The End of the Krovnakov Dynasty

The doors thundered as an uproarious cacophony was hardly damped by the stone walls and shattering windows. To add to the noise was the captain of the royal guard, screaming to hold the doors as I felt a great force heave into it, I stumbled, pushing myself back to my feet to face an inexorable tide that was fueled by decades of dubiety and detested of the dynasty had come to a boil. As I felt a great force once again, The door cracked open for but a moment. At that moment, I saw the faces of the neglected - the faces of those who trusted the sovereigns I was to protect had embittered. I felt a sharp pain rush through my body and radiate from my chest. It wasn't from a club or a pitchfork: it was the pain of failure. Knowing that I took part in the suffering of these people - even if it was simply defending the perpetrators of such dissonance - tore me apart inside. I pushed myself away from the door.
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me up the grand staircase constructed of marble - constructed with an amount of wealth that I nor anyone entering that day could even fathom. The captain extracted his blade from the sheath. He was a mean, detestable veteran that knew only war. I still recall the look of horror on his face as I flung him from the stairs. For a moment, time seized. The creases of his forehead folded greatly in duress. His facial hair, stained from alcohol and wispy with neglect surrounded the intense wrinkles of his jaws. He looked as though he wished to say something, but no words came. His arms attempted to grasp at something - anything - to ease the fall. Distant, I watched his faded eyes tear through fear, disbelief, and acceptance as he collided with the ground, broken like the kingdom he swore to protect. For but a moment, he looked as though he had found the peace he struggled to find. The tide was crashing down upon my companions. They feared death more than they feared for the lives of those we are to protect.
My feet rapidly carried me upstairs as I rushed to the quarters of the King and Queen. I drew my weapon as though I expected them to fight me. I collided my shoulder with the door. I heard it snap and splitter as it bowed. I turn my head to see the inevitable fate that would befall me: the enraged faces of people I once knew. Swiftly, I smashed through the door. I witnessed the Queen look over at me from the open window as I flung the door shut and threw their wardrobe down in front of it. She was beautiful. Snow white skin with long sandy hair and the face of innocence all dressed in an incredibly long white dress with a dark crimson fabric beneath. The King moved in front of her with his sweet-iron blade in hand. Graying hair, he still clung to his youth by keeping a neatly trimmed beard and short hair. Nearly a foot taller than the Queen, he was certainly a foreboding figure even when not dressed in his regalia. He was panicked as though he refused to believe that such a thing would ever happen. The Queen gently placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered, "It is done. We must away." A bright flash filled my eyes as I watched the air before me being torn apart like thin fabric. The King reluctantly nodded as he stepped through existence like a trapper through the underbrush.
For but a moment, Her Majesty locked eyes with me. She mouthed the words, "thank you" as she too vanished. The tear in the room was sealed like a sutured wound and I was left with the mob and nothing but a wall separating us. I knew that not one of them would relent to mark what I would say. I ran for the window as I heard the door splinter behind me. I refused to die here. I took hold of the sill, jumping and landing into the Queen's garden below. I had but one opportunity and that was to run from the city, never to look back upon it again.

The Conflict

Prelude

Secrecy, famine, disease. These are the words most commoners use to describe life during the final years of the Krovnakov Dynasty. The King and Queen kept primarily to themselves, hardly even speaking with other nobles on pressing matters. Suspicions arose and general mistrust spread through the streets of Carovige. This was only propagated by scheming nobility looking to find a place in the hearts and minds of the discouraged and disgruntled citizenry of the city and the kingdom as a whole.

Outcome

The Lord Regent, Sebastion Rostan, now sits in power four years after Carovige was left without a ruler. In the preceding years, those of high nobility made notable changes to Carovige, some for better, some for worse. During these long, bloody, four years, citizens took to the houses of nobles, killing them in their homes or demanding that they change legislature so that they may survive. Looting, pillaging, and mass murder ran their course and went without punishment as the guard and officials were in utter disarray. Sebastion Rostan, a noble that owned land south of the city, brought forth legislature and rallied the people behind it. As the nobles had no choice, they wished to appease the masses by raising Rostan in the position of Lord Regent. Rostan declined at first, as he claimed that he was nothing more than a lowly noble and a philosopher, but pressure from the public and what could amount to begging from the noble class caused him to reluctantly take up the position. With his appointment, the commonfolk of Carovige rejoiced: they had felt that justice had finally been delivered after decades of neglect from the now toppled dynasty.

Aftermath

Rostan is by no means fit to lead a nation under duress, though he has for nearly two decades now. The people are concerned with his well-being, as rumors fill the ears and minds of the people that he is doing everything in his power now to pass the crown to another. Though the people have been satisfied for a time, they have great doubt in their leader's health and desire to run the kingdom. Slowly, things have begun returning to the way it was before the fall of the royal family, but nobles and philosophers insist that Carovige is still in a better state now than it was two decades ago.

Start Date

13th of Aust, 394

Ending Date

15th of Aust, 394