To Shred an Empire 2.0 [medieval fantasy, IC, Open]

by **Of the Quendi** » Fri Oct 24, 2014 11:11 am

The Imperial Capital, The Shimmering Palace

And there he was... the Emperor of all Pandyssium, his body broken and void of life. They had carried him back earlier the same day, apparently he had rode over the cliff in the Royal Forest beyond the city. The bells had tolled, heralding the passing of yet another ruler of Pandyssium from the bloodline of Titus the Great, but would they toll to herald the ascension of yet another of his descendants?

The Palace's Chapel changed as night fell upon the mighty Imperial Capital. The massive columns cast long shadows across the marble floors. The small altars of the many Saints of the Godess bathed in candlelight. The majestic temple was now a haven for shadows and darkness, only the monotonous chanting of the seeresess of the Oracular Order made it´s way up to the main halls from the network of rooms and catacombs beneath the floor. It was the only sound Marcus Vitellus had to listen too as he stood by his Emperor´s side, clad in fine gilded plate armor of the Emperor's Blades and holding an exquisite spear. The man was weary, he could hardly feel his back and his knees after standing armored for hours.
The echoes of the Songs of Departure had long died away after the last mourners left the Cathedral. Marcus was now all but alone, he had insisted on keeping Watch, eventhough many of his Battle-Brothers had volunteered to relive him. But no, he would not have it.

As the Prince looked up at the golden statue of the Creatrix in the center of the Grand Hall, the Godess watched over the empty rows of benches and the young Blade wondered wether she truly looked they way the statue did. Motherly, caring graceful, maidenly. He could not say, many Faiths were quite paradoxal and most Gods were hypocrites in his own opinion. But despite these belifes the man prayed and went to the Chapel in the Citadel at least once a week. He guessed he was faithful after all, one day he hoped he could sit by her side in paradise with his ancestors.

Orius Rathis had gone to the ancestors, barely a half a day ago did he draw his last breath. Falling over a cliff, that was not how Emperor's were supposed to leave this world. Vitellus turned to the corpse clad in even finer armor than him, the Emperor´s head was swept in a thin crimson cloth, almost covering his face. Thousands upon thousands had come to the Cathedral during the day to pray for the Emperor. Lords and Ladies of the local nobility, burghers from the city and peasants from the surrounding lands. All wore somber clothes and solemn faces, but Marcus belived many were glad to see Emperor Orius dead, even among the sons and daughters of the Pandyssium itself, Orius had been far more respected than loved. Some called him a tyrant, but some called him good and gracious. Paradoxal indeed...

by **The Nation of Ceneria** » Fri Oct 24, 2014 1:12 pm

The Citadel of Caburth, The Realm of Craemwen

Lord Sketli Edhrophel glanced up from the long wooden table as the tall door at the other end of the hall flew open. The torches flickered in their cast iron holders as a chilly draft breathed silently into the hall. The several men around the table, glanced at the intruder uncomfortably, never encouraging of unwelcome interruptions. A tall man in a shining hauberk strode to the table.

"My lords, it is with great sadness that I must bring you these ill tidings. Emperor Orius is dead." A murmur echoed about the stone chamber, pages and messengers who had been hidden in the shadows moving forwards in order to better hear the exhausted messenger. "I have ridden four days without stop from the Hall of the Emperor. The Lord High Steward has called for a gathering of all the houses." The man sagged slightly, and a page quickly placed a chair behind him. He nodded in thanks, and placed a scrap of paper on the great oaken table.

The men passed it to Lord Edhrophel quickly, and he scanned the words written there.

Noble Lords and Ladies, tragedy has struck our beautiful Empire as our ruler, His Imperial Majesty, Orius II of House Rathis was struck from this world, thus, you are summoned to represent your Houses at the first Caer Aard Gathering in over a century. As you know, the tragedy has left the question of succession to the Imperial Throne open, thus a ture heir to the Imperial Throne and legacy of Titus the Great must be named. May the regency, gods willing, come to a close as soon as possible, and let the reign of peace continue.

Signed: Talen Silvarin, Lord High Steward.

The Lord of Craemwen gently cradled his head in his hand, and pondered for a moment. "This is a great blow to the empire. As much as some hated him, Emperor Orius held this fractured land together. Without him, I fear we will fall into open warfare instead of the guarded hostility that preceded his fall." The Lord stood, echoed immediately by his advisors and generals. "We shall attend this council, and pray to what gods there are that it does not result in bloodshed. Thank you for your advice, my lords. We shall discuss this again in time." The men around him nodded, and silently left the room. The messenger was beckoned by one of the guards as the men stood, and he walked slowly to where the man stood, waiting to guide him to a room. As they were about to leave the hall, Edhrophel called after the messenger. "Thank you for bringing us this ill news. Your haste may well have saved lives." The man turned and offered a slight bow, and then was taken to a suite of rooms, supported by two guards.

Edhrophel paced to the tall window that dominated the wall behind where he had sat. He gazed out over the valley that held the city of Caburth, and at the river that divided it in two. The water shimmered brightly in the evening sun, cut by the prows of the merchants who bore their cargoes up the river, to Caburth and the mountains beyond it. He stood there for what seemed like an hour, pondering the great shadow that had been cast over the realms of Pandyssium. At long last, as the sun breathed its final breath into the pale sky and sank below the rim of the world. As it disappeared, Edhrophel turned and strode out of the hall, walking slowly towards his quarters.

by **Argentarino** » Fri Oct 24, 2014 5:50 pm

The Imperial Capital, Quarters of the Lord Provost Marshal

In the quarters of the Lord Provost Marshal, Lord Sergius Stratsimir was preparing for the gathering of the Nobles of the Empire of Pandyssium. He threw on a black robe with gold trim, in honor of the memory of the late Emperor Orius Rathis, but he also threw on a sash with a pair of scales stitched into the sash to remind all of his status as the administrator of Imperial justice. Even before he inherited the Realm of Jugorpandia, Sergius of House Sratsimir was an astute scholar of Imperial Law, knowing it inside and out. And that meant, in the matter of succession, his voice would be the most important through a legal perspective. And, as with all things, the law could be interpreted in any which way, and Sergius had the nagging feeling that his opinion would be fought for in the coming weeks. After all, succession was no small matter: if one of Emperor Orius's bastard children was to inherit the throne, then they could be manipulated by any one faction and cause infighting within the Empire; if a new ruling dynasty was chosen among the noble families, then there was a chance that the Empire would remain as a single, united entity, albeit there would be the lingering threat of someone backing an easily manipulable royal bastard. The only certainty that existed was that if a trueborn child of Emperor Orius was discovered, then their claim would be front and center and hold precedence over any new Emperor. And for Lord Sergius, his main interest was the preservation of the Empire of Pandyssium. He didn't care about who sat on the throne, just as long as they were a unifying factor within the Empire. For as long as there was a united Pandyssium, there was need for a Lord Provost Marshal, which meant there was a need for Lord Sergius.

As he adjusted his robes and grabbed the rather hefty Imperial Code of Laws off his desk, Sergius sent up a small prayer to the Createrix, praying for unity. He didn't know what to expect when he entered the Chapel in the Citadel for one last time, to look at the body of Emperor Orius. For a while, Sergius was silent. He wondered what the last thought of the Emperor was as he fell from that cliff...what he felt as his body crashed onto the floor below..."Why did you have to keep your head in the clouds, Majesty?" Sergius whispered. "You left too soon...you failed us. Why the Hell did you not do your duty and give us a real heir?" Sergius then began to pace around the coffin. "You just made my job so much harder, and while I appreciate you granting me the post...I despise you for this. You failed the great Empire that our ancestors built." And with that, Lord Sergius left the Chapel and headed for the Shimmering Palace, to prepare for the nobles.

by **Mesrane** » Fri Oct 24, 2014 7:05 pm

Redhand Keep, The Realm of Eriadha

Erlend Eriadunn, Lord of Eriadha, chuckled as his grandson Fergus's expression changed from triumphant to neutral to perplexed, and finally ending up in a scowl of frustration. "Dammit grandfather! This has to be . . . by Llanach's Horn! The fourth straight time!"

The bearded Lord winked at his grandson. "Plaicha is no easy game Fergus. Takes years of practice to become even a mediocre player." The aging Erlend grinned as he swept the game pieces off the board and into a wool sack kept under the table for plaicha games. "Come on now, let's get you up," with the help of a nearby maid, Lord Erlend hoisted Fergus up by his arms. The teenager winced, not in pain, but rather in embarrassment. When he stood, his withered right leg and gnarled left hand were exposed, the products of a premature birth. Fergus counted himself lucky even today, when he wasn't confined to bed with various forms of Silver Fever.

Boots sounded in the Great Hall just to the left of the dining room. Iron boots, most likely, thought Erlend, as he strode towards the source. A soldier, or a messenger . . . who's fearful of an arrow in the back.

Erlend entered the hall. The stones of Redhand Keep, seat of House Eriadunn, were often carved with miniature scenes of battle; sometimes courtly love. Erlend ran his hand across the images his ancestors had carved.

At the front end of the hall, flanked by two Eriadunni guards, stood a messenger indeed, clad in shining plate and a bearing that suggested he came from the Imperial Capital, likely at the will of the Emperor.

Erlend inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the man. "I assume you've at the Emperor's command," he said amiably. "May I ask what he requires?"

The soldier bowed, and cleared his throat. "Lord Erlend, I come not at the Emperor's command but rather at that of his steward, Lord Talen Silvaren." The soldier held out a sealed scroll.

Curious, Erlend took it, broke the seal, and began to read.

Noble Lords and Ladies, tragedy has struck our beautiful Empire as our ruler, His Imperial Majesty, Orius II of House Rathis was struck from this world, thus, you are summoned to represent your Houses at the first Caer Aard Gathering in over a century. As you know, the tragedy has left the question of succession to the Imperial Throne open, thus a ture heir to the Imperial Throne and legacy of Titus the Great must be named. May the regency, gods willing, come to a close as soon as possible, and let the reign of peace continue.

Signed: Talen Silvarin, Lord High Steward.

Without a word, showing no emotion but a brief grimace, Erlend folded the scroll and tucked it into his belt. He nodded again to the messenger, who understood the message and turned to leave. From the opposite end of the hall, where Erlend had entered, Fergus hobbled out on crutches.

"Fergus m'lad, grab Duncan and Owain will you? And come along yourself. There's business that needs to be discussed, and unfortunately, politics." Erlend smiled his amiable simile, and strolled out to the courtyard, to find Grimbold the dwarf, his steward.

Fergus however wasn't fooled so easily. That tone of voice was well known to him.

Erlend was afraid.

Shieldring Keep, Duchy of Frostvale

A lonely croak broke the foggy mid-morning air. A raven, black but sheathed in powdery snow, landed atop the parapets of Shieldring Keep, seat of House Falk. A rolled-up slip of parchment was firmly tied to its right leg.

by **Asyir** » Fri Oct 24, 2014 9:01 pm

Shieldring Keep, The Duchy of Frost Vale, The Realm of Eraidha

A sudden cold and chilling wind blew its way into the great hall of Shieldring Keep, from the massive pine doors that led to the courtyard. The chill literally went to the bone, and made the inhabitants of the great hall wince in a sudden pain. The wind was cold, even for a northman, as it whipped slowly through the open door. Even the halls roaring fires could not get the chill out. Fortunately the chill was short lived, as several figures clad in leather and mail entered the hall, and closed the massive pine doors.

Duke Rorïk Falk scratched his neatly trimmed blond beard, as he eyes the newcomers from his large stone chair at the end of the hall. His blue eyes scanned the hooded faces, and their names came to him quickly. He raised his hand and joyfully called out,"Arnbjörg, my son, you have returned!" Rorïk eyes another man, whom had an in trimmed and wild gray beard,"uncle, you have also returned. I hope the hunt was well."

The older man approached the stone chair, and kneeled at it's gray tile steps,"it did nephew. Your son slew many elk, 6 by my count." He winked towards Arnbjörg,"of course I slew 9 myself."

"That's because you took my bow from me!" Arnbjörg exclaimed jokingly,"I would've scored more elk than you!" With that, Arnbjörg flipped his hood up, showing his face, which was full of dirt and grime. "Now if you excuse me, I must prepare myself for the feast!"

Arnbjörg walked off to his quarters, whistling a time as he went. Rorïk laughed a hearty laugh, as he watched his son walk away. He turned towards his uncle, and said in a merry tone,"I hope you brought these elk of yours Sigmünd."

"Indeed, they're being gutted by the kitchen staff already. I cannot wait to taste the stew." Sigmünd said, as he also removed his hood, showing his old features. "Hopefully it is done before the sun sets. I am might hungry for some nice stew, and some ale!"

"The ale will come, you can be sure of that," Rorïk said,"you must tell me these hunting stories at dinner. For now, get yourself washed up uncle, you look like a wild dog."

"I am a wild dog," Sigmünd winked as he slowly walked towards the family quarters,"your father didn't tell you that?"

"My father told me lots of thing, you being a wild dog was not one."

Sigmünd walked away chuckling. Rorïk gave a bellow of laughter, that soon died down as his uncle left the hall. It was then that Rorïk noticed his steward, Gannigus standing up from the long table,"milord, if you'll excuse me, we must return back to business."

"Oh very well. What matters do we have yet to speak of?" Rorïk said inquisitively, as he raised his right eyebrow,"taxes? Levies? Trades? Threats of war? Marriage proposals?"

Gannigus in his flustered state merely said,"all of them I suppose. Well most of them. Taxes mostly. It is time to set forth this periods taxes. Of course I suggest... That we keep them the same as last time. We don't want to squeeze the smallfolk."

"Last times tax rates were fine. I shall trust your wisdom Gannigus. Now if no one else has anything to say, I shall end today's council."

Rorïk was met by many "nopes" or "nays", and Rorïk stood up from his stone chair, and left the hall, and slowly worked his way to his solar. "Time for a little reading I think. Maybe some writing."

by **Aona** » Fri Oct 24, 2014 10:01 pm

The halls of the household of Chancer hummed with a nightly glow. Fires blared in their places, guards stood watch from balconies and doorways, and Lord Samson Chancer sat at a large table, eating a small leg of rabbit alone. The man often preferred to eat by himself, allowing him some time to think for himself, without having to follow the words of others or the stories of books. In his mind, he was planning for the day before him: The long, solemn travel to Caer Aard. He had only heard stories about such an event, from his father and grandfather. He would represent his house with pride, but he was sure he would not sleep well this night. After all, Orius was not only his king: He was his friend.

The doors to the hall in which Alysia's lord dined opened gently, but with great haste. A young man, tall and athletic, walked in. His face told of grave feelings, but also a scent of irritation.

"Father."

The man swallowed another bite of meat, coughed lightly, and gestured towards the chair across from him. "Sit down, Herold. You seem upset."

"Well, what reason have I not to be? The Emperor, dead! Fallen from a cliff, no less. I must confess, it isn't the most imperial of deaths..."

"You be quiet, boy." his father spoke gently, but with a hint of authority. "Everything the man did was imperial. If you had joined the Blades, or served with him as I did, you would know that to be true." He pushed his completed plate forward, and sat back in his chair.

"Well, yes." Herold said, nodding in false agreement. "And as I age, and marry a woman of another House, I am sure my standing will be great enough to personally hold audience with his successor. Which brings me to why I'm here, Father, I--"

"You're not coming with me to the Moot." Samson finished, standing. As his son started to protest, he held out his hand. "None of my children are. You assume too much of your status. Alessander will accompany me. That is final." with that, Samson exited the room. It would be a long night.

Through a small hole between the castle walls, one small green eye watched the exchange. A smile attempted to tug at the corners of Aregis Chancer's mouth, but it was quickly silenced. "Yes, Herold, that is final." He ducked away from the crack and walked down the hall speedily, assuredly heading to a location.

He reached his destination swiftly, and opened the door. Alessander Lorland, the advisor to his father, a average-looking man (who was truly average in every way) stumbled out of his bed, his book falling to the floor. The child was unimpressed.

After a moment, the boy spoke. "It has been decided. You are to accompany my father tomorrow. He will bring you the news soon, I am sure."

Alessander thought about this, reaching down to collect his spilled passage. "I..Good. Good, then. It is what you desired, yes?"

"It is."

Aregis pulled out a small leatherbound booklet, only 10 small pages in length. He placed the booklet onto the lord's desk, before looking at his expectantly. "This is everything you know. Shall my father not fully support your claim, this information will hopefully sway the others. Memorize it."

Alessander nodded quickly. "Understood, Lord Are--"

But the boy had already left, walking towards his quarters just as fast as he had came.

by **Der Kaiser Mikey III** » Sat Oct 25, 2014 10:47 am

Imperial Capitol, Mulciber Manor
Jasper Amadeus Mulciber, Lord High Militant of Pandyssium

Lord Jasper poured himself a generous glass of Laudanum, downing the mixture with a sigh of relief. Rubbing his temples to ease the stress building up within his skull, the man re-read the missives from the Steward, pacing back and forth as the drug took effect on his senses. Once he was in a stable state of mind, he began to contemplate what would undoubtedly turn into a bloodbath. As a Great Lord of the land, he had his duty to the people of Sturmingia, however he also had a duty to the Empire as a whole, leading their armies into battle should war break out. He was torn in this, and as he turned his one seeing eye to the right, he noted the streets were entirely empty outside the high stone wall around Mulciber Manor. Though a large house, it was nothing compared to the Citadel of Faustschlag in the center of Arrantis, his ancestral home. At the age of thirty three, he was unwed, heirless, and had but one brother and one friend. His early years had been spent on campaign oversees, or at home, carving a bloody legacy that had eventually ended with him assuming his fathers place as Viceroy of Sturmingia. Now he was but a sad, lonely man with a nasty temper and even more appalling opium addiction and alcoholic tendency.

"Shade's bullocks," He swore, under his breath as he tossed the missives to his mahogany desk. Reaching for the Vodka, he downed a large gulp, then moved to belt on Tyrant, don a Midnight blue, blue mink fur trimmed cloak, before finally exiting the room. Moving down the corridor, he ordered his Charger Misery readied, then mounted up and departed for the Imperial Citadel.

by **Asyir** » Sat Oct 25, 2014 11:37 pm

Rorïk Falk sat upon a large oak chair, that was packed closely next to a large wooden desk made of pine, which consisted of many parchments and a large pewter inkwell directly in its center. A small quill was contained within the pewter inkwell. The desks was perfectly carved, and fitted perfectly within the medium sized solar.

The solar itself was of medium size. The solar had many bookcases dotting the walls near the desk, which sat in the bottom left corner of the room. A few other cushioned chairs dotted the room, along with small wooden tables, with candles upon their surfaces. A massive window was near Rorïk's chair, and the Jarl could watch the whole courtyard from this vantage point. Rorïk often sat here to contemplate and think, often when he was very stressed, or when he wished to escape from the public eye. He often was in here alone, only permitting council members, family, other nobility, or sometimes his guards, which was albeit rare.

He had a small leather book within his grasp, and he gazed down at its ancient contents. The book was titled The Complete Genealogy of House Falk, and Rorïk flipped through the pages with little emotion. He had read this book a great many times, usually for ancestor worship. He pages through it rather quickly, until he came upon the last page, which had his father Beoyrn Falk listed. He studied it for a while, and slowly began to meditate into a worshipping trance, in which he have praise to Rœrk.

A loud tapping on the wooden door brought Rorïk back the realm of reality. Rorïk slipped the book into one of his many shelves, and proceeded the sit down upon his cushioned chair, which was near the window. "Who is knocking upon my door? What business is important to interrupt my mediation?" Rorïk demanded in a frank tone.

A faint voice responded through the door,"milord, it is Gannigus. A raven has just arrived from Erlend!" The steward paused to regain his breath. Shortly after, Rorïk heard his steward talk louder,"may I come in milord?"

"Yes. You may enter," Rorïk said with an emotionless voice, as he often did when annoyed. His interest however had been intrigued by the mention of Erlend, whom Rorïk hadn't seen for quite a few years. The matter must be of great importance of Erlend would send a raven.

With a loud creaking noise, the wooden door was swung open by a soldier clad in mail, and Gannigus rushed in, almost being knocked over by the door as the soldier quickly closed it. Gannigus took the seat next to Duke Rorïk, with a missive in his old and shaky hands. "Here, break the seal and read it."

Rorïk snatched the parchment from Gannigus's hands, and broke the seal of House Eriadunn. He unrolled the small piece of paper, and scanned it. A look of shock and disbelief was upon his face, and Gannigus noticed something was amiss. "Milord? What does it say?"

Rorïk cleared his throat before speaking. He spoke in a worrisome voice,"the emperor is dead, and the nobility are gathering to decide a successor." Rorïk looked down upon the stone floor, staring blankly into the tiles.

With a small sigh Gannigus responded,"I see. Such a shame. The emperor was rather respected. I believe he has some illegitimate children, so the succession will not be a smooth one. Will you go to this gathering of nobility?"

"I don't know. Erlend will be going, he will need a trusted friend and leader behind to gather the armies if civil war should break out. However, the capital is also a dangerous place, where a single misplaced word can become a knife to your throat. Erlend will need a trusted advisor next to him. I guess I shall wait."

"That would be indeed a wise course of action. Wait and see for what Erlend wants you to do."

"I have little choice. Any man worth his salt would wait."

Gannigus stood up slowly, and opened the wooden door,"milord, if you need anything, you know where to find me." With a bow, Gannigus left, and Rorïk was left alone. Again.

by **Imperium Nova** » Sun Oct 26, 2014 4:29 am

The Empire of Pandyssium

Imperial Capital
The Shimmering Palace
Palace Chapel

The doors to the chapel slowly creaked open and lit in a flicker of light into the dark chapel as Talen slid in through the opening and closed the door behind him, making sure that his black cloak would not get stuck in the gate. He then proceeded to walk down the aisle, through the rows of wooden benches that were placed in the chapel all the way up to the sanctuary and the huge coffin which was placed in the center of the sanctuary, adorned with gold and precious metals, wrapped in the colours of the House Rathis and lit up by massive candles placed at each corner. Talens footsteps echoed throughout the great halls, his heels hitting the hard marble floor, resounding the firm but slow paces of the Lord High Steward as he approached the sanctuary. He looked up to meet the gaze of one of the Emperor's Blades who stood watch at this late hour. The Lord High steward could not figure out who it was, nor was it important.
"Leave us." He ordered, and the Blade saluted and made his way out of the chapel.

During the day, when the chapel was open for the public four of the Emperor's Blades stood at each side of the coffin, standing watch over the body of the Emperor. This was normal procedure, according to the Faith, when a monarch would die. However Talen decided that the body of His Imperial Majesty would be placed in a coffin, neither hte people nor himself would be able to see the maimed body of the Emperor. Despite the Imperial Physicians best attempts, the Emperor's body had been severely damaged by the hunting accident. The Lord High Steward slid his hand along the lid of the casket. It still seemd, eerie. It still seemed surreal to him. That the Emperor of Pandyssium was dead. Now all that remained was to have a proper funeral for the Emperor and then to select a proper heir. These were indeed troubling times. All the lords of the realm were to come to Caer Aard and select an heir for the realm. Not an easy task, but one that had to be done. Talen looked over to the Creatrix, or at the very least an idol of her, perched on the end of the sanctuary, oh how cruel the Faith was. Much had to be prepared and done, Talen however felt confident in his plan, and the meeting of the Imperial Magistratum where they would decide over the course of the Empire until the Caer Aard Gathering.

Talen straightened himself, took a deep breath before taking a final glance at the Imperial Casket and steering for the exit, allowing the Blade to return to his position.

by **Der Kaiser Mikey III** » Sun Oct 26, 2014 4:51 pm

Imperial Capital, Quarters of the Lord Provost Marshal
Lord Jasper Mulciber, Lord High Militant of Pandyssium

Barging past the guards, Lord Mulciber panted as they harassed him. Finally, he drew his blade and his seal of office from his belt, shaking it at them with his one bulging forth from his skull in maniacal frustration.

"You will let me pass, you insolent fools! I have urgent business with the Marshal!" He roared, satisfied once the guards stepped back. Sheathing his blade, he continued onward down the corridor, coming to a door flanked by another two guards. "Let the Marshal know that the Lord High Militant is here to speak with him regarding this most urgent news." He instructed, stepping back to drink from a flask of vodka.

by **Argentarino** » Sun Oct 26, 2014 5:51 pm

Der Kaiser Mikey III wrote:Imperial Capital, Quarters of the Lord Provost Marshal
Lord Jasper Mulciber, Lord High Militant of Pandyssium

Barging past the guards, Lord Mulciber panted as they harassed him. Finally, he drew his blade and his seal of office from his belt, shaking it at them with his one bulging forth from his skull in maniacal frustration.

"You will let me pass, you insolent fools! I have urgent business with the Marshal!" He roared, satisfied once the guards stepped back. Sheathing his blade, he continued onward down the corridor, coming to a door flanked by another two guards. "Let the Marshal know that the Lord High Militant is here to speak with him regarding this most urgent news." He instructed, stepping back to drink from a flask of vodka.

Lord Sergius heard the commotion and shouted an order to the guards outside. "Let him in," and then, to himself, "you'd think thick, oak doors would cancel out that commotion." As the two guards let the infuriated Lord High Militant into his office, Lord Sergius spoke softly. "You know, my Lord, that if there was something so urgent, you could inform our Lord High Steward...seeing as he is, for the moment, the caretaker of Imperial affairs. But...I assume this is a legal matter?" And then, with a chuckle in order to tease the extremely serious Lord High Militant, he jested, "Or, do you come here to gossip with me like my wife tends to do?"

by **Der Kaiser Mikey III** » Sun Oct 26, 2014 8:31 pm

Imperial Capital, Quarters of the Lord Provost Marshal
Lord Jasper Mulciber, Lord High Militant of Pandyssium

Lord Jasper caught his breath as he eyeballed the Marshal with a stern look. Downing a massive gulp of vodka, he placed the flask back in his pocket before twitching at Lord Sergius' jest.

"I assure you Lord Sergius, gossip is for women and those with idle minds-I come here, rather, to glean some information as to your stance on recent events. The Steward's motives are no doubt predictable...yours, however, are the topic of my curiosity." He answered, cautiously. He really was wondering whether or not this particular Great Lord was for the Seperatist cause, or rather, like the Steward, for Imperial control. "I myself have chosen to wait for the council to convene..." He added, taking out his pipe.

by **Argentarino** » Sun Oct 26, 2014 9:19 pm

Lord Sergius smiled, and motioned for Lord Jasper to sit down. "Well, my Lord High Militant, I can't begin to tell you how much I love it when people get straight to the point. Saves me a lot of wine and...other means to loosen tongues. But, I digress. In regards to my stance, I go where the law points. And so far, the Law in this case is...confusing. You see, there is a code that says the succession moves on to the eldest son of the Emperor and his wife, and in the absence of a male child, the succession would go to the eldest daughter. However," Sergius hesitated, then grabbed some wine from under his desk and poured himself and his guest a glass. It was Jugorpandian wine, a sweet red. "That specific code mentions that the children must be trueborn. And, one would think there would be something about those children who are...illegitimate. Except, the only mention of bastards is that they may only be up for succession if they were legitimized by their father, i.e., Emperor Orius. And unfortunately for us, Emperor Orius did not officially legitimize any of his children."

"So now, there is the other clause, fortunately, for a situation like this. In the absence of a trueborn heir, it is up to a gathering of the Lords to nominate a number of potential successors. But only the Imperial Magistratum may vote on the next successor from the approved pool of candidates. In short...we're going to see Hell for the next few weeks. Every possible faction vying for control until a new Emperor is elected. Which is why I have ordered the City Guard to double patrols until the interregnum has ended. So, my Lord, you ask me about my stance, or my motives? I must say, that I cannot answer that. I will support whatever the law supports."

by **Mesrane** » Sun Oct 26, 2014 9:52 pm

Shieldring Keep, Duchy of Frostvale
A day after the previous raven, a second cawed and swooped down onto the snow-swamped parapets of Shieldring Keep. attached to its leg was a new message:

My dear friend and loyal vassal Duke Rorik Falk,

If you received my last letter, you know dark times are afoot. Orius is dead, and as much as I would like to simply hunt and read and write in the comfort of our realm, other houses may not be so caring in what Caer Aard will undoubtedly turn into: either a triumphant cock measuring contest that hopefully decides the heir or a complete bloodbath. Hence why I am hesitant to levy the burden of travel to such an onerous gathering upon you, but I feel as if Eriadha must appear a realm united, as we have been for many years. Therefore I leave the decision on who to send to Caer Aard to you, but I strongly suggest as many people if your house as possible remain in Frostvale, in the event that Caer Aard ends in sharp swords rather than sharp words.

Forever your friend,

Erlend Eriadunn, Lord of Eriadha

by **Der Kaiser Mikey III** » Mon Oct 27, 2014 10:17 am

Argentarino wrote:Lord Sergius smiled, and motioned for Lord Jasper to sit down. "Well, my Lord High Militant, I can't begin to tell you how much I love it when people get straight to the point. Saves me a lot of wine and...other means to loosen tongues. But, I digress. In regards to my stance, I go where the law points. And so far, the Law in this case is...confusing. You see, there is a code that says the succession moves on to the eldest son of the Emperor and his wife, and in the absence of a male child, the succession would go to the eldest daughter. However," Sergius hesitated, then grabbed some wine from under his desk and poured himself and his guest a glass. It was Jugorpandian wine, a sweet red. "That specific code mentions that the children must be trueborn. And, one would think there would be something about those children who are...illegitimate. Except, the only mention of bastards is that they may only be up for succession if they were legitimized by their father, i.e., Emperor Orius. And unfortunately for us, Emperor Orius did not officially legitimize any of his children."

"So now, there is the other clause, fortunately, for a situation like this. In the absence of a trueborn heir, it is up to a gathering of the Lords to nominate a number of potential successors. But only the Imperial Magistratum may vote on the next successor from the approved pool of candidates. In short...we're going to see Hell for the next few weeks. Every possible faction vying for control until a new Emperor is elected. Which is why I have ordered the City Guard to double patrols until the interregnum has ended. So, my Lord, you ask me about my stance, or my motives? I must say, that I cannot answer that. I will support whatever the law supports."

Lord Jasper pondered this answer, nodding the whole while as he sipped the fine wine. After a moments pause, he cocked an eyebrow, opening his mouth only to close it. Thinking it best to stall with a gulp from his flask, then a finishing of the wine, he finally smiled, before voicing his answer.

"In the absence of an Emperor, of the legitimized line, I would like to throw mine own name into the pot. Indeed, I would hope to see our two houses, regardless of Imperial duty, allied in this cause. As a man of martial nature, I know all too well what may become of this situation. I likewise appreciate your honesty and openness in this matter, for I am a man of blunt words." He took another finishing gulp from the flask, then cracked his neck. "Off the books, methinks it would be in our best interests to form friendships within the ranks of the Great Lords. I would hope you see my point and the urgency in this matter. There will undoubtedly be chaos brewing as we speak...my intention is to maintain order. With the armies of the Empire, as well as a select few houses, we could very well see this goal to the finish."

by **Argentarino** » Mon Oct 27, 2014 11:11 am

"While I appreciate your enthusiasm, my Lord, if you want your name to be considered, you will have to be nominated when the Nobles of the Empire gather. And remember, you can always nominate yourself should your name not be called. And do not take this the wrong way, but I will not be calling on any names. It is the duty of my office to remain neutral in affairs of succession, as far as the law is concerned. But if I may speak plainly. While we do need an Emperor who can maintain order, we need one who can win the hearts of the people as well as ensure that the Realms stay in line. And that involves diplomacy and charisma. And if I may, my Lord...if you wish to be Emperor, you must work on how you present yourself. For example, threatening my guards and pushing past them for the sake of a political discussion might not be translated as being either diplomatic or charismatic. However, if you end up being as such and are elected Emperor, then I will, of course, support you. But, I can't take sides. Such is the way of things."

by **Der Kaiser Mikey III** » Mon Oct 27, 2014 3:35 pm

"My confidence, Lord Sergius, is most surely solid. One way or the other, I will persuade the Lords of the land to side with me, or at least an ally. I am prepared for the mistakes many Lords may make, rest assured. I just hope when that time comes, you, my Lord, may choose to be an ally. You have a good head on your shoulders, however the law binds you like chains to a mighty dragon. Unleash the dragon, and be free." He sighed, then stood. He was disappointed but not to the point where he would do anything but wait.

Later, Mulciber Manor

Looking out upon the cherry trees he kept in the yard, Lord Jasper Mulciber took up his quill and began to write in his long slanting flourishes. After making a copy for each Lord of the land, Jasper sat back, taking up the latest copy to check it for mistakes.

Taking his time, he smiled, before sealing them and dispatching a rider to the hall of Ravens.

by **Asyir** » Mon Oct 27, 2014 6:49 pm

Mesrane wrote:Shieldring Keep, Duchy of Frostvale
A day after the previous raven, a second cawed and swooped down onto the snow-swamped parapets of Shieldring Keep. attached to its leg was a new message:

My dear friend and loyal vassal Duke Rorik Falk,

If you received my last letter, you know dark times are afoot. Orius is dead, and as much as I would like to simply hunt and read and write in the comfort of our realm, other houses may not be so caring in what Caer Aard will undoubtedly turn into: either a triumphant cock measuring contest that hopefully decides the heir or a complete bloodbath. Hence why I am hesitant to levy the burden of travel to such an onerous gathering upon you, but I feel as if Eriadha must appear a realm united, as we have been for many years. Therefore I leave the decision on who to send to Caer Aard to you, but I strongly suggest as many people if your house as possible remain in Frostvale, in the event that Caer Aard ends in sharp swords rather than sharp words.

Forever your friend,

Erlend Eriadunn, Lord of Eriadha

Shieldring Keep, Frost Vale, Realm of Eriadha

"Rorïk, we have recieved another letter. From Erlend," Gannigus said in an unsurprising tone, as if he suspected such a letter all along. Gannigus leaned down with his bad back jetting out to drop the letter on Rorïk's desk. Rorïk could see a pain hidden away in Gannigus's eyes. With a slow and steady pace, he was assisted be a guard to a nearby seat in Rorïk's solar. "Thank you sir," the old steward said to the guard, as he resumed his position.

Rorïk sat in his comfy armchair, and slowly glanced out the window. It was now midday, and the sun has just peaked out over the clouds, letting in a beam of light through the glass paned window. Rorïk leaned back in his chair, and took the letter that Gannigus dropped upon his oak desk. With a quick glance, he looked up at the guard,"soldier, retrieve my wife, eldest, and my uncle immediately."

"Aye Lord Rorïk," the soldier said proudly, as he bowed and left to follow his commands.

"Rorïk?" Gannigus asked worryingly,"what does Erlend want?"

"For me to go to Caer Aard," Rorïk said,"as I knew he would. We shall wait for my family to arrive before continuing onwards however."

by **Der Kaiser Mikey III** » Mon Oct 27, 2014 8:07 pm

Ser Morgan Amadeus Mulciber
Imperial Capital, Chamberlain Ariahda's Residence

These were dark times indeed, and as Morgan moved through the gardens and past the gate he began to feel sick the more he donned on it. It was as if he was faced once more with bending his knee to the Tyrant of a father he had, or lashing out and taking his chances. He'd made up his mind that he'd do the latter, and so he sought out the only Chamberlain he knew of.

Shaking with the letter in his hand, he moved up the steps, and announced his presence to the guardsmen. Waiting, he drank from his wineskin, sampling the delightful applewine to calm his nerves.

by **Imperium Nova** » Tue Oct 28, 2014 5:55 am

The Empire of Pandyssium

Imperial Capital
The Shimmering Palace
Lord High Steward's Office

As the morning sun cast its first ray of light upon the Shimmering Palace, encouraging the whole city to awaken from its slumber, and giving truth to the name of the Emperor's residence as the light seemed to flicker along the walls and rooftops of the massive palace, making it seem as though it had been carved out of a solid jewel. Seemingly being its own source of light. It was an astounding sight that the citizens of the Imperial Capital would witness each morning. Talen had seen it once or twice, but his source of light was purely artificial, having been lit several hours before the dawn as the Lord High Steward had awoken and started his work.

Much to be done, little time. He had made arrangements with the Arch-Cardinal regarding the funeral of the late Emperor, a minor ceremony in the Palace Chapel was all that was deemed necesary. Anything larger would put a substantial drain on the Imperial Coffers, and a normal funeral ceremony for an Emperor of Pandyssium could take several weeks. Time that the Lord High Steward believed that the Empire did not have, time was of the essence. To get the Lords of the Realm to Caer Aard and select a new heir to the throne. The matter had not been simplified when that foolish Lord High Militant, Jasper Mulciber had thrown his own name as a "candidate" for the Imperial Throne. And the Lord High Steward suspected that there would be more names to follow his.

Talen scratched down the last few letters on a parchment before signing it and rolling it up in a scroll and handing it over to one of his servants, some pointless document was all that it was. He motioned for the servant to be on his way, taking with the rest of the parchments that the Lord High Steward had also signed. Talen then drew a deep sigh before reclining in his chair, and drawing a deep breath. As the servant exited the room he could see one of the Blade's standing on guard outside, he immediately recognised him.
"Jared!" the Lord High Steward cried as he took up a piece of paper that he had written beforehand, enclosed with the Red Imperial Seal. The Blade turned on his heel and walked into the room.
"Father." he replied as he bowed slightly to Talen sitting behind the desk.
"Give this to your cousin, Barril. Find him in the Chamberlain's Wing." The Lord High Steward said as he extended the scroll towards his son.
"As you wish." Jared replied, taking the scroll and leaving the room.

The Chamberlain's Wing
Jared whistled slightly on a tune as he walked through the large corridors of the Shimmering Palace, and the many stairs. Despite having traveled several miles inside the Palace it still seemed enormous to him. Also that the walk between the Tower of the Lord High Steward and the Chamberlain's Wing was a particularly long one surely helped. The only longer trip would be between the Imperial Quarters and the Stables perhaps. One almost passed the Servant's Quarters on their way to the Chamberlain's Wing. But Jared quite liked it, hearing the clanking of his heavy armour echo throughout the halls of the Shimmering Palace. It was quite nice indeed.

He took a sharp turn to the left as he approached his cousin's room, and almost walked into another man standing outside the gate to one of the Chamberlain's Residence. At first he wanted to give a scolding to the seemingly unimportant man who stood in his way, but after seeing the hilt of his sword he soon recognised him as the bastard of the Lord High Militant. Jared drew a deep breath and straightened up to tower above the squire.
"What is your business here, squire?" Jared asked, putting his right hand on the hilt of his sword.

by **Der Kaiser Mikey III** » Tue Oct 28, 2014 11:59 am

The Chamberlain's Wing
Morgan Amadeus Mulciber

Eyeing the mans blade, then moving his own hand to Usurper's hilt, Morgan stood straight, at 6'2 he was tall, though this man was taller. The anger and built up rage in his eyes bordered insane, and made up for the physical height he lacked.

"It would be Lord, now that I've been legitimized by his Lordship Jasper Mulciber." He answered, waving his House ring at the man before placing his right hand upon the blue diamond pommel, as he was left handed. "And my business here concerns the well-being of the realm. My father the Lord High Militant has naturally decided he wishes to throw his name in for the throne's succession. This is a drastic measure and something that would undoubtedly lead the realm to war. He is a man who should not be underestimated, and as such I have taken the liberty to inform the only Chamberlain I know can be trusted to pass on this information. My father has eyes and ears everywhere, even within the high ranks of Imperial authority." He answered, stepping back to draw his cannabis pipe of ivory and strike his flint.

by **Imperium Nova** » Tue Oct 28, 2014 1:52 pm

Shimmering Palace
Chamberlain's Wing
Jared Silvarin

Jared looked into the eyes of this, legitimised bastard and could see a deep hole of fury and rage embedded in his skull, reminding him of his mission regarding the savage folk, and the blind fury that was encoded in the blood of those people. Jared's hand moved up to his massive scar on his left cheek, as if only to make sure that it was there. He was soon interrupted in his thoughts as the man waved his hand infront of him, showing of the sigil ring of House Mulciber. This man could not be much younger than himself, and yet the Lord High Militant seemed to be only in his early 30's. Who knew what they put in the water in the eastern provinces.

The Blade then grimaced as he saw how the squire attempted to light his cannabis pipe.
"A word of advice, my lord" Jared sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm as his eyes turned towards the door to read the name of the chamberlain. "It would be to not disturb the Lady Chamberlain with your oh so imporant missive whilst being intoxicated. But perhaps that is something that does not concern your kind, Sturmingian." He grinned as he took another step towards Morgan Amadeus.

by **Mesrane** » Tue Oct 28, 2014 2:14 pm

Der Kaiser Mikey III wrote:Ser Morgan Amadeus Mulciber
Imperial Capital, Chamberlain Ariahda's Residence

These were dark times indeed, and as Morgan moved through the gardens and past the gate he began to feel sick the more he donned on it. It was as if he was faced once more with bending his knee to the Tyrant of a father he had, or lashing out and taking his chances. He'd made up his mind that he'd do the latter, and so he sought out the only Chamberlain he knew of.

Shaking with the letter in his hand, he moved up the steps, and announced his presence to the guardsmen. Waiting, he drank from his wineskin, sampling the delightful applewine to calm his nerves.

Imperial Capital

The guards, having informed her of a visitor, quickly unbolted the door and swung it open as their lady approached. Ariadha Kirkannen, House Eriadunn's chamberlain in the Imperial Court, stepped out onto her porch, a knife tucked into the bodice of her silk dress, the hilt hidden with neatly arranged ruffles. It was looked down upon for a Chamberlain, especially a woman, to arm herself, but Ariadha often confessed to close friends she didn't give a damn about protocol anymore. The Empire was falling apart at the seams, only a fool would care about protocol.

As mentioned by the guards, there was the visitor, finely clad in the garb of a nobleman. This man appeared to be quite enjoying the smoking of a cannabis pipe. Next to him stood Jaril Silvarin, an experienced Blade, a man who Ariadha had worked with for several years now and had taken a liking to, though she thought of him as quite stuffy at times.

Sighing, and knowing that the cannabis-smoking visitor was a noble by his dress, she approached the pair, who appeared to be in a heated discussion. "What this about gentlemen?" The harsh autumn winds made stray tentacles of her hair as she narrowed her eyes at the animated pair.

by **Asyir** » Tue Oct 28, 2014 2:16 pm

Shieldring Keep

Rorïk and Gannigus sat through an awkward silence while they waited for Rorïk's requested family members arrive. Rorïk twirled a quill within his right hand, and grabbed some parchment. He began writing in nice neat strokes,

To his Lordship Erlend of House Eriadunn, Lord of Eriadha;

I have received both letters, and have decided to travel to Redhand Keep with only a company of soldiers and my uncle Sigmünd, leaving behind the rest of house Falk at Frost Vale. I will set out tomorrow if Rœrk wills it, and take ship to Redhand Keep. From there, I suggest we sail down to Caer Aard. I also suggest that your son, Duncan, remain behind at Redhand, incase we are met with sharp swords. I hope this letter finds your lordship as satisfactory.

From your ever loyal vassal, Rorïk of house Falk, Jarl of Frost Vale.

As the brush strokes slowly dwindled, and the letter was complete, Rorïk heard his door open, and saw his wife Ënora rush in. Her blond hair whipped wildly as she jumped towards the nearest chair in an eccentric manner. Behind her was Arnbjörg, whom was wearing a leather tunic and a sword. Sigmünd approached last, and wore leather and chain, with the Falk sigil upon his chest.

"Husband," Ënora said with a hint of fear in her eyes,"are the rumors true? Is the Emperor truly dead? Are we going to Caer Aard?"

In a calming tone, Rorïk said,"easy now dear. One question at a time. Yes the emperor is dead, I was told he fell from an accident. And yes, I'm going to Caer Aard. That's why I called you here."

Ënora's look of fear turned into anger when she heard no mention of 'we',"Wait, you're going to Caer Aard? We aren't going as well?"

"No. This is no mere social call. It is a place to select a new heir," Rorïk said,"I myself am only going for Erlend."

"Father," Arnbjörg butted in,"we should come. It would be a great opportunity for us. Plus, we could possibly find marriage candidates for...."

Sigmünd slapped Arnbjörg before he could finish. "Ye Father saids no," he replied in a harsh and course voice, which of course showed his annoyance,"this is Caer Aard, not some place to be sticking your cock where it don't belong. You will be married soon. Enough of trying to get into a brothel."

"How dare you speak to my son like that," Ënora said, showing her hatred of Sigmünd. She stood up and approached the old Master-at-arms, looking him straight in eyes. "He is the heir to Frost Vale, and your nephew. Have you forgotten that?"

"No, but just because he is the heir doesn't mean he's gonna start hitting the brothels. That's why he wants to go to Caer Aard. Can you not see it? Is he hiding it that well?"

"Enough!" Rorïk said as he slammed his hand on the desk, bringing everyone's attention back to him. "This will not become a family brawl. Ënora, only Sigmünd is leaving with me. Along with a company of soldiers. I have decided to leave Arnbjörg in charge of Frost Vale, but he must remain watched. 'Tis why you are also being left behind."

"Fine," she said as she left the solar. A great silence overtook the men.

"Milord, shall I take this missive and send it to Lord Erlend?" Gannigus said, as he stood up after a pause.

"Yes. Take it. Arnbjörg, resume your duties. Tomorrow you shall be temporary Duke of Frost Vale."

Arnbjörg bowed as Gannigus stepped out,"yes father." He soon left, leaving Sigmünd and Rorïk behind in the solar. With a bow, Sigmünd left shortly to gather his things, and to prepare for departure. Leaving Rorïk alone. Again.

by **Der Kaiser Mikey III** » Tue Oct 28, 2014 2:18 pm

Imperium Nova wrote:Shimmering Palace
Chamberlain's Wing
Jaril Silvarin

Jaril looked into the eyes of this, legitimised bastard and could see a deep hole of fury and rage embedded in his skull, reminding him of his mission regarding the savage folk, and the blind fury that was encoded in the blood of those people. Jaril's hand moved up to his massive scar on his left cheek, as if only to make sure that it was there. He was soon interrupted in his thoughts as the man waved his hand infront of him, showing of the sigil ring of House Mulciber. This man could not be much younger than himself, and yet the Lord High Militant seemed to be only in his early 30's. Who knew what they put in the water in the eastern provinces.

The Blade then grimaced as he saw how the squire attempted to light his cannabis pipe.
"A word of advice, my lord" Jaril sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm as his eyes turned towards the door to read the name of the chamberlain. "It would be to not disturb the Lady Chamberlain with your oh so imporant missive whilst being intoxicated. But perhaps that is something that does not concern your kind, Sturmingian." He grinned as he took another step towards Morgan Amadeus.

Chamberlain's Wing
Morgan Amadeus Mulciber

The arrogance of this man caused Morgan to exhale through his nose, as his lips were tightly pursed. Taking a step forward, he took another drag, this time exhaling it in the face of this man. Speaking with dark, controlled anger, Morgan stowed his pipe in his pouch, before tossing his black cloak back to reveal his leather bodied, plate covered chest. He was ready for any altercation-he was quite used to proving himself. He was like his father in many ways, and he was never one to run from a conflict.

"If it is a duel you seek, then perhaps fate has brought me here today to once more challenge the opinions of others. Sturmingia is my home, yes, and I'd much rather have it so than living in the midst of these filthy Southrons. In Sturmingia when one is confronted with such arrogance, such disrespect, it is custom to challenge the individual in question to a duel. A duel to the death...as we are not in Sturmingia, you have all right to refuse this duel." He took yet another step forward. "Now, Silvarin, let me make a point to you. I am not here to fight you. I am not here to entertain your snide remarks. But should you accept this duel, know that I will not stop until I paint these beautiful walls with the sap of your veins." He growled, staring the man in the face with his deadly, midnight blue gaze.

As the lady approached, Mulciber took a step back and immediately looked down at his boots, ashamed he'd let this prig get the best of his emotions. Especially now that a Lady had see it. "Milady, I am sorry you had to witness that...my name is Morgan Amadeus Mulciber, heir to the Viceroy's throne of Sturmingia. I have urgent news and must speak with you." He introduced himself and stated his purpose, bowing in respect and kissing her hand.

To Shred an Empire 2.0 [medieval fantasy, IC, Open]

To Shred an Empire 2.0 [medieval fantasy, IC, Open]

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