Unto the Folk of Calontir, do Logan, King of Calontir by right of arms, and Ylva, His Queen, send Greetings!
When saying good bye is this hard, it must be The End of something wonderful. Something unforgettable. No words can truly express how these past few fleeting months have shaped Us and changed Us.
Our world was born out of chaos, and in the end, there will be chaos again. But right now, beneath the branches of the Great Tree, what holds us together and gives our lives meaning is our oaths. Our oaths to each other, our oaths to our leaders, and our oaths to our followers.
The oath that We gave as We ascended the Falcon thrones was this, and We would still swear to it until the end of times. Until the chaos returns:
Here do I swear a lawful oath on the sword,
I will protect, defend, and serve the CalonLaw, Konungatal, and Konungríki,
I vow to the witan, the brytia, and the folk to maintain the World as we know it.
I shall rule according to law, bring wordfame to the realm,
And give golden rings and shining steel to those who earn each.
As long as fire burns; earth grows; child calls to mother, and mother bears children;
As long as folk kindle fire; ships sail; shields glint; snow lies; and the sun shines;
As long as the wind blows; and waters fall to the sea;
And as long as the Falcon flies the long spring day, with a fair wind behind him on wings outspread.
So swear We, Duncan Bruce of Logan; Ylva Jonsdottir.
Although soon We will no longer rule, this is not The End. We will continue to serve Calontir in other ways, and the Konungriki, the lineage of Calontir, flows on. This Konungatal of Calontir is in good hands.
Logan konung, Ylva drottning