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An Oration of the Renegade Scholar Acreus, on the subject of Ducal influence over the scholarly field.
(As provided to initiates of the scholarly True Eye Society)
"Brothers and Sisters, while we are united in our being the outcasts of Lullubites Scholarly establishment, we are in common agreement. Our distaste at the existing system in which Lullubite scholarship, and our continued distrust of those lured by ducal subsidisation
However, as we are constantly drawing into our fold, scholarly men and women by the day. People whom concur with our assessments of the moral decay of those institutions, as they are assailed by ducal intrusions. We must on occasion provide concrete examples of in what manner our capabilities as scholars are impeded. In your hands now, is the recollection by one of our founding members. The august scholar Acreus. On how he came to the conclusion, that the intervention of the dukes into the field of scholarship was malicious and self-serving. Allowing us to see the thought process that gravitated him towards this conclusion, as he contemplated a subject that was dear to his heart and central in his scholarly interests.
The history of Lullubum and it’s molestation at the hands of the Grand Dukes and the palatial scholars that they’ve subjugated to their despotic agenda."
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The difficulty in divining the history of the Grand Duchy isn’t through lack of sources, but through the contradiction that those sources have to physical evidence and popular memories of events. Where despite common recurring characters, locations and situations, with physical evidence (Coins, scraps of paper and physical ruins of “mythical” locations) these are actively dismissed wholesale and even purposefully obscured, throughout subsidised Lullubite scholarly sources.
The reasoning behind this scholarly aversion, at least according to my own hypothesising, are the subjects of these common memories. The obscure and seemingly unorthodox founding of the Lullubite state.
One of the primary characters in these historical recollections, is that of a remnant Kostuan official, usually attributed as having held either military or political command over the region under the Kostuan Empire, is everpresent.
Being invariably characterised as cruel, vindictive and dangerously pragmatic. Attributed sometimes to being the initial ruler of a united Lullabite state, employing tactics of terror, fear and military might as a means of ensuring the Lullubite peoples submission to him.
One of the primary memories, a memory that is more widespread and shared amongst nearly all Lullubites, and attested to through a number of place names (Such as Massacre Hill, The Wretches Redoubt, and Tomb of the Chieftains). Tells of how this military despot was able to imprison and massacre a group of rulers of the Lullubites, after having arranged to meet them under the pretences of signing a defence treaty against the “Depthbeasts” undoubtably the initial demonic incursion from the Black Fault.
How this relates to another common memory, one that is irrefutable, and even attested to in the official histories of Ducal Subsidised Libraries. Is The Great Revolt, happening at some point soon after or during the Black Fault’s creation, is attested to as being an uprising of the Lullubite populace against the Kostuan military presence. The sheer convolution everpresent in these legends, different figures, sharing the same roles, at times leading the same battles and being attributed to the same actions, atop ruins from the age being rife with evidence of conflicts, cooperation and even military siege between Kostuan and Lullubite forces. Ensures that even from what I can discern of the historical record we are afforded through our own research, I cannot concretely assert who actually came out on top of the revolt.
This revolt, at least in my opinion, is from where the averseness of scholarly sources on covering this era of Lullubite history, probably arises. As I said, it’s uncertain even without the constraints of ducal influence, on asserting who specifically came out of the revolt on top, and who specifically participated in the revolt.
In some tellings, the revolt resulted in the rise of the Siranet dynasty. Their first concretely attested to ancestor, who is described in many genealogical records of both the mainline ducal Siranets and a number of influential offshoot families, as having through “unsurpassable merit”, founded the contemporary state of Lullubum through lawmaking, philosophising and mediation, settling the Lullubites onto individual homesteads and funding and propagating the earliest iterations of the Knightly Guilds.
Denying the Siranets any involvement in the revolt would be foolish and infantile. To deny this history, even if it would have to be directly dictated from the mouths of the Grand Dukes, would be a denial of reality. The Duke’s control over our society, our near hypocritical acceptance of their rule, and the autocratic situation they have asserted, must have been brought about through an event of incredible political magnitude, and I don’t doubt the Great Revolt would have to be that event. Either asserting their autocratic authority, or establishing a scenario which they exploited to seize it.
Yes, I said assert, as it is in the reality of their existence that we might find some of the truth of the pastThe title of Grand Duke, itself almost certainly derived from the same title present within the Kostuan Empire, and still employed within the Kostuan successor state, the Kingdom of Rolais. Could hint at a hidden nature to our rulers. At best, an effort to emulate the Empire, early, and before our cultural hatred of their Imperial legacy fermented. At worst, a sign that the Great Revolt ultimately, was crushed. And that the forementioned Kostuan military commander, triumphed. Establishing a lineage that, while nativized with time, would still be a heretical affront to everything modern Lullubite culture stood for. Whatever the reality, it is one that the Siranet’s have obscured generationally. Be it out of embarrassment, of an early effort to emulate our former overlords. Or out of fear, that they might be found out, banished to the winds of time, as empire they, in a sense might still represent, ultimately was.
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"Acreus’ revelation, of just how integral this obscuring of our history might be, not only to the legitimisation of the Grand Dukes, but to the justifications behind our contemporary autocratic government. Is perfect for justifying our movement. Showing just how integral control over our intellectual environment has been for the continuation of the Siranet dynasty, and just how integral we, those who refute their control, are.
Remember this quote Initiates, as these words are often attributed to any one of the early Grand Dukes, or important figures adjacent to their courts. “He who controls the past, controls the present.” It's almost incriminating, isn't it. Now, let us begin the hazings..."
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Uyuti, Namalar, Riddenheim, Cheysal serulea, and 4 othersSyrduria, Ryeongse, Eskeland, and Brelogne
MAP UPDATED (February 6th, 2022)
Uyuti, Elvhenen, Riddenheim, Ryeongse, and 2 othersEskeland, and Nesketos
Uyuti, Corcaigh mor, Elvhenen, Namalar, and 3 othersRyeongse, Eskeland, and Nesketos
Uyuti, Elvhenen, Riddenheim, Syrduria, and 3 othersRyeongse, Eskeland, and Khoiaavi
Uyuti, Corcaigh mor, Riddenheim, Syrduria, and 2 othersRyeongse, and Eskeland
Uyuti, Cheysal serulea, Syrduria, Ryeongse, and 1 otherEskeland
Guidance from Beyond
300-Word Post
Byeolsan, Inner District, Seongyeunja Temple
Shirin closed her eyes. Not that it made any difference. The deepest chamber reserved exclusively for her communications with the Astral Plane was always kept completely dark.
Wearing a simple white robe, showing nothing in terms of rank or power, Shirin breathed in through her nostrils and out with her mouth, cross-legged in the center of the chamber.
It was only the second of a new yearly tradition of only the top Gyunhyeongji clergy in the nation to enter into communication with what was beyond the Veil. Shirin deemed it was important to learn of the general path of the future in order to outline their role in keeping balance in all things, yet it was also in this pursuit of balance that these auguries were to be quite minor. All participants would be called to nothing less and nothing more than a sixteen-day fast and monetary sum of sixteen days’ wages. Whatever information they could purchase from beyond with these would have to do; potentially dangerous visions of the future warranting a sacrifice of an animal, or a worse deed, was completely out of the question.
Shirin exhaled. She swept her hand gently around. Sixteen stands of incense lit in a rosy ring around the queen, casting the floor and Shirin in a reddish glow. What insights did the Astral Plane have for her? What wisdom did the gods perceive necessary for Ryeongse to know? Or would Ryeongse stay in the dark, at the whim of the gods above?
Silence. Even the crackling of the incense all around her faded into complete nothingness. It was as if the silence was waiting for Shirin to ask her question.
“Gods above,” she mouthed noiselessly, "Let us here receive whatever insight you deem proper and fitting for us, your humble servants and executors of your will of balance and harmony.”
Shirin’s eyes sprung wide open immediately. The incense sticks around her burst from lazy smolders into open flame, pillars of bright crimson casting everything in a blinding light. As soon and instantly as the flames sprung, they died, silent smoke climbing idly into the air where an inferno once burned.
Shirin stood, troubled. She scrunched her eyebrows quizzically, standing silent and still in the dark. It was a whisper, distorted and fuzzy, Shirin had received from the Astral Plane. As clear as day the one word was, what it meant completely escaped her.
Dusk. What did it mean?
A New Family
400-Word Post
Dongbu Kolkaeguk (Corcaigh Oirthear), the Chiefdom of Moy, the MacCahan Residence
The sun rained down its horrid summer beams down on Manus’ bald head. One of the only drawbacks of living in the mountains was the lack of shade clouds would have otherwise provided.
It was a quiet day. The intense heat made most birds lethargic, something caught by the rest of the village too. Many villagers tried to use siestas to cope with the heat. Some simply resorted to lying in their fields, their homes like ovens by comparison. Even those outside of the village were affected by the heat. Ryeongsean traffic moved much more slowly within Moy, with Ryeongsean soldiers, rather than duty or errands, would stop by for a cold drink and some shade.
Manus himself was sitting on the grasses of his pasture. He had managed to repair the fences and clear dead brush and grasses since the woodkern raid, but it was still empty. Devoid of life. He kept the skull of the bull of his now-deceased herd on a post in the fence, as a reminder of what his cattle meant to him, the loyalty of Ryeongse to chiefdoms like Moy—and the treachery of the woodkerns.
“Boss?” Einneane’s groan cut through the cicadas, somehow. They were louder than ever. Manus turned to see his deputy leaning on the pasture’s fence, her face drooping, as if melting in the heat. She had on a thin silk blouse flowing loose over her midriff, as well as a short plaid skirt, in an effort to allow as much breeze to cool her body as possible. Manus had adopted a somewhat similar strategy, only wearing his linen shirt and wool trousers, rolled up to his knees. “There’s a Ryeongsean party wanting to meet you at the village entrance.”
Manus scoffed. “Guess Moy beer really is the best in Ryeongsean Corcaigh.” He pushed himself off the ground. “Might as well welcome them. They always diligently pay, after all.”
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“What is this?” Manus shook his head in disbelief. There was a small band of Ryeongsean soldiers and shepherds, escorting a herd of yyaka.
“A gift from General Ro, Chieftain MacCahan,” a sergeant bowed curtly, replying also in Kostuan. “He also expresses regrets over not giving the herd to you in person; he currently is in Byeolsan concerning an important matter. Please do your best to understand.”
“Of course, I understand,” Manus absent-mindedly responded, still unable to believe that a general of Moy’s suzerain would gift him with a literal herd of cattle.
Einneane nodded, racing her apprehensive tongue across her teeth. “Alright,” she called out to the shepherds in Gogwihan-eo, “Let’s get to business.” She barked out some more guiding orders, leading the shepherds as the group corralled the herd to Manus’ repaired pasture.
“Tell the general he has my gratitude,” Manus half-smiled, chuckling softly. “If you don’t have anything better to do, let’s go to the tavern. One of our village mages is doing some work there; let the village treat you all to some cold beer.”
The sergeant bowed, alongside whatever soldiers and farmhands were not distantly edging yyaka past Manus’ pasture’s gates. “I gratefully appreciate and accept your offer. After all, I have heard that Moy beer is the best in all of Sokos.”
Passing: Part I
500-Word Post
Byeolsan, Inner District, Royal Palace, Throne Room
The summer sun was beaming mightily upon the earth, the palace’s black tiled rooves both providing precious shade and also slowly baking those inside. The paper windows were blinding with solar translucency, drowning out even the defiant orange flames of the torches along each pillar.
It was a hot day. A hot summer. Thankfully, some Hyeongshinjo attendees did what they could to cool the air through chilled blasts of wind.
The chamber was less crowded than usual. Only half of the consulate was currently present, sitting patiently at the base of the royal thrones. Only a handful of court attendants were present, sparsely lining each side of the hall. Still, palace security stood guard at the usual quantity, intervallically lined from the entrance to the throne. Munhan stood before the king and queen each in their respective thrones. He wore a simple red hanbok, with white pants. It was a piece often worn under his resplendent armor, absent from his outfit today. Behind him was Munsang, clad in dark steel professional lamellar armor, with the usual red and gold highlights. He held his tasseled helmet under his arm, its black and gold strands swaying against magically-propelled cold currents of wind.
“Thank you for coming. I apologize for the unexpected summons but thank you, especially Your Majesties the King and Queen as well as my son,” Munhan smiled. There was no better king in all of the world than Jangyeon, and no fairer a queen than Shirin. Their hearts were righteous and their loyalty to their country, not to mention an old man like Munhan, honorable and inspiring.
“Think nothing of it,” Jangyeon responded. Shirin nodded in affirmation. Both were wearing their everyday court hanbok, far more extravagant than what even the most refined aristocrats could muster but not anything like full regal wear or battle armor. Each was wearing hairpin crowns, allowing their heads to receive more hair than a full crown, tiara, or crown-helmet.
Munsang nodded as well. “To be fair, I did lose a few hairs trying to clear out a schedule for this,” he chuckled.
Munhan chortled. “Finally getting a sense of humor now?” Munsang was never the one to joke around, frequently being the butt of Munhan’s and Munyu’s jokes, likely to several breaking points over the years. Munhan could see Munyu’s smile in Munsang. It was good to see such a spirit live on.
“I understand the subject matter of this assembly of the court was regarding a brief announcement?” Jangyeon cut to the chase. It was clear that Jangyeon valued Munhan as an advisor, mentor, and friend, but it seemed the king was busy. An assembly of the court would need to be just that. This was time also taken out of Munsang’s schedule, despite his jest.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Munhan bowed, acknowledging the need for brevity. He paused, taking a shaky breath with uncertainty yet resolution. “This seventeenth of the moon of Keongcheong, in the 2,502nd year of Wonjungmu, I hereby tender my retirement as Chief Consul of the Won Dynasty of Ryeongse.”
Passing: Part II
600-Word Post
Byeolsan, Inner District, Royal Palace, Throne Room
The court fell silent.
“To be frank, for which you will have to forgive me,” Munhan continued, “I am getting old. I do not wish to go to the grave with this responsibility. I have had no problem bearing it, but I am hindering the nation in this state and wish to pass this responsibility along to General So Naehwa, a worthy member of the consulate to succeed me in this office.”
Naehwa was among those in the consulate not present, currently overseeing Hwangsorui Fortress. She was a quiet woman, working hard and saying little outside of what was required. There was a long way to go, Munhan knew, for her in becoming the best advisor to His Majesty she could be, but it was possible.
Jangyeon furrowed his eyebrows, placing his hand on his beard in deep thought. Shirin looked beside her to her husband, trying to read his thoughts and play them alongside her own.
“Of course, if it is a problem, I am more than honored to stay, if that be your wish, Your Majesty,” Munhan resumed once more. Although Munhan longed for rest, he would do what Jangyeon would permit. Regardless of how he took power as king, he had done incredibly with it. His say was final. Mandated by the gods above.
“What is your opinion, General Ro?” Jangyeon leaned back into this throne.
Munsang continued to think in silence. Then he spoke, “If that is what Father wishes, I ask that you let him retire, Your Majesty. He is the finest servant of the royal dynasty anyone could ask for, and he more than anyone should rest when wanted.” Munsang stepped forward, in front of Munhan, continuing with a kneel, “I know my father well. He wishes no offense to the dynasty and thinks foremost of its prosperity. If that means sacrificing his position, then he will gladly do so.”
Jangyeon narrowed his eyes in consideration. “Very well. I accept your resignation as Chief Consulate. I shall thoroughly review General So’s portfolio and will decide on your successor shortly.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Munhan fully kowtowed on the glossy jet-black tiles of the throne room. His joints ached like Rhilubuan’s fury, but he did his best to ignore the searing pain.
“May your numerous days henceforth be filled with peace, blessings, and rest deserving of a true servant and friend to the dynasty,” Jangyeon responded, waving his hand to dismiss the assembly. The king smiled warmly, yet there was a melancholy behind his eyes. Perhaps His Majesty was saddened at this latest show of his friend’s life reaching its last legs.
Munsang bowed as well at the waist before helping his father up and out of the throne room. As Munhan hobbled past the throne room’s massive doors, down the steps of the royal courtyard, using his sheathed sword almost as a cane, he proposed in an idle hope to Munsang beside him, “I should very much like to visit Dhorvas again and perhaps Uyuti as well sometime. I wish to see Ganai again as well as the Tong princess. I also want to meet the Tong Emperor himself, given his reputation.”
“You have lots of time, Father,” Munsang sternly responded, a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “Don’t talk as if your next life starts tomorrow.”
Munhan nodded, then acknowledged, “Perhaps I do have time. I should visit the physician again and stop spooking everyone.” Munsang smiled a bit. “However,” Munhan turned to face his son, in the bright sunshine of the summer, “if Munyu has taught me anything since his departure, it’s that every bit of this life needs to be cherished. Only the gods above know when we pass over into our next.”
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