Volume XIV….Published 432 E.S. Volume XV…...Published 435 E.S. Volume XVI…..Published 436 E.S. Volume XVII....Published 439 E.S. Volume XVIII...Published 443 E.S. Volume XIV.…..Published 459 E.S. Volume XX.…...Published 459 E.S. Volume XXI.….Published 460 E.S. Volume XXII….Published 462 E.S. Volume XXIII….Published 464 E.S. Volume XXIV….Published 466 E.S. Volume XXV….Published 469 E.S. Volume XXVI….Published 469 E.S. Haeseni Papyrus THE HAESENI PAPYRUS: VOLUME ONE THE HAESENI PAPYRUS: VOLUME TWO THE HAESENI PAPYRUS: VOLUME THREE THE HAESENI PAPYRUS: VOLUME FOUR Knightly Order Pieces The Silver Crows Anthology The Iron Crows Anthology Brotherhood Pieces The Tale of Johann Barclay Anthems of Brotherhood: War of the Whigs Anthems of Brotherhood: Songs of the Sword Anthems of Brotherhood: Ballads from Brethren Royal Pieces Union of House Carrion Oede va Koeng Sigismund III The Dawning of a New Day Ballad to the Haeseni People Light's Faithful Triumph Oede va Koeng Karl III From Circlet to Crown Oede va Koeng Georg I Canonist Pieces Call of the Weary A Call to Crusade A Canonist's Hymnal - Volume I A Canonist's Hymnal - Volume II A Canonist's Hymnal - Volume III A Canonist's Hymnal - Volume IV CANONE SANCTORUM: SANCTITAS ET VIRTUS Personal Pieces I Hate You Simply Joy I Love You My Child The Snow Melts Children of Horen Engulfed in Flame Unpublished Works Tale of Ser Coin, the Musin Knight War of an Island Peace at Last Firefly Waltz The Weight Placed Upon His Head Death of an Island A New Paradise Deliver me O’ Lord. Artist and Creator Untitled Hymn Untitled Hymn Beyond the Tides SIGNED, Lord Borris Iver Kortrevich, Valtakossar of the Order of Queen Maya and the Lily, Battle-Bard of the Brotherhood of Saint Karl, Knight-Bard of the Order of the Crow, and Court-Poet of Hanseti-Ruska.