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THE MIND OF A CHILD A POV of Andrik Pierre af Brasca Andrik had not slept for many nights. Instead his mind occupied itself by counting the cracks in the stones of the ceiling of the palace he now had to call home. Every time he thought he had counted them all, he’d notice a new one and have to start over, The number grew each time. The mind is the greatest prison of a child. Andrik had learned this young, having always been an outcast from the rest of the children. He spoke the language of a Raevir, yet was surrounded by none like him. he grew up without a father, shameful some would say, now who would he learn to become a man from? Yet throughout all of this he had never felt this bleak, like a fish that could not fight upstream, stuck trying and never growing tired. Andrik had watched countless die in the attempts of building his home, and now heard stories of even more dying to defend it. He watched as the Brascan soldiers entered Veletz, carrying the injured and dead to the infirmary. Many soldiers he had seen patrolling the roads and the city now lay on cots, unable to even patrol their own minds. Some would say 10 is two young for a child to understand death, but Andrik had understood it from the day his father perished. So Andrik kept counting, not wanting to think about those who died to defend his home “1” “2” “3” “4” He started again, he had lost count how many times he had done this, yet there was nothing else for him to do. Sleep only brought memories of the dead, and silence only brought the prison of his mind. Andrik wanted to fight, he believed in the cause. He knew Godan would not want Canonists to fight fellow Canonists, how would that be just and fair? Just and Fair Andrik was very zealous, some would even say too zealous for his age. Yet now in the time of war he wondered what Godans concept of Just and Fair really is. Was it Just for Andrik to be left without a father Was it Fair for Andrik to be left without a home? The feeling was wrenching, yet he knew Godan had a plan for him, there was a reason for this pain. Maybe he is being punished? Was it Andriks destiny to live a life of agony? To Andrik, only Godan could know, and if it was his destiny to live a life of turmoil he would live it. “Thunk!” Andriks brother Jan shifted in his sleep and his hand had hit the ground startling Andrik and making him lose count. The fool he thought, To Andrik Jan lived the life of a dreamer. He tried to impress girls and prove himself to soldiers, with no care on what his place was in the world. Not Andrik, his mind consumed him, it did not matter how hard he tried to escape it, every time he was sucked back into his mind, the damned prison he could never escape. With all his might, Andrik went back to counting the cracks. “1” ‘2” “3” “4” While Andrik counted, he allowed for his mind to wander, and only one thought would come to mind. It would recur and not leave his naïve mind. Once Andrik was old enough, he would never want to lose again. He would be a winner in this war, in Veletz, and in the world.
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I pen this public missive after my children have been put to bed. Even now, I am sure they garner no sleep, as I hear their hushed and worried whispers of what shall happen next Saints day. Your leadership will tell you that you need worry not, the children and non-combatants will be elsewhere during the fight, but is it not your intentions to annex the entirety of Veletz? It is said my children, and others children can simply go elsewhere. But wherever shall they go? What shall be said next should those of you, of the Covenant, shall make it to the Capital? What words will be spewed, and what excuses to GOD be said as you cut down my children should they run out of places to go? What shall be said next if those of you who claim to be GOD-fearing render my children homeless? If I should fall, they will be orphaned. The next words that will spew forth that Veletz is Anathema, but if you look closely upon the Pontiffs bull, it is a specific few people. I am baptized, as are my children. We love GOD dearly. Other words I’d heard were the war is because Veletz houses the Ferrymen, but is it not a known fact that many a nation has done so in the past? If this truly were the only reason, the war would of stopped at Breakwater. And yet, there are more words, more excuses for the taking of homes and families. It is claimed that Veletz harbors the Undead. The very Undead who slaughtered my husband at a masquerade gone awry some years ago now. It was not Petra who helped I then, as I knelt before the blood stained floor of our keep. It was Veletz. It was Sir Gaspard van Aert, riding to my door with his men, asking how he can help. A promise was made to my husband before his untimely death, and a promise was kept. He took us in, in what was meant to be a temporary time, soon turned permanent. He offered us a home. Succor. Friendship. And it was not him alone. The soldiers, the people, the citizens. Every single one of them had been endlessly welcoming, providing a home that I have been honored to raise my children in. I’ve seven in total. My last count of children in Veletz overall numbers fifteen in total. I ask this of you, those who deign to read the public missive of a woman seeking a moral decision, What shall be said next? GOD WILLING, THE HONORABLE, Viktoria Helena af Brasca, Baroness of Brasca
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=============================================================================== =============================================================================== Your name has been one that has become well renowned as of late, as the cogs of war slowly creep towards your hold. There are many that reside within your lands that I would consider acquaintances; some of them I would even consider friends. These friends speak highly of you, saying you are a Lady that is worth the praise. And so, I write this missive to you. From one Baron to another, from one side to another, I request that you see reason and lay down your blades. There is no need for those who have not taken part in all that has caused this war, to suffer the consequences. You and those who reside under you, I believe, are innocent people. It is not too late to lower your blades, and to seek council with the Covenant. Blackwater Keep has fallen, flattened by the Covenant's army, and your keep is in the crosshairs of siege weaponry. Innocent blood need not be shed. If you refuse, which is understandable, I would still be willing to assist you in evacuating civilians, and those who choose not to fight. Just because we reside on opposite sides of this war, does not mean that either one of us should be heartless to the other. Baron of Sevilla, Justicer De Hyspia, Office De Imigracion
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The Baroness of Brasca, donned in mourning blacks after the death of her husband. The widow peered upon her recently finished home. Thirty-seven years of age, married all of two years and in war for a majority of the time she’d been alive. Her first memory was of running about the refugee camps at the edges of Aaun with her eldest brother, Istvan. They chased after a Goat, intent on capturing the animal. And then her next primary memory was the end of the world as she knew it, and she and her family traded one refugee camp for another; Savoy. Brutality. Grief. Horror. It all became a never-ending cycle in the Ivanovich life. The next place she’d come to be with her family is Aaun, building up their community of Raevirs in the Duchy of Stran. She was warded off in what felt like a moment, and then she was moving again, this time to Whitespire in which she lived in their palace and wondered what her family was doing now. And then another move. This one her choice. She’d come to fall in love with a man, his heart large, his smile jovial. George Marc af Brasca. They’d met through letter and familial connection initially, letters that have faded with how many times she has read them over, clutched close in hand. He’d eventually come to ask to court her, and was given three trials and three trials he did. And so she married him, bore four beautiful children and fostered three more. And then he was dead just like that, cruelly taken by the machinations of Deadmunds deadmen. The very next day, a light shown in the form of a man she’d only spoken to once or twice before then. Sir Gaspard van Aert, Captain-General of Veletz. He came with his men, riding into her late husbands lands, and speaking of a promise he made to her now late husband. He will protect Viktoria, and their children in the event of an untimely death. So they left, packing what little they could carry upon their back. Only later would she hear that Petra heard of the happenings, believing the harried widow to have been kidnapped and thus opted to do nothing upon this belief. Their visit was meant to be temporary, until it wasn’t. Veletz provided a home, one welcoming to both her and her children - it provided safety, happiness, something more that she’d never thought to seek out. Some years passed, and her smiles grew more frequent, watching her children grow and begin to come into their own. And then war came again. One she wished not for her children to see. A siege. And now another. Those of the Covenant sought to take the newly gotten home from a widow and her seven children. And thus the widow, with a heart aching in sorrow and pain, broke her promise. One promised to her mother so many years ago. One to never pick up a blade, nor a weapon. And a sword rose, sharp and weighing heavy in her hands. “For vy, y dzieckos, y will fight.”
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THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE KEEP OF MARCEVNA Issued by The Baroness of Brasca There has been 744 dead in the construction of the Keep of Marcevna and 153 injured. With great joy and pride, we announce the completion of the Marcevna Keep, named after the late Baron George Marc af Brasca as a symbol of strength and unity within that of Veletz. The final stone has been laid, and the crimson and obsidian banners now proudly dance in the wind, declaring the fortress's readiness to stand tall in the annals of our noble history. We express our gratitude for the dedicated workers who contributed to the creation of our new home. In honor of remembering those lost during the process, a vigil has been organized to honor their memory and acknowledge the challenges faced. May the vigil offer solace and a sense of togetherness during these difficult times. Signed, The Honorable, Viktoria Helena af Brasca, Baroness of Brasca, Castellan of the Courts of Winburgh
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THE HIRING OF MARCEVNA Issued by The Baroness of Brasca With the recent construction of the Keep of Marcevna coming to a finish upon the lands of Brasca, employment opportunities are being offered to the people of Winburgh and to those willing to embark on a new journey to join our noble household. Our employment opportunities come complete with a modest salary, alongside room and board. Listed below are the positions the household is seeking to fulfill, and what all it may entail: The Hostler of Marcevna The Hostler's position consists of the managing of the Marcevna stables and pens. This consists of the feeding and caretaking of animals, assuring they get the best of care and the Keep stays well-supplied in animal goods. Maids and Butlery The positions of maids and butlery alike are a more general role within the Keep. Their work consists of serving guests, alongside assuring the cleanliness and day to day maintenance of the keep. If you find yourself with interest as to these positions, you may send a bird via aviary to schedule an interview with the Baroness Viktoria af Brasca. Signed, The Honorable, Viktoria Helena af Brasca, Baroness of Brasca, Castellan of the Courts of Winburgh
