Notices were put up at every board in town, in hopes of people taking their time to sit and read. I cannot express how horrible I felt that day, attacking the Mercenary Keep by force. I, a collared Marken, supposed to be under control, was used for power and hatred, instead of what the Lothar was meant to be using us for. Regardless, I am bound to Riftan Vaedra, I had given up my freedom for him, and I apologise to anyone I was forced to hurt, or almost killed. Riftan Vaedra will be held accountable for all of this, I will not be controlled by him any longer. I will not go into what will happen to me, as that's up to the Lord Commissioner and any other higher ups, but I will say, there will be no more hatred and power used to hurt the people of Regalia. I will not be used to hurt the people of Regalia. I've paid my dues, I've said what I needed to say. It's up to you how you all want to take this. Hate me, beat me, whatever you'd like to do, I'm powerless at this moment - but I am doing whatever I can to make sure Riftan gets what he deserves. River Barlowe Controlled to the most psychotic man in Regalia.
Receives the notice from the Winter Palace staff - without finishing breakfast and her early morning PT; she rushes to the carriage and drops the letter at Trent's ( @trent_rouls ) desk. She says nothing to him.. only points at the sign-off.
Florian du Poncaire had been wandering the streets with his most trusted butler, Arthur Bernhoeft (@ChapterDeath ), in tow. It was like old times; Florian, naturally, was chattering away to his heart’s content and Arthur was begrudgingly enduring the pompous Count’s mouth-torture as per the twenty-third paragraph in his contract.. until the noticeboard crossed his line of sight. Florian screeched to a halt, possibly giving poor Arthur whiplash as he promptly banked right to view the newest notice. Hushed tones tumbled from his lips as he read the contents to himself and over the course of his skimming, something particularly amusing invoked a scoff from the man and so, he slid his signature tinted shades down the bridge of his nose and echoed his thoughts to his companion; “.. ‘The most psychotic man in Regalia’. How unbecoming of a nobleman.” The Count parried his jest with a vague flare of his pierced brow and a particularly sharp grin, awaiting the butler’s response.
______________________________________________________________________________ ______________________________________________________________________________ ______________________________________________________________________________ ______________________________________________________________________________ A wild boar is printed in black ink at the top of the parchment's page; The steadfast representation of House Shcherbyna. The words written on the page were made with a steady, unshaking hand, with which its penmanship was well practiced and neat. ______________________________________________________________________________ Addressed to A Previous Threat to the Vulnerable Public, River Barlowe: Shameful. Disgraceful. Ungrateful. You have been given a chance at redemption, a moment where you can revel in the MERCY of the Lothar Order and the MERCY of the State Metropolitan. You should be thankful the air you breathe is not of filth and sea water, but instead the blossoming flowers from the park the Crown has graced us with this spring. Were it not for the Lothar Order who took you under their collar, your current freedoms--yes, freedoms-- would be but a longing dream. You would be unused, useless, and sitting in a cell indefinitely within the confines of Krakenburg (for you, dear readers, Krakenburg is a State Prison without the cozy, padded cells afforded within the State Metropolitan's Greygate with which you all have been spoiled with). You hold no remorse for the frenzy you unleased on the Lord Commissioner, two Constables, myself, and nearly a Minister. One may ask why you suddenly find yourself in a shadow of shame, apologizing profusely in the guise of degrading a man who's only doing his duty, and you a favor. It is by his hand that you do not rot forgotten by everyone and everything, the world forever revolving and changing, and progressing in the name of the Great Way. You are not a slave, nor have you ever faced oppression; What you are feeling is the stresses of simple accountability while your animalistic impulses are contained. You may join the crowds of nay-sayers and Lothar-despising Occultists, yet the truth is, is that one less Marken with the ability to rampage on a whim is saving potentially dozens of lives from death and the curse you carry. Heel and be grateful you have the chance at doing even that. Perform your new duties with GRACE, Matviy Shcherbyna Count of Krismea Justicar of the Ministry of Law Reality Enforcer of the Truth Ministry
A response was posted right beneath this page. "I hold remorse, I really, really do - I have apologised to the Lord Commissioner, to Cadwyn, to everyone I have hurt, but you? I see no point. You will not budge. I hope one day, you will open your eyes and see what really lies beneath this 'Marken'. I hope, one day, you regret treating me the way you did. - R"
[The hand writing quality is... Very poor. Not only because the author is still new to common, but she is also writing this with her non dominant hand. The chicken scratch quality does add to the demented feel of the message, however. It's almost ominous.] IF YOU ARE TRULY SORRY, PURGE YOURSELF OF MAGIC. AS LONG AS YOU ARE A MAGE, YOUR WORDS SIT ON A FOUNDATION OF LIES. THIS IS ONE WARNING OF MANY, ONE DAY YOUR JUDGEMENT WILL COME. IT IS YOUR CHOICE, STEEL, FLAMES, OR MERCY. 孫黑山 SUN HEISHAN.
