Fist of Ostrien
NPC Narrator
Hear now, all who dwell beneath crown and sky.
Let it be known across the breadth of Merélais and beyond:
Where once the banners of war choked the horizon in ash and iron, there now rises a spectacle of splendor.
Beyond the conquered walls of Basteaux, upon fields still haunted by the memory of siege and slaughter, pavilions of silk and color have been raised. Great lists have been marked into the earth. The thunder of hooves replaces the march of armies. The clash of steel, no longer bound to death, now sings for glory.
By decree of Emperor Karl I von Osthaus and Empress Lilia von Osthaus of Ostrien, a grand tourney is called.
Not since the waning days of King Mavis I of Merevingia, has such a gathering been witnessed. Not since the age of Marloman the Great, when all Merevingia and Ostermannia bent beneath a single crown, have so many banners been summoned to one field.
Now, as war falters into a bitter stalemate and Great Goravolst rises from the secession of the Eastern Marches, the Emperor casts aside the sword for a moment… and takes up spectacle.
Couriers have ridden without rest.
They have crossed the fractured lands of Merélais, bearing gilded invitations sealed in imperial wax.
They have passed through the courts of Albion, whispered at the gates of Ateria, and braved the cold reception of distant halls.
Even to the frontiers of Great Goravolst, where enmity runs deep as winter, word has come.
All are called.
Knights and champions.
Lords and envoys.
Sell-swords, hedge warriors, and those who would carve their name into legend.
Come test your mettle in the lists.
Come feast beneath banners not yet burned.
Come witness a fragile peace… or the seeds of something far greater.
For beneath the revelry, beneath the roaring crowds and clashing lances, the eyes of the realm are watching.
The tourney begins.
