Cold Tears [Closed]

Býkonsviði, Prydania

"I miss you."
Tobias tossed a bit in his sleep. The voice whispered to him, but it was in the back of his head. He wasn't even dreaming, he sleeping soundly, until the words danced over the edge of his mind. He wasn't even sure if he could discern the words. It was more a sense or feeling.

"I miss you."
"Astrid," he muttered. The voice was gone, as soon as it appeared, and Tobias began to sink back into sleep, but a feeling deep in his stomach stirred him. He was awake. Staring into blackness through closed eyes, but awake. He sighed, and slowly opened his eyes to reveal his quarters in Absalonhöll, draped in the darkness of night. He looked over at Alycia, sound asleep, and rubbed his own temples before he got up. He smacked his lips a bit. Cottonmouth.

He sat on the couch in the adjoining room, before a television, crossed legged as he sipped a glass of water. He didn't turn the tv on. He didn't want to awaken Alycia. He just sat there, alone with his thoughts.

"I guess if anyone was going to cut through the noise, it should be you, Astrid," he thought as he looked down at his glass of water in the dark.

The Andrennians had lodged an official complaint regarding Max's visit. The press was talking about it... and Tobias didn't care. He really didn't care.
So much of his life was dictated by a need to be magnanimous, but the King of Waltalriche visiting was for him.

"That sounds selfish," Tobias thought to himself as his tilted the cup a bit, watching the water gently move to and from inside its glass prison.
He understood to a degree. It was a King of a foreign country- a controversial King and country- coming to Prydania. Tobias understood why the Andrennians were mad, and why he should care. They were allies. They were friends. They were, above all else, kin. And they'd been an exceptionally good ally of Prydania. And of course the Prydanian press. They were also critical. Very few in Prydania approved of Waltalriche's human rights record, even if there was an appreciation for their steadfast opposition to certain syndicalist-adjacent forces.
So much talk. Should King Tobias do this? Should he meet with King Maxamillian? The Andrennians had a say. Even the Via wanted to talk to him.

"I don't care," Tobias thought to himself as he worked through his thoughts.
"Max is one of the only people I can relate to with this, I'm going to see him."

And through all of that...

"Why did you say you missed me?" he asked softly. The first words he'd actaully said after waking up.
"I miss you too," he added.
"But that's it? Nothing about..."

"... about what?"

Alycia had gingerly leaned over and kissed his neck from behind before she made her way over to the couch to sit next to him. She was pregnant, but only two months so. She wasn't totally incompacitated.

"I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't," Alycia said with a smile.
"Well... not directly. I noticed you weren't there when I went to hug you."
"Heh... sorry, but I think you know... about what."

"I can wager a guess," Alcyia answered, with a sleepy yet cheeky grin as she rested her head on Tobias' shoulder.

"I just dreamt that Astrid told me she missed me."

"Oh my miláček..." she cooed softly as she stroked her husband's hand.
"It's no wonder why. You're seeing Max soon."

Tobias smiled softly. Alcyia was very analytical. Astrid was Max's first love. Now he was coming here. It was obvious why Tobias was thinking about Astrid.

"I know," he sighed softly. "Still... I donno. This is going to sound really silly. It was her voice. It was like she was here again. That's nuts."

"Memories have a way of coming back around," Alcyia said as she nuzzled her husband's shoulder.
"I know you like to talk to your parents... do you talk to Astrid much?"

"No," Tobias said softly.
"I feel bad about that."

"She knows you cared about her."

"If she is... somewhere out there... maybe she does miss me. Maybe I should talk to her more often."

"You weren't that close."

Tobias nodded.
It was what was funny abouty this. Tobias had shut out the Andrennian protests and the Prydanian press because he considered Max a friend... but the truth was that Max was, back in his childhood, more like an older cousin. Astrid had been five years older then him, and Max was joined to her at the hip whenever he came to Prydania. At six, he'd wanted to be involved with whatever schemes they may have plotted as kids, way too young to understand that they were getting to an age where they maybe wanted a bit of privacy. They were older, and like all young kids, he idolized his big cousin and her boyfriend.
And that didn't even get into how things normally were. Astrid bossed him around, would confiscate his toys when she wanted...
But Tobias had watched her die. He'd seen her utterly broken self gunned down by a man he thought was his father's friend, and he felt utterly helpess doing it. When he was thirteen... he had to reckon with the idea that he was now older then his big cousin would ever be.

Since then Astrid had been someone he'd felt immense sadness for, but hadn't allowed himself to really grapple with losing her. And how he'd spent so much time as a kid being mad at her, or desperate for her approval as she was annoyed by him... and then she was gone. He never got to tell his cousin he loved her, or that he'd miss her...

"I still miss her, though. Max does too."

Alycia smiled and pat her husband's thigh through his sweatpants. She actually shared an opinion with the Andrennians and the Prydanian media on this matter. She didn't know King Maximillian II. He could be lovely, personally, but she found his country objectionable. The only reason she hadn't said anything was that she knew how her husband felt about all of this.

"I've been reading up on some of your family's old sagas," she said with a smile as she playfully wrapped her fingers in his.
"'A burden shared is a burden halved,' I think the saying goes?"

"Já," Tobias said with a nod.
"That's a good one."

"You know you can count on me to halve your burdens, love."

"I know," Tobias said sofyly. He just looked down at his glass of water, finally sipping some more. Alycia could read his mind. She didn't share this trauma though.

"So let Max halve this one," she said as she stood and grabbed Tobias' hand gently, pulling him to his feet.
"But remember, the past is a good place to reflect on. Not embrace."

"Is that from a saga too?" Tobias asked as he leaned down to kiss her on the lips.

"The Saga of Alycia," she playfully smirked, patting him on the hip. "And it also says that the King who spends his night not sleeping makes a fool of himself in the morning."

Tobias smiled. He kissed her again, and followed her back to bed. He protectively cuddled her, putting a hand over her belly, where his unborn child was, and kissed her shoulder as he drifted off asleep. He'd found peace. For tonight, anyway.

---

*miláček- Norsian for "sweatheart"

Erlagen, Waltalriche
St. Oskar Chapel

Maximillian gripped the cold bronze handle of the large chapel door. The cold winter wind howled, pushing down hard on the door as the King pulled it towards himself. He held it open as flurries of snow blew behind him, catching his hair and flying into the chapel's vestibule as he went inside. Max's body shivered as he met the warmer yet still chilled air of the building's interior. Keeping his winter coat tight to his body, he walked into the narthex, dipping his right hand into one of the many stone stoups that lined the walls and with three fingers made the sign of the cross.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”

The water elicited a familiar chill on his hand and forehead as he walked down the Chapel's nave towards the crossing and the altar. The holy site was beautiful, yet austere, with high arches lining the clerestories to his left and right and brilliant stained glass windows depicting scenes from both the Old and New Testaments looming down on the interior from the walls. The design was quintessentially Waltalrichian in its almost humble opulence.
The young King found solace in this place, the silent yet evocative quiet of the chapel embracing him in its peace.
Ahead of him, past the crossing, sat the altar on which sat a small golden crucifix. Behind the altar, deviating from the style of the original chapel, sat a new construction. An elaborate iconostasis, adorned with over a dozen icons and depictions of holy Courantist figures, a gift made for his wife Cornelia, who was born into Orthodoxy in Maloria and who he thought would want a reminder of home when she prayed.
A sweet gesture.

Max slowly ambled from the nave of the chapel to the foot of the altar and bowed deeply. He got down onto his knees, prostrating himself before the crucifix, and whether from the cold or the reverence that flowed through him, the King began to tremble, crossing himself once more and beginning his prayer.

"Lord, I am not worthy to kneel before You. I do not deserve You, nor the things you have provided me. For I am the most wretched of sinners."

He said shakily, his voice low as he pressed his head down against the cold edge of the altar. He was filled with a deep sense of shame that made him feel as though he would vomit it out before the altar.

"I am guilty in my heart against the ones I love and do not know if I may ever forgive myself, Lord. Why can't I shake this feeling from my heart, this curse from a blessing?"

He picked his head up and raised it to the iconostasis.

Just above where the typical iconostasis door would be, sat hanging an icon of the Holy Mother of God, the Ever-Virgin Mary, who was enthroned on a wide almost sofa-like throne, her hands outstretched and her hair concealed, her face was aged yet serene, and in her lap sat with her, the Holy Child staring up at her in great love and adoration while she gazed back at him.

"I have sinned against You, Oh Lord, whom I should love above all things! Forgive me, though I may never forgive myself."

His eyes flooded, tears streaming down the sides of his face as his hot tears stung his eyes, blurring his vision. Wiping his eyes, he retrained his focus on the icon. Yet there was something wrong, the Virgin's appearance had changed, her hair was now a light golden blonde and which flowed down over her shoulders, her previously brown eyes were sparkling ocean blue, her face too had changed, filled now with the vibrance of youth. She stared at him.
Innocently, like an angel sent down from above, she smiled, and he felt as though he could be raptured, taken into oblivion.
For a moment, it was as if every thought had left Max's body as he stared up into her eyes, his mouth agape as though he had just seen Mary herself appear before him.
He knew the face.
He'd seen her before.
He'd heard her voice.
"What're you looking at?"

---

Skógurheorot, Prydania

“What’re you looking at?” Astrid mumbled, repeating herself, as she tapped Max’s shoulder to get his attention.

“What?” Max jumped, turning around quickly to face her, his face flushed pale, his body warmed all over as if he was standing next to a fire or was under the grip of a fever.

"What are you looking at?" She was smiling, her face and hair glowing in the hazy sunlight. Max couldn't look away.

A thin halo of light surrounded her head, and just as before, he stood dumbfounded and in awe. She was more beautiful than the stars, as pale as the moon yet brighter than the sun in his eyes.
Only for a moment.

He took her hand in his, and it was as if he'd touched lightning, his hand in hers. They were so close.
No more words to describe the feelings and emotions, only actions as he unconsciously leaned towards her.

---

Erlagen, Waltalriche
St. Oskar Chapel

Yet, from the door of the chapel came a few thundering knocks.

His dream's coup de grâce, as Max turned to face who it was that was entering, wiping the tears from his eyes and dusting off his trousers.
Peering from the chapel's entranceway, a small man entered, dressed in a black wool winter coat, his royal household uniform visible beneath it. He was one of his wife's servants.

"Your Majesty." The man said as he entered, bowing deeply before Max, still panting slightly from what could have only been the walk through the snow to get to the chapel.

"The Queen Consort requests your presence in her chambers whenever you may be available."

Max looked at him and asked in a flat tone. "Did she give a reason?"

"No sire." The man shook his head, hands at his sides.

Max sighed, standing up before the altar, crossing himself before bowing to the crucifix once more.
"Tell her I'll see her in a few minutes." He stretched his neck.

"Of course, sire." The man bowed before he departed.

Skógurheorot, Prydania
24 years ago

Tobias poked his head out from behind a couch in the King's Study, before he felt Rylond pull on his sleeve.

"Get down!" he said in Bayardi as Tobias fidgeted and got down again.

"You're the one being loud," Tobias protested in Bayardi back, his Prydanian accent tinging the words, but otherwise as fluent as a six year old could be in a language that wasn't his native tongue.

"You're gonna get us seen!" Rylond replied back, ignoring his friend's assertion that he was, indeed, too loud.

In fact even their fidgeting was carrying. The King's Study was large, with high ceilings decorated with Thaunic gods, Messianist saints, and stags in the stonework, and the noises of the two kids trying to hide echoed.

"What do you think they're doing though?" Tobias asked. He was keeping the conversation in Bayardi because he was certain Max couldn't speak it and he pretty sure Astrid couldn't.

"Kissing!" Rylond insisted.
"Isn't that what your cousin Laurits said boyfriends and girlfriends do? And that's how babies are made?"

"Astrid? With a baby?" Tobias wrinkled his face, really not liking that idea.
"I think she's too mean to have a baby."

"You two idiots know I speak Bayardi too, right?"

Tobias and Rylond looked up, to see Astrid looking down at them from over the couch, and the two six year olds panicked and nearly fell over themselves as they collapsed from behind the couch.

"Toby said you couldn't!" Rylond shot back, now in Prydanian and his turn to display a bit of an accent.

"Hey! How am I supposed....OWWWW!" Tobias squealed as his older cousin twisted his ear.

"Next time I'm telling pabbi," Astrid insisted. Tobias and Rylond looked past her and saw Max there, at the couch on the far end of the room, watching, before they ran out. Not wanting to suffer an annoyed Anders.

Erlagen, Waltalriche
Erlagen Palace

Cornelia sat quietly on the small sofa chair that sat beside one of the windows that lined the wall of her bedroom. The royal apartments were quiet this time of night, most of the servants had gone to sleep, only the faint humming of the electric lamp by her bed could be heard as the Queen Consort watched the snow storm’s wind rattle and bend the dead branches of trees. She knew her husband was in the chapel, that little refuge for him she knew was more of a shrine.

Sighing, the woman fiddled with her brown hair, half impatient, as the room’s quiet almost began to overwhelm her. She had never been comfortable with this kind of silence,

A knock at the door came and went, the door creaked open.

“Lia?” Max called out softly, carefully stepping through the threshold of the door into her apartment.

She didn’t respond. Max closed the distance, making his way to her side of the room.

“They said you called for me? What’s wrong?” He said in a small voice.

Cornelia without saying a word, turned her head from him towards the snow.

“Is it something I said?” Max was meek, now almost childlike in his tone.

“I wish it was something you said.” She said quickly, turning to face her husband. “In fact most women I know would prefer that, but you would never make it that easy, hmm?”

Her eyes were poised on him, she gripped the hair harder, so hard he thought she might pull it out.

“What are you talking about Cornelia?”

“Don’t act stupid Max. It’s New Years and you haven’t been yourself all night.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Max, I am going to warn you now, if you ever call me “ridiculous” again so help me I will never let you be at peace again.” Her eyes were pained.

Max bit his tongue.
“Why did you go back to the chapel? We already had mass for the solemnity.”

“Can’t I enjoy my own private chapel in peace?” Max asked with an uneasy scoff.

Cornelia narrowed her eyes.

“Did you even fuck that girl?” The words slipped from her mouth, the words hit Max like a slap to the face.

“What is wrong with you?” Max recoiled, his face twisting in disgust. “How could you even ask me a thing like that?”

“Did you? I want to know. You care so damn much about her I would hope that she was at least your first, or was she just that much better than me?” The words dripped like venom out from her mouth.

“You’re jealous of a dead girl, Cornelia. That’s insane, you should know that’s insane.” Max tried to keep his cool.

“A dead girl who you pray for more than your own children, a dead girl who you love more than your own wife.” She paused.

“You know it would be one thing if you had a mistress, because then at least I could let you get it out of your system and ignore it. But this? It’s almost every month, you keep crawling back. It's pathetic. And I know you were close as kids, and I know you watched her die, but I AM YOUR WIFE!” She choked as she yelled, but she couldn’t hold back.

“I just want you to love me, Max! I just want you to love your wife, and not some dead princess who you hadn’t seen since you were a kid.” Hot tears flowed from her cheeks as she covered her face with her hands, sobbing.

Max went to comfort her, she didn’t react, still letting out a subdued heaving cry.

“I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean to be s-so cruel” She hyperventilated. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m just so upset-”

The King embraced her, holding her for what felt like eternity as he tried to calm her down.

“No, I'm sorry Lia.” A few small tears rolled down his already red face. “I shouldn’t- should have taken care of this when we were first married, but it-”
He stopped himself.

“I fucked it up Lia, I knew this was going to eat at me and it did. I’m sorry. We’re going back.”

“What?” She cocked her head up at him, still nestled in his arms

“I mean we’re going back to Prydania.”

“What do you mean ‘we’ are going back to Prydania?”

“Its the next state visit. We’re going to take the whole family.”

“You didn’t say anything about this before?”

“I didn’t find out until a few hours ago.”

She buried her face into his coat, “You can’t be serious Max.”

“This will be the end of it, I swear. We’ll bury the memory and be done with it.”

“You swear?” She said, as Max stared into the abyss of her brown eyes.

“I do.” He said as the young queen sighed, still enveloped by his embrace. “And look on the bright side, you’ll get to see your cousin”

“Alycia? The pagan.” She grimaced.

“I know sweetheart, but she’s raising her children mostly Messianist.” Max said with a small knowing smile.

Cornelia rolled her eyes. “Mostly Messianist, mostly heretics.”

“Perhaps I’ll get Toby to return to Courantism? Who knows? Maybe we could see Rolf with a future suitress?”

“The cold’s clearly frozen your brain solid.” Cornelia smiled.

“Probably.” Max said, kissing her on the cheek.

Býkonsviði, Prydania
Not too long ago

Tobias poured a drink. Brennivín. He usually preferred beer. Mead when things were festive. Wine when his wife or his Santonian family forced it onto him. But this...this was the kind of discussion that warranted brennivín. Or the svartidauði*, as it was known.

"Can I pour you one?" he asked as Kjell Svane shook his head.

"I don't drink on the job."

"I'd be offended," Tobias said as he took his glass to the couch in his office, on the other side of the thick oaken coffee table, opposite Kjell on the other, matching, couch.
"But as apparently I'm always 'on the job,' I have no choice but to drink on it if I want to drink at all."

He sipped the drink. It stung. Brennivín was not for the faint of heart. Even for someone like Tobias, whose tastes had been blunted by a life of eating military rations for most meals. Still, it wasn't the taste that he drank it for. It was the relief it offered afterwards.

"I sympathize, Your Majesty," Kjell replied. He did feel bad about this, but concerns had to be raised. Even if only symbolically, even if Tobias hated hearing them.

"The Andrennians are protesting. The Gojans aren't but only as a curtesy. Waltalriche is at odds with our allies, our friends. They deserve to know their concerns were conveyed."

Tobias muttered something. Svane couldn't make it out but chose not to say anything. Tobias wouldn't have had an answer anyway. It wasn't anything. Just a grumble. He sipped his drink again and thought for a moment to order the swirl of sentiments in his mind.

"I'm not looking to move against Andrenne or Goyanes. We stood by them to vote against Waltalriche in the PGU did we not?"

"Já, we did, Your Majesty."

"And I happily endorsed that, in an open letter to the PGU council, did I not?"

"Já, you did, Your Majesty."

"So what in the name of all that is holy is there to be concerned over? I'm not signing an alliance with them, I'm seeing an old friend."

"Who is the sovereign King of a nation that has antagonized our two most adamant allies and..."

"He's my friend!" Tobias let out an exasperated sigh. He tossed his head back and stared at the wood lined ceiling of his office. He rubbed his temples and looked at Svane again.

"My friend, Kjell. He's my friend. And beyond that, he's the only person in the world, the ONLY person, who knows..." his voice trialed off... his assertive if exasperated tone softened into that of that scared seven year old boy... all of those years ago...

"He's the only person in the world besides me who I can talk to about..." he looked down now, into the clear liquid in his glass.

Kjell knew what he was trying to say, and he understood how hard it was for the King to say it. That's why he didn't push him. He just bent a leg over his knee and sat, patiently.

".. he's the only person I can talk to about watching them all die. Watching her die."

The King's voice was soft... his green eyes downcast. Kjell wasn't with Aubyn's outfit during the Civil War. He never knew Tobias as a child, but it wasn't hard to see the scared child he would have been on that day in 2002 within the man who now sat across from him.

Kjell nodded and adjusted his glasses.
"We've informed the Nordika* allies of the specifics. There is understanding, but trepidations remain."

"Are they afraid I'm going to unilaterally impose social feudalism in Prydania after one meeting with Max?" Tobias asked dryly as he sipped more of his drink.

"No, but some will see it as you and, to a certain extent, the nation, as embracing the theocratic dictatorship that Waltalriche is."

Tobias said nothing for moment. He hated this. He hated it so much. He hated the way modern politics could be. How everything was a game of doubletalk and gestures that meant nothing even if everyone demanded them.

"I'm visiting with a family friend," Tobias said softly, the most curt and direct way he could think of to express how silly he thought all of this was.

"When the two friends are Kings, things aren't just a friendly visit. They can't be."

Kjell kept a cool head. He had to. He also knew Tobias knew this. He was forcing him to reiterate it, and he would because he had to. Still, what he'd just said caused an angry look to flash across Tobias' face for an instant before the King collected himself.

"It's not an endorsement of anything they do," the King said. He sipped his drink again. It still burned.

"I'm meeting with a friend. And that's all. Anything else, you have my permission to deal with. Sing to the media that I'm not endorsing any of Waltalriche's positions. I won't be mad if you do, it's the truth. But I will meet with Max."

"I know," Svane replied.
"I never would have thought to stop you." He glanced over, behind the King's desk at the far end of the room. The new bullet proof glass, installed after the last one was shattered due to a security failsafe during the Ten Rings attack, looked as good as new. He returned his attention to Tobias.

"It is my job, though, to tell you all of this. Even if you don't want to hear it."

"I know," Tobias grumbled. He sat the drink down on the coffee table.
"You can tell the Nordika allies whatever they need to hear. Have anything put into writing. I'll sign it."

Kjell nodded as he stood. Tobias stood with him.

"Your Majesty," he offered a bow, and Tobias nodded with a mile. Kjell turned to take his leave and Tobias stood there, turning only to eye the tapestry across the far wall, showing Rikard I's siege of Pataliputra.

"War was easier, sometimes," he grumbled.

Býkonsviði, Prydania
Now

The actual throne of Vortgyn was in the national museum. It had been torched by the Syndicalists after they took Absalonhöll during their coup in 2002. The old wooden throne refused to burn through, though it was damaged. Now it was on display to the nation, and this replica was... uncomfortable. That's what Tobias thought. If it was anything like the original it replaced... how was this uncomfortable slab of wood tolerated for nearly a thousand years?

He was done up in a dark navy uniform, the golden antler crown poking out from around his dirty blond hair, and a red and gold woven viking style cape over his shoulders, pinned with a broach of a stag with a cross in its antlers in a sun. It was a very formal outfit, reserved only for conferring titles of Knighthood, overseeing the opening of the Alþingi, or state visits such as this.

He glanced over at Alycia, herself in a blue and gold uniform of the Norsian style, though the arms embroidered on her breast was her arms as Queen of Prydania, marrying Tobias' with the Norsian Imperial arms. He smiled meekly at her. Max's wife was family, through Aly. And it was not an all together pleasant relationship. This was troublesome for Alycia as much as it was... nerve racking for him. He didn't deserve her. He'd make it up to her once this was passed.

The Knights of the Storm were all in their dark blue and red finery as well. Standard bearers held the Royal standard, Tobias' personal familiar banner of arms, and the flags of the Provinces. There were even a few Viking banners, though out of defence to the sensibilities of their guests, only banners from after Kaldor's conversion showing cross symbolism were chosen.

Back during the final day of the Civil War, Thomas Lasmartres had come to him as the Ambassador of Saintonge to formally recognize his government. He was only twenty-two then, still very young and very angry. And that meeting was in the war torn council chamber of Býkonsviði City Hall. The seat of the Syndicalist Council Mayor, recently liberated, acting as a temporary throne.

Since then he'd had too many of these visits to count. Ambassadors presenting credentials, visiting heads of state and government. Peers, family, friends. Some, like the Sileans, liked things informal. Almost businesslike. Others embraced the pomp.

This was new to Tobias though. This level of pageantry hadn't been seen in Prydania since 2023, when an old early viking style Alþingi session had been held to commemorate five years since the first post-Civil War democratically elected Alþingi. And THAT was the first time such pageantry had been seen in Prydania since the middle ages.

This was all of that pomp in full though. The Waltalrichers would be arriving from the airport soon. They had their own standard bearers. Lord Marshal Hummel of the Knights of the Storm would
meet his counterpart from Waltalriche outside of Absalonhöll. They would exchange ceremonial pleasantries and then the party would be led into the throne room. The banners would mingle. And then the Kings would great.

That cut through everything for Tobias. Through the overwhelming pomp, Tobias would be seeing Max for the first time in a long time. Since he had been seven... Max twelve. It was... a lot to brace for.

Back then, Max was his older cousin's friend. They were arranged to be married when they were older, if fate hadn't intervened.

Tobias was thirty. He'd been King for eight years and he'd stared down more demons than anyone should ever have to... but he smirked. He looked across the assembled party of Prydanian delegates. Rylond, son of the Thane of Jórvík, in traditional Bayardi dress, was with his father. Rylond shot him a smile back. The times he and Rylond used to spy on Astrid and Max...

Tobias breathed heavily and suddenly the old oaken doors to the throne room opened. Lord Marshal Hummel entered.

"Your Majesty Tobias III Loðbrók, by the grace of God, King and Stormlord of Prydania, the Eastern Nords, and Bayardi, Lord Protector of Austurland, Marshal of Býkonsviði, Lord of Navigation and Commerce of Craviter and Collandris, Sword of Jægdar, Lord Uniter, Defender of the Faith! I present..."

Tobias stood. Alycia stood by his side, and gathered Baldr, Hael, and Hanna around.

"...by the Grace of God, Rex Messianissimus His Majesty, Maximillian II of Waltalriche, Adonai-Jireh and the Courantist lands beyond the seas, Defender of the Faith, Sword of Christ, and Protector of the Courantist Races!"

Tobias felt a lump in his throat, but he cleared it. And waited. The Waltalriche bannermen began to file in... Max and his family would follow shortly.

---

*svartidauði- black death
*Nordika- Prydanian name for the UKAG empire, informally used to refer to Andrenne and Goyanes