The Tanith Vursur Diaries, Vol. 1

[Urahra 5780]

 

The Tanith Vursur Diaries, Vol. 1 

1766 IST. to 1772 IST.

 

Introduction

 

History is not the story of nations, but the story of people.

 

While we may focus our study on the broad movements of history, such as the wars, the catastrophes, the conflicts, we must take care not to forget the smaller stories nestled within the larger ones. The lives of individuals often function as microcosms of the larger political and social world. First-person accounts give us a sense of what it was like to live inside of history, not merely to study it. 

 

Dr. Tanith Vursur is a historian and author with the unique advantage of having personally witnessed large swathes of Imperial history. She spent her childhood in the city of Al'khazar on the ancient, now-mythic continent of Aegis. As a young woman, she joined the infamous and brutal Order of the White Rose, where she served as the Order's head housekeeper. She functioned as the chief manager of both their extensive domestic staff and their force of agricultural laborers. She served the White Rose from the Order's founding in 1371 IST. to their disbandment in 1420 IST -- a period of nearly fifty years.

 

Following the disbandment of the White Rose, Tanith sank back into obscurity. Nearly three hundred and fifty years later, she was discovered and contacted by the Orenian Minister of Civil Affairs, Edward Napier. Napier conducted an interview with Tanith by post, which he then published under the title An Interview with a Rose. The correspondence inspired Tanith to leave her quiet life as a hermit and make her return to the Holy Orenian Empire. Tanith would arrive in Helena, the Imperial capital city of Arcas, later that same year.

 

Tanith was -- and remains -- a habitual diarist. She took up the practice upon rejoining the Empire in 1766 IST. Her diary stands as one of the richest and most detailed first-person accounts of the Petrine Era. She documented everything that happened to her, starting in 1766 IST. and finishing with her abrupt disappearance in 1834 IST.

 

Dr. Vursur has since returned from her extended absence. She currently lives and works at the Northern Geographical Society's Flagship Museum in Rittersburg, where she serves as the Chief Archivist, Head Curator, and Leader of the Archival Division. She lives with her husband of 295 years, Icroth Vursur, and their son James Vursur. As of this publication, Dr. Vursur is 803 years old.

 

The first volume of her diary covers her arrival in Helena, her relationship with the Carrington Family, her association with the legendary Xannic paladin Jack, her budding friendship with Edward Napier and Celestine Herbert, and the beginning of her slow-burning yet enduring romance with husband Icroth.

 

Entry 1
1766 IST.

 

Spoiler

"It is certainly a modern world." 

 

I find myself saying that phrase over and over again. Truthfully, it feels as though I've been asleep and suddenly woken up in a different realm entirely. 

 

For us elves, it is easy to let ten, twenty, fifty, even a hundred or two hundred years slip by without even noticing at all. When you are a child of five, a year is a fifth of your entire life. But when you are an elf of five-hundred, a year is such a small fraction of your lifetime that its passing is hardly even noticeable anymore. The years tick by like seconds on the clock. 

 

In my case, I retired from society a few hundred years ago. Now here I am, trying to rejoin the land I once called home, and finding it to be entirely different than what it used to be. I have suddenly become very old-fashioned... Not merely old-fashioned, but a complete relic! They will need to dust me off and put me in a museum at this rate!

 

I am trying to find my place in this modern world, but it has been somewhat difficult so far. I'm unaccustomed to the new ways of doing things. For example, the politics of the land have changed in bizarre ways that I cannot truly comprehend. You can have political parties now. Here is how I understand them - perhaps you and a group of friends express deep belief in a cause... or you have some newfangled idea of how things in the government ought to be run. You and your friends can get together and petition the government to be recognized and have a voice in politics! And you shall have votes, no matter how silly and impossible your ideas! And the government will make concessions to you... in order to win your vote! That idea can be shocking, isn't it? Now anyone with a crazy idea may make his voice heard in the chambers of government! 

 

It seems a little dangerous if you ask me. I am trying to imagine a group of elves coming together and petitioning Emperor Godfrey for rights and votes... I am sure we would all have been executed and our ears turned into a lovely necklace for His Majesty. 

 

Speaking of elves, even they have a seat at Oren's table these days. Not only are they treated as ordinary citizens with all rights and privileges -- they have their own community just a short jaunt down the road from Helena! An elven city in human lands! Why, I do believe Thomas Chivay is rolling in his grave. Elves hold seats in government and help to decide the direction of the Empire. In all my life, I never would have imagined such a thing in my wildest of dreams. When I lived in Oren many hundreds of years ago, I once managed to stumble my way into a noble title. I was a baroness once, but it was a title conferred to me by marriage and not one of any privilege, power, or authority. Women could not exercise authority in those days, even women with grand and impressive titles. Looking back, it is hard to believe I legally married a human man in such a divided time. Even harder to believe they allowed me to take on his title. 

 

Women! My, what strides there have been made for the roles of women in society! On practically my first day home, I met a young scholar and adventurer by the name of Celestine. She runs a museum in the kingdom of Haense. She is a respected woman in her field - gone on many expeditions, recovered many relics, and made many discoveries! Women were never allowed to be scholars in my time. And they most certainly did not go on dangerous adventures! She is a baby of twenty eight and done so much. The other day, I met the mayor of Helena, Alpha Carrington... and would you believe it! A girl! A girl of only twenty seven... who has already served two terms as mayor! She was elected to office when she was but nineteen! And she wears trousers and bows like a man. Back in the day, such women would have been burned as witches and harlots. Yet now it seems ambitious Orenian women can do whatever they like. 

 

It makes me feel perhaps a little bit... ashamed of myself. I have lived a very long time, yet I have never done anything important. My only claim to fame is that I am very old -- and I was privileged to live at the same time as some influential men. But I have never done much of anything for myself. I live a very quiet life where nothing much exciting happens. I could never imagine myself as a scholar or an explorer or a politician. How silly! It seems like a joke. Women and elves are not supposed to hold positions like that. It's not their place. 

 

It's not as though I dislike my quiet and humble life. Indeed, it is the best life that suits me. But in this modern world where anything is possible, I feel myself struggling to catch up. I am so old-fashioned in my ways. Is there a place for me in this progressive new Oren, so accepting of all people? My Oren was so different and yet it was still my home. Looking at these ladies in pants, elves in power, these democratic politics, I find myself more confused than anything else! 

 

Oh well. Maybe my time and my place is long ago. I do not think I shall ever find a family like the White Rose ever again. But... with some time, maybe I'll make a new niche for myself. Maybe there are other old people like me, who are confused and lost in this modern, progressive nation. I'd like to meet them.

 

Entry 2
1766 IST.

 

Spoiler

The first step to finding out where I belong in this world, I think, is gainful employment. To buy a home, I must have money. And to make money, I must find a job. 

 

I put up a flyer offering my services as a domestic and I am gratified to say I received some responses! Some far better than others. I was expecting to hear from taverns or inns, but - to my surprise - most of my offers came from royalty looking to staff their palaces. 

 

I heard from the Princess of Kaedrin and the Queen of Haense. Celestine - the explorer and scholar I mentioned in my first entry-offered to hire me for her museum. And finally, I was contacted by a family known as the Carringtons in Helena (their daughter, who I also mentioned, is the mayor!). I went and interviewed with all four potential employers. 

 

Here are my thoughts on them. 

 

The Kaedrini royal family is only interested in me due to my personal history, I think. The prince of Kaedrin claims a relation to the Chivays, albeit distant. When I met with him, he wanted to hear all about my relations to the White Rose. His sister (?) offered me a room in their royal household, free of charge, but I am not sure if I want it. I do not want to be relegated to a pet or a curiosity - something to trot out at parties to impress other royals. Kaedrin does not care about me, necessarily, just my history. Just the stories I can tell them about the Chivays and the early days of the White Rose. Perhaps it is selfish of me to say this, but... I would rather not be stuck living in the past. With a future as big and bright as this one, isn't it important to live in the moment? 

 

Similarly, the interview with the Haense Queen was…awkward. For one, there was a lot of commotion going on outside and I could hardly hear the softspoken noble ladies. Then they told me that they already had a chef, but the chef could use an assistant. Again, perhaps I am too picky, but I felt very disrespected! I am five hundred years old! I started cooking the second I could hold a spoon! Five hundred years of experience and I am relegated to an assistantship? No thank you! I have never once shared my kitchen and I do not intend to start now. Call me selfish and jealous if you like! I made up some excuse to leave the noble ladies and departed as swiftly as possible. 

 

Celestine gave me a tour of her museum, though, and I liked that very well. I never received a formal education myself, but history is a very interesting thing to me. At the very least, it helped me catch up on things that I missed or forgot about. Celestine's specialization is in the history of Hanseti-Ruska - a great kingdom of Raevir. How funny, to think that Lord Carrion once lived in a tiny keep just up the road from the Roses... and he became the patriarch of an entire people! He must be very proud to see his descendants building grand cities in his name and keeping the Raevir ways alive. Miss Celestine treated me very kindly, like a person rather than a curiosity or a subordinate. And though she asked me questions about the past, she... took a more broad view, I suppose one could say. Many people only care about their particular lineages. She treated me more as a person than simply a record of memories. I should hope to become friends with her, if possible! Anyway, Miss Celestine asked me if I might help maintain the collection as well as potentially be a guest lecturer. They could not offer much in the way of payment (alas, the life of an academic) but she was so sweet and polite to me. I would very much like to help the museum somehow. 

 

But the group I liked the most was assuredly the Carringtons! What a funny and lively family! They told jokes, served drinks, and invited me to sit with them at their table like an equal. They told me all about how Oren has changed in the many years I spent away - about political parties and democracy and the new roles of women and elves in society. At last, a conversation that does not focus only on the past, but on the future! Mr. Green Carrington offered me a job as a governess for his little daughters. I met a few of the girls - and they seemed as lively and joyful as their father. Mary Lucille was especially spirited. She wore a darling little hat that she made herself - what a fashionista! I think that is the sort of job I'd like to have. I've always liked children, though I no longer have any of my own. And this energetic family is sure to keep me busy! 

 

Ideally, it might be nice to work for the Carringtons and maybe volunteer with the museum. I could go back and forth between Haense and Helena by riding the tram. (On a side note, I love the tram! How exciting and fun! A modern marvel of the modern world! If only we'd had such a thing four hundred years ago!) 

 

I will feel bad rejecting the Kaedrini royal family's offer. I know that my history with the White Rose is important to them. But... well, is it wrong to be irritated by people asking me so many questions about the past? Truly... I don't mind sharing my memories. It's important to learn from history, isn't it? But I am more than just a living history book! I don't want to be treated like a relic from the past. I want a life here in Oren now. I want a future. I want to make new friends and maybe, if I am lucky, perhaps find someone special to share my new life. 

 

I've been alone for a very long time. Maybe I'm tired of being alone.

 

Entry 3
1767 IST.

 

Spoiler

Am I ever going to adjust to life in Oren?

 

Everything is just so different, I can't get used to it. Perhaps I ought to slow down and give myself some time. Being in Oren is like being in a new country, full of strange customs. I realized today just how long I have been out of society. I left Oren shortly after King Andrik Vydra was assassinated by the High Elves. The anti-elven sentiment had grown too strong and I no longer felt safe living in Petrus. Today, I learned that Vydra's assassination - and the Duke's War, which is really the last thing I remember - was over three hundred years ago.

 

Three hundred years! Time got away from me. Living alone for so long, I lost track. I stopped counting the years. Day and night - winter, spring, summer, fall - they all passed me by in a kaleidoscopic whirl. Three hundred years… half of my life, gone. Centuries in which I did… nothing.

 

But now I'm back! Thanks to Mr. Napier, I've returned home! When he wrote to me, I woke from my depressed and lonesome daze. I realized I didn't have to be alone anymore -- it was safe for me to rejoin society! I won't lose track of time ever again. I'll enjoy every day that God has given me in this world… and I'll write about them here, in my diary!

 

We elves must make a conscious effort to enjoy every moment. We live so long and the moments pass by so quickly. It's easy to let time slip through our fingers. But I'll hold onto my days like precious gems because I've been given another chance to live. 

 

Today was the most fun I've had in a very long time. This morning, I made a decision. I decided I would accept Mr. Carrington's job offer and come to live in Helena. So, today, I woke up and set out for the capitol. Luckily, I didn't have to look for Mr. Carrington very hard -- he's certainly difficult to miss in that bright green coat! As it turns out, today was his daughter Mary Sophia's birthday. And what was her gift? Well... as it turns out, me! 

 

Mary Sophia was thrilled to learn that I would be her governess. I am already starting to love Mr. Carrington's little girls. Mary Sophia has the prettiest manners of any child I've met. She's very interested in magic. She got so excited when I did a little magic show for her. I am dreadfully out of practice with my evocation, but I managed to conjure a little flurry of snow for her. She adored it! She was so sweet, I ended up promising to teach her a little bit about magic. Suppose I'll need to brush up on my skills so I don't embarrass myself. And Mary Lucille, the older girl, is adorable too! What a quick-witted little spitfire! She's too funny and I can't wait to be her friend. Alpha, the eldest, is so admirable. She's resolved not to marry so she can focus on Carrington Co. and her political career. Imagine that in the Oren of old! Either she'd be married against her will or forced to take the veil as a nun. But here, in this Oren, she can be what she wants and live how she pleases. I love her independence! I also learned today that Mr. Carrington's wife is a senator. They are such a prestigious and distinguished family. It really is an honor to work for them. 

 

When I am not watching the girls, Mr. Carrington has me working in his tavern, which is called the Dragon's Rest. It's right in the center of Helena. I can see why he needed an extra hand to help out around the place. It's incredibly busy! People coming in and out all the time! All kinds of people, not just humans! He has an incredibly generous payment policy too. I get to take home everything I sell -- and I made two-hundred minas today alone! (Is that a lot these days? I can't tell, but it feels like a lot!) Today, I served humans, elves, and even orcs and goblins! I could hardly believe my eyes when a giant orc lumbered into the bar and sat down for a drink. My first instinct was to be frightened - orcs were raiders or bandits back in the day -- but this orc was incredibly kind to me. He and his friends tipped me handsomely. One of them showed me his little pet hamster. (Such a small pet for such a big orc!) 

 

The other staff at the Dragon's Rest are very friendly. I met a young man named Lloyd who helped me get started. When I mentioned that the tavern kitchen was a little cramped, he immediately set out about expanding it for me. He's a very competent carpenter. In terms of personality, I'd describe him as a little sardonic and wry. But he has a good, kind heart and I'm already fond of him. Toward the end of my shift, Lloyd opened up to me and told me about his struggle to care for his half elf baby sister. Of course, I immediately offered to help with the baby if need be. He tells me her name is Serienna and that she really needs a mother. Well... I was a mother once. A long time ago. 

 

By chance, I ran into Mr. Napier from the Ministry of Civil Affairs again as well. I owe Mr. Napier a great deal. If not for him, I would still be living alone on my overgrown farm in the wilderness. He somehow found out where I lived and wrote to me with questions about my history with the White Rose. After he and I corresponded, I began thinking how nice it was to finally talk with someone. How nice it was to live among people again. I didn't realize how lonely I had become. And thanks to him, I took the plunge to rejoin society.

 

He wandered into the Dragon's Rest and we ended up talking for a good while. He told me all about how Oren has changed over the years. It seems Oren is no longer a place ruled by an elite class of all-powerful nobility. No, instead it's become a democratic place ruled by the people and guided by the virtues of reason, debate, and providence. Mr. Napier even encouraged me to get involved in politics. "If you ran, you might even win, Miss Tanith!" he said. How ridiculous! Me? Certainly, this is a new Oren where anyone can be anything. But in the end, I'm still a traditional, old-fashioned woman at heart. I'm not educated at all. Everything I know is self-taught. I don't think an uneducated dark elf would have anything to add to the Oren political sphere.

 

Oren has become… such a kind place. I never expected this when I decided to come home. Everyone's been good to me. Mr. Napier even offered to buy me a new pair of glasses since I lost mine a long time ago. I've been wandering around half blind for over a hundred years! Can you believe that? I'd gotten used to everything being fuzzy. But glass is plentiful and cheap now… and medicine is free and accessible for everyone. People are so caring and loving here. No matter who you are, you have a place in Helena.

 

When I wrote to Mr. Napier, I said 'Would that I could do my life over, I should like to be reborn in this more tolerant time.'

 

My wish was granted. I've been reborn. And I cannot thank God enough for that.

 

Entry 4
1767 IST.

 

Spoiler

At first, I thought I didn't have the right sort of personality for tavern work. I've always been just a little shy - a person who prefers spending time alone to relax. But funnily enough, I think working in the tavern suits me. It gives me an excuse to meet people, you see. It's scary to walk up to a stranger on the street and introduce yourself. But if you're standing behind the bar and someone walks in, all you have to do is say "Hello! Can I help you?" And voila, there you have it! You've started a conversation and maybe met a new friend. 

 

And I am making plenty of those. Alpha hired another man to help behind the bar - one Mr. Hulee. He's a gentle and soft spoken old man. Luckily, he and I get along well and we don't get in one another's way. I worry that I've been a little bossy toward him, though. I am used to being the boss in my kitchen. The White Roses knew that the kitchen was Tanith's domain and she ruled it like a tyrant! I will admit to being very territorial over my space and my tools. Thankfully, Mr. Hulee doesn't seem to mind my bossy tendencies. He forgave me for barking orders at him. Actually, he said that he liked having a leader show him what to do. Hopefully he and I shall continue to get along well. 

 

Mr. Napier has turned out to be a regular well. He's been coming in every evening for his tea. I'm grateful that he visits often. He makes interesting conversation and I should very much like to get to know him better. I need someone to help me fill in the gaps of my memory, keep me updated on everything that happened in my time. Good God, three hundred years. I can hardly believe I was away for so long. But luckily, Mr. Napier doesn't seem to mind talking about history with me. Ah, but of course he doesn't. Recording history is his job! 

 

There's one more potential new friend. His name is Kettle and he is a dark elf like me. (Is it still acceptable to call us dark elves or is that a slur now? Nearly everyone calls me a mali'ker these days. No one called me a mali'ker back then! You wouldn't catch a White Rose dead saying an elf word!) But yes, Mr. Kettle. I met him under some strange circumstances. He saw me through the window of the bar and came rushing in, practically shouting in Elvish. It is shameful and embarrassing for me to admit this, but... I know nothing of my people's language. Maybe a few words here and there, if one speaks very slowly and enunciates. But that's all. I've spent nearly my entire life in Oren. Old Oren would... likely not have tolerated me learning or speaking Elvish. As an unfortunate result, I have a better grasp of the Orcish Blah than I do Elvish. 

 

Mr. Kettle saw I didn't understand his words and he grew very mopey and disappointed. "None of the 'ker in this city know anything," he groused. "When I saw a mali'ker cook in here, I thought you might be able to make athri'sew." I asked, of course, what athri'sew was. My skill mostly lies in human cuisine (and... very old, outdated, unfashionable human cuisine at that...) and I had never cooked any Elvish food before. 

 

Mr. Kettle hesitated a moment, looking embarrassed, and made me promise not to make fun of him. Apparently, athri'sew is snake soup. (Note to self: find out if 'athri' means snake and 'sew' means soup... Aha, look at me! This old elf CAN learn new tricks!) Mr. Kettle had grown up in the city of Renalia and missed the cuisine of his homeland. I told him that, if he brought the ingredients, I could try to make it for him. But in exchange, he would need to teach me a few words in Elvish. Mr. Kettle seemed cheered by the prospect and we struck a deal. 

 

I'm often at a loss for how to interact with fellow elves, especially other grey skins like me. (Is THAT a slur? What should I call us now? I just feel too awkward calling us mali'ker...) I know nothing at all about Elven culture or speech or fashion or cuisine or anything like that. In the old days, Elvish culture was denigrated as brutish and simplistic. A gaggle of savages living in forests and caves - as opposed to civilized humanity. Dark elves were treated as especially degenerate. Dark elves were cannibals who feasted on corpses. They committed incest. Father mated with daughters, mothers with sons, brothers with sisters. And instead of wise, strong men guiding and leading their women, the women ruled submissive and weak-willed men! 

 

But I am not sure how much of that is true. I never had the chance to sit down and talk with another dark elf. Would people who live such long, storied, and ancient lives truly have such a brutal and backwards culture? The longer you live, the more perspective and understanding you develop. You meet more people. You have a greater chance to learn about their lives. I've lived completely cut off from my people with no knowledge of their customs, their history, or how they live. For so many of my formative years, I only knew dark elves as degenerates who belonged on a cross. 

 

But, now that I think of it, was human culture really that much more civilized? Putting heads on pikes! Cutting off ears! Even me - even me, the "good elf," they had me trim my ears. I did it willingly. I did it myself with my own kitchen knife! (I washed it afterward, of course...) But I cut my ears because I felt such shame and hatred toward my own species. I didn't want to be a disgusting, incestuous, cannibalistic brute. 

 

I wanted to be human. 

 

But now, I don't wish to hate my people any longer. I'd like to learn. And now that elves are accepted in society, my short stumpy ears look so ugly and mutilated and scarred. Even back then, I was so ashamed of my ugly ears that I wore my hair loose to cover them. They're chopped bluntly like a cropped dog, not nice and smooth and round like a human's ear. I couldn't even make them look right! No, with my hair pulled back, everyone can see I was a slave who gladly sold out my own people. 

 

For what? A job slaving over a hot stove? A human husband who neglected me and filled me with babies who were born only to die? 

 

I buried so many little coffins in my garden. I made them myself. Lined with silk pillows because I wanted them to be comfortable. Tiny graves that I can no longer even visit because the land I loved has been gone for hundreds of years. I remember them, every single one. Holding their tiny, grey bodies in my hands as I sat bleeding all over the floor. My poor babies. I still remember your names. My foolishness killed you. Because of my cursed, broken body. Because of the sin of my miscegenation. Because I wanted to be a human instead of an elf. Because I thought maybe if I worked hard, if I stayed loyal, if I kept trying -- God would grant my wish and lift the curse on my body and let me be human. 

 

I am not even an elf. I'm a DOG. With my ugly cut-up ears. Waiting loyally for people who didn't care, who never cared, who used me, who turned me against my own kind, who neglected me, who ABANDONED ME -- 

 

Steady now, Tanith. 

 

Is there any use  in being hurt and angry over things that happened so many, many hundreds of years ago? 

 

Stop crying or you'll smear your ink. 

 

This isn't the same world. You've been reborn and you have a new chance to live. A chance to change. What happened hundreds of years ago doesn't matter any longer. The White Rose is dead. 

 

And you? 

 

You are free to do whatever you want, live however you want. 

 

I'm excited to make athri'sew with Mr. Kettle. I'm excited to learn a few little words in the tongue of my people. I don't have to stay stuck in the past forever. If the new Tanith wants to learn to be a dark elf... that's something I can do. 

 

Yes. Isn't it wonderful? In this beautiful new world, so full of every possibility, even someone like me can change.

 

Entry 5
1767 IST.

 

Spoiler

One thing that I shall never have to worry about, as long as I live, is not having enough time. Time, for an elf, is the most abundant of resources. I may have no money or status in society, but even the richest and most powerful man in the world cannot buy time. 

 

But thus far in life, I have wasted my time doing nothing but serving other people. Thomas and Peter praised me for my hard work, obedience, and diligence. But I have never benefitted from my own work, at least not directly. I benefitted with a roof over my head, a warm place to sleep, and the fact that the Chivays did not kill me simply for existing in this world as an elf. But living in human society came at the cost of my soul. I was always cutting off tiny pieces of myself, both figuratively and literally, to fit in.

 

I think it is high time that I use my greatest gift - Malin's boon, my long, long life - to pursue the things that make me the happiest and the most interested. To find out as much about myself as possible. I used to live for the sake of the White Rose, but now I want to make a life for me. To live for my own sake. 

 

Is that selfish? 

 

Is it all right to be selfish? 

 

I'm still figuring it out. 

 

One of the things I want to do is to finally, finally learn about my own people, the Mali’ker. (I am trying to use more Elvish words - today I learned that ‘llir' means friend. Even humans use it as slang these days!) Today, an explorer and cartographer came into the Dragon's Rest. His name was Juan Salinas Ruiz Villalpando de Ponce de Lyons but that was a bit of a mouthful so I called him Mr. Lyons. Mr. Lyons asked me to cook him a meat dish, since he had just come from Haelun'or and his hosts there only ate vegetables. He told me of a glorious, huge map he made that sold for several thousand minas to the King of Haense. Of course, I cooked him my special pork chop recipe and asked him about his travels. He mentioned so many odd and wonderful places! Like a place where thick black smoke billows from the earth. Or a strange forest of giant mushrooms and purple grass where the locals raised cattle that had become symbiotic with the fungal spores. He even promised to bring me a cut of "mushroombeef" so I could cook with it! How exciting! 

 

I asked Mr. Lyons if he had ever visited the dark elf kingdom of Renalia (it sounds quite a lot like Renatus now that I think of it!). Mr. Lyons admitted he had never been, but asked me why I was so interested. I confessed I knew very little about my own people and I wanted to learn. It would have been nice to hear someone speak first hand about dark elf culture. Mr. Lyons said that if he visited Renalia sometime, he would come back and tell me everything. But he encouraged me to travel there myself. 

 

"You have time, don't you?" he said. Well, he's right. I do. 

 

Mr. Lyons also did me a kindness by showing me to the Imperial Library and leading me to the section on elves. I took a break from work and spent a few hours reading there, trying to educate myself. But the books were all no good. They were full of complicated jargon, names of factions that meant nothing to me, or contained history so specific to the point of uselessness. I don't care about one specific elf prince of one specific family who lived God knows how long ago! Is it so much to ask for an easy, readable, general overview of elvish history? And the long, complicated Elvish names made my head hurt. Thank God I am just "Tanith." It's not an Elvish name, but a human one. (I was once told that it meant 'serpent' - which is still rather Dark Elvish when think about it, yes?)

 

A kind young man named Seamus saw me struggling over the books and told me he'd find me an Elvish dictionary. He didn't even know me and he offered to help. How thoughtful the people of Helena are! Eventually, I found a book that I could read without wanting to tear my eyes out. A single book on the origins of the Mali’ker. It wasn't especially useful... not a book on history or culture. But it told a myth about how Malin made our pale hair from starlight and our skin from blackest night. How he took gems from the earth and placed them in our eyes. And before he brought the first dark elf to life, he whispered a prayer in its ear... describing the things his grey skinned child should value most. 

 

"Family. Honor. Love." 

 

It left me a little cold. My family is long dead. I don't have a single connection to anyone in this earthly world. Honor, doing the right thing and adhering to the rules... that's what I've done all my life with nothing but heartache to show for it. And love? I've lived a long time. I've had flings here and there. A woman gets lonely, after all, and a warm touch and a smile can mean everything, even if it's from a stranger. But love? True love? I loved one man with my entire heart. I gave him absolutely everything I had to give. My unending loyalty and devotion in all things. They say we dark elves are an intensely passionate people and I believe it. I never loved or desired anyone as much as I loved my Mr. Toov. And I never hated anyone as much as I hated him for abandoning me. The White Rose, all of them, even Mr. Toov... they all tossed me aside like so much trash when they made their Exodus to Aeldin. 

 

Truthfully, I would like to give my heart to someone again. I would like to find a person who fills me with that same old fire. But I just don't know if it's possible. For now, I must be content to try and love myself. Is that the love you were talking about, Father Malin? I'm not sure if it is. 

 

I returned to the Dragon's Rest to find a small kerfluffle over the snake I intended to cook for Mr. Kettle. Mr. Kettle delivered the snake for butchering and left a note that said 'For Miss Tanith.' Well... my dear human friends didn't understand that the snake was meant for cooking. They got scared thinking it was some bizarre threat on my life and called the guards. The snake ended up somewhere in an evidence locker! I told Mr. Grouch, who is a manager at the Dragon's Rest, that I simply must get that snake back! Poor Kettle would be heartbroken if I didn't make athri'sew like I promised him. Mr. Grouch managed to get the snake back, even if it was all thawed and soggy by the time they found it. I refroze it with my magic and put it away for safekeeping. 

 

(On another note, everyone always seems shocked when I cast a spell! Is magic really that unusual still? Even in this modern Oren? Honestly! Everyone who works with food or does housework should know how to summon water! How do you ever get cleaning done without it?) 

 

Mr. Napier returned yet again today for his tea. He and I got to chatting once again, along with a high elf named Elke. (So many different people in Helena! What a cosmopolitan city! A true melting pot!) Mr. Napier showed me a manuscript that he was writing. He wanted me to provide him with a few recipes to include in his book. 

 

"Historical recipes, yes?" I asked him. “I imagine it is more important to know how the saints ate, rather than my own culinary experiments...” 

 

To which Mr. Napier replied, “Bosh! Experimentation is the heart of progress!" 

 

I never imagined a historian would be such a progressively minded man! I ended up telling him about a silly idea I had (to which he said, "Miss Tanith, Helena was founded on silly ideas”). When I cooked for the White Rose, I often had to make every plain and ordinary food. Things that would keep for a long time. Or big cauldrons of food that could feed a lot of hungry men at once. The Rose men loved my cooking, of course, and often told me so... but it wasn't very stimulating for me as a chef. I got to make more intricate and complex fare for feast days but those were few and far between. I told Mr. Napier that I wanted to be more experimental and was thinking of trying my hand at being an entrepreneur... maybe opening a catering business once I had saved the money. I do truly love cooking. But I worried that I could never compete with the trained chefs of Helena who have probably spent years in school learning to cook. I am largely self taught. 

 

Mr. Napier encouraged me, though! He reminded me that the worst thing that could happen is being ignored. But the best outcome might be great success. So I think I might try! Mr. Napier has become such a kind friend. I think he and Mr. Hulee and Lloyd are my closest friends in Helena so far. 

 

It's funny. While I was prattling on to Mr. Napier, a big party of people in fancy clothes came into the tavern. And there I was, blathering on and on and on about my catering idea. I've become so much more talkative since moving to Helena. I once thought I was shy, but now I talk and joke with everybody who comes in. Maybe I was only shy because, in the old days, an elf talking too much might catch the threat of a beating. 

 

Anyway, this large party settled near the back of the tavern and I just kept blithely chattering away, noisy as could be... 

Mr. Napier informed me that the people in fancy clothes? That was the Archchancellor and the Oren royal family. 

I nearly died from embarrassment. 

 

But isn't that a testament to the new Oren as well? The Orenian royals didn't seem to mind a dark elf barmaid chattering inanely in the background. They paid me no mind at all. Even just two hundred years ago, I might have gotten a beating for talking too much around the nobles. The servant classes are supposed to be dutiful and silent, after all. 

 

That reminds me... When I was in the library, I happened to stumble on a particular book. The memoirs of St. Thomas of Gaekrin. A copy, of course, not the original. I'm sure the original is stashed in a church archive somewhere. He wrote about me. He wrote practically a whole chapter about me (and he called me comely! Can you believe that!? Thomas Chivay! You skirt-chasing hound!). He praised my quiet obedience and my hard work ethic. He said he never met another woman like me. 

 

I wonder what he would think of me now. He knew the quiet Tanith who kept her head down and did her job. Who would work herself to death if you asked her. Who stayed silent and out of the way until she was needed. The Tanith who so wanted to be human and so feared punishment for her elven blood, she cut off parts of herself with her own kitchen knife. What would my old friend think of the new me? This vibrant and laughing and chattering and friendly Tanith? The Tanith who wants to travel and learn about her people and maybe even become an entrepreneur? The Tanith who wishes she hadn't cut off her ears? 

 

Thomas, this is the real me. The me who isn't afraid anymore. Do you think, if you knew me now, we would still be friends?

 

Entry 6
1767 IST.

 

Spoiler

I am a fool. I feel so ashamed, I just want to crawl inside a hole and sleep for the next thousand years. 

 

I met Mr. Juan Salinas Ruiz Villalpando de Ponce de Lyons, the explorer and cartographer, once again today. (For the sake of brevity I shall keep referring to him as Mr. Lyons.) He arrived at the start of my shift and told me had had been to Renalia. With him, he brought news of the dark elf city. Silly me, I was very eager to hear it, so we stepped off to the side. Mr. Lyons informed me that, regrettably, the elves refused to allow him into the city, but he had done some exploring around the walls. Just outside the wall, he discovered an altar to one Azul, the Lord of Torment. The altar appeared well kept and recently tended with fresh candles and offerings. Mr. Lyons asked me if I still wanted to go and visit Renalia. He thought maybe, if I accompanied him, they would allow him inside. 

 

In all honesty, I should have stopped myself right there. An altar to a deity known as the "Lord of Torment?" That really should have been all I needed to hear. But... I have been determined to take a charitable interpretation of my peoples' culture. I was determined not to believe all the old stereotypes about dark elves being brutes, cannibals, slavers, and corpse eaters. Surely that was all just negative propaganda, meant to whip Oren into an elf-hating fervor! After all, I am a dark elf and I am certainly not a cannibalistic, corpse-eating brute! 

 

"It is likely the work of a fringe cult," I said to Mr. Lyons. "Even Oren has zealots with odd beliefs, yes? There are those who regard Augustus Flay as a saint!" 

 

Mr. Lyons nodded. He bade me to come with him and we set out for Renalia. I asked Miss Carrington for a day off work and she allowed it. It was a much longer journey than I expected. Mr. Lyons and I traveled largely by boat with a little hiking. I wish I had brought boots or maybe even worn proper pants. But I sadly I own neither. 

 

(Note to self: Perhaps I should go clothes shopping? In the old days, it was common and expected to only one one or two outfits even as a noble. And you handed those clothes down to your children when you died. Beautiful gowns and suits could take years to produce, what with their intricate beading and embroidery... I remember the Chivays' niece Lorin caught some flack for having such a big and expensive closet. But now clothes seem very cheap and fashionable people have large wardrobes.) 

 

The trip was, on the whole, very nice with pleasant scenery. We made land in orc territory (a large savannah with beautiful, many-colored cliffs of clay) and set out for the nearby Renalia. 

 

I was so excited! Finally, the chance to see an elven city with my own eyes! To know my people first hand! In my head, I had already begun to romanticize Renalia. I knew it would be a foreign town with strange customs. I expected bizarre foods and funny architecture and different modes of worship. But surely, a city full of long-lived elves like me would be wise, sophisticated, and most assuredly kind. I feel like I have gotten kinder over the years. In the days of the Rose, I carried a lot of hatred in my heart -- not only for myself, but for others. Hatred that I have since tried to be rid of. Time has a softening aspect. The longer you live, the more people you know and the more you understand them. Surely, Renalia would be a a place of gentle and welcoming elves eager to share their wisdom with someone uneducated like me. Surely they would be happy to bring a curious foreigner into their fold! 

 

And then I saw the bodies. Strewn outside the walls of Renalia were bodies with their flesh freshly stripped away, revealing yellow bone. 

 

"Oh..." Mr. Lyons said, observing the corpses. "Those were... not here last time I visited." 

 

The skeletons were covered in spider web. Written in the dirt next to them - in blood - was a sentence in Elvish that I did not understand. But I understood enough to know it was a warning. 

 

There was not one body, but at least four flung around in different locations outside the walls. As I followed the trails of blood and found each corpse, I felt sicker and sicker. In all honesty, I have seen worse. I saw worse from the Roses, who strung the corpses of elves up on crosses. I have seen worse things come out of my own body, when I lost my children. But for some reason, I found the bodies outside of Renalia to be especially troubling. This was not the shining and sophisticated city I had hoped for. Part of me wanted to turn around and head home. But I did not want to believe the old stereotypes. Somehow I hoped that the bodies were placed there by some bad actor - and not left out by the state as a warning to trespassers. Even though four corpses, each one meticulously stripped of its flesh, is hardly a fluke or an accident. 

 

Mr. Lyons asked if I wanted to proceed into the city and I, foolishly, said yes. 

 

The city of Renalia was a bleak and grey looking place with oppressive, dark buildings and flags flying strange symbols. Mr. Lyons, friendly man that he is, tried to speak with a few dark elves but only got looks of disgust. He proposed that we find a tavern. Perhaps the elves there would be more friendly and willing to speak with me.  After some wandering, we stumbled upon an inn... only to find the single patron was a blind dark elf hunched over a pile of raw meat, scooping flesh into his mouth with his hands and chittering like a bug. What kind of meat? Dear reader, I could not tell. And I was frankly afraid to find out. After all, the meat from those outside had to go somewhere. 

 

Mr. Lyons and I very quickly left that tavern. By chance, we stumbled upon a single elf who spoke normally and, unlike his brethren, deigned to talk with us. His name was Mr. Ryld Naerth and he sat down to chat with me. We only spoke briefly, though. Mr. Ryld reminded me of the dense books in the Elven History section of the library. He spoke using words and names that I did not understand. I asked him to think of me if I were a child with no knowledge at all and speak to me that way, but his speech was still difficult to parse. I gleaned there is an Ashen Clergy who controls the lion's share of government, with the prince of Renalia being little more than a figurehead. I then asked him if the blind fellow gorging himself on raw meat was normal. As luck would have it, the blind man arrived on cue. He began drooling and spitting and hissing at me. Laughing when I let out a terrified squeak. 

 

"Stay! Ri'ahk loves whimpering fools!" He chuckled cruelly when I asked Mr. Lyons to take me home. Dear God! His mouth was covered in blood! Red all around his lips and dribbling down his chin! He was every awful thing I had ever heard about dark elves, embodied in one man! 

 

Mr. Lyons, ever the gentleman, quickly escorted me out of Renalia. He took me to the ruin of an old orcish town where we made in the hollows of an old camp building. I cried for a good, long while. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. I felt so foolish and stupid. 

 

Living in the first Oren Empire was hard on me in so many ways. I remember feeling afraid nearly all the time. Constantly watching my behavior, striving for absolute perfection. Because if I messed up, I might find myself on the bad end of a sword. Praying every night that I might go to sleep and wake up as a human woman. A human woman who could grow old along with her husband and have beautiful, healthy babies instead of shriveled, sickly, grey things that died in my arms moments after being born. A human woman who didn't have to live in fear of being killed simply for the misfortune of her race. 

 

Since coming to Helena, my aim has been to find out who I am. I denied so many parts of myself in the past. I wanted to discover who Tanith is, now that she's free of all the constraints that held her back. My elven blood was something I denied in the past, so now I wanted to embrace it. To discover what being a daughter of Malin truly meant. 

 

...Only to find out first hand that my people. are exactly the cannibalistic, monstrous brutes that the White Rose wanted to eradicate. 

 

St. Thomas is up the Seven Skies laughing at me.

 

Mr. Lyons tried to comfort me. "Miss Tanith, being elf and being an Orenian are no longer mutually exclusive. When it comes to Orenian elves, you were likely one of the very first," he said. 

 

"That's not true. There were plenty of elves living in Renatus, even then," I said. 

 

"But were they true Orenians in their hearts?" Mr. Lyons asked. "You do not have to come from Renalia to be a true Dark Elf, Miss Tanith. Renalia does not have a monopoly over Dark Elven culture and they are not the ones who get to decide what it means to be Mali'ker. There is a whole unique culture of elves within Oren, one that has been allowed to flourish because of the early strides you and other elves made. It's possible to be both a proud Orenian woman and a proud elf."

 

His words did bring me a small measure of peace. It's perhaps true that the elves of Renalia are brutes. But that doesn't mean the elves of Oren have to be savages too. Elves are not inherently prone to savagery. I know that personally. No one city, state, or culture gets to decide what it means to be elven. Every elf gets to decide that for themselves. I know I'm not a savage. The other elves in Helena aren't savages. But we are all still uniquely elven. 

 

I still want to learn more about what it means to be an elf. I want to create my own definition of elvenkind. Mr. Lyons was right that being elven and Orenian is no longer mutually exclusive. There are so many elves in Helena, participating in government and helping make decisions. They hold respected positions of authority and serve necessary roles in society. Elves worthy of dignity and respect. And they can use their long lives and vast treasure troves of knowledge to improve the state for everyone. That's what being an Orenian elf is. 

 

Mr. Lyons told me that I should take a greater interest in politics. Being a proud Orenian means voting and making one's ideas heard in the halls of government. He told me about the two parties, the Everardines and the Josephites, and gave me information pamphlets on both of them. 

 

"I am a Josephite myself, along with your friend Mr. Napier," Mr. Lyons said. "If you read about them, I think you will like them. They care about the little people. But don't fret - we'll still be friends even if you lean Everardine." 

 

Politics is a land just as foreign to me as Renalia was. The politics of the medieval era were decided by war and bloody blades, not by debates and reason. I suppose I'll need to research and find out more.

 

Entry 7
1767 IST.

 

Spoiler

A calm and quiet day today, just what I needed after the horrible trip to Renalia.

 

Lloyd got drunk and started acting very silly, but we got him under control. He fell asleep under one of the tables and sobered up. I scrubbed out the meat smoker - it needed a good cleaning! And I helped a poor beggar get a much needed meal. A gentleman from Haense told me about the upcoming Juliya feast, which is their festival of love. And Mr. Kettle arrived with more ingredients for the athri’sew. We’re planning to make it together tomorrow.

 

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately about what it means to be an Orenian elf. Today, when I walked into the tavern, I overheard Mr. Napier and Miss Celestine talking about me. “She could be the key to understanding much of humanity’s past!” Miss Celestine said. And my, how they both blushed when they saw me walk in! They both looked a little ashamed for talking about me behind my back. (They are awfully cute together… so much alike!)

 

I had been wondering why Mr. Napier visited the bar so often. He is a teetotaler with no interest in alcohol. His drink of choice is tea… and I daresay the Dragon’s Rest is a poor excuse for a teahouse. But I think I might have realized the truth now. He isn’t coming for the tea. I think he’s coming to study me.

 

By God, it sounds so egotistical when I write it down! Why would anyone want to come and see me? I’m no one important! I’m just a barkeep!

 

But I have noticed that Mr. Napier tends to show up without fail at the start of my shift… and he stays the entire time I’m there. He goes through cup after cup of tea and he doesn’t leave until after I do. He is an important man with much to do, so why is he hanging around a bar?

 

It makes sense. He is a historian, after all. And me? I suppose I am the holy grail of primary sources when it comes to Orenian history. An elf with five hundred years of memory locked up in her head. My memory spans from my early childhood in Malinor and Al’khazar all the way to the modern day. Not many elves can claim to have lived among humans that long.

 

I get annoyed with people asking me questions about long ago. I’m not a history book, I’m a person. I don’t exist in the past. I exist in the here and now.

 

But…

 

Like I said, I have been doing some hard thinking. About the role elves like me fulfill in Oren.

 

The greatest gift we elves have is perspective. Our lives are so, so, so long. We have a bird’s eye view of history. All of time lies spread out before us like a tapestry. And we elves can step back and see where the threads intersect. Humans, on the other hand, are only able to see a small fragment of the grander story. They cannot take a long view of time since they have so little to spare.

 

That is why they need elves. To help show them the bigger picture. To help them see the patterns and how they repeat.

I am not a smart woman. I’ve never been educated or gone to school. My life, on the whole, has been small and quiet, leaving no mark on history. But by God, I have lived a great many years. I was privileged to witness wonders and to know remarkable men. And maybe that is the gift I can give to this new Oren.

 

I want to live in the now, but here is the plain truth. “Now” is the result of “then.” The past is the present. And maybe my role in this “new” Oren is to remember the “old” Oren. To help them prevent the mistakes of ages long ago.

 

My past is something I wanted to avoid. There’s so much heartache I still carry inside me. So many old memories that I hate to think about. And so many old wounds that have stayed open even across the centuries. It’s been so long and yet the hurt is still so fresh. The memories so vivid, they may as well have been yesterday.

 

But… haven’t I learned this lesson by now?

 

I can’t cut off pieces of myself and pretend they don’t exist. There’s no being reborn. There’s no erasing the past, even if it hurts. There’s no New Tanith and Old Tanith. Nothing separating one from the other. Just one continuous Tanith from then until now. If I want to live happily in this new world, I must confront the things that hurt. My memories could help make Oren better. I shouldn’t get cross over people simply wanting to know about where they come from.

 

And you know what? I’ll admit it. It’s fun to mention a name like “Al’khazar” or “Prince Native” and watch people’s eyes bug and their jaws drop.

 

I’m sure when people imagine old elves like me, they think of some grand, spectral, ethereal creature shimmering with the mystery of eons.

 

And yet here I am! Just a little dark elf barmaid!

 

It does make me giggle.

 

I think I might take Mr. Napier aside sometime. I’ll sit him down somewhere quiet and just say “Ask me anything.” I hate to make him suffer through yet another cup of mediocre tea. Might as well cut to the chase, don’t you think?

 

(Note to self: Figure out a way to get Mr. Napier and Miss Celestine to realize their feelings for each other. They would be such a sweet couple! Just perfect together! Alternately, find out if Mr. Napier prefers men. Maybe that’s why he’s not interested in Miss Celestine? Oh, I know I shouldn’t meddle but I can’t help it!)

 

Entry 8
1767 IST.

 

Spoiler

Mr. Kettle has been playing around with his name lately - changing it around to see what suits him. For now, he’s going by Edmund. 

 

He tells me that the Prince and Princess of Haense gave him the name. To be quite frank, I prefer Kettle. Edmund doesn’t suit him. It’s too old and stodgy. I’ve met several Edmunds in my time, but never a Kettle. But I want to respect his wishes, so Edmund it is.

 

Anyway, Edmund arrived today to taste-test my batch of athri’sew. I followed the recipe he gave me as best I could. I butchered and cleaned the snake he brought me, then boiled it on the stove for some three or four hours along with the garlic, seaweed, and seasonings. A few patrons asked me what the delicious smell was… then looked aghast when I mentioned it was snake! After boiling, I strained the broth and left it to heat until before Mr. Edmund arrived.

 

I’m happy to report that he approved! Edmund ate not one, but two bowls and licked them both completely clean. He had his criticisms, of course… It wasn’t exactly the way his maln (father) used to make. Next time, he told me, I should make it less garlicky and more salty and briny. He described a good athri’sew as “all the best things about a swamp.” He certainly has a unique way of looking at the world. I myself would never use swamps as a metaphor to describe appetizing food, but I think I understand what he means. It needs to have an earthy, herby, savory quality. It’s difficult to capture that savoriness in a thin broth as described by the cookbook, but perhaps it’s supplied by the right balance of garlic and seaweed. I’ll need to experiment more to get the proportions right. But augh! Where am I going to get more snakes? (And also… will Mr. Carrington fire me if he finds out I’m cooking snakes in his kitchen? Maybe I can substitute chicken. Snake is a fairly mild meat and so is chicken… It might work?)

 

Mr. Edmund and I got to talking after he’d finished the soup. He’s taught me so many elven words. Maln, haelun, oem’ii, valah, llir, sil, athri, cigwen… I find it fascinating to hear him talk since he sprinkles Elvish so liberally into his words. He’s easy to understand, though, because I can pick up what he means from context. And he will stop and explain things to me if I don’t quite grasp it. He’s so different from the dark elves in Renalia. I feel like I could learn from him. Maybe Edmund can help me figure out what it means to be an elf in Oren. He has lived in this Oren longer than I have, even if I am many centuries his senior.

 

As we talked, he told me about how his father followed a spiritual belief known as tayna. In Tayna, elves’ names are taken from the songs of Malin and are endowed with great spiritual power, able to invoke miracles. The speaking of an elf’s name may cause flowers to bloom and fruits to ripen. And an elf’s true name must not be shared except with those he or she deeply trusts. Hearing Edmund talk about his parents, it made me wonder about my family. My very earliest memories are of the great trees in Malinor, back in the long-lost land of Aegis. The canopies so thick that they blocked out the sun. This was before I was taken to Al’khazar and sold into servitude, given my name Tanith. Did my parents speak a miracle into my name? Will I ever know what miracle they gave to me? Elvish names used to confuse me, but it makes more sense if they’re taken from ancient songs sung by the Elven Father.

 

I want to know more about this Tayna. Loosely, I identify as Canonist. But it is… somewhat awkward to be a Canonist when I once pulled a saint’s head out of the chamberpot after a drunken bender. This is an Oren that allows room for other beliefs… Is it all right to experiment?

 

This is a time of discovery for me. All my life, I have been prescribed certain roles due to my race and my sex. Now I can step out of those roles and find what truly fits me best.

 

Mr. Edmund told me something interesting today as well. After my shift, we went to find somewhere quiet to chat more. We were sitting together in the Imperial Library’s attic. (It was all closed and locked up, but we broke in! My, how naughty and bold I’ve become!) As we sat talking in the darkness, he mentioned that his haelun’s name was Elizabeth deNurem. That’s right, his mother was a deNurem! I haven’t heard that name since the days of the Teutonic Order so many, many centuries ago… It makes me laugh. Somehow, I’ve befriended a descendant of the White Rose’s hated rivals. My, how times change! It will never cease to amaze me.

 

Edmund keeps saying how much I remind him of his maln. He is very young and sadly all alone in this world. Certainly, he’s quick-witted, self-sufficient, and very smart. But I think he’s lonely here in Helena.

 

I am still lonely too.

 

But now it seems we have each other. “You’re nice to talk to, Tanith,” he said to me. “Most people are rotten.”

 

I said, “Most people ARE rotten. But that’s why we must hang on hard to the good ones.”

 

Perhaps I’ve found a good one.

 

Entry 9
1767 IST.

 

Spoiler

What have I gotten myself into?!

 

I’m so nervous, I might die. As I’m writing this, I just got home from the Novellan Palace. That’s right, the home of His Majesty, Emperor Peter III of Oren! I had a meeting with the Archchancellor and the Prince of Kaedrin. Me, a barkeep! I felt so shabby and small walking around that grand palace. And it seems like they might want me to come back…

 

I’ll begin at the beginning. I came into work today and ran into Miss Alpha. She gave me some surprising news. As it turns out, she’s going to retire from being mayor. Her term ends in four saint’s days and she doesn’t plan to run again. I have not been in Helena long, but I thanked her for her years of service and told her how earnestly I admired her. To me, Miss Alpha is the purest example of the modern Orenian woman. Ambitious, smart, and able to accomplish anything. Miss Alpha blushed as I complimented her. Do you know what she said? “No one’s ever said anything like that to me before.” I was shocked! How could that be possible? No one ever thanked her for her hard work? She gave up eight years of youth and beauty in service to the state. That’s a big sacrifice for a woman! Is Helena full of such ungrateful people? I do hope more citizens come forward and thank Miss Alpha before she leaves office.

 

As Miss Alpha and I were chatting, Mr. Hulee arrived with a message for me. “The Archchancellor told me to give this to you, Miss Tanith,” he said (and he was looking very sharp in the new green suit!). “He was sure asking a lot of questions about how old you were. It was very strange.”

 

Mr. Hulee handed me the letter. I broke the seal and read what was written on the inside. Imagine my surprise when, all of a sudden, I found an invitation to the Novellan Palace in my hands! Archchancellor Basrid wanted to meet with me as soon as possible. Immediately, I started sweating and feeling sick with nerves. (Really, I’m awfully silly. Why should I feel nervous? I’ve worked for kings and princes and saints! Is an Archchancellor that big of a deal? But even so…) Miss Alpha offered to show me the way to the palace. She must have noticed how nervous I looked because she kept offering me all kinds of reassurances. Promising me that Archchancellor Basrid was very nice and all I had to do was be myself. It would be fine!

 

It was NOT fine.

 

Miss Alpha had business to attend to, so she left me to wait outside the palace with the guardsman on duty - Mr. Derik. Mr. Basrid (His Excellency? What do I call him?! We didn’t have Archchancellors in my time!) kept me waiting for a good, long while. Enough to bring me to the very heights of my nervousness. I tried to make conversation with Mr. Derik to pass the time and ease my nerves (He told me he once cut his way out of the belly of a dragon!). Eventually, a servant came and escorted me into the garden where Mr. Basrid, Prince Henry Frederick, and Dame Franziska were waiting for me. Oh, I wasn’t expecting Prince Henry! I wonder if he’s mad at me for turning down his request to live in Kaedrin… He didn’t mention anything like that, but…

 

Mr. Basrid took me on a walk through the garden. The Novellan Palace gardens are decorated with stone busts of past Emperors. Mr. Basrid made me stop in front of every single sculpture and tell him what I knew about each one. He started with Peter I (Peter Chivay, whom I worked for – thank God I knew that one!) and made me go all the way up through today’s modern Emperor, Peter III! Would you believe it? He was testing me to see if I was really as old as I said I was! The only emperors I can really talk about with competence are the Chivays. They were the ones I knew personally, after all. After the coup that removed poor Robert, I fell out of the orbit of royalty. I was just an ordinary commoner during the Carrion era.

 

I… think I passed Mr. Basrid’s test? I can remember a lot of things, but my memory is full of holes. And I probably recall a good many things wrongly too. I was so nervous. I know I was blathering and chattering and sharing all kinds of silly, old, irrelevant stories. I become more talkative when I’m nervous. I was talking so much and so fast, I’m surprised Mr. Basrid could even understand me!

 

But as Mr. Basrid led me through the garden, he started to get very emotional. Taking off his hat in reverence and such. A few of my old stories even made him smile. At the end of our walk, we stopped in front of the statue of St. Godfrey, the first emperor. He turned to me and asked me, “Does it do him justice, ma’am?”

 

I looked at the statue for a long moment.

 

Godfrey was not someone I knew personally as a friend. But I attended many a party with the Horen family. One of my favorite memories is going to their masquerade ball at the Abresi palace with Mr. Toov. The one with all the fireworks on the veranda. I knew King Godfrey well enough to remember his face. I turned to Mr. Basrid and said “Yes, it’s a very good likeness.”

 

Mr. Basrid began to cry! Not much. He wasn’t sobbing or bawling. I don’t think a dignified, stoic man like that would cry in front of others. But his eyes became shiny and a tear or two slipped down his cheek. “You have known our way since its genesis. There is power in your life and tale, Tanith of the Westerlands,” he said to me. “You offer an insight that no man could reveal.”

 

Such high praise! My face went very hot. I told him I was just old, that’s all. There are no prizes for not dying. Besides, plenty of elves have lived just as long - or even longer! - than I have. “But they did not know Oren as you did, and do,” Mr. Basrid replied. “I want to celebrate these accounts, bann esha. I must write to the Lord Carrington and Minister Napier.”

 

I asked him what he meant by that. Apparently, Mr. Basrid plans to hold some sort of historical festival in remembrance of Anthos and the prophets. And he wants me to sit down with the Ministry of Civil Affairs and tell them everything about the old days! Dame Franziska asked me when I could make time to talk with her about it… and mentioned the interview might take several days! They offered me a wage to cover any profits I might lose from not working at the tavern.

 

I said I would help, but… oh, I’m worried. I make mistakes sometimes. And I forget things. I get names and dates confused. My knowledge is far from complete. What if I tell them something wrong? Would I embarrass myself in front of the whole Empire? It is an awful lot of pressure to put on one little dark elf! I don’t want to mess up. I’m so nervous about all of it, I might keel over and end my 500 year streak.

 

But Mr. Napier has been very nice to me thus far. And though I did not get to talk much with Dame Franziska, she was very pretty and polite. She wore armor like a man, but with beautiful white flowers in her hair. That is a sight I never thought I would see in Oren. How magnificent that people like her are allowed to exist!

 

Perhaps helping them arrange their festival could be fun? I am torn. I want to be helpful and to get the details right. I’ve thought about reading history books to brush up, but it might taint my memory and cause me to remember things that didn’t happen. Argh! Why is my old brain so unreliable? I guess 500 years have made it a bit… mushy, perhaps…

 

All I can do is my best. This is how I can help Oren and do my civic duty. I’ll give it everything I’ve got!

 

Entry 10
1768 IST.

 

Spoiler

Somehow I just keep biting off more than I can chew!

 

I’m writing this entry from a guest room in Carrington Court. And this is probably the nicest bedroom I have ever slept in my entire life. I wish I was joking! The floors are Sutican marble, the sheets are silk, the rugs are all antiques, and I am terrified to touch ANYTHING lest I get it dirty with my dark elf hands. I truly considered sleeping on the floor rather than the bed just in case I would mess it up. I was worried my grey skin will leave stains on the delicate silk or I would stink it up with my elf smell or something like that! (Logically I know I won’t but… since when was a dark elf allowed to sleep in a house like THIS? Is this still Oren?! Am I in a dream?!)

 

Let me tell you how I ended up here.

 

Today at the tavern was especially busy. They are gearing up for campaign season here in Helena and I think the Church of the Canon is getting ready to host a big event (the cathedral down the road was all cordoned off today). A few men came in and asked to hang campaign posts, including one Jonah Elendil. That’s right, an Elendil! And, you know what? He looked just like Artorus… even though I suspect there are at least five or six generations between them. I suppose Elendil blood runs true! He was shocked that I knew of his great, great, great, great, great grandfather and asked to pick my brain about the old days in Ildon. Perhaps I ought to start clearing some room in my schedule each day for telling people about their ancestors. At this rate, I’ll need to hire a secretary and start taking appointments.

 

Mr. Carrington arrived shortly after Mr. Elendil, along with Miss Alpha and two of his littler daughters. I have come to learn that every single one of Mr. Carrington’s daughters is named Mary (save for Alpha). I am not exactly sure why, but… to be quite honest, there are a lot of things in this new Oren that confuse me. Four little girls named Mary is certainly not the strangest thing I’ve encountered. Mr. Carrington and his family gathered around a table and ordered some wine. When I brought the wine over, Miss Alpha and Mr. Carrington bade me to sit down with them.

 

“Miss Tanith, what do you want to do moving forward?” Alpha asked me with a bright smile. Her question confused me. Moving forward? I asked her what she meant. “Well, Papa and I wanted to make you a manager here at the Dragon’s Rest. You can work alongside Lloyd and hire new bartenders and put on events!”

 

I thanked her for having such confidence in me, but I politely declined. “Nobody wants to take orders from a Mali’ker woman, ma’am,” I said. “And I would hate to step on Lloyd’s toes.”

 

“Bah, Miss Tanith! That’s an attitude from the old days! Look at Alpha! She’s an elf and she runs the entire town!” Mr. Carrington said.

 

Wait, Miss Alpha? An elf? I snapped my head in her direction and… wouldn’t you know it! A pair of pointed ears! They were small, barely poking out of her wavy, dark hair… but surely enough, those were elf ears! I had never noticed them before. And truly, she looks so much like her father that I never once questioned their blood relation. She and Mr. Carrington look too similar with their black hair, light colored eyes, and matching green suits. But as it turns out, Alpha was adopted by the Carringtons as a child.

 

An elf! The mayor of Helena for two entire terms! What kind of world is this, where elves are allowed to hold office? Everything is so different now!

 

Miss Alpha asked me to think about becoming a manager since she thought I would be good at it. From there, Mr. Carrington changed the subject and introduced me to his two little girls - Mary Jane and Mary Vespira. “Jay, Vee,” he said to the twins (I take it those are their nicknames – you need nicknames when every single one of them is Mary), “This is Miss Tanith and she is going to be your governess.”

 

“When does she start?” Mary Jane asked, glancing at me.

 

“Ah…” I said, “That’s a very good question. When DO I start?”

 

Mr. Green turned to me with a glint in his eye. “Have you seen Carrington Court yet, Miss Tanith?” I shook my head. He grinned. “Well, your work was contingent on its completion! And now it’s completed! Shall we show her, girls?”

 

And just like that, I found myself borne out of the bar by a gaggle of Carringtons. Good God, how do I possibly describe Carrington Court? Mr. Carrington’s estate is located just outside of Helena, but its grandeur rivals the palaces of Renatus, Abresi, and Petrus! First of all, the place is absolutely massive with several different buildings. There’s a gigantic courtyard, a swimming pool, a botanical garden filled with TAMED BEARS, a dining hall, a ballroom with a grand staircase, a PRIVATE THEATER, and enough rooms for a hundred servants! There’s glass and marble everywhere. Murals on the walls. Intricate rugs on the floor. Mr. Carrington isn’t a duke or a prince or a king! He’s just a baron!

 

I was a baroness once and the Toov manor was a hole in the ground compared to this place! Quite literally, since the Chivays had a penchant for digging their fortresses into the sides of mountains like dwarves…

 

“It’s going to need a lot of sweeping, Miss Tanith!” Mr. Carrington laughed as he lead me around. “Oh, and you will need to feed the bears, clean out the canoe once a week, skim the pool for leaves, dust the busts in the art gallery, do the laundry, mind the girls, cook the meals, and help us prepare for the Carrington Court commencement celebration!”

 

I was too polite to say anything, but Mary Jane spoke up on my behalf (bless the bluntness and honesty of children!). “Papa, why does she have a million jobs?” Thank God she said something, because I was wondering that myself!

 

“Well, she’s free to bring on more employees as she needs!” Mr. Carrington replied. “That’s why I hired her!”

 

I’m grateful for the work, but… at the same time, I cannot help but feel like I was somewhat misled. Mr. Carrington hired me to be a governess and mind his girls, not to be the head of his entire household staff!

 

Being the head of staff is a VERY different job!

 

But it can’t be that difficult. After all, I was the head housekeeper for a military order of 50,000 men. I mended White Rose uniforms until my fingers bled and my nails fell off. I swept and mopped every single floor in Krak du Rhoswen and Ard Kerrack. I tended the huge gardens and somehow I managed to get dinner on the table by six o’clock every single night.

 

… I also had terrible back problems in those days. My feet were always sore because I never sat down even for a moment. My hands were covered in burns and blisters from cooking for hours. Sometimes I think the only reason I survived is because my husband knew healing magic. Mr. Toov also had a way of getting me to stop, take a breath, and relax every now and then. He knew implicitly whenever I was getting too stressed and overworked.

 

Oh, how I miss him. Even now. Even three hundred years later. He was the love of my life.

 

I remarried after he died. Of course I did. I didn’t spend the last three hundred years completely alone.

 

For a while, I was Tanith Olora. And then, after Mr. Olora died, I was Tanith Gyffard. When Mr. Gyffard died, I was just Tanith by myself again. But even as I remarried and found new loves, I never forgot my Mr. Toov. We were together for fifty years. It’s hard to forget that.

 

I wonder sometimes if he forgot me, though. When the White Roses made their great Exodus to Aeldin, I got left behind. It was an accident. I got lost in the confusion. Mr. Toov was busy getting the men ready and didn’t have time to make sure I was where I was supposed to be. It was my mistake too. And by the time they realized I wasn’t with them, it was too late to turn back. The journey between Asulon and Aeldin was dangerous, too dangerous to double back and rescue me.

 

I never saw him again. Peter returned thirty-six years later to take the Imperial Crown. When I heard they’d returned from Aeldin, I hoped and prayed my husband would be with them. But Mr. Toov wasn’t there. Like Thomas, he died abroad in Aeldin.

 

I often wonder what happened during those thirty-six years. Did he remarry? Did he have children? Did he ever think of me again? Or did I just disappear into the mists of time, replaced by a human wife who could bear him sons to carry on his legacy?

 

I’ve met deNurems and Elendils. So many names from the old days. I suppose I’ll know for sure if I ever meet a Toov.

Ah, here I am getting lost in my memories again.

 

I’ll do my best for the Carringtons. Hopefully Mr. Carrington pays me enough to afford a chiropractor, though…

 

Entry 11
1768 IST.

 

Spoiler

I’m adjusting to life at Carrington Court slowly. 

 

Early this morning, I took a walk around the grounds to familiarize myself with the place. I suppose I’ll need to know it inside and out if I’m meant to work here. The bears in the botanical garden still frighten me, though. Mr. Carrington expects me to feed them? How?! I’m no zookeeper or animal expert. I fear they’ll bite my hand off if I’m not careful… Maybe I can feed them with a very long stick?

 

After exploring the Carrington Court grounds a little bit, I made my way back into Helena to start my shift at the bar. It was a slow day today. Hardly anyone dropped in. I think some other big event must have been happening. Mr. Lyons the Cartographer visited, though, and offered to take me on yet another adventure.

 

“I found a place you would not believe, Miss Tanith. A cave large enough to fit all of Helena inside of it! Sheer cliffs with a thousand foot drop! There is an abandoned dark elf settlement in the tunnels. Would you care to take a look? It’s the most amazing thing you will ever see! And not to mention, you will get to heroically rappel down the side of a massive cliff in the arms of a handsome cartographer.” He winked.

 

I wasn’t sure I ought to leave my post. But the Dragon’s Rest was completely empty aside from me and Mr. Lyons. Would it be so wrong to step out? Besides, Mr. Carrington is a rather permissive man in my experience. He allows the bartenders to work whatever hours they please and to take home any profits they earn. Mr. Carrington is wealthy enough to run the Dragon’s Rest at a loss and not even feel it. It hardly makes a dent in his earnings. In fact, he considers the Dragon’s Rest to be an investment in the public good since it allows poor people like me to earn a living. This is truly an age of staggering wealth when the barons of today can make the kings and emperors of ages past look poor and shabby.

 

But since Mr. Carrington is so permissive, and since the bar was so empty, I figured there was no problem with me stepping out to have an adventure. I do not often get to travel. And there is no travel guide in Arcas better than Mr. Lyons.

 

After a short boat ride, we ended up on a trail through some steep mountains. Mr. Lyons neglected to tell me that we’d be hiking and I found I was struggling in my long skirts. “Next time we adventure, you will need some pantalones, amiga!” Mr. Lyons chuckled as he helped me over the difficult terrain.

 

We passed by some Kharajyr ruins on the way to the cave and paused for a moment to catch our breath. It’s strange to me that Arcas is old enough to have ruins. It doesn’t seem all that old to me.

 

We left the ruins and found the entrance to the cave. It was indeed as large as Mr. Lyons claimed! The cave mouth was wide enough to comfortably fit an army platoon. Darkness swallowed the inside of the cave. I was a little nervous to go inside. My vision is bad — I direly need new glasses, but I’ve had no chance to see a doctor — and I feared I might get lost in the darkness and never find my way out.

 

“I’ll keep an eye on you, amiga, not to worry,” Mr. Lyons assured me. He lit a torch and led us into the shadows.

We wandered in the dark for a good few minutes before suddenly we saw a light through the tunnels! We emerged in a small settlement lit by large, beautiful, glowing flowers growing from the ceiling. “Elf lights,” Mr. Lyons explained. “I am not sure how they work.” The settlement had been completely abandoned. In the center of the village was an inscription warning of creatures known as ‘Lurkers.’ They could reach 60 feet long and oozed a slime capable of paralyzing their prey. The settlement had come under assault by a horde of Lurkers and the dark elves were forced to collapse a mineshaft in order to stop them. Mr. Lyons promised me that the tunnels were safe, though. He hadn’t seen any 60-foot beasts.

 

At the edge of the settlement was a sheer cliff face plunging straight down into darkness. At the bottom of the cliff, I saw the glow of lava and molten rock. Mr. Lyons affixed a rope to a nearby pillar and we prepared to rappel down the side of the cliff face. I asked Mr. Lyons if it’d be safe to descend.

 

“You know in those romance novels written for the ladies who are forced to marry fat lords, where the hero safely carries the princess down from her tower? It will be just like that, except I will wear a shirt and you won’t get lost in my eyes,” he said. “And I promise I am not doing this just as an excuse to get your arms around my neck.”

 

Is it me or was he being rather flirtatious? The thought occurred to me that I was alone in a secluded place with a man. Did he bring me to this cave with the intent to seduce me, I wondered?

 

(Though, if I were a man, I would not attempt to seduce a woman with the threat of 60-foot monsters lurking…) 

 

Surely not! I am older than his oldest ancestor, after all. And although I have the youthful face of an elf, I’m certainly no longer youthful in my mind or my spirit.

 

Anyway, I put my arms around his neck and we descended the cliff — thankfully without plunging to our deaths. The bottom of the cave was lit not by torches, but by glowing pools of molten rock. The heat was stifling and practically unbearable. The cave’s atmosphere alternated between hot as an oven and cold as the grave. Mr. Lyons lead me onward into the tunnels where we stumbled upon the ruins of an old dwarven road. The road lead up to a towering gate — bigger than the Novellan Palace — which no amount of force was able to budge.

 

“Perhaps it’s sealed for a good reason,” I said to Mr. Lyons, remembering the 60-foot monsters mentioned in the inscriptions. Defeating the Lurkers appears to have been a collaboration between the dwarves and the dark elves who lived together in these tunnels.

 

We continued following the dwarven road and, as we did, we talked.

 

“Do you want to see more of Arcas, Miss Tanith?” Mr. Lyons asked me. “There is a sunken town on an island. Beautiful reefs, full of old treasures. We could go diving.”

 

By now, I had begun to feel a bit uncomfortable. When we met, Mr. Lyons made a point of telling me how expensive his services were as a cartographer and a travel guide. And yet he was offering to show me all these places free of charge? Was this some sort of romantic overture?

 

I like Mr. Lyons very well and I will admit to finding him handsome. He’s swarthy and fit. And I’ve always had a weakness for men with exotic accents. But I don’t wish to be courted by human men any longer. If I were to marry again — and I’m not sure if I ever shall — then I would prefer to marry one of my own kind. Someone as old as me, who can be my companion through the centuries. Who won’t age and die. And with whom I might be able to have children someday.

 

So I decided to set the record straight.

 

“Mr. Lyons, I don’t mind you being a little flirtatious. It’s very flattering. But… to be clear, you’re not looking for anything, are you?”

 

Mr. Lyons was surprised by my asking. “Miss Tanith, I do not take you to these places in the hope for a kiss or a fairytale wedding. You say you are interested in dark elf culture, so I bring you here because we are amigos. But I do like to flirt with the women. There is no aim or meaning in it, I only do it for fun. But for you, I will stop if you wish.”

 

I was relieved. “Thank goodness. I’ve married a few human men,” I said. “I don’t want to watch another one age and die.”

 

“Ay,” he said. “Sí, love between human and elf is always unfair. Were I to marry an elf, I would die with a wife as beautiful as the day I met her. But the elf, she enjoys it for maybe thirty… perhaps forty years only. A very small part of her life in the end. You know how it goes.”

 

I do. I know very well how it goes. And that’s why I swear I will never give my heart to another human man.

 

Having cleared the air, though, we had a good time exploring the rest of the cave. Dwarven architecture is so curious to me. They build these large structures underground in shadow, so you can never enjoy the full scope of their beauty. But Mr. Lyons pointed out that the darkness hides any faults in the design — rather like a girl wearing makeup to cover her spots.

 

We made plans to visit the sunken city and go diving for treasure.

 

“I had a dream about us,” Mr. Lyons said to me. “When I am old and have mapped all the world, I shall come back and we’ll open a tavern together. Call it The Cook and the Cartographer.”

 

I laughed at that. “We’ll decorate it with all of your lovely maps.”

 

He grinned. “That’s the plan!”

 

He’s a good friend, Mr. Lyons. In this modern Oren, it seems people only care about me as far as I can tell them stories about their ancestors. And I don’t mind sharing old stories, truly… But it’s nice to have someone like me simply for me, rather than for my old memories. Someone who doesn’t treat me like a history book to open and close at will.

 

Mr. Lyons has questions about his ancestors — he’s admitted as much to me. But there’s a difference between someone who just uses me for old stories and someone who actually cares enough to befriend me first. I hope I can make more friends like him.

 

Entry 12
1768 IST.

 

Spoiler

What do I imagine when I think of the future?

 

If you asked me that question before today, I wouldn’t have had an answer. Because, quite truthfully, I never thought about the future before now.

 

I did not think there was any future for me without the White Rose.

 

My feelings about the White Rose are so tangled up and confused, even hundreds of years after I knew them. Our lives were bloody and brutish yet there could be so much joy in them too. I cannot deny I was happy. I was the happiest I had ever been in my life. I was married to a man who loved me. I had friends whom I adored with all my heart. My work fulfilled me and I felt useful. Not only useful, but loved by a wonderful family. The Roses were my brothers. They treated me better than any other elf in Oren. I wasn’t abused. I was given kindness, consideration, and even respect and true caring. Even the Chivays, who hated elves more than anyone else, would cherish me as a sister of the Rose. When Archchancellor Basrid asked me to tell him about Peter and Robert, I had nothing but kind words to say and happy memories to share. They were men I respected deeply, whom I cared for and who in turn cared for me as well. Sometimes in my loneliest of moments, I even wish I could go back to that time of joy and friendship and camaraderie. The days in Rivia, in Krak du Rhoswen, in Ard Kerrack were genuinely some of my happiest.

 

Yet there was a price to my happiness that still weighs heavily on my soul. The price was watching coldly as Oren sacked the ancient and beautiful Princedom of Malinor. It was watching massive trees that had grown for thousands of years be felled and turned to lumber for the Orenian war machine. It was watching elves like me be crucified for the crime of trying to walk the road between Malinor and Abresi. I saw these things and felt nothing. Not an ounce of compassion for my long-eared brothers and sisters. I never knew or cared about my people’s culture. I shunned all the parts that made me elven. I dressed and behaved as a human woman, even though anyone with eyes could see I wasn’t. And I would work until my skin cracked and bled because, in my heart, I knew the Rose’s approval of me hinged on my usefulness. If I allowed myself to slip even for a moment, my fragile happiness might come crashing down around me.

 

When the men of the Rose made their Exodus to Aeldin… I lost absolutely everything. My husband. My friends. My work. And although I know they left me behind by mistake, it still hurt. It still felt like an abandonment. Like I was carelessly tossed aside after fifty years of loyal service.

 

What good is loyalty and duty when you have nothing to be dutiful to? When the object of your loyalty is gone, never to return? I was nothing without the White Rose. There was no more place for me in society. I couldn’t go to Malinor after I’d watched my Rose brothers murder countless elves. I was a traitor to my people! Why would they ever accept me back? Me, an elf who had gleefully supported the efforts to crush and murder Malinor?

 

I didn’t think about the future at all because there was no future without the White Rose.

 

Somehow I imagined myself serving the Rose in perpetuity. When Thomas died, I would serve Robert. When Robert died, I would serve his son. And his son. And his son. I never imagined that I might lose my place among the Roses. And then, abruptly, I lost it.

 

I lost everything. And suddenly the future became a frightening, endless expanse of uncertainty. There was nowhere in the entire world for me to go. I was petrified by fear. Because I was so terrified, I… dropped out. I went into isolation and turned away from society. The White Rose had guaranteed me a place among the humans. But now that guarantee was gone. And I could never hope to be accepted by the elves. Not when the blood of Malinor still stained my hands. I had no choice but to be alone. For centuries, I thought this was a world with no place for me in it.

 

But now things are changing.

 

Today, I saw a vision of the future.

 

Mr. Lyons came by the Dragon’s Rest again today. “Miss Tanith, I have an even greater adventure planned for us this week,” he said. “Politics! The Josephites are holding their national convention and I’m inviting you along as my guest.”

 

I must admit my curiosity when it comes to this new Oren and their political parties. The concept is so foreign and strange to me. I found it hard to believe that the Emperor would allow people to organize in such a way. Wasn’t it a threat to the crown? If a big group of peasants got together in the old days and started shouting about political change… why, that would be put down as a rebellion! The Emperor’s will was God’s will and Heaven help anyone who questioned it!

 

But Mr. Lyons has always been a good travel guide. So I figured I would let him show me this foreign land known as “politics.” I finished cleaning up the bar and we made our way to the tram that runs between Helena and Haense. The convention would be held in the basement of the Reza museum.

 

My God, it was packed when we got there! So many people in such a tiny room! There was hardly any space to walk around! People were forced to stand along the edges of the wall because there weren’t enough chairs for all of us. Mr. Lyons was an absolute gentleman, though. When I mentioned I couldn’t see the podium because of the crowd, he found me a box to stand on.

 

I wasn’t at all sure what to expect from the convention. I read the pamphlets that Mr. Lyons gave me about the Josephites but nothing could have prepared me for the reality. I watched in awe as, one by one, people got up on the podium and started talking about their view for Oren’s future. About creating an Oren that belonged to everyone, where everyone had a place, where everyone had an opportunity. Jonah Elendil, the new party chairman, spoke so beautifully that it moved me to tears. I stood there weeping into my sleeves as the Josephites described a vision of Oren where power was not concentrated in the hands of dictators, demagogues, and corrupt church officials but meted out to ordinary people like me.

 

They would have been killed in old Oren for talking like that! But imagine my shock and surprise when Sir Stafyr got up on the stand and started telling the convention about all the wonderful things the party had accomplished and written into law! This group of people, who demanded equal representation and a place at the table, were not executed upon the sword. Instead they succeeded at creating real legislation to make a true difference in Oren!

 

It left me feeling so overwhelmed. But in a wonderful way.

 

Since I lost the White Rose, my life has been plagued by questions. Who am I? What am I? Where do I belong? Do I belong anywhere at all? Can I reconcile my loyalty to Oren with my desire to live as an elf? Is there a place for me in this new world?

 

And the answer I have received is a resounding yes! Yes, you belong here! Yes, you have a place! You can be an Orenian and an elf! You can be heard! You can do anything! Because Oren doesn’t belong to the rich and powerful with bloodlines spanning the centuries! Oren belongs to everyone! Even an elf! Even me.

 

There is a future and it is more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. And maybe I can have a place in it too.

After the speeches, Mr. Lyons took me up to Jonah Elendil and we told him I wanted to join the party. Mr. Elendil took the Josephite flower from his breast and put it in my hand. “You’re one of us now, Miss Tanith,” he said. The gesture touched me so deeply I nearly began to cry again. Maybe I don’t need to grind my bones to dust, working myself to death in order to be accepted by humans. Maybe I don’t need to reject my own people and my own culture. They’ll take me as I am with no questions asked. I don’t have to be the “good elf” anymore. I can just be Tanith.

 

I am still trying to figure out who Tanith is. But I’m finding my way slowly but surely. The Tanith who served the White Rose was quiet, obedient, loyal, dutiful. But me? I can be anything.

 

I know I’ve written that phrase multiple times. But it hasn’t sunk in yet. I can be anything.

 

After the speeches, I ran into Mr. Napier again. I hadn’t seen him come in for tea in a while and I wondered about him. He’s been busy lately; his office is being renovated. As it turns out, he wasn’t coming to the Dragon’s Rest to study me after all. I feel silly for having assumed that. He just genuinely liked the tea there. Poor man. The tea’s terrible! Of course it is, the Dragon’s Rest is a bar! Someone do him a favor and open a proper teahouse! Get this man some decent tea!

 

But I asked him if he might do me a kindness. Something has been troubling me for a while now and it would ease my mind if I got a firm answer. I asked Mr. Napier to look through the archives and see if he could find any other Toovs in history. I want to know if my husband remarried while abroad in Aeldin. If he ever had children.

 

My feelings toward Mr. Toov are about as complex as my feelings toward the White Rose.

 

Mr. Toov was the love of my life. My first love, my first husband. He doted on me and treated me with such gentleness. But at the same time, he could be neglectful. There were weeks, months, even years I spent separated from my husband. I would wait for him loyally during his absences and greet him with love when he returned. But the neglect wounded me. I often begged him to take me with him on his journeys but he insisted I was safer staying in the fortress with the rest of the Rose.

 

And there is the subject of our children. I wanted children so badly but my broken body simply would not carry them to term. Malin’s curse wreaked havoc on me and my babies. But I never told Mr. Toov about it. I never told him about the tiny coffins in the garden buried under the rose bush. I didn’t want him to know how many of our children never had the chance to live because of me.

 

Because he made the mistake of marrying me.

 

I know my heart will break if I learn that he remarried. I did not remarry until after I knew for certain he was dead — and even then, not for decades and decades. (I met and married Mr. Olora, my second husband, during the reign of Tobias I in Petrus. Many, many, many years later.) But at the same time, I’ll be glad to know that Mr. Toov didn’t die alone. I hope he died surrounded by children and a wife who loved him. Even if they weren’t my children. Even if I wasn’t his wife.

 

He was old when the Exodus occurred, though. We had been married nearly fifty years at that point and he was not exactly a callow youth when we tied the knot. He was a hardened warrior. So he had to be approaching his eighties by the time of the Exodus. Age was not something we talked about much. But I hate to think of my beloved giant leaving this world alone. That would be the worst fate I could imagine for him.

 

After the convention, Mr. Lyons gave me some horrible news. There has apparently been an assault on Haense by creatures or people known as Scyflings. Mr. Lyons promised the King of Haense that he would fight and help defend the kingdom. So now that the convention was finished, he planned to head north and lend his blade to the battle. I cried and told him to be safe because he was my closest friend.

 

And do you know what that cheeky man said?

 

“Do not cry, amiga. For Juan Salinas Ruiz Villalpando de Ponce de Lyons refuses to die until he has seen the most beautiful place and kissed the most beautiful woman,” he said with that smug smirk of his. “So keep your lips to yourself and I should be quite safe.”

 

That man! I can’t believe him. He’s such a flirt! But I laughed so hard I forgot I was crying. “These lips are reserved for an elven man,” I said in reply. “So you’re just going to have to live forever!”

 

“There are worse fates,” he said with a smile.

 

We bid one another goodbye and I wished him luck on the front. I do hope he will be all right. He’ll be in my prayers until the conflict is over.

 

I shall be very lonely and bored if he’s no longer around to take me on adventures, I think…

 

Perhaps I ought to prepare a care package and send it to the front. That might be helpful.

 

Entry 13
1768 IST.

 

Spoiler

Why.

 

Why.

 

Why.

 

Why.

 

Why.

 

It can’t be true. It can’t be. It can’t be!

 

It has to be a lie.

 

Why. Why would God punish me like this?!

 

Haven’t I always been a good girl? I work hard! I do my best! I pray every night! I go to church!

 

Why am I being punished like this…?

 

Oh, God.

 

Tonight… Tonight was the night of the Carrington Court commencement ceremony. Part birthday party for Mary Sophia. Part unveiling of the new Carrington estate to the public. Nearly everyone in Helena was invited. The Archchancellor came. Generals and soldiers and nobles of all kinds. Even the Princess Imperial, though I did not get a chance to talk with her. Mr. Carrington had me serving drinks. I was running all over the estate, topping off everyone’s beverages. Everyone was dressed to the nines in their best formal wear. Heaps of food, every kind of cake imaginable, drinks flowing freely. Music and dancing. Mr. Carrington clearly spared no expense for his little girl.

 

It was a lovely party. I wish I could have enjoyed it more. The festivities are wrapping up as I write this. I’m sitting on the floor of the kitchen, in the corner between the shelf and the wall. I hear people laughing outside, glasses clinking. But in here, all I want to do is curl up and die.

 

Mr. Napier attended the party. He took me aside and told me that he’d looked into the archives like I asked. In his research, he uncovered letters referring to a Geralt Toov, who arrived in Petrus in the 15th century and spoke of an august father.

 

Geralt… I know that name. That’s what Mr. Toov and I planned to name our first son. I suppose that’s all the proof I need. Mr. Toov did indeed remarry in Aeldin. He had sons. And now he is in the Seven Skies and I shall never see him again, not even in death. Nonhumans cannot ascend to the Skies.

 

I suspected he might have remarried. And I am truly glad he died surrounded by his loved ones. I could not have chosen a better end for him.

 

But… Mr. Napier said something else.

 

Something that broke my heart even more than it’s already been broken.

 

We were talking quietly in the corner of the ballroom. He told me about his findings and, though it stung to hear the news, I smiled. “I don’t blame him for remarrying,” I said. “I was never able to… Well, you know of Malin’s curse. We were never able to have children even with 50 years of marriage.”

 

Mr. Napier’s face went blank. “That’s not Malin’s curse,” he said.

 

I thought perhaps he was drunk. Maybe someone spiked his mango punch. “Of course it’s Malin’s curse,” I said, furrowing my brow. “Elves are cursed with infertility. We cannot have children as easily as humans can.”

 

Mr. Napier shuffled his feet and began to blush, looking sheepish. “Err. Well. Of all the places to discuss… Reproductive sciences, ah. You’ll forgive me if I’m a bit mortified by the subject, here of all places,” he said. And as he spoke, I felt a horrible pit forming in my stomach. A sick, bleak feeling that only grew with every syllable. “Needless to say. Mmm… New findings have been made in the last few centuries… About that. Fertility studies showed that elves produce children at nearly the same rate as humans… sometimes even higher.”

 

“Ah,” I said. “So, it was just me the entire time.”

 

Mr. Napier nodded. “That is… likely.”

 

My hands began to shake and it took everything in me not to drop the tray of drinks I was holding. Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t want to cause a scene in the middle of the party, so… I turned and I ran. I left as quickly as I could.

 

And now… now here I am.

 

A half-finished bottle of Carrion Black in my hand.

 

Twelve.

 

There were twelve of them.

 

I became pregnant twelve times during my marriage to Baldir Toov. And every time, I hoped and prayed that this would be the one. The child that survived. My own little miracle from God. My heart swelled with hope as I felt my body ripening, growing, nurturing the life inside of me. And every time, I would be disappointed.

 

There’d be pain. A sudden gush of blood down my thighs. And that was the end of it. Every. Single. Time. Without fail, like clockwork.

 

I named each one of them.

 

Geralt. Petra. Wulf. Bastion. Gretchen. Lorelei. Rosine. Mikkel. Stefan. Adalia. Brandt. Dorothea.

 

I wrote their names on their little coffins as I buried them under the rose bush. I wept for each of them. I would lie awake at night imagining who they might have become if they’d survived.

 

Geralt was a warrior like his father, of course… And Petra, she took up the smith’s hammer and ran her own forge. Lorelei was sweet and tender-hearted. Dorothea loved animals. And Stefan would have made a name for himself in politics. Gretchen owned a tavern. Adalia made flower arrangements. Bastion bred horses fifteen hands tall. Rosine liked to cook. Brandt had the deepest and most beautiful singing voice — and he wrote poems in honor of the great heroes. Wulf was shy and preferred the company of the forests to people. And Mikkel took to magic, weaving fire and water from the voidal essence.

 

I would have gladly traded my own life for any one of them. I would happily have died if it meant a single one of them had the chance to live. For centuries, I reviled Malin for inflicting this curse of infertility on me. I hated him for killing my children.

 

But it wasn’t Malin. It was never Malin. The curse of infertility isn’t real.

 

It was just me.

 

I have always wanted to be a mother. To have a family. My last hope was that, maybe if I married another dark elf, I might be able to conceive and carry a child to term.

 

But now I see it’s hopeless. I will never be a mother.

 

I will never have a family.

 

I’ll die alone.

 

What man — whether human or elf — could love this?

 

This warped, broken, mutilated body?

 

Entry 14
1768 IST.

 

Spoiler

This morning, I decided to go out clothes shopping. 

 

After all, I’m working in a noble household and I need to look the part. I’m no longer tending the fields in an isolated part of the bush. Mr. Napier also suggested I might update my wardrobe to be more in line with the current styles. He mentioned that my style of dress was positively medieval. I couldn’t afford much in the way of fashionable garments, unfortunately. I only have a little money from bartending. But I was able to find something that suited me, I think.

 

I also made an appointment with a local doctor to examine my eyes. He sold me a new pair of spectacles so I’m not stumbling around half-blind any longer. As of today, I own a pair of little round glasses with a gold frame. They’re not very stylish, perhaps, but I am grateful to be able to see clearly again. In fact, everything is so clear that it makes me feel a bit sick and dizzy. But I imagine I’ll adjust to it in due time.

 

…I am trying not to think about what happened yesterday at the party. I thought perhaps getting new clothes and new glasses might make me feel better, but I can’t shake these lingering feelings of sadness. Of regret. I tricked a good man into marriage under false pretenses and that’s a sin I’ll never be able to erase.

 

Marriage, in the old days, was not simply a matter of love or companionship. It was an institution for political alliance and for the creation of children. Mr. Toov already took a risk by marrying a no-name dark elf servant girl. He was a man of some significant status in Oren. He could have married any number of beautiful noble ladies, but instead he chose me. So he lost his chance at gaining greater political and social influence through a strategic marriage. If I could not give him status, though, I hoped at least I could provide him with children. But even that was a struggle. For years, I thought Malin’s curse was the source of our woes when it came to producing children. I thought our miscegenation — the fact that he was human and I was elf — contributed to the difficulty. But it seems other elves have no trouble at all giving birth. If Mr. Toov had married anyone else — anyone at all, even another elven woman — he would have had sons and daughters aplenty. In the end, I turned out to be worthless as a spouse.

 

I failed. As a wife. As a woman. Thank God that, before the end of his life, he was able to marry again and rectify the mistake of wedding me.

 

For a long time now, I held onto hope that I might be able to bear a child if I married another dark elf. But I doubt even that’s possible. I’m doomed to be barren.

 

I know that this is a new Oren. An Oren where a woman doesn’t have to bear children in order to be accepted and deemed valid. A woman’s worth no longer hinges on her fertility. But I can’t shake my old ways of thinking just like that. Other women like Miss Celestine and Miss Alpha are able to boldly stride forward into the future. But as for me, I’m stuck. Stuck in the past. Stuck in my memories. Stuck in a broken body that isn’t worth any man’s love.

I don’t know what to do.

 

There’s no choice except to keep moving forward, of course. There’s no going back in time. It moves ever onward like a flowing river. I will never have children or a family. So I must find a new reason for living.

 

But it’s so difficult. And my heart feels so heavy.

 

I suppose, at the very least, my new dress is pretty. And I can see properly now. The little things are also reasons to live.

 

Entry 15
1768 IST.

 

Spoiler

Oh, I’m worried! The bears aren’t eating!

 

One of my duties in Carrington Court is to care for the family’s “exotic pets.” They have a bright blue parrot, several horses, and three large bears that roam the grounds. One of the bears is pure white and the other two have a striking black-and-white patterning. The horses are easy enough to care for, even if I have to shovel their manure every morning. And all the parrot needs is a handful of seeds and some sliced fruits and vegetables. (He has taken to sitting on my head and trying to peck at my new glasses…) But the bears? I have no idea how to take care of bears! Mr. Carrington promises me they’re tame but I still fear they might bite my leg off if I turn my back on them!

 

I did some reading on the diets of bears. In my research, I found that bears eat fish, birds, insects, and red meat — up to ninety pounds per day! That is a frankly terrifying amount of meat both in quantity and expense, but oh well! If the Carrington family can afford to buy out the butcher shop every single day, who am I to deny them? (I think the local butcher is getting annoyed with me, though. First I come in asking for snake meat and next I need ninety pounds of flesh every day for bear food…)

 

I’ve discovered that the white bear eats very heartily. My method for feeding it involves a pitchfork with a long handle and it seems to work. But the black-and-white bears…

 

Well, they will sniff at the meat. But they show absolutely no interest in it. They don’t eat at all.

 

I’m terribly worried! Are they sick? They must eat or else they’ll quickly starve to death! Bears are large animals who need a lot of nutrition! I’ve tried everything to coax them to eat. I’ve served them meat raw. I’ve served it cooked. I left it in a pile. I waved it around on the pitchfork…

 

I’m not a zookeeper. Perhaps I’m a poor excuse for an elf because I know very little about animals except for the usual farm creatures. If only Mr. Carrington had chickens or lambs or goats! I know how to take care of those! My chickens were my pride and joy back on my little farm. But bears? No, sir!

 

I’m terrified I shall get in trouble if the bears die. I’m sure they were a significant investment. I can’t possibly hope to pay back the cost of a whole bear! But it’s not my fault they won’t eat, is it?

 

Hopefully there is a Druid or something in Helena that can shed light on the situation. I’ve thought about putting out an advertisement for an animal doctor to see if they can unravel the mystery of why the bears won’t eat.

 

 

Entry 16
1768 IST.

 

Spoiler

 

As it turns out, the black and white bears are called “pandas” and they eat a plant called “bamboo.”

 

I could hardly believe it when Miss Alpha told me. They have such big, frightening claws and all they eat is bamboo? But apparently said claws are for digging up shoots and the bears themselves are quite placid and lethargic. Surely enough, I stumbled upon them sitting on their bottoms and chewing through branch after branch of bamboo. Thank goodness Miss Alpha told me. I was getting ready to pick up and go all the way across Arcas to the Druid’s Grove to find out the mystery of why the bears weren’t eating meat. I am a little less afraid of them now that I know they’re plant eaters. Although the white bear (which research has instructed me is a “polar bear”) still intimidates me with how much meat it can inhale on a daily basis.

Life at Carrington Court is going well. There was a small incident today but I think I defused it.

I was hanging the laundry in the courtyard when Mr. Carrington came by and told me to bring fresh towels down to the pool. He, Alpha, and the two twin girls — Mary Jane and Mary Vespira — were going swimming. I prepared a stack of fluffy towels and a tray of cold drinks before heading down to the pool. I sat on one of the lounge chairs as the family swam.

(Lord forgive me for ogling, but… Good God! Mr. Carrington was in a somewhat advanced state of undress and, well… to put it bluntly, he does not have the body I would expect from a middle aged father of five! I thought men in modern Oren would be soft and flabby since the age of endless war is over and few men are warriors by trade. But not Mr. Carrington apparently…)

We got to chatting while the family was playing in the water. I asked when I might get to meet the lady of the house, Mr. Carrington’s wife Mary Phillipa. (Yes, another Mary!) I have not had the chance to introduce myself properly yet, which is quite a shame if you ask me. I must pay her proper respects for allowing me in her house. Mr. Carrington told me she was a senator and thus incredibly busy, but I did not even see her at the Carrington Court Commencement Celebration. I’ve been working here several weeks now and there is neither hide nor hair of the lady.

At the mention of his wife, Mr. Carrington became very gloomy. He looked off at the sunset and grew silent. I suspect the absence of Mary Phillipa weighs heavily on the family. The two twin girls in the pool began to grouse. “We don’t need her!” Mary Jane shouted as she splashed around in the water. “We’re happier without her anyway!”

“Girls, you mustn’t say such mean things about your mother,” I scolded them. (Perhaps it’s overstepping for me to discipline Mr. Carrington’s children but I am meant to be their caretaker after all.) “Mothers are the most important people in the whole world.”

“She doesn’t want us,” Mary Jane replied. “She doesn’t need us.”

It broke my heart to hear them say such things. By that time, the sun had set and the water was getting cold. Mr. Carrington called for his girls to get out of the pool. Mary Vespira was tired and went off to bed, but Mr. Carrington called Mary Jane and Alpha into his office to talk. He had me fetch hot drinks to warm them up after their swim.

When I arrived in the study with drinks, they were talking very quietly and seriously. “I know it’s been hard with your mother gone, girls,” Mr. Carrington said to them, leaning over his desk. “That’s why I plan to retire from my positions soon so that I can give you all my attention.”

Then, all of a sudden, Mary Jane piped up — “Can Tanith be our step mother?” she asked. “Vee and I love her and we want her to be our mother!”

The room went very quiet for a moment. Mr. Carrington went very red in the face and coughed into his hand. “It’s not as though your mother is dead, Jane!” he said. “She loves you very much! You only have me to blame for her absence —” But before he could get the words out, Mary Jane had sprung up from her chair and run out of the room.

Of course, I chased after her. She ran up to her bedroom and slammed the door. I could hear her sobbing on the other side. Very quietly, I opened the door. Poor Mary Jane was curled up on her bed, crying into her pillow. I walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down, putting my hand on her back. “I want a mother,” she hiccupped, hugging her pillow tightly. “Why can’t you be my mother?”

Her words cut me to the core, but I tried to keep my composure. “I would love to have a little girl like you, Janey,” I said as softly and comfortingly as I could. “But I can’t replace your real mother. You have a special bond with her that nothing can ever break.”

“No, I don’t!” Mary Jane replied through her tears. “She’s gone. She doesn’t love us. I love you, not her!”

“She does love you,” I said. “She’s out there making a better world because she loves you. She works hard so you girls can grow up in a beautiful world where you can be anything. When I grew up, girls couldn’t do anything at all. But now you girls can grow up to be whatever you want… because of women like your mother.”

“What does it matter if she’s not here to help us grow up?” Jane asked.

I feel as though I’ve had this conversation a hundred times before. The White Roses often had me mind their children. I spent a great deal of time with Robert and Edward and Rosalie as they were growing up. There were many nights when Rosalie wept because her father was too busy to play with her. Children cannot hope to understand the problems of adults. All they know is that the person they love best in the world has no time for them. It’s not until they’re older that they understand. But in the meantime, they’re forced to suffer.

I stroked her hair. “One day, your mother will have all the time in the world for you, Janey,” I said. “But for now, you have your Papa and your sisters and you have me. And while I cannot be your mother, I can be your friend.”

“Can I call you Auntie Tanith?” Jane asked me.

And I could not help but smile. That’s what Robert and Edward and Rosalie called me so many years ago. “Of course.”

I convinced Jane to come back downstairs to be with Miss Alpha and her father. She was a bit grumpy still at first, but Mr. Carrington kissed her and hugged her til she started smiling again. After that, Jane and I went to play in the ballroom while her father and Miss Alpha finished talking. After about an hour, I put Jane to bed and returned to the study.

By then, Miss Alpha and Mr. Carrington had finished their meeting. Alpha pulled me aside. “Have you thought about the manager position, Miss Tanith?” she asked me. “We need you. Lloyd’s been indicted for attempted assassination and we have no one to fill his spot. I really think you would be good at it.”

Well, it seems duty calls. I agreed to take the manager position on top of my responsibilities around the Carrington estate. It will be a lot of extra work, but I am fairly experienced at management. And I like bartending. It’s a good way to meet people. It shocks and saddens me that Lloyd got involved with disreputable characters, but now he’s paying the price. Justice is surely swift in Oren. Thank God it’s no longer the medieval era or else he’d be executed. At the very least, they’d chop off a hand or take out an eye. Instead, he’s only facing banishment. Poor Lloyd. He was a good boy with a lot of potential but now all of that’s ruined. Regardless, I wish him the best wherever he ends up going. Miss Alpha made plans to train me on my managerial duties tomorrow.

I feel as though I’m finally settling into this new, modern Oren with all its quirks. Maybe I’m starting to find out where I belong here.

 

Entry 17
1769 IST.

 

Spoiler

Well, here it is! My first day as a manager of the Dragon’s Rest. And already I’m worried I might have accepted more responsibility than I can handle.

 

I think we might have a small issue concerning the number of bartenders. There are frankly quite a number of them. Off the top of my head, I can think of me, Mr. Hulee, Mr. Roosevelt, Mr. Storm, Ms. Mikaela, Miss Yasmin, and even more that I haven’t even met yet. I suppose the large number of employees ensures that someone is almost always manning the bar. And that poor people like me have a method of making some fairly easy money with no strings attached. But I wish there was a list of barkeeps somewhere so I know who is allowed behind the counter and who isn’t! As it stands, nearly anyone could walk up and tell me “I work here” and I would have no choice but to believe them!

 

I also need to know about my authority as a manager… Miss Alpha said she would train me today but she didn’t show up. Oh well, she’s a busy woman. But a nasty situation arose and I wasn’t sure what to do. I think I might have overstepped my bounds but I’m not sure.

 

A tribal woman wearing fur pelts came barging into the bar. The bartender at the time was a young lady named Mikaela. Ms. Mikaela is a soft spoken, young newlywed trying to get her start in Helena. She’s very shy and delicate, even more shy than I was in the days of the White Rose. Anyway, the tribal woman began yelling and swearing oaths at poor, frightened Ms. Mikaela. Cursing her with the vilest words. Words that I dare not repeat here since they should never be spoken within earshot of a lady! Ms. Mikaela was terrified and unable to stand up for herself, so of course I had to step in!

 

I told the tribal woman very plainly — “I’m the manager here! I don’t know where you are from, ma’am, but we act civilized in this city! Either fix your manners and stop harassing my staff or I will have to ask you to leave!”

 

The tribal woman then started swearing at me, of course. So I threatened to call the guards. (Mr. Napier was being a bit annoying, though — “Swearing, though not in vogue, isn’t a crime, Miss Tanith,” he said! Bah! Swearing might not be a crime but if I ask her to leave and she doesn’t go, that’s trespassing! And there are surely laws against that!) Eventually, the tribal woman stormed off in a big huff and I didn’t have to call the guards. I think I did the right thing protecting Ms. Mikaela but… ugh. I’m not used to having to put my foot down like that. I wonder if I went too far.

 

One of the patrons — one Oisin O’Rourke, I think — seems to think I handled it well. He gave me a 100-mina tip. I split it three ways between me, Mr. Storm, and Miss Mikaela.

 

Some exciting news, though! I met two very interesting people today. The first one was Miss Celestine’s friend, Chirr. Chirr is her bodyguard and traveling companion. Miss Celestine is a scholar, not a warrior, and so she needs accompaniment when journeying across Arcas. But that’s not the interesting part. The interesting part is that Chirr is a dark elf who hails originally from Asulon! She is very nearly as old as me! I was so excited. I’ve not met any people who compare to me in age. It can be very lonesome, being so old with so much life experience. I wanted to sit down with her and talk about the old days, but I didn’t have a chance. Chirr was having drinks with Miss Celestine and Mr. Napier and their friends. I didn’t want to interrupt their party. (Mr. Napier and Miss Celestine thought they were being stealthy but I know they were on a date! I can see what’s going on here!)

 

The other person I met was a dark elf priest — Father Bennett. Yes, a priest of the Canon! He wore a cassock and everything. I didn’t know they allowed nonhumans to serve in the clergy. If my understanding of scripture is correct, nonhumans cannot ascend to the Seven Skies. Iblees cursed humans with mortality, but their boon from God is an eternal life in paradise after death. Because elves, dwarves, and orcs lead an eternal life here in this world, we do not get the pleasure of eternal life in paradise. But then again, I know very well that the scriptures have changed since my time hundreds of years ago… is it possible for a pious elf to reach the Skies now? Maybe there is hope for me after all. If an elf can serve as a priest, then surely that means an elf can ascend to the Skies too. I didn’t get a chance to ask Father Bennett about his thoughts before he left the bar, though. With luck, I’ll see him again. (He was a baby! Only 31! My, he’s committing potentially hundreds of years to poverty and celibacy. That’s dedication!)

 

It does raise some questions in my mind, though. It has been many, many hundreds of years since I was married to Mr. Toov. He is in the Skies with his human bride now. The woman with whom he sired children. Their heavenly marriage has lasted a great deal longer than our earthly one ever did. Even if I was married to Mr. Toov for longer in life, she — whoever she might be — is his eternal bride in death. And it may be many more hundreds of years before I stand at the feet of my Creator.

 

I remarried too. Twice, in fact. But my marriage to Mr. Olora was celibate and born of convenience. He was a good friend and it was an opportunity to help him. I didn’t mind making the sacrifice. And Mr. Gyffard, my third husband… well, he was not always kind and gentle. He was often very rough and mean to me. We fought a great deal. He hit me on several occasions. And in all honesty, the only thing I felt when he died was relief. I didn’t know if I could bear being his wife for much longer.

 

While I cared genuinely for both men, I can’t see myself living with them united forever in heavenly bliss. Mr. Olora was my friend but he didn’t love me. And while Mr. Gyffard might have had true feelings for me, they were of a surely toxic variety. But Mr. Toov is united with his human bride, the mother of his children. We can’t be together in the Skies if he’s already with someone else.

 

Perhaps the person I’m meant to be with forever — my true soulmate — is someone I haven’t met yet. It’s hard to believe. I’ve lived so long and met so many people. But I still have a lot of life left to live.

 

Entry 18
1769 IST.
 

Spoiler

The kinds of people you meet while bar tending!

I started my shift a bit early today. Since I am a manager now, I figure I ought to take a bit more responsibility. So, while the bar was still quiet, I came in and gave the place a good mopping and wiped down the tables. Customers can sometimes get a little rowdy and spill drinks. And no one wants a sticky floor or tables! But while I was busy cleaning, a strange man slipped in and took a seat at the bar without me noticing!

He stood out to me because he didn’t look one bit like a typical Orenian man. He would have fit in just fine during the medieval era when shaggy hair and beards were in vogue. But Orenian men these days are a bit more posh and genteel with their elaborate wigs and meticulously groomed facial hair. So I immediately took him for a foreigner or perhaps just someone — like me — who had spent a lot of time in the woods. I likely looked a bit rough and woolly when I first came back to Oren too! (That is certainly the case since Mr. Napier has fussed at me over my clothes and such before.)

The man introduced himself as Jack (no surname) and asked me to make him something savory. “As savory as a pair of intoxicated lovers,” was his particular phrasing. So I fixed up my recipe for beef stew — the one with the onions and brown mushrooms. Mr. Roosevelt came into the bar while I was cooking and started his shift as well. The three of us — Roosevelt, Jack, and me — got to talking and… I don’t quite remember how it came up but…

Jack, as it turns out, is older than me.

No, he isn’t an elf. Not a drop of Malin’s blood in him. Jack mentioned he is a paladin serving the aengul Xan. He did not mention if his service is what keeps him alive but I made that connection myself. Surely only the power of an aengul could stay the hand of death in such a way! I found myself getting jittery and excited. I know there are plenty of elves who are five hundred and far older. But they all live in their silver cities locked away from the world with cultures and habits I could never understand, so they might as well live on a far distant star for all they have in common with me. Jack has lived in Oren! He’s got the same sort of life experience as me! I’ve been dying to talk to other old people who understand what it’s like to live in Oren. Sometimes the old days feel a bit like a fever dream. Especially in this new Oren that’s so different and progressive. Jack couldn’t stay long but I asked him to come back and talk with me sometime.

Around the time Jack left, Edmund came in. I haven’t seen my young Mali’ker friend in some time, so I was glad he stopped by. Under normal circumstances, I might have gone to check up on him. But I think he works in the Novellan Palace and that’s not a place where you can simply go up and knock on the door. Edmund was in a sour mood because he had been getting into trouble lately. “I told a princess to shut up and dueled the Lord Susa’s son and lost.” I gave him the leftover stew I’d made for Jack and asked him to tell me the story.

Edmund was quiet for a moment and then asked me a question — “When someone makes you feel weak and small, what do you do?”

The question struck me in an odd way. How many times have I felt weak and small in my lifetime? How many times have I felt denigrated and disrespected? Too many to count. Most of the time, I just bore the indignity quietly and without complaint. Edmund went on to tell me his story. When he first arrived in Helena, he was not much more than a street urchin. Somehow, he managed to break into the Novellan Palace where he raided the kitchens for food. After his meal, he ended up falling asleep in the garden, where he was found by one Lord Susa. Edmund was frightened and thought the Lord intended to punish him, so he ran. He tried to escape by hopping over the palace pond, but he fell and slipped in.

Lord Susa and his son took pity on Edmund, though, and offered him a hand of friendship. But Edmund is… a prideful young man. Instead of seeing the gesture for what it was — an attempted act of kindness and compassion — Edmund took it as pity. It shamed him to be pitied by humans. As a result, he developed an ill feeling toward Lord Susa’s son, who helped him out of the pond and asked him if they could be friends. So the next time that Edmund saw the young lordling, he challenged him to a duel.

The duel went about as expected. The young Susa lordling was trained in the art of fencing, whereas Edmund was not. Edmund got trounced. Apparently Edmund has a friend — a human princess — who saw the beating and jumped to his defense. But, again, he saw her as acting out of pity rather than compassion and yelled at her. “She thinks I’m her pet,” he said bitterly of the young lady.

I didn’t want to preach at him. Lord knows Edmund probably doesn’t need another dull adult fussing over him. But Edmund welcomed my advice. I suppose the difference is that I’m like him and not a human. I began tentatively. “Well,” I said, “I admire how much pride you carry in your heart, Edmund. I wish I had that same pride in myself. For many years, I was quiet and humble and did whatever the valah told me. Because that was simply how you survived back then. You didn’t dare fight a valah. You didn’t speak rudely to them. If you did that, your ears would be chopped off at the very least. And at the worst, you would be killed and hung on a cross.”

“That’s why I wouldn’t want to be weak,” Edmund said. “I’d never let anyone do that to you, Tanith.”

As prickly as Edmund can be, he has a dear heart. I smiled at him. “I know you wouldn’t, because you’re so brave and you have a warrior’s spirit. And you have the pride of a lion. But Edmund, there is such a thing as picking one’s battles. That’s a thing a warrior must learn to do too.”

I explained that I don’t think the young Lord Susa meant to shame him. Instead, I think the gesture — helping him out of the pond, asking to be friends — was meant from a place of compassion. Humans can be viciously, viciously cruel. But, I think, deep in their hearts, they’re fundamentally kind. Humans are social creatures who like to help each other. When they see someone at their lowest, they feel the wellspring of compassion bubble up in their hearts. A human with no compassion or fellow feeling is considered broken by his peers — mentally ill and damaged. I encouraged Edmund to take a charitable interpretation of human’s actions. Humans and elves are fundamentally different, with different minds and different hearts, but if we make an effort to understand one another, we can often bridge the gap and become friends. I told him to keep his brave heart and warrior spirit, but to direct them in a productive manner.

“Who was the strongest warrior you ever knew?” Edmund asked me.

Edmund has a way of asking questions that give me pause. I thought for a long moment. “I suppose I ought to name off a saint or a great hero or someone from the old days,” I said. “But now that I think on it, one of the strongest people I’ve ever known was my second husband, Mr. Olora.”

I don’t often write about Mr. Olora. When I look back on my life, I often treat our marriage as something of a footnote. But by glossing over our time together, I worry I’m doing him a great disservice. Mr. Olora was my best friend. And he made a sacrifice for me that I will never forget.

I met Theo Olora in the city of Petrus during the reign of Emperor Tobias I. He rented a small plot of land in the holdings of some Savoyard lord. He gave a portion of his crop to the landlord and sold the rest at market in Petrus. Mr. Olora grew the biggest and most beautiful watermelons that I had ever seen. When I was hungry and looking for work, he gave me baskets of produce for free. He liked my eyes, he said, because they were the same color as the melons he grew, the same dark pink. Eventually, when I could not secure work any other work, Mr. Olora offered to take me on as a farmhand. He couldn’t afford to pay me much, but he had room and board as well as a hot meal a day. And how could I say no to that?

We got along well, Mr. Olora and me. I found him to mild-mannered, sensitive, and shy. He disliked conflict and avoided confrontation where he could. He had a generous spirit and often ended up giving his produce away to those in need. Despite being a wood elf, he knew little about elven culture. Like me, he had grown up in Oren. But he had a true elven quality to him. He loved the feeling of warm earth between his fingers and the smell of grass after rain. He paid close attention to the turning of the seasons. He talked to his plants fondly, as if they were children. I believe it was that tender and loving hand that caused his crops to grow so big and hearty. We had a good life together. We set up our produce stall in the town square once a week. And at the Emperor’s wargames, we sold apples covered in caramel and strawberries dipped in chocolate.

He never showed interest in me beyond friendship, though, and I often wondered why. We lived together in the same house, worked the same fields, and sold produce at the same stall. Many of our friends and customers assumed we were married already for how close we were. He was a wood elf, though — I thought perhaps he found my grey skin ugly and was holding out for a wife of his own kind.

One day, though, I would learn the true reason.

Two women were discovered fornicating in the old cobblestone chapel in the center of Petrus. They were dragged from the church by the clergy and thrown in the stocks, where they were branded with hot iron and had rotten vegetables thrown at them. When I came home that night, I found Mr. Olora sobbing incoherently at the kitchen table. The sight shocked me. I knew him to be a placid, even somewhat stoic man. Nothing ruffled his feathers; he took life in stride. When he calmed down, he confessed his true feelings to me. Mr. Olora preferred lovers of his own sex. In fact, he was in love with a member of the Wardens (Emperor Tobias’s guard force) and they had been carrying on a secret affair for some time. Homosexual feelings were not accepted in those days. I’m not even sure if they’re accepted now. Oren, for all its shiny, new progressive values, can still be somewhat backward. Mr. Olora feared that if he and his Warden were ever caught, he would be cast out of society and lose his livelihood. His business would go belly up, leaving us both impoverished.

My heart broke for my dear friend and, as a result, I made him an offer. We would marry and present ourselves to the world as husband and wife. But our union would be celibate. We would sleep in different beds. And I would allow him to continue seeing his beloved Warden. His lover could visit us at our house rather than trying to sneak around in places where they might be caught. The business would remain solvent and none would be the wiser. Mr. Olora thanked me profusely, called me the greatest friend he’d ever had. I did as I promised and we married. The only time we ever kissed one another was in front of the priest at the altar. While we were spouses and ran our business together, our relationship was that of close and dear friends, not of lovers. The arrangement worked out well for me too. My heart was still grieving for Mr. Toov and I wasn’t ready to love again. The wedding band on my finger helped to ward off the advances of lascivious men (of which there were many… Petrus was a city of lovers in those days, to be sure!).

On the whole, our life was quiet and happy. Up until the day King Andrik Vydra was assassinated by the High Elves of Haelun’or.

Overnight, Mr. Olora and I saw an enormous spike in anti-Elven hatred. Riots erupted in the streets. Mobs roamed the streets, baying for blood like hounds. Elves were pulled from their homes and beaten. Even killed. The fervor and anger was that violent. Mr. Olora and I made plans to gather up our things and head for the safety of the countryside. We packed up everything we owned and tried to flee down the side streets out of the city. But before we could make it to safety, we were cornered by an angry mob seeking vengeance for the fallen king. They didn’t care that we were citizens of Oren. They didn’t care that I was a dark elf and Mr. Olora was a wood elf. They didn’t care that we had never been to Haelun’or in our lives. They just saw elves and wanted to spill blood.

Mr. Olora then did the bravest thing I have ever seen anyone do. He willingly handed himself over to the mob so that I could escape with my life. If we both tried to run, there was no guarantee we’d both make it. But by giving himself up, he bought me a chance to escape. Without Mr. Olora’s sacrifice, I doubt I would be alive today. It is, without a doubt, the greatest gift anyone has ever given me.

We did not love each other, except as friends. But, regardless, he laid down his life for me without hesitation and without regret.

“He had chul’ceru,” Edmund said to me after I finished the story. “Chul’ceru is our duty to be strong in the face of evil. Chul is obligation, ceru is strength.” I very much liked that word.

“There’s power in all our words,” Edmund said to me. “I hope you’ll learn more of them.”

And I will, if Edmund keeps teaching me.

Tonight, I’ll pray for Mr. Olora. Edmund says he’s in a great soul-sleep and he’ll return when Malin comes back, as martyrs accumulate great tayna. I don’t know if I understand what that means. But it’s comforting. I grieved for him greatly when I realized he’d have no place in the Seven Skies since he was nonhuman. I can’t imagine a man so kind, noble, and selfless receiving no reward for his sacrifice.

Mr. Toov was the love of my life, to be sure. But Mr. Olora gave me my life. And that’s a gift I mustn’t take for granted.

 

Entry 19
1769 IST.

 

Spoiler

I woke up this morning feeling as though I’d had the most bizarre and fantastic dream. 

 

In my dream, Mr. Lyons took me on an adventure into a deep, dense, humid jungle. As we hacked through the thick underbrush, we came across a hidden temple and a colorful village filled with incredible frog men! They possessed the bulging eyes and wide mouths of toads, but the torsos, arms, and legs of bipeds. The frog men captured us and held us imprisoned with the intent to eat us! One of them even licked me to taste-test! But, thankfully, the silver-tongued Juan Salinas Ruiz Villalpando de Ponce de Lyons bargained with the amphibians for our freedom.

 

I was ready to laugh at such a wild dream. I wanted to send a letter to Juan and tell him all about my bizarre imagination.

 

But then I noticed my new explorer clothes in a pile on the floor, covered in mud, jungle leaves, and… yes, most horrifically, frog man saliva! In other words, my dream was not a dream at all!

 

Dear God in the Skies! Were we really held hostage by frog men? My memory of yesterday is fuzzy and clouded. I feel as though I’ve been drugged. Was it real or just a hallucination? Let me write down what I can remember…

 

Juan came to visit me at Carrington Court. I was delighted to see him, as the last I’d heard from him, he was serving on the front lines against the Scyflings in Haense. But perhaps he got leave to return home. Thank goodness he was unhurt and in good health! I meant to ask him more about the war but it unfortunately slipped my mind. Juan told me that he had a new adventure planned for us in the jungles to the south and I had better wear proper trousers this time. Lucky for him, I bought a pair of pants while I was out clothes shopping the other day. Not just pants, but a whole ensemble just for exploring. I did not want him to nag me about wearing impractical clothes ever again!

 

I’ve never worn trousers before. In the old days, women were not allowed to wear pants like men. It was thought that sight of a woman’s legs and buttocks might inflame a man’s lusts and drive him to madness. Only witches and prostitutes wore trousers.

 

But since returning to Oren, I’ve seen plenty of respectable women walking around in pants. And what do you know? The men seem to be able to control themselves just fine. No one is losing their mind over a woman’s legs in trousers. So why shouldn’t I get to wear them too? I still felt a bit strange wearing pants. But you know, they’re not too bad once you get used to them. Certainly more maneuverable than a long, heavy skirt. Especially when hiking.

 

Juan took me on a boat ride down to a lush, verdant island in the southern seas. He told me it was a place where the trees towered a thousand feet tall and giant birds ruled the skies. But it was also home to some of the world’s most beautiful trees and flowers. There are few things I adore more in this world than flowers. How could I not be tempted by such a place? Juan told me he wanted to explore the ruins of a temple he’d heard strange rumors about. We made land on the beach and Juan whipped out his machete. Within moments, we were hacking our way through the dense foliage.

 

The jungle was just as promised with enormous trees, strange plants, and beautiful flowers. Juan pointed out a cluster of funny brown pods hanging from a tree. “That is where chocolate comes from, Miss Tanith!” I never knew! I’ve eaten chocolate many times before but never spared a thought for its origins. I wish I had cut some to take them home.

 

Our journey took a turn, however, when poor Juan found himself the victim of a trap! As we were hiking, he stepped on a rope concealed in some underbrush. It snapped shut around his ankle and hoisted him into the air upside down! Thank God we had his machete and were able to cut him free. He fell right on top of me and nearly crushed the life out of me, though. Heavy man…

 

After cutting Juan free from the trap, we became painfully aware that we were not alone. Someone or something was watching us through the deep foliage. We continued on in spite of that, however. Juan was determined to explore the temple. And me? Well, I’ve decided I want to take more risks lately. What is an eternal life without some adventure and danger? I won’t ever have my dream of being a mother, so it’s time to find new dreams. Besides, I wanted to see the giant birds Juan talked about. Not that I wasn’t fearful. I was very scared. But the line between fear and excitement is a thin one.

 

By this time, night had fallen over the jungle. Juan checked his notes and told me we were nearly to the temple. We ascended a cliff top overlooking the ruins. Below, flickering through the trees, we could see the dancing of firelight. The scent of cooking food wafted through the heavy, moist air. There were colorful tents set up around the temple. It seems we weren’t the first ones to discover this place. Someone had already made camp. But we could see no one moving about between the tents. Despite the cooking fire and the roasting food, the place seemed wholly abandoned. So we proceeded down the cliff, toward the camp…

 

As we entered the campsite, we set about investigating the scene. Juan took the largest and most colorful tent. I noticed a sweet, strange smell coming from another tent. A heady mixture of incense and fruit and flowers, like the sweetest perfumes worn by the ladies of the Imperial court. Drawn by the pretty smell, I pushed the tent door aside and stepped within.

 

The fumes were thicker inside the tent. They swirled around my head, overwhelming my senses and making me — quite literally — drunk! I stumbled around with a silly smile on my face, my head swimming. Inside the tent were strange, speckled, round stones arranged in a circle. I bent down to pick one up… and I felt squirming on the inside.

 

It wasn’t a rock! It was an egg!

 

“I would put that down if I were you,” a voice said from behind me. I turned… and found myself face to face with the bulging eyes, green skin, and enormous mouth of a frog man! I would have screamed, but the incense was making me too drunk and stupid to do anything. Somehow I had stumbled inside their incubation tent where they sheltered their unborn young!

 

My recollection from that point on is spotty at best. The frog men arrested Juan and me. They forced us into cages. They accused us of trying to steal their precious eggs. They threatened to eat us and one of them even licked me! Their tongues are covered in horrible, sticky, gooey slime. It got all over my new clothes! It was vile and yet I was too drunk to care. I sat in the cage giggling and swooning and flopping around while poor Juan desperately bargained for our freedom.

 

I don’t know what happened. Considering that I am safely back at Carrington Court, we must have either been set free or escaped. I pity Juan for having to carry my drunken self all the way home. I have perhaps the worst hangover I’ve ever had today. My head aches and my stomach is sour. I woke up this morning convinced the trip was all a dream but I have proof it actually occurred!

 

Oh my, how embarrassing. To think we were in mortal danger and I was completely out of my head drunk, acting a fool! But it wasn’t my fault, was it? The incense in their incubation tent was so powerful. I had no resistance to it. It was a hundred times more potent than any alcohol. A good thing humans don’t have access to it or we would all be lying around drunk breathing in the fumes all day.

 

Ugh. Now I suppose I have the trial of trying to get wonk saliva off my clothes.

 

Entry 20
1769 IST.

 

Spoiler

Today is the day! Voting day! The reason why the Josephites had that big convention in the basement of the museum. I’ve been seeing a lot of posters hanging around Helena. The Everardine posters confuse me terribly. They talk a great deal about progressivism and equality and the needs of the many but... aren’t they also the party of absolute monarchy? The party of the nobility? I’ve caught myself reading Everardine posters, nodding my head in agreement, and then suddenly noticing they’re blue! It feels very manipulative and not at all representative of the Everardine’s true goals of supporting a corrupt church and ancient, crumbling monarchy!

 

Here are my thoughts. I lived during a time when the Emperor was like unto a mortal God, infallible and beyond all reproach. I lived during a time when nobles could do whatever they liked to the common people and the humble peasant had no choice but to endure it. I lived in a time when a simple elven traveler could be charged with death, torture, and execution simply for trying to walk the road between Malinor and Abresi. It was an era where nobles - who were little better than tribal warlords, really! - would wreak havoc on their citizenry with pointless civil war over petty grudges! Do you know how many men the White Rose lost in the Battle of the Dreadfort? And for what reason? August Flay was mad at Mirtok DeNurem - hardly a political squabble, but a purely personal one! And the Everardines idealize that time and want it restored? I refuse! I will not go back to being a slave and living in fear.

 

So, of course, my vote is cast for the Josephites. Juan walked me through the process of voting today. He marched right up to the bar and said, “Tanith, it’s time to take vengeance on all those who wronged the elves and said your people cannot be true Oreners! It’s time to vote!” From there, he escorted me to the polling place and handed me my very first ballot. He had to turn his back as I filled it out. I suppose votes are supposed to be secret. But I put it in the ballot box and, voila! My very first vote in my nearly five hundred years of life! (Four hundred and ninety... six? Seven? Somewhere in that neighborhood! I don’t know the exact number.)

 

“And they’ll count my vote?” I asked Juan. “Even though I’m a dark elf?”

 

“They’ll count it because you are a citizen of Oren,” he said to me, and the statement struck me in a profound way.

I have lived in Oren nearly my entire life. I’ve witnessed so many things from the fall of Al’khazar to the rise of the First Empire and every Empire subsequent. I cooked meals for saints and babysat emperors in their cribs. I was even a member of the peerage once - a Baroness on par with Mr. Carrington, though certainly not as wealthy. And yet there has always been a certain feeling like I’m a foreigner in my own country. I’m a dark elf. Dark elves don’t belong in Oren. I’ve always worried in the back of my mind that my presence in human society was somehow illegitimate and unearned. That perhaps I inadvertently conned my way into living here.

 

But today I did something meaningful. I cast a vote and made my preference heard in the halls of government. Not even the Emperor can take that away from me.

 

What the Everardines don’t understand is that democracy isn’t something you can just roll away. Now that everyone has been endowed with rights and given a voice, you can’t silence those voices ever again. People won’t stand for it. I won’t stand for it! I have my one little vote and it’s mine. I won’t give it up without a fight. Why would I simply submit to the ultimate authority of the crown when I know -- first hand! -- how brutal the crown can be toward its own people?

 

...I’m a little afraid to write this. Even in my own secret diary. But maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll live to see an Oren where there is no Emperor. Oh my, it almost feels like blasphemy to write that! But just imagine it. An Oren where our leader is chosen by the people, not by some twisted, incestuous, interbred bloodline. (I know full well how often nobles marry their cousins! And doubtless by now, the family trees of the great noble houses are so tangled up that you can’t even keep track of who is related to whom any longer.)

 

Maybe I’ve gone a little wild with my political predilections. Talking about Emperors chosen by popular vote rather than bloodline. But it’s a fun dream to dream, at the very least. In a world like that, even someone like me could ascend to the highest office. There would be no barriers to anyone.

 

Ah, but it’s just a fantasy. I’m sure Horen will come back before an elf holds the throne of Oren! But it certainly is a funny picture.

 

Entry 21
1769 IST.

 

Spoiler

We won! We won, we won, we won! Oh, how exciting! 

 

I cast a vote for my party and we took the majority in the House of Commons. It was a desperately close race and the Josephites lost in Helena, but I am glad my little vote contributed even if in a small way. My party won eight out of the total fifteen seats in the House of Commons. Oh, I’m relieved. I don’t like those Everardines at all. As soon as the Josephites claimed the victory, the Everardines started putting out smear pieces calling them pigs and declaring the victory illegitimate. Bah! The Everardines act so high and mighty. They pretend as if they have the moral high ground just because the church supports them. But there is plenty of criticism to be levied at the church too!

 

I’m happy and excited, though. I was so moved by the speeches at the Josephite convention. And I don’t think I will ever forget Jonah Elendil taking the flower from his own breast and giving it to me. It made me feel as though I was accepted. Like I belonged, and was wanted. The Josephite motto is “For the Dignity of All.” For a long time, I did not think I was worth dignity. Dignity was a luxury out of my reach when I was only trying to survive. But perhaps, in this time of unprecedented equality, I can stand up and be heard.

 

In fact, that is just what I am going to do. Jonah Elendil came into the Dragon’s Rest today and gave me a curious proposition. “Miss Tanith, do you like to write?” he asked me. I said yes. I write often here in my diary. “How would you like to get involved in a… publication?” Mr. Elendil told me of his intention to start a pro-Josephite newsletter. He said I embodied the ideals of the party as a working class woman. I was taken aback. I’ve never published anything before. The only time I write is here, in my own private diary. And I’m certainly no political scholar. If I wrote something for publication, I fear I would say something foolish or uneducated. I’m still new to Oren’s political sphere. There are so many things I don’t know and don’t understand. But I like the vision that the Josephites present of the future. A future with no barriers where anyone - not just those of aged, storied bloodlines - can be important. And while I may not be educated, I can write from the heart. Mr. Elendil promised I would have an editor to help me. I’m glad. I would like to aid the cause but I’m afraid to say something silly or damaging.

 

There’s unfortunately sad news today too. Mr. Roosevelt, another bartender here at the Dragon’s Rest, told me he has been diagnosed with a terrible illness. None of the doctors in Helena can help him, so he has resigned himself to a slow death. I don’t know him well, but I felt so sad and sorry for him. I urged him to seek treatment beyond that of mortal doctors. Surely there are still those that practice the art of healing magic. Mr. Toov was so skilled with the sacred art of healing that he could bring men back from the brink of death. There are those who study the art of miracles and weave them using the power of the gods! Mr. Roosevelt told me he doesn’t believe in such things. But these are times of great magic and power. I know he can find a solution to his problem if he only tries! Life is so beautiful, so one should never resign one’s self to death!

 

Speaking of magic and miracles… Jack the Paladin returned today. I was delighted to see him again. It’s not often that I meet other people who understand what it’s like to be an elf in Oren. Mr. Jack is by no means an elf but he has lived a lifespan nearly the same length as mine. We are almost exactly the same age, give or take a few decades! He’s just a bit older than me. He remembers Al’khazar more clearly than I do, but I was just a child back then.

 

We had a wonderful time swapping stories! He told me about his adventures as a Paladin of Xan. And my! He’s had many! He helped to slay the dragon Setherian so many years ago. I didn’t realize I was talking to a legendary hero! Though Jack views it as just a job, not worthy of particular glory. My life is small and boring compared to his. I’ve spent my years being a servant and taking care of people far more important than I am. But I did have one funny story for him - a story that made him laugh uproariously and double over, clutching his gut! (I consider THAT an accomplishment - making someone jaded by 500 years laugh like that!) I told him about the time I nagged my husband into making me an Inquisitor of the Imperial Oren Inquisition - at the height of the First Empire and Oren’s seething elf hatred!

 

Bless Mr. Toov. I was a needy, demanding wife and he was very patient with me. In the old days, I did not like to be ignored and I made my feelings quite clear to him on that point. But Mr. Toov was a busy man between his duties as Lord Marshal and his more secretive affairs as Lord Inquisitor of Oren. He often left me by myself often for weeks and months. Sometimes even multiple years. I stayed good and faithful and loving throughout, of course, but I wouldn’t hesitate to give Mr. Toov an earful when he got back.

 

Eventually I decided… well, if the Inquisition made him too busy to pay attention to me… I would just join the Inquisition myself!

 

Of course, the answer was no. At first. But I was determined that man would have no peace in his home until I was a member of the Inquisition. I bothered him about it nearly every time I saw him. And that’s how I nagged my husband into making me an Inquisitor of Oren.

 

I think he justified my joining with the logic that I was an elf, so I could potentially be used to infiltrate Malinor and gather information during wartime. However, Mr. Toov was naturally hesitant to put me in any kind of danger. As an Inquisitor, I was a bit of a flop and I didn’t do much of anything. I did look good in the uniform, though.

Mr. Jack couldn’t stop laughing. “I can’t. That’s amazing—HAH! Who’d even heard of a wife pestering—heh—her husband, to make her an INQUISITOR?!”

 

After that, it was getting late and Jack had to be on his way. He asked me for a favor as he got up to leave, though. “Could you put up a signboard for me? The cause needs alchemists, warriors, medics…” I promised him that I would send anyone matching that description his way. And that if he ever needed a cook on any of his adventures, I’m available. He laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind, Madame Inquisitor.”

 

Entry 22
1769 IST.

 

Spoiler

Why are other elves so selfish? Ugh!

Above all, Malin wished for his children to be joyful. To dance through the trees and fill the ancient, forested halls with song. Yet so often, the Mali I meet here in Oren are all stuck in a mire of their own sadness. They moan over the wounds of yesteryear and refuse to find any shred of joy in their current life. I suppose I’m no better. I find my thoughts drift often to the past. But as deeply as the past hurts, the future is bright and full of promise. In every day, there is opportunity for joy.

Yet the other elves I meet can’t seem to see it. Maybe Mali hearts are built differently than human hearts. Humans don’t dwell in the past. Not as much as we Mali seem to do. Humans are always pushing forward. If there’s a setback, they don’t waste time moaning over it for a century. They don’t have that much time to waste!

Just the other day, a young man wearing a vibrantly purple suit came into the bar. He told me that it was his favorite color and it made him happy to dress that way. A high elven woman took offense to the color. Purple was the color of the Pertinaxi, a faction that ruled Oren prior to the current regime and visited a great deal of suffering on the people. “The Pertinaxi cropped my sisters’ ears. How dare you wear their colors!” she said. Pardon me - I don’t wish to make light of others’ suffering - but it’s just a color! The young man in the purple suit expressed no support for the Pertinaxi. He was so young, I doubt he even knew who they were! He just liked the color purple! What if the Pertinaxi had flown a banner of pink? Would I be expected to shear off all my hair? Or purchase a gallon of dye to paint it a different color?

And today… ugh. I met the most dreadful man. I had an idea of an event at the Dragon’s Rest. We have a stage and a piano in the back but it hardly ever gets any use. So I proposed we hold a contest for the best drinking song - with prizes for different categories like the most clever, the most bawdy, the most catchy. Mr. Grouch very much liked the idea and gave me the all-clear to hold the contest whenever I liked. I had been thinking of ways to advertise and I thought, well, surely the best way to spread the word of a song contest was through… a song!

But I have never written music or poetry before. I like music very well and I’m told my singing voice is passable, but… well, like with most things, I lack formal training. (Truly, I am Tan of All Trades, Master of None. Have I really spent almost five hundred years just dabbling in different things?) But anyway, I’ve found the library to be a very good resource and I thought surely there were books on writing songs and poems that I could use. So, since Mr. Roosevelt and Mr. Sentinel were handling the bar, I took some time off to go visit the library.

I was wandering the shelves looking for the arts section when I stumbled upon him. A dark elf man sitting at one of the study desks, hunched over a book. When I laid eyes on him, I stopped dead in my tracks.

Oh… I feel very foolish and embarrassed for what I did next. Reader, have you ever seen a stranger on the street and just… fallen a little bit in love with them? Not love at first sight or anything like that. But just a little bit of love. That person captures your imagination for a brief moment and you find yourself picturing what it might be like to marry them, raise a family, grow old. That’s what happened to me. After my third husband, Mr. Gyffard, died, I swore off human men. Never again, I said! If I loved again, it would be with one of my own kind. One who wouldn’t age, die, and leave me lonesome. I dreamed of having a soulmate who would keep me company through this life and the next. But eligible dark elf men are in short supply. The only Mali’ker men in Helena that I’ve met are Edmund, who is far too young, and Father Bennett, who is a priest. (And also too young. You will not catch me with an elf man younger than a century!)

So I will admit, when I saw this man sitting there, I perhaps got a bit… overexcited. The polite thing to do would be to leave him alone to his reading. But my heart was pounding in my chest. He looked perfect! I don’t find most elven men attractive since they’re too feminine. (Mr. Elke, a bar regular, is honestly as pretty as a girl.) But this elf had a beard! He was just my type! Strong, tall, masculine, and dignified! I had to introduce myself. I just had to.

And then the rotten bastard had to go and open his mouth. I have never gone from being interested in someone to complete disinterest so fast.

I approached him to introduce myself. He looked up at me and scrunched his nose in disgust at being disturbed. “What do you want?” he said - and his tone was clipped and terse. “Can I help you?”

I should have turned around right then and left him alone. But curse my hopeful heart, I persisted.

“H - hello! I’m Tanith. I don’t – I don’t think we’ve met?” I said. “I work in… the, um. The bar. The Dragon’s Rest. If you’ve… ever been over that way.”

He put his book away and stood up, straightening his coat. “Icroth,” he replied, accepting my handshake with great reluctance. “Why are you here?”

Ugh… He clearly did not want to be bothered, so why was I bothering him? Some stupid, girlish fantasy that he might be the one, my soulmate, whom I’ve searched for all these years? Stupid Tanith! Of course not. The world is full of dark elves, most of whom are unpleasant. You know this! Bah. I’ll admit it. I just wanted to talk to him because he was tall, had scars, and a beard. I’m a dreadfully predictable woman, aren’t I?

I continued to engage Mr. Icroth in conversation even though he obviously wanted me to go away. I learned he is about two hundred and eighty one and he had lived in Petrus around the same time as me. (“You lived in Petrus? I did not see you there,” he said to me - as if I was lying to him! It was a city with thousands of people! Why on earth would I lie about that?) Mr. Icroth had been traveling and stopped temporarily in Helena. I offered to help him find a place to stay or temporary work if he needed it, but he rejected my offer out of hand. He didn’t plan to remain long. Every word out of his mouth was blunt, perfunctory, and just plain rude!

I’m not proud but I snapped at him. “Do you slap away every hand offered to you in friendship? You’re a stubborn old goat who’s too prideful to accept help when he needs it!” I barked at him, talking far too loud to be appropriate for a library. “If you wanted me to leave you alone, you could have said so far earlier than this!”

“Pride is not what I would call it,” he fired back at me. “It’s self-preservation. I’ve seen some of the worst in people before.”

That made me the angriest of all. “As if I don’t know exactly what that’s like,” I hissed, pointing to my own cropped ears.

This is what I despise about other Mali. They’re so often just… selfish! They can’t see past their own hurts. Mali will spend years – even centuries – wallowing in their own, stubborn, selfish sadness. I could fill a whole book with my litany of old wounds. But instead, I try to live for the future. I try to be cheerful and look forward rather then back. Isn’t it better to live in hope than despair? Humans understand that! Why don’t elves?

“What in the Seven Skies do you want from me, woman?” Icroth spat at me.

I realized, then, that I had been harassing a miserable old man in the library of all places. I’d been trying to make a friend, but he did not want my friendship forced on him. So, at that point, I figured there was no more point in us talking. I apologized for interrupting his reading. I figured he deserved that at least. And then I left.

I suppose I should try to write a song to advertise the contest. But I’m in such a bad mood right now. Silly Tanith got her hopes up – and those hopes were summarily dashed.

I’m just lonely, that’s all. I just want someone who understands me, even a little. Valah can be good friends and good company, but humans are just fundamentally different from elves. But other elves… they don’t understand me either.
Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck between two worlds and I don’t quite fit in either one.

 

Entry 23
1770 IST.

 

Spoiler

I’m in an awkward position and I’m not sure what to do.

I’d noticed that things seemed… off around the Carrington Estate lately. It’s been very quiet and I wasn’t exactly sure why. I haven’t seen Mr. Green Carrington very often lately. The mysterious Mary Phillipa has been completely absent, of course. And I see the four young girls rarely, if ever. I was beginning to think that maybe Carrington Court had been abandoned and I was the only occupant remaining…

Today, I discovered why. I was tending the bar at the Dragon’s Rest when Miss Alpha approached me with sad news. As it turns out, Mr. Carrington has disappeared without a trace. No word left behind about where he went or why. It’s tragic, but somehow not surprising. He was under a great deal of pressure as a politician, a merchant, and a single father of five girls. Sometimes men just simply snap and wander off. It happens more often than one might expect. The demands of family, society, politics, and the marketplace simply become too heavy to bear.

My heart breaks for the family, though. The poor girls with neither a mother nor a father to guide them. Miss Alpha told me that the family needed me more than ever now. Someone had to take care of the children and be a mother to them. She couldn’t do it by herself.

The reason this is so awkward is, well… I have been maybe considering new employment.

I don’t feel especially useful around the bar, to be honest. Mr. Grouch has hired so many bartenders, it’s hard to keep track of them all. And you really don’t need more than two people behind the bar at a time. It starts to get crowded when there’s more. I’ve often found myself sitting around with nothing to do during my shifts. I’ll end up cleaning things that don’t need to be cleaned. Sweeping the floor after it’s already been swept. I hate to be idle. I despise idleness. I suppose that’s my flaw is I feel the need to be working every single moment or else I worry I’ve become useless and unnecessary. I have to earn my keep. I have to prove I deserve to be here.

It’s a mindset I need to change. I don’t have to “earn” my place in Oren anymore. I’m allowed to simply… be here. I am not made to answer for my existence or justify my presence. But being idle still drives me to the brink of madness. Even when I lived all by myself and I answered to no one, I spent sun up til sun down grinding my fingers to dust with work. Because I was afraid of what would happen if I didn’t.

I remember I used to be so territorial about my role as housekeeper in the White Roses. I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone taking my place, so I worked myself constantly to the bone with no breaks. Eventually, the Order started getting too big for me to manage all the chores on my own. Laundry started to pile up and there wasn’t enough food for everyone. One little elf can’t do the chores of a hundred men. I remember I cried for hours when Thomas and Peter sat me down and told me they needed to hire more help. I thought I was going to be replaced. Thankfully, I wasn’t. Thomas and Peter swore up and down that I’d always have a place in the White Rose.

It’s difficult with the Carringtons. I don’t feel useful. And I don’t wish to linger like a ghost in an empty estate. But I would hate to abandon the little girls.

Though… I have to wonder if perhaps Miss Alpha lied to me. Or maybe simply uninformed. She admitted to me that she doesn’t talk to her little sisters that much, if ever. I met little Mary Jane later in the day, after talking to Alpha. Mary Jane told me that she had been adopted as a ward by the Queen of Haense. Perhaps similar things have happened for the other girls as well. They’ve been taken in by other noble families. If that’s the case, then the family doesn’t need me after all.
What to do?

I had a strange thought lately. Jack, the Paladin, is striving to rebuild his order in Johnstown. Wouldn’t that be exciting? To work with legendary heroes, endowed with the powers of the Aengul Xan? I’m not sure if there’s a place in his order for a housekeeper. But I thought I might ask and see…

Juan once told me that I ought to have my own adventures. He told me there was more to life than just bending the knee and serving important people. He told me I could be important too. And I’ve found that I like to travel. I like a little excitement. A little danger. What if I were to become a Paladin? Ha! Wouldn’t that be something! Me, a Paladin of Xan? But why not? What’s the harm in asking? Let’s give it a try! The worst anyone can ever tell me is “no.”

 

Entry 24
1770 IST.

 

Spoiler

Ugh! That Icroth fellow keeps turning up like a bad mark. 

 

Worst of all, I got stuck with him for HOURS today! I asked God to send me a handsome Mali’ker man to keep me company. Well, lesson learned. Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it!

 

Here’s what happened. I was tending the bar today on my shift when Icroth came skulking in. I swear to God, the whole room got colder and more oppressive the moment he entered! He has a gloomy, awful aura about him that just sucks away all joy and good cheer. I felt a chill go down my spine the moment he set foot in the Dragon’s Rest. Thankfully, he slithered off to a dark corner and set himself up there, well away from everyone else.

 

Thank God. We don’t need his awful attitude bringing down the mood for the other customers.

 

I was planning to just take his order, bring him his drinks, and leave him alone. I may despise that nasty man, but I’ll be damned if I’m not a good hostess no matter what. But then Mr. Jack walked in. I’ve been meaning to talk to Jack about his paladin order. Imagine my horror when Mr. Jack went straight over to Icroth and sat down across from him!

 

I reluctantly made my way to their table and asked Jack if we might talk in private. “What’s wrong with talking right here?” he asked. I didn’t want to mention that Icroth and I do not get along. So I ignored Icroth and laid out my business. I told Mr. Jack that I was looking for a potential change of employment since I wasn’t much satisfied with my work at the tavern. And I did it — I asked him if there might be a place for me in the Paladins of Xan.

 

Mr. Jack thought over my request with a frown. “We don’t have the infrastructure for a barkeep, Miss Tanith,” he said. “I’m afraid there isn’t much room for noncombatants. Not at least until our fortress is built next year.”

 

I told Jack I was very hard-working. I can do laundry and sewing and cleaning and cooking, all kinds of domestic tasks! Even the greatest legion of heroes needs someone to pick up after them! He considered the proposition for a moment. “Well, I could take you up to the construction site in Johnstown if you like. Just to take a look and meet everyone. Would you care to come too, Mr. Icroth?”

 

My face must have told the entire story, because Jack picked up on it immediately. “Are you two fighting?” he asked. “I figured you two were close friends.”

 

What? I just met the man yesterday! And friends? I certainly tried to be his friend, but he clearly wasn’t interested! I’m not going to keep offering a hand of friendship to someone who doesn’t want it. Especially someone as nasty and unpleasant as ugly, mean, old Icroth!

 

To my great displeasure, Icroth consented to come along. He’d developed an interest in the Paladins of Xan after talking to Jack and wanted to see what they were about. And that’s how I ended up heading down the road to Johnstown, walking alongside one of the most unpleasant men I’ve ever had the misfortune of encountering.

 

We reached Johnstown after a few hours hiking in silence. Entering Johnstown is a bit like stepping back in time. It’s a small, largely agrarian village located in the wilderness of Haense. The buildings reminded me a great deal of Karovia with their log pillars and humble thatched rooftops. The people there speak with thick Raevir accents (which I swear have only gotten thicker and harder to understand over time). Johnstown was a startling departure from the thoroughly modern Helena. I suppose pockets of medieval Oren still exist even in this day and age. The people were very friendly, though. Several Raevir men stopped and asked us where we were from. I noticed, much to my great annoyance, that folks kept lumping me and Icroth together. Treating us like we were a couple. I had to say over and over again — “I’m not with him. We’re not together. We just happen to be in the same place today, that’s all!”

 

Bah! Just because we’re both dark elves and just because he’s a man and I’m a woman… that doesn’t make us a couple by default! I would rather marry a hundred human men and watch them all age and die than be stuck for eternity with someone as terse, gloomy, and morose as Icroth!

 

We sat down in the local tavern to talk with Jack about the Order of Xan, but unfortunately our meeting was interrupted by an injured platoon of Haensemen who stumbled into town. They had been ambushed by Scyflings and required aid immediately. (Thank goodness Juan was not among them!) Jack worried that there might still be Scyflings lying in wait, so he dashed off — but not before telling Icroth to take shelter with me and protect me! We ended up seeking safety in the Hounds’ fort… and that’s how we stayed. FOR HOURS.

 

I feel as though God must be punishing me for something… Is it because I am thinking of quitting my work with the Carrington family? Is this a sign? Ugh, ugh, ugh, and ugh again!

 

Eventually the threat passed and Icroth offered to escort me home to Helena. I never got the chance to talk with Jack more about the paladins. Jack ended up being too busy offering aid to the Haensemen. So it was a thoroughly unproductive trip and all I got to do was sit in a fort alone for hours with the one person I would never want to be alone with! What a completely unlucky day for me. Thankfully, Icroth departed from my company shortly after we arrived back in Helena. He wanted to hang around Johnstown, since he was very intrigued by the Paladins.

 

I’m still deciding whether or not I want to quit working at the Carrington Estate. It’s lonely there and mostly empty. So different from the joyful Commencement Celebration not too many months ago. Alpha keeps asking me to stay, saying they need me. But the little girls seem to have been taken in by other noble families, like Mary Jane becoming the ward of the Queen of Haense. But living in Johnstown isn’t an option either if I’m forced to be around someone I hate! Everyone keeps assuming we’re a couple, which annoys me terribly. I have plenty of time, so I’ll hold out for a dark elf man who is pleasant and kindly and treats me nice, thank you very much!

 

I suppose it was nice of him to walk back with me from Johnstown, if nothing else. The roads can be scary when you’re by yourself.

 

But he doesn’t get credit for that! Any gentleman would escort a lady down the road. It’s just good manners! Not that Icroth is a gentleman! Quite the opposite! In fact, he probably assumed I was too weak and stupid to find my way back on my own. That’s why he escorted me! Of course, there’s nothing gentlemanly about it!

 

Well! He can have the Paladins. I’ll stay with the Carringtons for now and see if any other work comes up in the meantime.

 

If only he wasn’t so handsome… stupid, handsome Icroth and his stupid, handsome beard and his stupid, beautiful blue eyes and his stupid little ponytail and his stupid scars and his stupid everything…

 

Entry 25
1770 IST.

 

Spoiler

I think I’ve just done something a little bit crazy.

 

Haha! Maybe it’s crazy, but… I’m excited! Oh, I’m very excited, actually! My heart is pumping and my veins are full of fire! I’ve got goosebumps, I’m shaking, but it feels good! If all goes well, I might be able to make a real and tangible change for the better in Oren!

 

Let me recount what happened so I don’t forget it. Ahh! Deep breaths, Tanith! Steady your nerve so you can at least write straight!

 

Alpha called for a Carrington family meeting so that we could discuss how the family is to be handled in the wake of her father’s disappearance. Unfortunately for all involved - and especially poor Miss Alpha! - the venue for the family meeting ended up being the local hospital. Alpha suffered a horrible accident that’s left her with both feet amputated. I don’t understand exactly what happened, but I believe it was some sort of magic spell that went awry or something like that. But oh, Alpha is handling it so well! She’s been brave and cheerful the entire time. You won’t see a single tear from her.

 

Mary Lucille, her younger sister, was not quite so composed, though. She entered the hospital in a flurry of tears and ran to her sister’s bedside. Normally a composed young girl, Mary Lucille broke down at the sight of Alpha’s amputated feet and began to sob. Alpha tried to comfort her. “It’s all right, Mary Lucy!” she said.

 

“It isn’t! You have no feet! It is QUITE NOT ALRIGHT!” Mary Lucille wailed in response as I patted her shoulders. “I am not alright, I hate this. It is horrid. I hate it. I am so utterly confused and restless. GOD! First Papa leaves and now I am told I’m getting betrothed… and then my sister loses her feet!”

 

Alpha and I snapped to attention at once.

 

“Betrothed?!” we asked nigh on simultaneously. It might have been funny if not for the sad and sorry circumstances!

 

As it turns out, Mary Phillipa - the girls’ mother - has abruptly returned from her long absence. She has taken over as the head of the family. And the first thing she does after returning? Why, apparently, get into negotiations to broker a potential marriage contract for her daughter - who, I might add, is not yet even eighteen! Mary Lucille is only fourteen years of age! She’s but a child!

 

I was stunned. I’ve not met Mary Phillipa. Indeed, I know nothing about her. But she’s a senator and a Josephite, not to mention a woman. Does she not see the inherent brutality of forced marriages? Surely that’s something a woman would implicitly understand. Mary Lucille was distraught because she’s developed feelings for a young elven man.

 

“I’m doomed to love a purple elf!” she cried out through her tears. As I understand it, intermarriage between the races has been outlawed. Which is curious to me since no one had a problem with me marrying human men back in the day. Not even Thomas or Peter, really.

 

Alpha and I began to propose solutions to the problem. We considered taking the matter to court so that Mary Lucille might be emancipated. She is a d’Arkent (her mother’s name) rather than a Carrington and her mother has legal custody. It’s perhaps possible Alpha could sue for custody on the grounds that her mother has been absent and neglectful. I also mentioned that I would try to get in touch with the lawmakers I know. See if I could possibly get them to sponsor a change in the law that would make nonconsensual arranged marriages illegal. I would hate to tear the poor family asunder in court, though!

 

Mary Lucille and Alpha both agreed that the courts and lawmakers have neglected the rights of women in Oren. We made plans to foil this arranged marriage however we could and then split.

 

I returned to the bar after that. I tried to get in touch with Jonah Elendil, but none of his friends could locate him. I suppose he was out of town. In the end, I went to Mr. Napier to see if he could possibly help me get the law reformed so that dear Mary Lucille would not be forced to marry against her will.

 

Mr. Napier met me in his office and we talked for a long time. Thank God, he agreed with me that arranged marriages are a barbaric practice of a bygone era. There should indeed be laws on the books to prevent them. He told me that it would be no trouble to introduce such a bill into the House and it would very likely pass. I was so relieved when he told me that! Perhaps we can get it passed quickly before Mary Lucille is made to accept any proposals she doesn’t want.

 

“Thank you for taking the time to listen to me,” I said to him as I got up to leave. “It truly gladdens me that maybe I can make a small change for the better and advance the rights of womanhood in Oren a tiny bit.”

 

He looked at me very curiously. “You know, you really should join the Josephites. The first woman dark-elf representative! I could see it! You could be sitting on the bench and drafting legislation. Goodness, one day even be President.”

 

He’s said something like this to me before. That I could run for a position and perhaps I might even win. But it seemed too ridiculous for me to even consider that as a possibility. I’m uneducated and I’ve never attended any sort of schooling. Nearly everything I know is self taught. My long life has allowed me to become reasonably intelligent – I do like to read, after all – but I surely don’t match the talents of men who have attended prestigious universities to specifically study law. Mr. Napier assured me that my lack of formal training would not be an issue, though. “Tanith, you are easily smarter than half the people sitting on the bench.”

 

I was beginning to feel overwhelmed by the praise and I might have blushed, if it was possible for us dark elves. “Well…” I murmured. “Mr. Elendil has asked me to write an opinion piece for a paper he’s starting. Perhaps if I’m published and my article is well received… But I don’t know. I’m not sure who would be interested in my opinion.”

 

“Ah,” Mr. Napier replied. “Bluntly put - I’m sure almost everyone.”

 

…Everyone?

 

Mr. Napier might have been flattering me as my friend. But he doesn’t strike me as an insincere man. I left his office feeling very strange indeed. I still couldn’t get ahold of Jonah Elendil, so…

 

I thought maybe I should try writing.

 

After all, the issue at hand is pressing and needs to be addressed as quickly as possible. I went to the library and I looked up the Oren Reformed Code of Law to make sure that I was correct in my thinking. And then… I wrote something.

 

An Open Letter on Arranged Marriages and the Rights of Womanhood.

 

By me, Tanith.

 

I wrote out several copies by hand and I started posting them all over Helena. As of this writing, I’ve just come back to my bedroom after pinning my message all over the city.

 

What kind of reaction am I going to get? I don’t know! I’m a little afraid, but… it’s also so exciting! Politics are so exciting! Is it possible I could make a change? The very idea that someone like me, a little person like me, could alter the codes of Imperial Law…

 

Oh, I just have to laugh! If only the Roses could see me now!

 

Entry 26
1770 IST.

 

Spoiler

I might have judged Icroth too harshly.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as though we’re best friends now. But he is… tolerable. In small doses. I might compare him to certain spices in a dish, like perhaps cayenne. A little bit of cayenne in a recipe is good for enhancing flavor. But if you dumped the whole jar of cayenne into a dish, you would ruin the food and trying to eat it would just be painful! That is Icroth to a T. He’s fine in certain contexts but it would be horrible if I had to be around him every single day!

I pity the poor Paladins of Xan for having to put up with him. He ended up joining their ranks as an Initiate. Icroth told me he was looking for a purpose. Maybe he’s finding it with the Paladins. I would not have expected that from him…

Legendary heroics don’t seem like his style. Icroth isn’t the “knight in shining armor” type. But perhaps I misjudged him. We’ll see.

Either way, he turned up in the Dragon’s Rest yet again a few days ago. I was having fun chatting with Celestine and Juan when Icroth came skulking up to the bar. He put his hand on the counter and leaned over to whisper to me. “When you have a moment, we need to talk.” Urgh, my stomach dropped when he said that. But I wasn’t busy at that particular moment - just talking with my friends - so I stepped out onto the balcony with him. He looked at me with those serious, icy blue eyes that always make my skin prickle with goosebumps. “Normally I would not bother you. But you’re the only one I know who might be able to help.”

Well! I did promise him my help when we met back in the library. And let it be known that Tanith does not go back on her word! I asked him what he needed. Icroth told me that he had been given his first task as an Initiate in the Paladins of Xan. His assignment was to hunt and kill not one, but three monsters.

My eyebrows shot straight up when he told me. The White Roses fancied themselves monster hunters but even they only brought in a kill once in a great while. There are certainly monsters and horrible creatures out there, but they are far rarer than you might think! Icroth had no idea where to even begin. I don’t blame him! You can’t simply walk down the street and find a monster to slay. You can’t go to the store and buy a monster! They don’t have monster farms! Not to mention such creatures are very dangerous! And Icroth, who was a mere Initiate, had to kill THREE of them?

I was about to go find Jack and give him a piece of my mind when Jack just so happened to walk into the bar. He joined us out on the balcony. I asked him what he was thinking, sending recruits out to kill three monsters! Luckily, Jack had an explanation. Apparently, the monster-slayings are part of a trial of bravery needed to prove one’s worthiness to Xan. Thank God, the Initiates do not have to do it all alone - no, they could hunt together in groups. Jack even wanted to monitor the hunts to ensure they pleased Xan. That put my spirit at ease. Of course he didn’t expect initiates to go toe-to-toe with monstrous beasts alone. I couldn’t imagine Jack throwing recruits into the meat grinder like that. Pitting one lonely initiate against three monsters is irresponsible at best and homicidal at worst.

But like Icroth, Jack was having trouble locating the lairs of beasts to slay. I turned my head and glanced toward the bar, where Juan was still enjoying his whiskey. If one person knew where to find dangerous creatures, it would be Juan Salinas Ruiz Villalpando de Ponce de Lyons. I called Juan out onto the terrace and asked him if he knew where to find frightening beasts for the purposes of valiantly slaying. And what do you know, my hunch was correct! Juan told them of the jungle island in the southeast seas, where we were captured by the frog men. Giant, man eating birds often fly around the island and they would surely fit the task’s criteria.

I left Juan and the Paladins to talk business while I returned to the bar. Celestine and I chatted for a while. She recently went to see a play written and directed by Peridot Carrington (Jasper’s son, I believe - both have gemstone names), which she told me was a great success. It was about the Vibian Coup that ended the reign of Robert Chivay. (I’m glad I did not see it. I knew Robert when he was just a baby. I know it would have made me cry to see him die all over again, even if it was just a stage show.) She also informed me there was a new exhibit on Athera opening up in the museum and that I ought to swing by, since I lived in Athera once. We made plans to go and visit the exhibit together at the end of my shift, but something came up and Celestine had to dash off suddenly. The Paladins finished their talk with Juan and hurried to find supplies for the upcoming journey. Meanwhile, Juan returned to me at the bar and ordered a second whiskey.

I’ve noticed a change coming over my friend. He seems more sad and tired. So different from his usual high spirits and good cheer. I asked him what was wrong and he told me. The war in Haense weighs heavily on his mind. Despite being not much more than pagan tribals, the Scyflings are incredibly strong and dangerous in battle. They’re led by a woman general known for her unbeatable shield wall. With her at the helm, the Scyflings have won victory after victory against the Haensemen. There is no making peace with them either. The Scyflings have only one goal and that is to fulfill their prophecy by murdering the king of Haense. It’s terrible and, with the way the war is going, it looks like they might just achieve their aim. Juan is also troubled by a heavy workload. In addition to fighting on the front, he’s received a large commission from a guild in the north. Normally, this would be good news. But due to the timing, he’s been forced to bounce back and forth between the war front and the guild’s holdings. It’s a long trip both ways and it leaves him fatigued. Poor Juan! My five hundredth birthday is coming up soon (I am currently 497 if my math is correct) and I was hoping he might take me to the sunken city we talked about so long ago. But I feel guilty asking him right now. I shouldn’t add more items to his to-do list. Maybe things will settle down as my birthday gets closer. If not, perhaps I will just celebrate by going to the new museum exhibit.

The bar began to clear out toward the end of my shift. I was cleaning up and getting ready to head home when Jack poked his head in once more. “You wouldn’t happen to sell any food that’ll keep a while, would you, Tanith?” he asked me. “We’re about ready to head south to face the giant birds and we need enough food to last us a few days.” Suddenly, Jack got a mischievous glint in his eye. “Say, have you ever cooked a giant, flying, man-eating monster?”

 

I couldn’t say that I had!

Jack invited me to come along on the journey and serve as their camp chef while they hunted the birds. Well, why not? Jack grinned and told me to change out of my apron, gather my supplies, and meet them at the city gates. And that’s just what I did.

Our hunting party included me, Jack, Icroth, a desert elf name Azaziel, a strange masked person named Zadrik, and a quiet Rhenyari man named Aicard. We set out in boats and followed the river south toward the seaside city of Sutica. Icroth kept control over the maps (Lyons maps, of course) and led the navigation effort. He took charge naturally and guided us to our destination with ease. I have to admit I was a little bit impressed. Icroth is a born leader, it seems. He doesn’t look like it, but he is.

We arrived on the jungle island after many hours of sailing and set up camp on the beach near the southern side of the island. Jack and Icroth raised the tent and built the fire while Azaziel and Aicard scouted the surrounding area and the beach. Zadrik - a rather quirky fellow by all accounts - befriended three examples of the local wildlife. He wandered off into the woods and, when he came back, he had a parrot on each shoulder and a panda on a leash! (So this island is where pandas come from - good to know!)

Azaziel and Aicard returned from scouting with no luck. No sign of the giant birds. We began to doubt if we were in the right place - though Icroth checked the maps again and insisted this was the spot. We gathered around the fire for a quick dinner at sunset. As we sat eating and talking, our conversation was suddenly cut short by the sound of enormous beating wings!

An incredible bird - easily 20 feet long - swept overhead as it sailed out to sea. Its breathtaking blue and silver feathers flashed like gems against the darkening sky. The gale force of its wings nearly blew us off our feet and put our campfire out. It sent a powerful rush of air trembling through the trees like a hurricane. We watched in open-mouthed awe as it dove into the ocean and pulled out a massive tuna fish. With a twist of its claw, it flung the tuna into the air and gobbled the fish down in a single bite. Jack let out a whoop of laughter. “There it is, boys!” he bellowed. “That’s our mark!”

We immediately set about a plan to slay the bird. There was no chance of catching it while it was still in the air. It was far too fast and agile. We would need to lure it down to the ground.

Icroth took the helm once again and devised a plan to bait the beast using a tuna. We would catch a tuna and use it to lure the bird into the trees, where we would hide a giant net to ensnare it. With the creature trapped and grounded, it would be no trouble to spear the beast to death.

“So we have twenty four hours to get this trap set up. No one sleeps until we’ve got this thing dead, butchered, and stewing in Miss Tanith’s cook pot. Go!”

Icroth, Azaziel, Aicard, and Zadrik set about building the net trap. Meanwhile, Jack and I went down to the beach to fish. He taught me the basics of spear fishing and, surprisingly, I turned out to be decently good at it. “You can always count on an elf’s eyes,” Jack chuckled as I managed to catch a few small fish.

I laughed as well - “You say that, sir, but I’m quite blind without my glasses!”

Once Jack was satisfied with my fishing acumen, we climbed into one of the boats and rowed out to sea. “We need one of those big tuna that we saw the bird hunting,” Jack said to me. “Those fish will be powerful swimmers and I dare say they’ll put up a fight, so be careful. I’ll keep the boat steady while you spear.”

As we crested the waves above deeper, darker waters, I saw a flash of scales in the abyss underneath us. I readied my spear and threw it as fast and hard as I could. My aim was true and it struck the tuna dead center, killing it instantly.

Jack laughed. “You’ve got the aim and the throwing arm of a champion, Tanith! Are you sure you don’t want to be a Paladin?” he asked me. I chalked it up to beginner’s luck, of course. Jack swam out to retrieve the corpse and loaded it into the boat. It was far bigger than I expected! At least eighty pounds of fish! “This will tempt that bird for certain,” Jack said as we rowed back to shore.

We beached the boat and, up on the hill above us, I heard Icroth giving orders to the others in the hunting party. They had completed work on the net and were rigging it in place among the trees. Icroth’s firm command of the situation surprised me. All of a sudden, Icroth had the leadership skills of a general on the war field. Was this really the same unpleasant, morose man I had encountered in the library? “He’s so different out here,” I mentioned to Jack, who smiled and shook his head.

When Icroth noticed us arriving with the bait, he quickly descended the hill to help us. Our hands touched as I helped him unload the tuna from the boat, but I don’t know if he noticed.

By sunset, we had the trap in place with the bait ready. All we needed to do now was wait. We gathered for dinner around the campfire, where we ate jerky, drank mead, and fried our smaller catch on hot stones. Everyone was exhausted but still primed for the fight to come. As we finished our meal, we heard the sound of great, flapping wings overhead. Icroth sprang to his feet. “Ready the trap!” he called out and the men hurried to their stations. I remained near the camp for my safety but I was still close enough to see the entire drama unfold.

The gigantic bird caught the scent of our bait and began its dive. It swooped down to grab the tuna. At the very moment its claws closed around the bait, Icroth and the men released the net. The net snapped shut around the bird, enveloping its wings and sending it plunging into the hillside. At once, the men descended on the bird with their spears. Azaziel the desert elf struck the final blow by driving his spear into the bird’s neck, severing its spine.

Truth be told, I was a little sad to see such a rare and majestic creature meet its end. But that night, we ate like kings. We stripped the bird of its beautiful feathers and each of us got to take one as a trophy. Zadrik managed to find the bird’s nest by scouting in the nearby trees and brought back the largest eggs I have ever seen. Each one easily the size of a cannon ball. Jack gave me two feathers - one for me and one to give to Juan. I’ll keep the silver feather and give the blue one to Juan.

The next morning, we gathered our trophies and readied to head home. Aicard and Zadrik went their own separate ways. Jack and Azaziel set out for Johnstown. Icroth offered to escort me home to Helena. It’s a long way and I didn’t want to go by myself so I accepted.

We traveled mostly in silence, just enjoying the scenery as we rowed up river. When we reached Helena, though, I turned to him. “I thought you did very well on the hunt,” I said quietly.

And he seemed taken aback by the praise.

“Thank you,” he replied. And it was there we split.

Maybe he isn’t so bad. I’m reluctant to say that since he’s still curt, rude, and unpleasant. But he seems to have the spirit of a soldier. Not just a soldier, but a leader. He can take charge and make smart decisions even under pressure. I admire that a little bit. Everyone seemed to follow him naturally with no need for prompting. Who was he in his past life, I wonder? He’s two hundred and eighty one years old… A lot can happen in that amount of time.

I like my feather very much. I’m still figuring out what to do with it. I thought perhaps I would use it as decoration for a hat, but I don’t like hats. They’re uncomfortable with my ears.

Ah, if only it was a red and yellow bird instead of blue and silver! Then I could have given it to Mr. Elendil. A fine trade for the Josephite flower he gave me at the convention. Oh well! Perhaps I will give it to him anyway. It’s very beautiful and surely rare.

 

Entry 27
1770 IST.

 

Spoiler

I didn’t realize it because I’ve been out hunting monster birds for the last several days, but it seems my little letter on arranged marriages caused… a slight stir, to put it very lightly.

There are certain people in the Empire who cling to outdated old ways that were wrong and ugly even in the days of the First Empire.

I loved my life in the First Empire, of course. I was happy, deeply in love, and I enjoyed privileges far above what other members of my race received. I pitied the elves who lost their lives upon White Rose swords, but… pity is different than empathy. I lamented for them - “If only they had been more like me! A good citizen of the Empire! An elf who knows her place! If only they weren’t so deviant and degenerate, they could live happy and peaceful lives too!” Elves, in my eyes, were little better than feral savages - creatures who lived on the same level as beasts, ruled by base instinct.

But I was proof, you see. Proof that elves could be civilized. The White Rose continually held me up as an example that elves could be a part of the empire… so long as they accepted their place as subservient to humans. If an elf died at the hands of the Roses, why… it was their own fault for subscribing to such degenerate cultural practices. They could have changed if they wanted. If they tried hard enough.

But looking back… it was wrong. Of course, I was submissive, subservient, and behaved like a human woman. I had been taken forcibly from my family and raised in Oren as an indentured servant! I was raised in noble homes where I was forced to behave a certain way or I faced beatings. I still have scars on my back where I was lashed as a child for misbehaving. My behavior and character did not arise naturally but was rather beaten into me by cruel taskmasters. And if I had been raised among my own kind, I would surely have become like them as well! For is not man a product of his environment?

Some aspects of elven culture are indeed backward and degenerate. I saw that for myself when I visited Renelia. (I learned recently that I’ve been spelling it wrong… how embarrassing.) But dear Lanqui -- the elf formerly known as Edmund --has taught me many wonderful and beautiful things about elven culture too. Elven culture is quite like human culture in that… well, there are good things and bad things about both. Neither is superior to the other. And looking back at what the White Rose was doing – the violence they committed, the brutal hatred they espoused – could they truly claim to be morally superior to anyone at all?

But I digress.

The point is that the First Empire was not run by aenguls, saints, and gods. It was run by people. Human men who often did horrible things. They hurt people who did not deserve to be hurt. They spilled blood in wars over petty grudges. And, perhaps most of all, they mistreated, neglected, and abused the women they were supposed to love and protect.

Lorin Chivay was my friend.

I remember when she first arrived at the White Rose fortress. Her father had died and, in his will, he asked that his daughter Lorin be placed into the custody of her surviving uncles. I would describe young Lorin as moody, a bit prickly, emotional, boisterous, unfriendly, prone to outbursts of anger. In other words, the quintessential teenaged girl dealing with the loss of her loved one. And that’s not even counting the Chivay blood that coursed through her veins. She had a strong Aeldin accent that only got stronger when she was riled up, to the point where it sometimes sounded like she was talking with a potato in her mouth. Chivays were nothing if not loud and rowdy men - and Lorin was, by extension, a loud and rowdy girl. Though the qualities that made her uncles so well-loved did not engender the same popularity for Lorin. A noisy woman who gets angry, swears, drinks, and throws punches naturally did not fit in among the genteel and soft-spoken noble ladies of the Oren Imperial Court. Lorin liked to run and climb and jump outside rather than sitting sedately and drinking tea. Few of the White Roses liked her either. I remember a few times when she came to me - one of the few other women present on the Rose compound - and cried in my arms because she felt nobody liked her and she didn’t fit in anywhere. She asked me how she could be more gentle and sweet so that people wouldn’t hate her so much. I told her, “My lady, you are fine exactly as you are. You’ll find people who appreciate your vibrant spirit someday.” And from that moment on, she often confided in me. Lorin had a heart of gold deep down, though it took some searching to find it, and a spine of pure Chivay iron.

I was shocked when I learned about her engagement to Augustus Flay, the most wicked and brutal bandit lord across all of Aegis, Asulon, and Anthos. I couldn’t fathom it. Thomas and Peter were supposed to be her guardians. They were supposed to shelter and protect her, yet here they were throwing her to the wolves. They understood very well who Augustus Flay was. The White Rose had been bedeviled by the Syndicate and the Flays for years at that point. How many hours had I spent hiding in my kitchen while the Roses fought off Flay raiders just outside the fort? The Flays were nigh universally hated in Oren. Not just hated, but completely despised. Were Thomas and Peter genuinely going to hand their only niece, the only child of their deceased brother, off to this horrible, violent, brutish old man? They had seen first hand how Augustus Flay acted – did they expect him to suddenly change and become a gentle and loving husband?

It was then that I learned. Of course, they didn’t expect Augustus Flay to be a good husband. That would be ridiculous. Thomas and Peter knew they were giving Lorin over to a brutal man who would treat her horribly. But that did not stop them for a moment. The benefit gained from the marriage outweighed any suffering Lorin might experience. They kept promising her - “He’ll die soon, you won’t have to put up with it for long.” It was her duty to allow her uncles to dispose of her to their benefit and advantage.

Lorin’s marriage to Augustus lasted for fifteen years. In that time, he beat her and scarred her face. He took her babies away from her and denied her the right to even see them. Her own son grew up as a stranger to her. If she tried to run, his men hunted her down. Lorin often came to her uncles in tears, her face bloody and bruised, and begged them to let her come home to Ard Kerrack. But though they pitied her condition, they sent her straight back to Augustus every single time. Gladly condemning their niece to Hell on Earth just to support the alliance.

To her credit, Lorin was not merely a helpless victim doomed to suffer. I watched her become very shrewd and clever. She learned to flatter her husband’s ego. You see, she liked to write little stories to occupy her time and comfort herself in her bad situation. She once showed me a story about a woman, forced into a bad marriage, who ran away and became a pirate. (It was actually quite good!) Somehow, her husband found out about her writing. Augustus was obsessed with his own legacy. He knew he was old and would not live to see his children grow up, so he wanted to leave something behind for them. When he found out Lorin liked to write stories, he asked her if she would write something about him. Lorin, sensing an opportunity to bargain, agreed on the condition that he give her access to her children. The more Lorin flattered him, the more privileges she won for herself. He never hit her again. He let her live in the Dreadfort and interact with her children daily. Before then, he wouldn’t even let her speak to her babies - believing her mere presence would turn his precious heirs into soft, weak men. Lorin actually managed to win her wicked, tyrant husband over and turned him into a tolerable spouse. Not kind, not gentle, not affectionate, not loving — but perhaps tolerable if nothing else. I do consider that a minor miracle.

Of course, Lorin still celebrated when he died. She tolerated the man, perhaps respected him to a degree, but she still hated him in her heart for everything he’d done for her. The day they put him in the ground, she invited me over to her house in Abresi and we toasted merrily to his death. No one else would celebrate with her as she still had few friends even then. But I was glad to share in her joy and freedom.

I have to wonder what she would be like if she lived today. Under today’s law, perhaps she would be undertaking to make a small, subtle change to the law so that women can be protected from heinous abuse and evil? And… doesn’t every man want to know that his wife loves him truly and chose him above every other eligible suitor? What reasonable, sensible man wants to live in a house with a wife who may or may not truly love him?

Ah… it’s confusing.

There’s some good news, though. Juan came to the Dragon’s Rest today. He wrote a book recently and it’s become a great success! Everyone is reading it. I asked him to sign my copy and teased him about putting my name on the front cover. I called him a mischievous imp. Juan put a hand over his chest and gasped in horror! “You dare call a member of the House of Commons an imp! Insolent citizen!” My jaw nearly dropped to the floor! Yes, it’s true! My friend Juan Salinas Ruiz Villalpando de Ponce de Lyons is holding a seat in the House of Commons! I was thrilled. I took him aside and we talked about my letter, about how much of a fuss it had caused.

“I was hoping I could get a bill passed before Marv Lucille is forced into an engagement,” I said to him.

Juan frowned and nodded. “Is very difficult, but I will speak to Jonah about an amendment to the ORC. It will pass in the House, but then the Emperor needs to approve it.”

My heart sank at that. “What do you know about the Emperor?” I asked Juan. “Is he a more… left-leaning kind of man? Have you ever had a chance encounter at a party before…?”

Juan shook his head. “I do not know the man,” he said. “I cannot say whether he would pass it or no.”

I don’t know anything at all about the Emperor either. I have never met him, not even when I visited the Novellan Palace that one time. Archchancellor Basrid seems to be a decent enough man and I believe the Basrids lean Josephite. And, most surprisingly, the Emperor’s heir is his daughter, Princess Anne Augusta. (She has apparently taken little Mary Sophia under her wing. All the Carrington girls have been more or less adopted by other families.) Perhaps the Emperor will understand the inherent brutality in forcing a woman to marry against her own desires. Maybe he is an enlightened modern man like Juan and Archchancellor Basrid and Mr. Napier.

I will hope for a good outcome. I don’t want any more of my lovely friends to be brutalized like Lorin was. It’s up to us here in the future to make things right and ensure true justice for everyone. I’m here in the future. I have a chance to make right the wrongs of the past. And that’s what I said to Juan.

“I will speak to Jonah about the bill and we will do something to help your young friend, Miss Tanith,” Juan said as he got up to leave. “You are right, I must do something as a member of the House.”

“Thank you, I truly do appreciate it,” I said. “All the women ever forced into bad marriages would thank you in Heaven.”
Juan laughed. “Si, si,” he said. “Although… you DO know what would happen if all the women in Oren were allowed to choose their own partner, si?”

He leaned in close to me and lowered his voice.

“They would all choose me.” With that, he kissed my cheek and sauntered off!

That man! He’s incorrigible. But he’s one of my best friends and always makes me laugh. If only he was an elf, he’d be just my type. Thank goodness he’s not. I’m not sure I could handle Elf Juan. He’d be even more handsome and his charm would be too powerful for mortal women to bear.

 

Entry 28
1770 IST.

 

Spoiler

When my third husband died, I made a promise to myself. “No more human men,” I said. I swore up and down that I would never catch feelings for another round-ear as long as I lived.

Well, guess what I did.

It all started earlier today when Juan came into the bar wearing what he termed to be a “gilly suit.” I nearly died laughing when I saw him! It looked like he was covered in orc snot! He told me it was for a stealth mission behind enemy lines to gather information for the war effort. But the entire time he was telling me about his mission, I just kept giggling because he looked so silly covered in all those fronds and leaves. Juan left to go change into his normal clothing and, while he was gone, Icroth came in to look for him.

I haven’t seen Icroth since the hunt for the giant bird. He had taken a few days to rest and recover, but now he was ready to take on the second monster. He wanted Juan’s advice on where to look and for what. Juan returned, no longer wearing the gilly suit, and the three of us sat down together at a table. Icroth thanked Juan for his help on the first hunt and asked him if he might offer his advice a second time.

“You’ll want to head south to the Firelands,” Juan suggested. “It is a dark, hot place filled with vicious beasts ripe for the slaying. Here, my book will help you find it.” At that, he pulled out a copy of his book - The Adventure Guide to the West - and slid it across the table to Icroth.

Icroth picked up the book and started flipping through it, his eyes wide. “This is… quite good,” he said in surprise.
“Mr. Lyons is up for a Petrine Laurel,” I jumped in. “It’s a very prestigious award for authors.”

Juan chuckled to himself. “I have a fifty-fifty chance of winning it. I’m up against my good friend Celestine. Will be a very awkward date to the award ceremony.”

Date?

“Are you two… together?” I asked him, my good mood suddenly turning sour, although I did not quite understand why.

“I sometimes take her on adventures, just the two of us,” Juan admitted to me, looking a bit embarrassed - which is an expression I’ve never seen before on his face. “We are taking it very slow. But don’t tell anyone, por favor. She made me promise I wouldn’t.”

All of a sudden, I felt very upset and hurt - though, on my honor, I didn’t let it show. I smiled and told him how excited I was for him, both for the award and his new relationship. But inside, it was a different story.

Jealousy has always been a flaw of mine. When something - or someone - is mine, I don’t like to share. (I really am a horrible wife, not only nagging and clinging, but jealous too…) But here’s the thing. I have no right to be jealous of Juan and Celestine. I told Juan over and over that nothing would happen between us because he was a human and I was an elf. ‘If only he was an elf,’ I said, ‘he’d be just my type. But alas, he’s human.’

I’m an idiot. My heart doesn’t care whether he’s human or elf. I’ve always had a weakness for rugged men with exotic accents. He’s charming and handsome and funny. All this time, I was developing feelings for him without even realizing it. I pretended like I didn’t feel anything but friendship because I didn’t want to fall in love with another human. But it’s time to face facts. I have feelings for Juan Salinas Ruiz Villalpando de Ponce de Lyons.

It’s the kind of feelings that I know are doomed already. Celestine is a much better match for him in just about every way. She’s human, for one. They can marry and have children and grow old together if they want to. She’s an explorer just like him. An author just like him. Their personalities go well together. I really am happy for them… It never would have worked out between me and Juan. He told me himself that love between elf and human is unfair due to the vast difference in our lifespan… and miscegenation is outlawed in Oren anyway.

But the heart rarely ever cares about facts, laws, or circumstances. It feels what it feels regardless of all logic. I sadly have no choice but to try and get over my feelings.

I behaved a little badly, though. “Well!” I said to Juan. “Since you’re all tied up with Celestine now, I suppose Icroth will have to be my new exploring partner!”

Icroth raised an eyebrow. “You mean you don’t hate me anymore?” he asked and I chose not to dignify that with a response.
Juan took it in good humor, though. He turned to Icroth. “You have a very big responsibility, adventuring with this woman,” he said, gesturing to me. “She is like the princess in novels of romance, always getting captured.”

Oh, that was ONE time! And HE got captured TOO!

“But she looks amazing in tight pantalones.” Juan Lyons! You scoundrel! You lascivious hound! But I have to admit it made me a little happy when he said that…

Anyway, that is more or less how I ended up setting out on a scouting mission to the Firelands with Icroth, of all people. Something I never expected to be doing. We went over the maps and descriptions in Juan’s book before gathering our supplies and heading south. Icroth is not exactly the person I wanted to go exploring with, but… well, I needed something to get me out of the Dragon’s Rest and take my mind off Juan. Icroth needed to go to the Firelands and Juan advised him not to go alone. We didn’t plan to fight any monsters while we were there, just take a look around and see what we could find.

The Firelands are deep in the southwest. Icroth and I took the road out of Helena and followed it past Urugan. We crossed the river into the wilds and made our way through Farrador and an abandoned village called Thalor. Walking along the riverbanks, we found many old campsites and the ruins of ancient fortresses. It was a lonely and quiet place. Icroth doesn’t talk much – he isn’t chatty like Juan – and we wandered mostly in silence. I might as well have been alone with my thoughts out there for all the company he provided me.

Eventually we found a boat that someone had abandoned at an old dock. Icroth tested it and found it to be seaworthy, so we climbed in.

Traveling the river was faster than walking. Unfortunately, while heading down some rapids, our boat capsized and sent us both into the drink. I lost my glasses, but Icroth was admittedly very gallant. He dove to the river bed and retrieved them for me.

I still couldn’t stop thinking about Juan, though. Eventually, we made camp for the night in a little river delta that was lush with green trees. Icroth made a fire and we dried ourselves out while we ate dinner in silence.

I didn’t know what to say to him, so I just… brought up the subject that was on my mind.

“Juan’s book is very good, isn’t it?”

“It’s great, aye,” he replied.

Silence.

Then Icroth spoke again. “He’s… helpful. More helpful than I would have expected from a stranger.”

“That’s just his way,” I said. “He’s a kindhearted man under all that swagger. When I came to Helena, he was one of my first friends.”

“He’s a good man. I like him.”

I sighed a little sadly. “I do too.”

Icroth paused, studying my expression. He must have seen how down I looked. “Is he spoken for? Betrothed?”

“Why?” I teased. “Are you interested?” And that made him laugh, which was a change from the gloomy silence, at least.
“No, no,” he said. “Only curious.”

“Have you ever been married?” I asked him.

We got to talking. I learned he was married once in the past. His wife was Mali’ker and a traveling doctor. They went around Athera together helping the sick. They were expecting children, but the two of them got caught up in the Duke’s War by accident. Icroth was forcibly conscripted into the Savoyard Elven Auxiliary Unit, where he rose to the rank of officer. I wasn’t surprised that he served. He struck me as a commander of men. But due to the events of the Duke’s War and the acts he committed in the name of the Savoyards, he never wanted to serve in the military again. The war led to the loss of his wife and baby. After the war, he went into isolation much like I did – horrified by what he’d done and all he had lost. But after two hundred years of living as a hermit, he wanted to try and find his purpose again. He was glad to have found the Paladins of Xan. They were different from a traditional military order, so he could put his skills to use without needing to spill the blood of innocents or his fellow men.

He’s more like me than I thought he was.

Tomorrow, we’ll continue our journey to the Firelands and go scouting for beasts to slay. But for now, we’re camped in this quiet river delta where the only sound is the frogs chirping and the water burbling. It’s nice.

There is something to be said for quiet places where two people can be alone. It’s easier to be yourself out here without everyone else around you. Maybe there’s a chance Icroth and I could become friends after all.

And Juan… I really am happy for him. He and Celestine are perfect for each other and I’m sure their relationship will go well. I’m glad to be away from Helena, though. I’ll lick my wounds out here in the wilderness and, when I return home, I won’t be so sad and jealous any longer. I’ll just continue to be their good friend.

I told Icroth a bit about my husbands too. He asked me if I ever wanted to get married again and I said yes. Someday I’ll find a companion who is perfect for me. At least I hope so. But for now, I will just try to be happy by myself and find the joy in every day.

 

Entry 29
1771 IST.
 

Spoiler

Our trip to the Firelands was… a success? I suppose it depends on the way one defines success. We surely found evidence of some terrible beast in the area, although I sincerely wish we hadn’t.

Icroth and I woke up early this morning. A fine layer of mist - as delicate as lace - lay across the surface of the river delta. Beads of dew, as soft as teardrops, clung to the grass. We ate a quiet breakfast before climbing in our boat and setting out, following the river further south as it opened up and led out to the sea. It was a beautiful, blue day but, as we drew closer to the Firelands, the sky grew dark with ash. The stink of brimstone and sulfur filled the air, smelling like rotten eggs. We docked our boat on the gritty, rocky beach near an abandoned Orcish forward camp. Pausing to check over our supplies, we tentatively made our way into the peninsula known as the Firelands.

The Firelands seem to be highly volcanic in nature - composed of lava floes that rose out of the sea and formed an island. Black mountains violate the skyline, practically glowing with molten rock. There’s a singular safe path between the peaks, composed of sticky mud that sucks at one’s boots. Along the way, Icroth and I found some signs of life, signs that some unlucky group attempted to colonize this blighted land. Wooden structures dotted the Firelands - built by who or what, we don’t know. By God, the heat was so oppressive. One can hardly breathe the air. I felt as though my skin might dry up and peel off. Icroth and I brought several water bottles and we drank every one down to the last drop.

After some hours of hiking, we stumbled across what appeared to be a mining camp. The equipment lay untouched - mining cranes, mine carts, elevators, tents, all still intact. But not a soul was there. Icroth and I tentatively began to explore the camp, wondering where everyone had gone. This was a sophisticated operation, we concluded, and it would need several employees to run it. But where was everybody?

Well, I would soon find out.

I split off from Icroth and began exploring a nearby tent (it appeared to be a medical tent). As I was poking through the old supplies, I found it. Lying on the floor was a corpse - so dried out and desiccated that it looked like a mummy! I shrieked and Icroth came running. The corpse was so mutilated that we couldn’t tell who - or indeed even what - it had once been. Human? Elf? Animal? It was impossible to say. After we discovered the first corpse, it did not take us long to find others. Dried out, mummified husks, all of them looking as though they were flayed alive by some massive, horrible, clawed beast!

Icroth and I have both seen terrible things in our lives, but the site of this massacre was still upsetting. We had no idea whether the creature that killed these men was still close by. Icroth put an arm around my shoulder and quickly guided me away from the mining camp. “We’ll report what we’ve seen to Jack,” he said. “And come back with the other Paladins.”

I was relieved to leave the Firelands and the bloody scene behind. Icroth and I climbed back into our boat and set sail for more pleasant landscapes.

“I need to head north to Luxem,” Icroth said. Luxem is the home of Jack’s Paladin order, located in the hollow of a mountain. “We’ll pass Helena on the way there. I can drop you off.”

I wasn’t sure. After witnessing the massacre at the Firelands mining camp, I didn’t much want to be alone. So I asked if I might come with him up to Luxem and see the place that the Paladins call home. Icroth nodded and so we journeyed northward.

Luxem is not much more than a small forward camp nestled in the bowl formed by a ring of mountains. Jack built it to monitor an underworld portal located in the center of the lake there. As I understand it, the portal opens every few years and spits forth some terror from the Nether. Today, however, it remained dormant. I found Luxem to be a peaceful place. Musical, little streams run down from the mountains and feed into the lake over which the portal hangs suspended. Crumbling, ancient ruins of unknown origin span the waterways. Clouds hang like a veil over the surrounding mountains and mist settles in the valleys between them. The air is cool and quiet, with not even the chirping of frogs to disturb the ruins in their silent meditations.

We found Jack stoking a campfire near the lake’s edge. He invited us to come and sit with him. Jack gave me a nice present - more meat and eggs from the giant bird that we killed. He told me I might sell them to the Mage’s Guild in Sutica since they were paying top mina for rare oddities. Azaziel the desert elf had apparently sold his portion of the kill for thousands of marks. But I’m not sure I want to do that. After all, this is probably the only time in my life I might have access to these rare ingredients. I find I don’t have much need for money, really, and living a humble life is fine by me.

Although I suppose it’s good to have money on hand in case an emergency happens… or there’s something I would really like to buy. Mr. Napier encouraged me to see if I could purchase the Dragon’s Rest. He mentioned I might take out a loan, but I dislike the thought of being in debt. I never want to be beholden to another person ever again - not after I spent many years of my youth as a slave. I’m not sure if I want to buy a tavern – to be honest, I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea how to properly run it – but I suppose it’s an interesting thought at the least! I’m still deciding what I want to do with my part of the kill.

Jack listened to us talk about our findings in the Firelands. “Suppose we could gather the paladins and mount an expedition in the coming elven weeks,” he said. He gave Icroth a number of tasks to make contact with other guilds and organizations throughout Arcas. “If you might continue to accompany him, Tanith, I could make it worth your while,” he said to me.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” I said. “It’s my pleasure. Mr. Icroth and I have ended up becoming friends.”

“Tanith is good company, aye,” Icroth added.

Jack seemed surprised by this. He laughed. “And here I was prepared to bribe you with more giant bird eggs,” he said.

“Well, I’ll still happily accept your bribe, sir!” I said quickly. “And any other exotic treats you might have too!” We all laughed – and I felt much recovered from seeing the horrible sights in the Firelands. I mused that I might cook the giant bird for my upcoming birthday. I might even throw a tasting party! Who knows?

With that, Jack had to depart, though. “Tanith, my dear, I do sincerely wish you a happy 500th birthday, if I end up missing the party,” he said. Old Jack is so sweet. You would never imagine such a humble gentleman would be a famous dragon slayer. I told him that he would most certainly receive an invitation if I did end up throwing a party.

I ended up putting the question to Icroth after Jack had left and we were wandering around Luxem. “Mr. Icroth, what should I do for my 500th?”

“You mentioned a party,” he answered gruffly. “I don’t know. I’m not good with these sorts of things.”

“I’d just like to do something a little special,” I said. “It’s a big one, after all. Five hundred. Well… whatever it ends up being, you’re invited too.”

“Thanks,” he said, curtly and simply.

“But,” I said, “you must smile for me and act cheerful on my birthday. That’s your present to me.”

Icroth rolled his eyes. “You make me sound so rotten.”

He’s not rotten. He’s gloomy and brusque, but… I’ve been around worse people, surely. Plenty of the White Roses were curt and taciturn too. Soldiers generally don’t have a great deal to say. In my marriage to Mr. Toov, I’m certain I did a good 80% of the talking between us. Icroth and I got off on the wrong foot, but looking back, it was my fault too. What was I thinking, bothering someone in the library while they were reading? How could I be so rude? All caught up in my excitement to see another Mali’ker in Helena…

I decided to ask him another question. “What do you think of me?”

“You want to know if I dislike you?” he asked and I nodded.

“I realize I’ve run a bit hot and cold,” I murmured, feeling embarrassed. Disliking him one minute and dragging him out on adventures the next. “I at least hope I’m tolerable.”

“You’re my only friend,” he blurted out suddenly and it caught me by surprise. I felt a guilty pit form in the bottom of my stomach.

“If that’s the case, I’ve been a terrible friend, then,” I said.

Icroth sighed. “Me too.”

From there, we made a promise to try and be better friends to one another. And we made plans to go exploring more in the future. Icroth doesn’t talk much and, when he does, he tends to be terse and laconic. But he has a rather gallant side too. He saved my glasses from the river and he put his arm around my shoulder when I got upset in the Firelands. Perhaps there’s a knight in shining armor inside him after all. I’d like to travel more and I don’t want to go alone. It would be inappropriate to go places alone with Juan since he has a paramour now, especially considering my feelings. I would hate to make Celestine jealous or suspicious. So Icroth will do, I think.

 

Entry 30
1771 IST.

 

Spoiler

I told Juan how I felt about him. 

 

At first, I wasn’t sure if I should say anything at all. The last thing I ever want to do is get between Juan and Celestine. They’re both my friends and I would hate to cause any sort of conflict. And yet… I felt the need to get the feelings off my chest. I’ve always found that love is a word that needs to be spoken. It can’t stay hidden away. Maybe for a short time, but not forever.

 

Juan was a gentleman as ever, of course. But it’s safe to say that nothing is ever going to happen between us.

It all started today at the Dragon’s Rest. A lot of strange and funny things happened on my shift! A group of men got into a competition to see who could tip me the largest amount. (For no reason, I might add. It’s not as though I was wearing a particularly low cut shirt or anything like that!) I came out of that competition with nearly a thousand marks in my pocket. Then, Ramsay Galbraith and a friend of his wanted to use me for a gambling game. They each gave me their entire bank account’s worth of minas, then told me to give the whole pot to the first one of them who saw me next. Poor Ramsay lost about two thousand marks. Mr. Napier came by with his friend Lauritz Christiansen and showed me an adorable miniature painting of his pet corgi, Sir Cheddar. (There’s different breeds of dog now! How funny! Corgis are simply adorable!) And Sir Konrad Stafyr, the former president of the Josephites, also honored me with his presence. He’s read my letter - the one taking a stand against forced marriages - and he was very impressed by it. “Your bill will pass the House,” he assured me. “I’ve never called a vote wrong in my entire career.” That’s wonderful but… the House isn’t what I’m worried about. Rather, it’s the Emperor who can make or break my bill. Mary Lucille’s life and happiness depend on that man’s signature! I also got tickets to a new theater show that Peridot Carrington is going to stage - an opera about Lorin Chivay and Augustus Flay. It seems my letter reignited some interest in them as historical figures.

 

Juan made his appearance toward the end of my shift. I realized that I hadn’t talked to him since I figured out my true feelings for him. All of a sudden, I found myself feeling shy and tongue-tied, not knowing what to say. I’ve never acted like that around Juan before and I think he noticed something was different. “I have a gift for you,” he said. “Or rather, a gift for our mutual friend, Lorin Chivay.” Out of nowhere, Juan produced the most beautiful bouquet of flowers. “The flowers have great meaning,” he said to me. “My friend among the wood elves tells me this. The bouquet expresses her feelings at her unhappy situation. Red carnation for grief, daylilies for motherhood, thyme for strength, and ah… the roses speak for themselves, si? I was going to give them to you after we passed the bill on matrimonial consent, but the hearing for the bill is going to be delayed… and I did not want the poor flowers to spoil.”

 

Oh, they were exquisite! Even if the meaning behind the flowers was somewhat bleak, they were still beautiful. I got a vase from the cabinet and put them in some water so they would last longer. Lorin would have loved them. Red and orange were her favorite colors. Somehow Juan always knows the way to a woman’s heart, even if that woman has been long dead for many centuries now.

 

After I finished arranging the flowers, Juan asked me a question. “I am heading south for research on my next book,” he said. “I know you have been dying to see the sunken city. Let us go there together?”

 

Oh, I didn’t know what to say. I thought about telling him no – it would be inappropriate for the two of us to go alone since he’s courting Celestine now – but I really have wanted to see that city. Juan said it was so beautiful. I told myself it would just be a friendly excursion and nothing more.

 

Standards are different in society now. A woman can go places alone with a man without being called an adulterer.

 

So I packed my things, changed clothes, and we set out for the sunken city of Arcadia. My goodness, it was the most remarkable place! The water was so warm and clear. You could peek over the side of the boat and see straight to the bottom! Colorful schools of fish darted between the coral. We saw a sea turtle nearly the size of a house - and manta rays big enough for a full-grown person to ride! Juan and I explored the sunken ruins and several nearby shipwrecks. I’m not a strong swimmer by any means, but the water was so calm and clear that I didn’t feel scared diving. The coral looked like the beautiful underwater garden of a mermaid princess. I wished that I could breathe water so that I could spend longer admiring the wonderful sights beneath the waves!

 

In one of the shipwrecks, I found a rusted old money box. Juan and I managed to break it open with a rock. Inside, we found three golden doubloons and an ancient, crusty bottle of rum! I gave Juan one of the doubloons and I decided to keep two for myself. The rum… well, we thought it best to let the sea have that one.

 

After diving and splashing about for several hours, our muscles were sore and tired. We rowed our boat over to a nearby beach, where we stretched out on the warm sand to dry out. As the sun began to sink below the horizon, I felt the need to say something. We had such fun today and I feared I might lose the chance to say what I truly felt.

 

“Juan,” I said, “May I tell you something?”

 

He lay half-asleep on the sand, his shirt long since abandoned. His body was a roadmap of wounds and bruises - souvenirs from his fight against the Scyflings in the north. “Of course,” he murmured. He looked so handsome that all I wanted to do was kiss him.

 

“I hope this doesn’t spoil our friendship. And I would never want to get between you and Celestine. I meant what I said when I told you I didn’t want to court another human man…” I said. “But seeing these wonderful places and having such fun with you… It’s hard not to have feelings for you.”

 

Juan did not look at me or even open his eyes. “Si, Miss Tanith. I know.”

 

His answer caught me off guard. “Was it that obvious?”

 

“Ehh… No. But I suspected,” he replied.

 

“I think you and Celestine match very well together,” I sighed. “I’m trying not to be jealous. But it’s hard.”

 

“You know, I am a bad man,” Juan said. “I love too many women. If circumstances were different, I would say ‘Why not both?’ But if I did that, it would break Celestine’s heart. And it would cause you two to fight. So for her sake, I must be faithful to her.”

 

“I don’t want to fight with her,” I said. “I like her too much.”

 

“Si. That is why it is a bad idea,” Juan replied. “And I know you well, Miss Tanith. Loving a human man doomed to age when you yourself always stay the same… it would break your heart too. I am thirty-five and I already feel my body slowing down. I do not want to be responsible for two beautiful ladies’ hearts shattered in pieces.”

 

“I just wanted to tell you,” I said. “To get it off my chest.”

 

“Si, this is fine,” Juan answered me. “And I am flattered by your feelings. When next we adventure, we will bring a third along so you are not so tempted by me, si?”

 

I laughed at that. “Well, I think Icroth likes to travel. And I am determined to make him smile and be cheerful if that’s the last thing I do.”

 

“Then we will bring Icroth!” Juan declared.

 

“Next time, let us go to the mushroom island. There are rivers of green slime where, if you jump upon them, you bounce great heights! No man can be gloomy bouncing upon green slime!”

 

We made plans to do just that. But then Juan had a strange proposition for me – “I know what will get your mind off of me,” he said. “The NGS is to hold a charity event. We are going to round up beautiful bachelorettes from all around Oren and auction off dates with them. What if you volunteered?”

 

“No one would want to buy a date with me!” I exclaimed. “Me? A dark elf?”

 

“Tanith, if I were an elf, I would climb the highest mountain, fight Bralt of the Scyflings himself, swim in a lake of lava, and all this just to see your smile! But ah… don’t tell Celestine I said that.”

 

Oh, that man! He’s dangerous. Too charming for his own good. No wonder he has so many women falling over him. The charity auction sounds like it might be fun, though, if nothing else. I don’t imagine someone like me would fetch a high price, but… why not? It’ll be an experience to write about here in my diary at the least.

 

After that, Juan escorted me home to Helena and kissed my cheek before he left. I retrieved the bouquet from the Dragon’s Rest and brought it home with me.

 

Humans are a lot like flowers, I think. Bouquets are so lovely, but they only last for a short time - even if you put them in water. Eventually, they wilt and die. But elves are more like the gold coins I found in the shipwreck. Even after hundreds of years and a lifetime of trouble, they still shine just as bright.

 

I just wish elf men weren’t so… feminine. Why is it so hard to find an elf with some nice muscles and a decent beard?

 

Perhaps God will give me some good luck and a rugged, manly elf will buy me as a date at the auction…

 

Entry 31
1771 IST.

 

Spoiler

Oh dear. I think I might have lost my job.

 

I’m not sure yet. Right now, I’m sitting outside the front door of Carrington Court. They’ve changed the locks and my keys don’t work anymore. What do I do? I don’t have any place to sleep! All my clothes and possessions are in there! I feel like a stray cat scratching at the door, begging to be let inside. Maybe it’s a mistake? Perhaps Miss Alpha meant to give me a new key and she just forgot. She’s probably distracted, what with losing her feet and all.

 

But then again, maybe I’ve been fired and I didn’t even realize it. Did no one think to tell me? Did I do something wrong? This is just so sudden. Are they mad at me for running off and galavanting around the countryside all the time?

 

I’ll admit I might have been slacking on the housekeeping… But in my defense, hardly anyone was at the estate except for me! (It was rather nice having that huge house all to myself, though.)

 

I’ve considered breaking a window to get my things from inside, but I’m fairly certain that’s against the law and I would get in deep trouble. Oh, what to do! At least I have my diary. I’d truly be at a loss if I couldn’t write!

 

And to think, today started out so normally. I woke up and headed down to the Dragon’s Rest to start my shift. A priest - Friar Boniface, he called himself - came by the tavern. He wanted to hand out food to the hungry who wandered in off the streets. He was terribly kind, the old Friar. I asked him if he could answer some of my questions about Canonism since I have quite a few.

 

My relationship with Canonism has been… fraught at best. Human religion, in my experience, has a somewhat adversarial view on the other races. The old epistles are constantly castigating elves, dwarves, and orcs for their idolatry and sinfulness. It is very awkward to sit in a church and listen to a priest rail against the elves, especially when I am clearly and obviously an elf. I believe in God, of course. I pray and I do attend mass from time to time. But Canonism has always been an awkward fit for me, especially considering my age and the fact I’ve met at least half of the Prophets and dozens of the saints. But Friar Boniface was very patient with my questions and answered me as best he could. He told me a bit about his own struggles with the Canonist Church and I sympathized with him. He seemed very wise and I quite liked him.

 

After speaking with the Friar a good while, I wrapped up my shift and went to the bank to drop off my earnings. Who should I meet there but Icroth? He was standing in line at the teller in front of me. We got to chatting and I asked him how his Paladin trials were going. His mentor has assigned him to take up smithing for the Paladin order at Luxem - providing them with weapons and armaments. He was withdrawing money to buy some materials with which to practice. On a whim, I invited Icroth to come have dinner at Carrington Court. Icroth’s living situation is a bit touch-and-go at the moment. He tells me that he camps out most nights, sleeping under the stars or squatting in abandoned houses. I figured he might enjoy a hot, homemade meal and a warm bed. Carrington Court has plenty of guest rooms and I thought surely Miss Alpha wouldn’t mind if I invited someone over. Icroth took me up on my offer and we made our way over to the estate.

 

Only for me to find that my keys suddenly didn’t work anymore. We were locked out. Oh, I cannot describe how embarrassed I was. I’d spent the entire walk from the bank telling him about how good I was at cooking and how much he would enjoy dinner. “Maybe Miss Alpha forgot to give me a new set of keys,” I murmured, trying to hide my shame at being locked out of my own home.

 

“Miss Tanith,” Icroth said. “I’d say you’ve been fired.”

 

Oh, Icroth is so blunt and plainspoken! Sometimes it’s refreshing but… ARGH! Sometimes it aggravates me to no end! But he’s right… I haven’t seen the Carrington girls in some time. It’s possible that they even sold the estate without telling me. I’m unfortunately locked out of the loop when it comes to the Carringtons.

 

Instead of having a nice dinner in a lovely house, Icroth and I ended up eating his dry rations on the nearby lakeshore. “Do you have a place to sleep tonight?” Icroth asked me as we sat looking out over the water. “I have an extra bed roll if you need it.”

 

I shook my head. “I have enough money for an inn if no one comes along to unlock the door,” I said.

 

“You’re going to need that money if you’re unemployed,” Icroth replied, as dry and practical as ever. “Don’t waste it.”

 

“If worse comes to worse, one of my friends might let me stay the night,” I muttered, still grappling with the idea that I might be homeless. It occurred to me that it might be prudent to look into buying property if I can afford it. Tying my residence to my employment was perhaps not my brightest of ideas…

 

With that, we lapsed into silence. I find that happens often with Icroth. He doesn’t talk much and – when he does – he says only what he needs to say. He’s a difficult conversation partner. “So you’ve taken up smithing?” I asked him, looking for something to fill the quiet between us. “My first husband was a smith. Have you ever done it before?”

 

Icroth shrugged. “No. But the Paladins need a smith and it’s a job,” he said. “I’m fine with filling whatever role they need.”

 

“I wouldn’t like doing a job I’m not interested in,” I said.

 

“Is keeping house for nobles and serving drinks that interesting?” he scoffed. “In truth, very little captures my attention or desire, Miss Tanith.”

 

I’d like to be his friend, but he is awfully difficult to understand. “What DOES excite you, then?” I asked him.

 

He was quiet for a moment as he took a bite of hard tack and regarded the lake. “I like to read,” he said. “I enjoy history. Politics.”

 

“Politics?” I asked, surprised.

 

“Reading about them. Not partaking,” he answered. “Humans politics are a mess. They tend to repeat themselves. Their entire lives are centered around alliances and raising armies and plundering wealth. People fight and die for these political alliances that last, what? Two years? The Raevir today are fighting the same enemies as they fought in Athera. Some Nordic human kingdom just like the Waldenians. It’s the same cycle over and over again.”

 

“You seem fed up with it,” I said.

 

“No, I find it fascinating they can be so short-sighted,” Icroth replied. “Every war, they act as if this is the one war to end them all. To fix all the problems. Nay. It’s the same problems getting ‘fixed’ again and again. There’s damned statues in the city honoring the fifth war against the same Nordling kingdom. It’s the same patterns of behavior repeated ad infinitum.”

 

I thought back to the conversation I had with Sir Stafyr a few days ago at the Dragon’s Rest. Sir Stafyr had been in a terrible mood, drinking to ease his sad thoughts. He was worried about the future of Oren, about the possibility of backsliding into the evils of the Pertinaxi. I told him not to be so depressed, for the future takes care of itself. Time and history are a ceaseless march forward. And rights, once endowed, are not easily taken away. Humanity takes two steps forward, one step back, but they’ll always keep progressing further into the bright and endless future.

 

But Icroth sees it differently, I suppose.

 

“I think Oren’s relationship to her people is rather like a marriage,” I said, which drew a raised eyebrow from Icroth. “When you make a marriage vow, you promise to love your spouse no matter what happens. Seasons of joy and seasons of suffering, you weather them together. Sometimes your spouse can be cruel, but sometimes they can be wonderfully kind too. And it’s your duty to love them and guide them through life no matter what. Because spouses are supposed to lift one another up. We improve Oren and she improves us in turn.”

 

“That’s a terrible way to look at it,” Icroth replied. “I would rather be alone than stuck in a place that’s cruel. Your metaphor’s flawed. You of all people should know how a bad spouse can ruin someone.”

 

“I suppose that’s where we differ, then,” I said. “I would rather be in Oren than be alone again. Whether Oren is kind or cruel, I’m glad to be here because at least I know I’m alive and I’m seen. Being alone… I lost myself. It was worse than being dead.”

 

Icroth grunted as he stood up. “You’re a funny woman, Miss Tanith,” he said. “I have never needed other people to tell me I’m alive. Anyway, I should go. My offer of the bedroll stands if you need it. I’ll set up camp nearby.” With that, he shouldered his rucksack and headed off, leaving me by myself.

 

I’m thinking of taking him up on his offer. I’ve been sitting outside of Carrington Court for a while now. I don’t think anyone’s coming to let me in…

 

I’ll need to figure out something about my employment too. Oh dear, this is a pickle I’m in, to be sure…

 

Entry 32
1771 IST.

 

Spoiler

Thank goodness, my homelessness situation has been resolved.

I ended up spending the night camped out with Icroth. He set up his tent in a little vineyard near Carrington Court. Sleeping under the stars was a nice change of pace, but I certainly don’t want to do it every night. I’m not sure how Icroth stands it. But then again, he is the soldier type. I imagine he could withstand just about any circumstances.

Icroth woke at the crack of dawn and started taking apart his campsite. I helped him pack up, but I didn’t know what to do after that. My first thought was to try and find the Carringtons so I could figure out exactly why I had been locked out. But after wandering around the town for a good few hours, I simply couldn’t locate any of them! I considered asking someone if I could borrow their pet bird to send a message, but… well, I find it somewhat difficult to approach strangers.

I was at a loss until I ran into Juan in the market square. He asked me how I was doing and, well, I answered truthfully. I was suddenly homeless and potentially without a job. I couldn’t find the Carringtons and I did not know what to do. Juan’s face brightened. “Ay, I have the perfect opportunity for you, amiga!” he said and motioned for me to follow him. We headed down the road past the Novellan Palace. He lead me to a recently emptied building. “Behold, Tanith! The future site of the Helena Museum of Orenian History!”

“You’re opening up a new branch of the museum?” I asked.

Juan nodded. “The Northern Geographic Society is looking to expand beyond Haense,” he said. “That is why we are soon to hold our charity auction. So we can afford to renovate this place. And! We are looking to hire a new museum curator… someone who knows a great deal about Orenia’s history…”

“Why, Juan,” I replied. “I think you are implying something.”

Juan chuckled. “We will need to clear it with La Presidenta first, but… she has had her eye on you for quite some time. I think she’s wanted to put you in a museum since she first saw you. But anyway, once we speak with La Presidenta, we can look at setting up a little apartment for you on the top floor of the museum.”

With that, Juan wrote a message to Celestine and sent it to her by courier. We went inside the house to wait for her arrival. As we sat down, I asked Juan how things were going between the two of them. Juan frowned and started fidgeting. I had never seen my friend looking so agitated. “I may have… proposed marriage to Celestine,” he finally admitted to me.

My jaw dropped nearly to the floor. “You did WHAT?!” I almost shouted. “You’ve only been seeing her for a few months! Don’t you think you’re moving too fast?!”

“Tranquila, tranquila,” Juan replied, holding up his hands. “I know, it is moving fast. But I had a terrible dream, Tanith. I dreamed that I met my future self. I was a horrible old man - all alone in life with no money, a missing arm, and a drinking problem! I am thirty and five now… I do not want life to pass me by. If I want to be married and have children, I must get started soon before I am out of time!”

“You want children?!” I could not have been more shocked. Was this the same Juan Lyons? Somehow he’s changed! “Well, what did she say? Are you two engaged now?”

“No, no. I did not get down on one knee and ask ‘Will you marry me?’” he said. “I showed her the gold coin we found in the shipwreck. I said to Celestine, ‘what would you think if I had this melted down and made into a ring for you?’”

“And how did she respond?”

“She said she might like that, if I played my cards right…” Juan blushed, glancing away. “Ay, caray, I used to not care! Younger me would have seduced Celestine, her mother, and her sister before skipping town! But that woman, she got to me. She won.”

“Why,” I said. “I would say you both won, since you have each other.”

“No, not Celestine. The elf woman I wrote about in my book. Vyasaldris. When I was in Farrador, she had me hold her children and play with them. Said it might awaken something in me. And now, three years later… I still think of those children and I miss them. Now I find I am wanting my own, to carry on the Lyons name and explore lands I will never live to see.”

“You’re growing up,” I said, smiling. “Becoming a mature man who is ready for responsibility. All you needed was the right woman… and you found her.”

“I think I did, Tanith,” he murmured, sounding amazed. “I truly think I did.”

And as if on cue, Celestine arrived. My, Juan’s face lit up when she entered the room. He’s really in love with her. It’s plain for anyone to see. In all my life, I never thought I would see Juan Lyons become a faithful family man, yet here he is. I’m proud of him and happy for Celestine. They make such a beautiful couple together - and so adorable! Always flirting and teasing one another.

Ah… but if I’m honest, I can’t help but be jealous. I liked Juan too. Seeing him so happy and in love is wonderful, of course. I’m glad Celestine inspired this transformation in him. But I can’t pretend my feelings don’t exist. I haven’t quite gotten over Juan Lyons yet. And when I see him and Celestine together, being so playful and in love, I can’t help but feel lonely. There’s no one like that for me. Not anymore. It strikes me how very alone I am in this new Oren. I have no spouse, no family. I have my friends, but… I don’t think humans can ever fully understand how I feel. I’m so old. I’ve lived through so much. And human lives are so short. They don’t know what it’s like to watch the people they love age and die while you remain ever the same. I understand why the High Elves of Haelun’or are so insular. It’s easier to bear the endless passing of the years when everyone around you is the same as you - never changing, never aging, never feeling their bodies slow down and sicken with the passage of time. Eternal and static.

Anyway, Celestine told me about the process of joining the Northern Geographic Society. I’ll need to give a speech and attend their yearly meetings, but that’s not a problem. And Celestine was thrilled that I wanted to be the museum curator. We talked about potential exhibits and such. She asked me if I could make re-creations of old White Rose surcoats. I could probably embroider that rose in my sleep, to be honest. Though I wouldn’t call myself an expert seamstress, I spent hours upon hours altering and patching Thomas and Peter’s clothing. (Thomas was hard on his clothes. He was energetic, always running around and getting into fights.)

Eventually, Juan had to leave us. Celestine watched him go with stars in her eyes. “He’s a lovely man, isn’t he?” she sighed dreamily. “I think I could really see a future with him.” We stayed a while and talked with each other, sharing news and gossip as women tend to do. It grew late into the evening, though, and Celestine needed to return to Reza. She told me we’d go through the process of swearing me into the NGS very soon.

After that, I wandered around the city for a bit. I ran into Mary Sophia and we talked for a time about the Duke’s War. She is studying the Duke’s War in her lessons and was interested in my perspective as someone who had lived through it. She seems to be doing well, living at the Novellan Palace. We walked around the palace garden together as we talked and it was nice.

My loneliness weighs heavily on my heart, though. I want God to send me a companion. Someone who can understand me the way that Juan understands Celestine. Someone who fits me perfectly, who can share my life through the centuries. I worry it will never happen, though.

Maybe this is simply how it is for us Oren-born elves. We must sadly reckon with the fact that we, ultimately, live our lives alone. Though companions come in and out of our lives, none of them will ever last.

Juan and Celestine are good together. They have my blessing - and perhaps I’ll be privileged to see their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren grow up. I’ll just have to find happiness in that.

 

Entry 33
1772 IST.

 

Spoiler

Today was the hearing for the Marital Consent bill. Juan invited me to come and spectate since I had a hand in helping to create the bill. 

 

After all, the open letter I wrote was the inspiration for the amendment to the marriage laws. The hearing was in Varoche Hall, which is right across the street from the Dragon's Rest. Juan showed me to my seat in the balcony, where I had an excellent view of the Josephites and the house leader. Oh, I can't describe how antsy I felt, sitting up there and waiting for the hearing to begin! I badly wanted this bill to pass. It would mean the difference for so many young women in Oren. The Marital Consent bill is something of a half-measure, though, if you ask me. Women of noble blood still require the consent of their eldest male relative to marry. However, the bill allows common women to marry without patriarchal consent and it also raises the marriage age to 18 for all individuals. Under this amendment, no one under the age of 18 can marry - regardless of parental consent. This means that parents can't force children to marry for the sake of political gain. My hope is that one day, the law can be amended so that women - whether common or noble - can marry whoever they choose for themselves.

 

As I was waiting for the hearing to begin, two men came and sat next to me in the balcony. One was Mr. Napier's friend, Lauritz Christiansen. He's a judge and an author. The other man was a knight by the name of Sir John. Dear me, he was horrid. He smelled like liquor and kept referring to me as 'elf' even after I told him my name. Luckily, he didn't talk with me much.

 

Mr. Christiansen and I got to talking quite a bit as we waited for the start of the hearing, though. He is a proper gentleman and very thoughtful. Apparently, he used to be the leader of the old Senate. Oren did not always have political parties. Senators used to be elected not based on party, but based on individual merit. Mr. Christiansen is an avid opponent of the party system. He believes it divides Oren unnecessarily and does not properly represent the views of the people. People split themselves into teams and vote Everardine or Josephite automatically without giving proper consideration to the ideologies that the parties represent. I can see why Mr. Christiansen disagrees with the party system, certainly. The Josephites and the Everardines only represent a narrow spectrum of political beliefs. In the end, they still both support the Emperor and the Monarchy and the Church. More radical ideas aren't really allowed in the halls of government. If you - an individual - have an idea, you're forced to go through the political parties to get your idea heard. Since the Josephites and the Everardines are the gatekeepers of politics, they might not allow certain ideas through if it doesn't necessarily align with the party's aims.

 

But at the same time... I think it's easier to organize similar ideas under a single banner rather than having a free-for-all marketplace of strange and radical concepts. And if people are elected on an individual basis, it may become more of a popularity contest than anything else. It's a conundrum, to be sure. Mr. Christiansen is very interesting to talk to, though, and I hope he and I shall have a chance to chat again sometime.

 

The hearing for the Marital Consent act went very well, I am happy to report! The Everardines put up some token resistance and quibbled about the definition of 'legal patriarch', but ultimately they did not have the votes to oppose the bill. Only three Everardines showed up as opposed to seven Josephites. Apparently, this is a political strategy meant to stymie the passage of certain bills. The House of Commons cannot hold hearings unless they have a quorum. So absenteeism can prevent bills from being passed indefinitely. I commented to Mr. Christiansen that absentee representatives ought to lose their chair if they remain truant. I'm surprised that's not already a rule...

 

One of the Everardines, Amadeus d'Aryn, put forth a very shocking argument during the hearing. He said - and I quote! - "An older distant male relative should not be given power over a lady of Oren to decide on her marriage." It sounded as though he wanted to get rid of the marriage law entirely. Perhaps the Everardines aren't as hopelessly behind the times as I thought? Mr. Christiansen tells me the parties are really more alike than they are different. Maybe he's right.

 

Oh, I'm relieved. But the bill still needs to pass through the House of Lords and get signed by the Emperor before it becomes law... There's still a long way to go, but I'm hopeful! I pray that Oren will come together to take steps to protect its women from harm.

Volume 1 (You Are Here)

Volume 2

Volume 3

Volume 4

[KeiaTypeBeat 3281]

Spoiler

YES YES YES LETS GO LETS GO I WAS THERE WHEN THESE WERE FIRST WRITTEN STG

[JediMaestro 240]

Spoiler

I must confess I got thoroughly caught up and transported reading these instead of doing my work. Lovely writing that really does immerse you in the time. I started playing LotC in Haense right at the tail end of Arcas and never really made any friends, so it's fascinating to hear the types of stories that were going on back then. I went back and visited my old house in Arcas, and it was only a couple doors down from the NGS HQ!

 

I loved how much it felt like reading a novel and how much its characters really sprung to life as if it were a novel: Napier, Juan, and Icroth especially. I found myself smiling at Tanith's romantic agonizing over Juan and her cold meeting with Icroth, knowing of course how it ends, and I won't deny that I actually teared up in a place or two. Please publish Vol. 2 soon! I can't wait to read more!

 

Edited April 10 by JediMaestro