GoodGuyMatt

Leon Barclay as he was told of the news. Unable to understand what had happened exactly, he went up to his grandfather, Ser Reinhardt @Capt_Chief26 "Are you like uncle Johann and the old man Feodor now?" he asked rather enthusiastically in Waldenian, referencing the only two Aulic members he had ever met.

Leon Barclay would be playing with his knight toys inside his room as he heard of the Prince Johann's return. He smiled somewhat as he kept enjoying his entertainment, picking up the figurine of the Marshal as he enjoyed his playtime "Uncle Johann is coming back!" he celebrated in Waldenian "I hope he has good stories to tell me!"

YET ANOTHER BARCLAY Sharp sun rays engulfed the land around the Duchy of Reinmar. The weather here felt somewhat warmer than that of Karosgrad, granted the Reinmaren land stretched south of the capital. The castle of Whileburg stood high and proud as always, overlooking the surrounding countryside. Horses within the stables neighed occasionally, the chicken clucked, and the sheep bleated constantly. The noises of the animals surrounded the area similarly to how the sun did, they stretched far and wide, rather intensely so every now and then. Yet, it felt peaceful, not many a man would anger or be irritated by such ambience, despite the sounds, which were faintly heard all the way inside the castle. Whileburg remained quiet as usual during the day, children played and servants served, all following the natural order of the day. Prince Johann’s children would occasionally sit and converse within the dining hall, or so had Leon noticed. He was still young, though as Barclay-looking as any Barclay has ever been. He was just another Reinmaren noble. The characteristic blonde hair rested on his head rather lazily, mostly a bowl-cut, his bangs pointed forward, the traditional fade ever present. Despite being Emil’s son, his hair adorned a noticeably more saturated shade of yellow, his eyes reflecting a dampened emerald color. He was neither chubby or skinny, a feature that could be, surprisingly so, distinguished by the noise of his footsteps. They carried a distinctive pattern and noise, not loud, but still noticeable. Leon was an observer, since he was born, he barely made any noise or sound. His eyes simply widened and looked, trying to make the most out of what was going on around him. So quiet was he, in fact, that he didn’t begin talking until the age of two and a half. Even when acquiring such basic skill, it felt as if he didn’t use it much. Although to his own writing, he could only talk in Waldenian. Though able to understand most of Common speech, he could only speak a few words. “Knight” was one of his favorites. He used the word when asking for one of his first toys, and then again when asked about his father’s and grandfather’s occupations. He was rather fascinated by the prospect of Knighthood, or at least what his very young mind could make out of it. Leon’s fascination persisted for most of his early years, despite his ancestors having close ties to knighthood, the lad was awed by it as much as a peasant child would be. He was taught about the tales of Ser Wilheim, the first Barclay knight and baron, and Ser Brandt, the progenitor of the Brandtian line within the vast noble house, in which he was the firstborn. With such youthful fascinations, the life and prospect of a knight began growing stronger and stronger in Leon’s mind. Much like he was an observer, he was also an imaginer. It took a few sentences from a story to draw him in, leading his mind through vivid imagination. Perhaps such features in his character lead to yet another trait, shyness. By all means, Leon was an energetic child. He ran and jumped, sang and laughed, however, he’d mostly do so when alone. Whenever he was in the presence of anyone but his younger brother or parents, his posture would visibly change. It was as though he’d become a new child completely. He’d become slouched and his eyes would be fixed on either the ground or his fidgeting fingers, he’d smile awkwardly and only reply briefly, if at all. This was upheld for even his cousins, with whom Leon would rarely have much conversation. In fairness, they were just about twice his age by now, most of them in their 15th year. Despite having few to no friends, he didn’t feel lonely. He read and played, sometimes with the servants, though mostly on his own. Every now and then he’d leave the Duchy to visit the capital up north, a servant always accompanying him. Or so he’d like his family to think. It was not uncommon for the young Brandtian to go on his own explorations and travels, sneaking out of the castle in ways he’d have figured out. It was rather unusual for his age, being only 6 and sneaking out. Many would wonder what drove him to do such. It was the thrill. He imagined he was a knight, departing from his castle alone to pursue a quest. Fortunately, Reinmar was but an hour or so away from Karosgrad, and, in the few times he’d snuck out, no harm came to him. The land encompassing the Duchy of Reinmar He had done it again yesterday, and it was his proudest achievement. When he went to Karosgrad, he came by a white armored figure. As if being a giant in comparison to the Barclay youth, the warrior stood at 6’7”, his bright armor reflecting the dim sunshine here in the capital. So Leon approached, shy as ever, awed by the man’s appearance. The figure would note Leon's existence, by now he'd recognize a Barclay from a mile away. “Another Barclay?” were probably the thoughts traveling through his mind. Who could blame him? They all looked the same. Leon’s brows widened as he tried to make sense of the tall giant he was seeing “Was bist du?” he inquired in Waldenian. “I’m just an adventurer.” replied the white armored man. “Adventurer?” echoed the Barclay, he was still unable to speak Common, but he could understand it. “Yes, I visit places, far and wide.” as they conversed, the sounds of Karosgrad surrounded the two, the overlapping dialogues of merchants and customers, children strolling around, footsteps galore. It was just another day at the capital, but Leon’s attention was purely focused on the adventurer. “O-outside…” the Waldenian replied in the little common he knew, though it was rather broken. He then paused a bit, and pointed a finger towards the city gates “Outside des Königreichs?" “Yes, outside the city,” admitted the adventurer, and then offered “I could share some adventures with you if you like.” Leon’s fascination was just that obvious. His eyes widened and his mouth formed an “o” shape, his interest highly piqued. So piqued that his posture changed, some of the shyness leaving him. He smiled widely at that, and nodded readily. “Ja, ja, bitte. Du bist wie ein Ritter!” he exclaimed “Ein knight!” “I'm not a knight. But what adventures would you like to hear? The one when I went to the dangerous volcanic mountains? Or my first trip to Haelun'or?” With a cheeky smile on his face, Leon put out his index finger, asking to hear the first story. He was visibly excited, as if offered candy, and some good candy at that. “Alright then, would you want to go somewhere to sit?” offered the storyteller. Leon nodded, and at that, they sat on the newly constructed tavern. They sat by the fireplace, and the youth put out his hands to warm them up. The white figure lost no time to start his narration. He spoke of his travels, starting from Norland, his curiosity telling him to explore the scorched mountains of the South. He spoke of increasing temperatures as he got higher, and Leon listened intently. So intently in fact, that his imagination had already started working. He visualized himself in the same situation, and suddenly, the hands he was warming on the fireplace backed away, the temperature around him increasing, similarly to how it did in the story. So they talked and talked, and the man explained his travels. Little action accompanied him through his journey, he had encountered no enemies and had fought no foes, despite coming across a crumbling fortress. “I did not approach there since there were… things that weren't human, maybe they were dragon people, not sure…” Now communicating mostly with fingers and gesturing, Leon had asked why. Leon's visualization of the crumbling fortress. “Well… I did not have my armor at the time I found them, and I was alone,” he'd nod, “I may be big, but I am still human.” The Barclay accepted the explanation and nodded. He was not one to judge, despite the Knightly ideologies of honor and bravery he was raised with. The man then spoke of more locations he had visited, the one that stuck with his listener was that of an island platform, chained above lava. At that, the listener’s jaw dropped, his mind wandering to GOD knows where. “It was floating, and would easily be as big at this tavern. It was hotter than ever when climbing up the chain that was connecting it to the ground, but when I reached its top I only found an empty platform and some dried blood, so I assumed that it was an abandoned ritual site…” Leon did not waver at the words, he was not scared, on the contrary, his wanderlust had reached its climax. He wanted to see such for himself, he wanted to travel and explore, fight and quest, have stories to tell and achievements to be proud of. “Kein dragon?” he inquired. The stranger would shake his head, “If there was, I don't think I'd be here telling you this story.” an explanation that the Barclay accepted once again. “And that's the end of my story, so little one, what do you plan on doing in the future?” He'd ask the little Barclay, who was caught by surprise at the question. His eyes averted back to the table, his posture changed now, his shyness coming back as he crouched lightly. The lad started playing with his fingers and hummed. “Ein Ritter!” He replied with a surprising amount of confidence. He seemed quite set at it “Wie mein Vater und Grossvater!” and indeed both his father, Ser Emil and his grandfather, Ser Reinhardt wished the same for him. The figure, who had not revealed his name, simply nodded. Soon, the two greeted one another and departed. Yet, for the rest of the day Leon’s mind was still wandering around the stories he was told. The next day he sat on the landscape of Reinmar, looking at the crops, sky, and the castle. The animal noises surrounding him, peaceful and calming as ever. He dipped his head, and with a wide smile, he confirmed his resolve. “Ja!” he exclaimed lightly to no one “Ein Ritter!”

Hieromonk Ernst Barclay weeps for Bishop Viktor within his abode.

Ser Brandt Barclay smiles in the Seven Skies as he reads through the updated Atlas. As he goes through the list, the man bursts into chuckles. He had once again encountered the Moniker of Dame Maria, laughing like he had the first time he read it during his studies.

"I wish I was like Lord Johann" ponders a Barclay monk who had abandoned his children to find GOD deep in the northern mountains.

i love danny <3

Brandt Bashar al Barclay, the founder of Barclay Bargains smiles as he catches wind of his descendants continuing the paper chase. He then went back to managing his oil empire in the Seven Skies.

Hieromonk Ernst smiled the Tylos' smile as he made the landser salute of old.

"The Fidei Defensor has failed..." Hieromonk Ernst cried out "... How could they allow this!"

"How could the Fidei Defensor and His Princely Grace allow this!" complains Hieromonk Ernst

Up high in the seven skies, Ser Brandt Barclay offered a light smile to his good friend Fionn, offering him a pat on the shoulder as he saw him approach "Got a Haeseni's end, eh?"

Wiping dirty imperial blood from his eyes, Rovyk von Reinmar huffs as he hears of the Field Commander's death, weeping alongside the Marshal of the BSK, Johann, many bruises and cuts about his body. He'd then teach himself how to write his first words, then listing out the adjectives that would come to mind when thinking of the man. RIP, it wrote first, the continued "The bold, outstanding, zealous, optimistic man." wrote the tribesman in a crude handwriting.

Rovyk stumbled on the hung parchments during his next stroll through Karosgrad. He huffed in annoyance, and, unable to read, he'd go find his good pal Karl @Remaclusto read it to him.

"Elf good?" ponders Rovyk as he hears of the ordeals during his next visit in the taverns, unable to read the declarations himself still.

Hieromonk Ernst smiles at his son's writings, reading them idly in his monastic cell during his free time.

Rovyk, a Reinmaren lad is told he will be the Hauptmann amongst the Reinmaren during the ceremony just hours before it takes place. With clear confusion about him, the man takes a moment to process. He then smiles as he accepts his position.

Hieromonk Ernst, the former Count of Freimark smiles the son's smile as he sees his two homelands come to such a pact. "This is what brotherhood in GOTT truly looks like"

THE LEGACY OF THE REINMAREN CHAPTER III: THE REINMAREN INDIVIDUAL Penned on the 4th of Wzuvar and Byvca, 417 E.S Wilheim Baron Freising, A Reinmaren leader. It is difficult to discern how an individual might behave in certain settings and conduct themselves based on the subgroup they belong to. Yet, there are traditional aspects and Reinmaren values that are bound to be reflected by an individual who has been raised within that paradigm which are of noteworthy relevance to document. Instead of outlining specific practices and acted traditions utilized by the Reinmaren, this document instead explores the shared ideals and broad concepts that most Reinmaren apply through their lives. Much like how the foundation stones set up the base of a complex castle, so too do these Reinmaren ideals work as foundations to a Reinmaren’s life. It unites them under a similar way of life in the modern days much like it did many centuries before. "GENERATIONAL MILITARISM" Their forefathers’ raiding traditions and transactional warfare have preserved a strong military tradition within the households of the Reinmaren. With such tradition persisting even through the modern age, it is no wonder that a fair count of Reinmaren men and women find themselves serving in the armies of their respective lieges. It is also not uncommon for the Reinmaren individual to strive for high ranking positions within their respective militaristic regiments, an ambition that is passed from parent to child within the Household. Such tradition became especially relevant in recent Reinmaren history after the ascending of Sir Wilheim Barclay, the founder of House Barclay, into the rank of Marshalship in the Kingdom of Hanseti-Ruska. Indeed, Sir Wilheim’s service as Marshal of Haense is considered by many to be the era in which Reinmaren militarism rekindled, a claim supported by the three next Marshals of the Kingdom, all of Reinmaren descent, and all patriarchs of House Barclay. Notable also were the many army leaders who filled higher positions within the Haeseni Army during the “Centuria Barclaeis”, the period between 1725 and 1825, during which all Haeseni Marshals descended from House Barclay, including Baron Wilheim, and Dukes Erwin, Manfred, and Friedrich. As such precedent was set in the recent age, every child fathered within the Reinmaren household began going through a specific education, one that imposes a regimented lifestyle on the child during their youth. Hunting trips for the young became commonplace, as did riding trips to get them used to sitting on a stallion’s saddle, much like their ancestors before them. Trials were established in many a Reinmaren household, where the youth was to go through physical hardship during hunts to grow strong, and pledging into military service to grow loyal, both trials named Die einsame Jagd (The Lone Hunt) and Die Prüfung der Loyalität (The Trial of Loyalty) respectively. "WHO RESTS, RUSTS" Since their genesis, the Reinmaren have valued competence and hard work above all. They were grown to be hard workers, diligent and competent, so as to progress their tribes and clans, assuring survival and prosperity throughout their communities. Amongst the Reinmaren tribes, all work was given its due value, no matter its nature. The farmer held similar prestige to the warrior, the smith possessing similar value to the Rechtssprecher (the Lawspeaker), who assumed the role of a judge between cross-clan disputes. Such traditions have persisted to modern age, where the Reinmaren individual is taught the value of diligence and love of their occupation. These Waldenians tend to hold no prejudice towards those of lower-ranking professions, for they understand that all work is important. Without farmers there would be no harvests, without Lawspeakers no justice, without warriors no protection, without builders no home to protect. Such significance had the role of hard work within the Reinmaren society, that the hard workers and craftsmen of the tribes donned the name of Shqiptars, a practice continued to the modern day. Similarly, so too has the phrase “Wer Rastet, der Rostet” echoed through the Reinmaren generations, translating to “Who rests, rusts” WARHORSES AND WARBANDS Taking pride in their long and standing equestrian tradition since their pagan days, the Reinmaren continue their practices in the art of horse riding. Since their youth, the members of a Reinmaren house or clan are raised up to grow comfortable and reliant upon a stallion. So paramount is the skill of horse riding among the people of Reinmar, that most undergo trials to show themselves capable riders. These beasts are not only used for utility’s purpose by their riders, but they are considered animals of prestige and symbolize the Reinmaren spirit. Thus, the steed is held to high esteem and respect, it is not to be disrespected, but instead taken care of to the best of one’s abilities. In the eyes of a Reinmaren, the steed is the embodiment of its rider’s spirit, of their pride and of their soul. For this reason the appearances and types of steeds raised and used throughout these people tends to differ depending on the riders themselves. The warhorse, however, is the most common. Steeds raised for utility and warfare, proving themselves most useful in times of War. Much like they did during the many raids of the Reinmaren during their conversion, and even by the many members of House Barclay in recent history, who fought for homeland and kingdom atop their stallions. Raiders on horses and warmongers, these were the Reinmaren of old. They prospered in battle and war, despite their autonomy to live by their own work and land. During these times of war, however, the Reinmaren learned how to rely on one-another, their struggle and fight binded them together. Whilst such can be said for many cultures and peoples, the Reinmaren raider placed great value and trust in their fellow warriors. They did not see one another as simply men of similar ambitions, but instead as brothers. This isn’t to mean a figurative sense of the word brother. It meant quite literally to act and become brothers through oaths and blood after and during their raids. Eventually, this tradition became widespread in the territorial Reinmaren lands, especially amongst the younglings, who were raised in the steps of their predecessors. This tradition has remained the same these days as it was back then. Boys and girls of the same generation are raised together, especially those of extended family, though those not related by blood as well, depending on the social connections. They hunt together, train together, and complete their trials together, helping one another grow as they become older, eventually learning to be self-reliant, though knowing that they could count on their brothers nevertheless. These generational groups formed what are called Warbands. Much like many of the Reinmaren ideals, the specifics on how different clans and tribes went about cementing and organizing their Warbands varied. Many were known to take oaths to one another after reaching an age of majority, whilst others would also partake in a blood-bond ritual. The practices varied, yet the idea of a Warband and the way that the Reinmaren readily relied on one another is common amongst these people. "REMEMBER YOUR ROOTS" Like a domesticated eagle upholds its instincts, so too have the Reinmaren adapted to modern society upheld their traditions and values. Feudal titles have not broken nor changed their identity and way of life; on the contrary, they have added value to them. So has the modern Reinmaren remained true to his roots, be their noble or peasant, royal or gentry. As feverishly preached by the first Reinmaren lord in Haense, Ser Wilheim Barclay, “Remember your roots”, were the words taught to the young nobles of House Barclay. Thus, raising them not to think themselves higher than their commoner peers, but instead see them as equals. Erwin Barclay happened to be a prime example of such practice. A marshal of many men within the Brotherhood of Saint Karl, the first duke of Reinmar was known for his informality amongst his men, calling them all brothers, and treating them all with respect. The Reinmaren ideal consists of recognizing men not through the birth of their class, but their brightness of hearts, their competence and their conduct. A lowborn man whose heart is pure, in Reinmaren idealism, is in nature nobler than a highborn with a blackened soul. To garner respect from the Reinmaren does not mean to hold vast titles and sprawling bloodlines, but to conduct oneself with honor, dignity and power. Thus, the Reinmaren make little distinction between socially stratified classes, for all are equal among them, and those who have corrupted themselves are lesser than those who have a lack of sin. This culture of semi egalitarianism has evolved from the tribal structures that preceded them, in which noble titles and courtly ranks were far and in between, making their way for traditional tribal distinctions of practicality. This culture, coupled with the doctrine of remembering one’s roots - the roots of fishermen and warriors who established their own Duchy would establish certain behavioral patterns. Dismissive of exaggerated show of formalities, parades and etiquette, the Reinmaren believe that it is not titles and stylings that make up a man, but their display of how they have earned it. Thus, right by birth seems alien to some, and raises eyebrows about what a title-holder has done to earn the right of holding titular prestige. In the same vein, many do not like the extravagance of addressing men in their formal styling in casual settings, and opt to refer to the man as the title they hold, such as referring to a Count as ‘Count’ instead of ‘Your Lordship’ as their peasant and informal ancestors have done centuries before them. UNYIELDING REINMAREN FAITH Originally prospering as devout pagans to their old gods, the Reinmaren found themselves, like most of humanity, converted under the righteous banner of Canonism. Finally able to see the light of GOD, or GOTT as their Waldenian language has them refer to Him, the Reinmaren made for as devout Canonists as they were pagans. Most dropped their old and false idols as the conversion spread, and to this day virtually all civilized Reinmaren have done so, with the exception of a few isolated tribes that may uphold the old ways. Nevertheless, the Reinmaren as a people have shown great devotion to the faith to be part of their nature, be it paganism or Canonism. Many times throughout their history has this made itself clear, with great examples of great spiritual Canonist achievement being found in the likes of Saint Tylos, Cardinals Anton, Ailred, Adelric and Alfred Barclay, who later became Pontiff Tylos I. Not long ago did all Reinmaren show their devotion to the faith, turning their back to the pretender anti-Pontiff Michael I, a born Reinmaren, who attempted to dethrone Pontiff Everard VI. During these events, did all the Reinmaren chiefs and lords gather to condemn Michael I, remaining true to their church and to their faith. SCHWUR, THE WORD OF HONOR Throughout the many tribes of Reinmar before their introduction to feudalism, clan chiefs held a good portion of the power, being representatives and high leaders of their people. These tribes spanned far and wide through large areas of land, making good use of what nature provided. Nevertheless, it was common that different tribes came into contact with one another, be it to aid one another, or to go to war. In our current days, parchments, documents and official declarations have been the common way for rules to shape their diplomatic relations, binding them to their written words. In comparison, the chieftains of Reinmar had no such means, the art of writing in that age was foreign to these peoples, and most deals had to be done by word of mouth. Thus came to be the concept of the Reinmaren Schwur, roughly translating to word of honor. To give one’s Schwur, means to make a vow, an oath that binds the Reinmaren to their word. The word doesn’t bind with the individual’s honor, it instead is believed to bind with the individual’s own being. They are their word, their Schwur, thus, straying from it means to stray from oneself, to commit treason against your own self. Within the Reinmaren culture at the time, this ideal proved rather effective, for the people appeared to indeed hold onto their words, only rarely straying from it, and when they did, they would be persecuted and punished by their peers, seen as criminals. Throughout the many tribes of Reinmar, the specific practices of the Shwur are known to have differed, some tying it with due ceremonies and rituals before a proper Shwur was given, whilst others would also give, with their word, a symbolic item to show for it. Nevertheless, the broader concept remained the same. It started with the chieftains and leaders of people, but the idea of a word binding one to their own being quickly spread throughout the many tribes and all their members, becoming a shared cultural phenomena. It persists to the modern day, albeit not as commonly used as in the old days, the Reinmaren of this day and age who know how to give their Schwur, are taught to stick by it until the end of their days, lest they commit treason to their own being. IM NAMEN GOTTES, His Excellency, Johann Erich Barclay, Lord Marshal of Hanseti-Ruska, Prince of Sutica, Duke of Reinmar, Count of Kretzen, Baron of Sigradz and Freising, Lord of Wilheburg and Freisburg Ser Osvald Barclay KML KC Ernst Hieromonk

Hieromonk Ernst smiles at his cousin's notice, preparing for the ceremony "A true Reinmaren and a true Canonist" he smiles

Hieromonk Ernst gasped dramatically as he learned of the first marriage he blessed ending up in adultery.

i luv mark

Full Name of Man - Severinus Gradic Date of Birth of Man - SA 32 Name of Woman - Vasileia Ekaterini Basrid Date of Birth of Woman - SA 34 Location of Ceremony - Basilica of Bl. George of Leuvaarden Date of Ceremony (Year) - SA 57 Name of Clergyman who performed ceremony - Hieromonk Ernst