whiteferrarii

--- Upon a cool afternoon within the city of Providence, a pallid youth sat by his bedroom window, knuckles pale as he gripped his quill and penned words upon a page. His gaze occasionally flicked to peer out over the snow-clogged streets of the city, beyond the walls and to the stretches of sea. With boyish fascination, Vinzant var Ruthern spent hours, lonesome in his room, jotting lines through words he felt clumsily fitted with others and scribbling characters a near dozen times to perfect their particular shape and indent upon the page. He had practised for some time, writing and rewriting, before completing his emotive work. --- AN ANCHORED LONGING Patent shoes, I do not do– I stalk these halls, bare-footed True. Search my pockets for stolen linen, needle, cheese My toes are loud– they creak. At my windowsill, clouds smear the sky like spilt glue and I wonder what toils, what shower will crack from the vault– blessed this pane, rain given unto me. Open the shutters, Cry Havoc! Wet my hands, my cheeks, my face bloom me in this necropolis– raise hydrangeas from my toes I am sick of only water-logged eyes. He watches me– his ruby pupil propped in the eye of a sentry, a marble Aengul his mumbling words, his gripping fist he thunders with no vapour, no downpour I dodge his arcing javelin, his thudding tome. Patent leather, I do not do– I miss my mother, her satin touch her slipper shoe. Wrap me in swaddling silk and cotton, return me to her blooming womb. In every wall is a cornerstone bleak bricks built non-breaking– ‘Am still searching this institution for tiny resolutions, a crack for invasive and engulfing oceans. Spill forth! Let me be Ruther in this moment, Let me hammer my own thunder crumble this tower bring me to the far ice-melt greens. --- 352 ES | 3 S.A. written by Vinzant Nikolas var Ruthern

Fasri nods. "Wihyse wohmahn tu leev. Cooruhn es bahd."

Fasri the kharajyr furrows his brow. "Varees es ah bahd mahn... he tried tu keel hes waiyf."

Claudas collects the evidence. "You are stupid."

Claudas scratches his head. "Dissolve the kingdom, Thomas, and let your wife leave your tyrannical hold over her. Or better most, lass, usurp the throne of this monarchy, send Thomas sprawling, and take charge. Despite it all, I do think the people would rather have you take the throne and make some sensible decisions rather than your thick-headed husband. Take his throne, dissolve his kingdom, and seek a vassalage under Haense or Curon, I think is wisest."

Claudas Vimmark spits.

Claudas Vimmark wrinkles his nose. "Isn't your wife pleading publicly to usurp your leadership over a kingdom that has no base of foundation? Not only is your crown empty, yet your marriage seems to be too. Get ya head out of matters that don't concern you and focus on your marriage, for GOD's sake she's miserable and shaming your family name."

MAYORAL SPEECH Good evening, good people of Cyrilsburg. I am Claudas Augustus Vimmark, a man who has be a part of the makeup of Curon since the first days of settlement on this continent of Atlas. Continually, our good country has grown and experienced great diversity and transformation as the years have gone on. It was a balanced decision that I made to run for Mayor of Cyrilsburg, based on the foundations that a new day is on the horizon. We only must look beyond our walls and borders to the familiar human bastions to understand the dire situation that our people find ourselves in. As Mayor, I promise that every man and woman will be a compulsory cog of our nation’s drive forward! The faucets of society are to be improved through my governance, by introducing new policies that will enhance the opportunity of the labourer, protect the commercial retailer, and encourage women and minorities to engage in the livelihood that is our societal business. The machinations of the politicians of Curon will be debated and argued within our square, and the people will have the chance to stand behind their podium of public freedom, and say what they must say. Throughout my time of service in Curon, I have noticed the continual progressions of bandit peoples against our city. As Mayor, I will ensure that our funds are being put into the protection and upgrades of the fortifications and defences of our city. Furthermore, as Mayor, I would push structural reform for the legal system in current place. All men and women of Curon society will have the right to be provided with a lawyer by the national firm. The people of Curon will have the protection and freedom they are righted to. If I reach office, I will form a council that will have seats delegated to the common people, man and woman. It is the people that make up our country, and it is the people who will lead these critical charges and campaigns of growth and reform! No man or woman will feel oppressed in our city again. No man or woman will have their voices drowned out. Our country will charge with fire in her belly! My campaign is one of fervour and passion; not for the prestige or desire to occupy an office as the other candidates may have want to do. A new day is on the horizon, for all the peoples of Curon. We will not fall into complacency with a form that does not occupy the constituional rights of our denizens! That is all, ladies and gentlemen. AVE CURON.

Claudas Horen-Vimmark heads north.

Claudas hears the news. "One of my men slept with the woman, it is true, though the Tosalis must mourn for the loss--, regardless of what she was."

this is brilliantly written mate

Victor Alric would scowl from the Seven Skies, disgusted in the pathetic responses made to the opinion. "Yet he is now Arch-Duke of Hanseti-Ruska, and you, snakes that whisper and squabble in foreign grass, follow a king who lost you your home. Marius cannot claim the title of Protector of the Highlanders because he did not win. He failed to protect his people and their home. Ashamed I am, to see the people I once thought kin now act like pouting children, refusing to face the truth." Before retreating to lift a cup of red, he would nod with approval to the new arch-duke of the north.

Warwick Richard read over the treaty with approval, sheets of pale rain beating against the surface of his cloak. He leaned forward in his saddle as he rode hard into the southern realm of Tahn, grey-green eyes watchful as he and his twin sister made their way to someplace warm.

Victor Ruthern would blink at the missive. "My grandfather spoke of the two princesses; Charlotte and Anna. He spoke true." He would turn away, clutching at a pain in his lower chest as he moves to see his children. Victor is happy to see him working the wood, though he hears a faint hissing - a slithering sound resonating from the grass. "Oh no Nikolai, your brothers have arrived!"