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To Be Maheral


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To Be Maheral

 


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11th of the Sun’s Smile

 


 

To Galanthil Maehr’indor, and to all mali’thill of Haelun’or:

Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya. Progress and Health. It is this philosophy which guides our every waking moment, and is the foundation upon which the Silver State’s ascension rests. Yet the incomplete, or misunderstood, adheration of this philosophy results in much the opposite, being the progenitor of strife and regression. It thus falls on the Maheral to interpret the philosophy, through rigorous erudition, through recollection of tradition, and through the logic and pragmatism of their day. The Maheral is the cornerstone of the Republic, and the Maheral simply is.

 

With that in mind, Galanthil Maehr’indor, how can you be? The past Malaurir Sullas was evidently misguided, and though he saw the Republic restored, and was a logical and eminent leader, his view of the maehr’sae hiylun’ehya was overly superfluous, and as a result the State has been susceptible to internal conflict. In the midst of this, he retires and appoints a certain Galanthil Maehr’indor, on the basis of friendship and your supposed political accomplishments of a century that has long since passed. You have not worked with the council since the time of our grandparents, nor established yourself as a voice of the people. You have not produced literature on your interpretations, nor laid forth your philosophy. Indeed, many citizens and councilors alike wonder: Who is Galanthil Maehr’indor?

 

To answer: He is mali’thill. But he is not Maheral. This cycle of nepotism at the highest office of state must firmly be broken if this Republic is to endure. We must adhere to a meritocracy, and leave the governing to the governors. The State needs a Maheral who understands the will of the people, and whose interpretation of the maehr’sae hiylun’ehya is not susceptible to abrupt and immediate change.  I served first as a Tilruir in my youth, and was elected to my present office of Sohaer at my earliest age of eligibility. I have worked tirelessly to preserve and advance the Silver State, yet have been restricted to passivity. There is a deep-rooted disconnection between the wants of the citizens and the whims of the archaic and pseudo-aristocratic inner circle from which Maherals have been historically selected. I am an orphan, and my family name does not carry with it a legacy of eminence. But I am mali’thill. A scholar, and a governor. I understand the Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya and have demonstrated that through writing, debate, and diplomacy. It is time that the cries of the youth and the common citizen are heard, and that our traditions be no longer muddled and debased.

 

Galanthil Maehr’indor, there is no basis for your holding of the seat of Maheral. And you have been challenged.

 

 

                                             Signed by the Sohaer,

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“Well this is getting interesting, oh my how the Sohaer had never made me more interested of anything before! I must come and see this debate happen!” Alyssa Seregon said to herself while drinking some nice tea after the crazy orenian ladies stormed the city for the event. “Interesting this is all so interesting, Sohaer and Maheral, same coin different sides, one will debate the other.” The Seregon made another comment and with this she  prepared herself for bed, seemingly drunk.

 

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In a patch of wheat where cows were stocked, one son of Azdromoth wandered into a pen and sat himself before a fettle cow. His golden-hued orbs scrutinised the cow before muttering in a phlegmatic tone. 

 

“I don’t know what a Maheral is, but this seems much more fun than a debate on if my brothers and sisters are illegal immigrants.” Eluitholnear grumbled. 

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“The Sacred seat of the Maheral is to represent Larihei Herself. It is only the Malauriran and the Maheral whom may pass such. Sohaer, you are mixing the Epitome of our Purity to a public office seat, an Okarir or the one you currently hold. Your disregard to ancient traditions as was told by our forefathers disgusts me. To attack the Maheral is to attack our purity. To attack our purity is to attack our kin” Said Nuala Telperion as she heard the horrendous news 

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Dele has to read Eredael's letter not once, but six times. At no point was Galanthil to be permanently Maheral, simply to appoint the next in Ikur's stead....

 

But Maheral has never been a challengeable seat, for the Maheral simply is.

 

Eredael simply was not.

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Ithil'ti shakes her head at the postage. "Another attack on purity once more, I have never seen less talent on leadership than before this. I'm am once again disappointed. These bullshit politics only have slowly done away with our purity and have not elevated our people higher than the lessers below us."

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Finnadh Uradir smiles in quiet and very grim satisfaction to himself within the confines of his chambers in Uradir Manor. Within his mind replayed the image of flayed lessers, burning woodlands, and volleys of arrows soaring through the air. Ever the active imagination, he paced his terrace and watched the stars glimmering in the sky while thinking to himself.

 

Of what could be. Of what his distant relative the famed scientist and politician Kalenz Uradir had left for him and his kindred. His dreams would be peaceful in the night despite the anxiety of the coming days and what was on the horizon. 

 

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"Well, when I told him to stop hiding discontentment, I didn't expect that. I knew the boy wasn't as timid as he claims to be." As with most political arguments that have occurred in the recent years, Aiera Sullas sat casually with a group of peers, supping on some communal tea. What was next, flying impures?

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“I like you, Eredael, but I don’t think this was the most calculated maneuver -Lysio H.” reads a note posted on a board in the city.

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*Alad would read the news after returning to Haelun'or from his travels investigating the beasts near Oren.*

"On the backs of the recent political squabbling, to appoint another without a vote or scholarly credentials" *he would scoff* "Is he just embarrassed with the fall out.  A good leader would have seen us through this troublesome time"

*Returning to his dorm, Alad would work on writing his next account of his adventures, putting his hopes that his people would simply call for a re-election.* 

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Maenor would've read the missive carefully, a concerned frown forever present on his face as he did so. Ultimately he sighed, showing very little reassurance and not daring to hope for better days, rejoining Aiera and their circle of friends, sipping tea silently and absent-mindedly. Whatever was puzzling him he chose to keep to himself.

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