--A City Left to Dust-- [private] (1 Viewer)


aethier freestyle champion
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A letter would arrive to Camara de Lobos, sealed with a blue wax, and pressed
with the seal of the Inverno House. The courier did not seem to care if it
reached the hands of Tristao directly, instead trusting that it would
be delivered.

"To Tristao de Tavora, Sacred Guardian of Verseiva

I hope this letter finds you well. I have it on good authority that
you yourself have taken ill, or atleast have been preoccupied
enough to start valuing your own mental health over
the health of people who just want to deceive you.
You know, you were always a compassionate boy.
I recall once when Azalea scraped her knee you insisted
that it was nothing, and read her one of your favorite stanzas.
I oft wonder how politics stole that innocence from us.
Something to consider?

Tristao, it is difficult for me to pen this. But you of all
can understand the importance of family to one such as I.
My children are everything, and it has become impossible
for me to aptly provide them with the guidance I
gave you, and the guidance I promised them.

Forgive me, my son. But Balmira has outgrown I.
The swamp has been beat back. The people have
painted wonders. The theatre, though crippled, is
profitable. And there is something to be said
about profiting off art.

I will make my intention clear. I seek to abdicate my Lordship to
my steward. He is a good man, and knows the city well. He would
train a mighty successor, or be the one you need now most.
I have overseen your growth from my stone tower and I
believe it true you can manage without me. But do not think
this a pathetic soliloquy--my guidance will still be
here, should you find yourself mad enough to ask
it once more.

As for what I shall do after, there is a small region
upon the lake, near the vassal Coizela. With your blessing,
I seek a plot of land there to see my children grow for as long
as I can stop them.

This is not the end of our kinship. I should hope you find
the stories I left you sufficient entertainment. And lead
this nation to the glory it has fostered--but you know all
about that already.

With affection,


Cat Herder
Team Leader
Event Team

Tristao had been sitting by himself in the courtyard of Camara de Lobos' keep, his knees pressed into the grass as his hands rested within one another. His reptilian eyes watched the water move along through the courtyard, even going as far to outstretch his hand to feel the gentle stream pass between each pale digit. The man seemed to be peacefully doing this for quite some time, despite the almost methodical ticking going on in the back of his mind. Though he tensed up at the light tapping of a finger on his shoulder, and the brief words of "Mi'lord".

The former Emperor would swing his arm out towards the courier, ebony nails extending into nothing more than claws before stopping inches from the mans face. His breath was sucked in, muscles grown tense as he stared to the courier who gave him an odd look, his own pupils contracting and enlarging very quickly whilst he stared. The courier left the letter in his hand that gradually clasped around it, his expression quickly falling from that of skittish surprise to one of neutrality as he narrowed his eyes to the letter. By the time Tristao had opened it, the courier had left the man to his own devices. Most of the couriers knew by now to announce their presence to Tristao much sooner than he had, as the young vallah's skittish nature grew more and more worse with each passing month, the maids whispering to one another often of it, speaking of paranoia.

His boots clicked softly against the path as he walked along the stones and read the letter in his grasp, his expression changing into one of remorse, or perhaps simply one low-spirited. Nevertheless these sorts of expressions were rare for him as of late, and he folded the letter back up neatly. Returning back into the keep, he set the letter on top of Joao's desk for when he was to return, or assuming he was sitting there, directly to his father. No words were exchanged should anyone have approached him for conversation, as Tristao would simply return to what he was doing before, though quieter this time.


Not Nice
Build Team
Progression Team
The Rei’s vantablack eyes scanned over the letter. As they did, the right side of his upper lip curled into a snarl. Unlike his son, the Rei was not one for flowery words, especially not in regards to matters of state. The Vallah lord was famously brief, terse even, with his words when it came to such things: eloquence was a tool to hide double meanings and to twist words, and thus the Rei despised it.

As the Rei read on his lip curled further and his fangs gritted against their counterparts. Had the insolence of this lord known no bounds? To address such a letter to Tristao, rather than acknowledge the return of the true Rei drew great displeasure from the Vallah Lord, but to address Tristao as his ‘son’ drew fury from the blackest depths of the Rei’s heart. Before Joao has married Freydis such a series of insults would have earned the offenders a swift and visceral death as a message to all who would defy him. However the Solari had softened her husband... and yet, she was no longer of this world. The Vallah Lord could practically taste the noble’s blood, but instead his jaw loosened, and the lord of Balmira would be sent a letter bearing the royal sigil of the Verseivan Crown, stating only that he was summoned to O Covil do Lobo, “The Lair of the Wolf.”

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