The Tanith Vursur Diaries, Vol. 2

[Urahra 5777]

 

The Tanith Vursur Diaries, Vol. 2

1772 IST. to 1780 IST.

 

 

Entry 34 –
1772 IST.

 

Spoiler

Today was the day of the Petrine Laurel ceremony. The Petrine Laurel is Oren’s most prestigious award for authors, playwrights, poets, and journalists. Juan’s book, The Adventure Guide to the West, was in the running for the award so I wanted to attend and cheer for him. Thankfully, the event was open invitation! I met up with Juan and Mr. Napier outside the Novellan Palace for the ceremony, which was to be held in the statue garden. I was expecting a big party to celebrate the Empire’s cultural and literary touchstones, but it turned out to be a bit of a wash, really… Only about six people showed up. I could tell poor Mr. Napier was embarrassed up there on the stage, seeing all the empty seats before him. He expected a bigger turnout and I could tell he was disappointed. I think the trouble was the scheduling of the event. It was in the middle of the day and a good number of the nominees had other, prior engagements. I’m not sure he advertised it well either. Juan was the only nominee who actually made it to the ceremony. Peridot Carrington wasn’t able to attend. I know Celestine was in the running too, but she had other things to do as well. She couldn’t come. I hate to say it, but it really wasn’t the sort of event I expected for a prestigious awards ceremony.

Mr. Napier ended up mumbling out the winners before quickly and shamefully shuffling offstage. Peridot Carrington’s play about the Vibian Coup - titled Aversatrix - took the Laurel. The runners-up included Juan’s book and a historical drama about Lorin Chivay by some heretofore unknown authoress. I think Juan was robbed, personally, but I’m also not especially a fan of historical dramas. Historical plays hit quite a bit differently when you lived through most of them and know what really happened. After the winner was announced, Juan got up and stormed off in a huff. I think he had high hopes for the Laurel, poor man. But certainly his second book will claim the prize!

Mr. Napier and I met up after the ceremony. He invited me back to his office because he wanted to introduce me to someone. As it so happens, that someone was his little dog - Sir Cheddar! Sir Cheddar often comes to work with his owner. Oh my, he is even more adorable in real life! The little stubby legs, the pointy ears, the proud little nose, the golden coat… and the precious round haunches! He was like an adorable, squishy, golden loaf of bread come to life. We talked a bit as I played with Sir Cheddar.

“What a hellacious showing,” Edward said. “I should hang up my hat! It’s very unbecoming of a cabinet member to put on such a wretched display! Most of our events have pomp! Crowds! Setup! It was just me with some… five other people, awkwardly stammering out some award. The recipient wasn’t even there! I’ve never been good at running events… I’m more of a graphs and charts sort of person…”

I felt sorry for him – the event was a little under-attended, certainly, but not bad – and so I ended up offering to help with the next Laurel ceremony.

“We can make a big show out of it! Maybe throw a ball, have some food, a little entertainment…” I said. “Yes, maybe a big dinner party and invite all the nominees! And since the winner was a play… we could stage a scene or have a reading! Make it very glamorous.”

“That’s certainly how I originally envisioned it,” Mr. Napier replied. “You have all these marvelous ideas about what to do for the event… I could certainly use your help to organize the aspect…”

Before we could discuss matters further, though, a strange figure burst into the Immigration Office. An orcish tribal shaman in a terrifying mask! The orc started raving about how he’d had a vision of Helena’s sewer system and needed access to the subterranean tunnels immediately. I figured Mr. Napier would call the ISA, but – to my shock – he got right up and went to escort the orc to the sewer access pipeline. Why on earth would an orc need to get into the sewers? What if he poisons the water supply or something insane like that? Running water is probably one of my favorite things about Helena. I initially learned Water Evocation to help me with the housework around Ard Kerrack - laundry and dishes and things of that nature - but I hardly need it any more because I can just turn on a faucet and get water whenever I want.

I’ve heard rumors about town that Mr. Napier is… how shall I say it… very interested in orcs. I’m also beginning to think that the reason Mr. Napier is unmarried at forty is because, well… there’s really only a few reasons why a man might be unmarried at forty. Maybe a big, muscular orc man is his type.

The orc frightened me terribly, so I decided to head out for the day and think about my plans for assisting with the Laurel. As I was walking around town, though, a young Adunian child suddenly ran up on me and grabbed my leg out of nowhere. I knew this child as Harper. I’d seen him before in the Immigration Office. Harper was an orphan. I figured he wanted to play, so I took him to the library to see if we could find some children’s books to enjoy together.

While at the library, we ran into Icroth - who was there looking for books about the Aenguls and specifically Xan - and Juan as well (I suppose he came to the library to sulk after the loss of the Laurel). As I was chatting with Icroth and Juan, Harper suddenly burst into tears and started begging me to adopt him. He didn’t understand that I was between jobs and currently without a proper home, so I couldn’t hope to support a child. I’ve been staying at the inn lately. Harper wouldn’t take no for an answer, though, and begged in tears repeatedly for me to become his mother. I looked to Icroth and Juan desperately for help.

“I think Grey Galbraith runs the orphanage,” Juan said as I tried to soothe the crying child in my arms. “We are amigos. I’ll see if I can find him.”

Luckily, it was easy enough to find Grey and get the orphan squared away. I have to admit I was panicking. I didn’t want to abandon a child on the street, but I’m in no position to be a mother. Especially mother to a human child. I don’t want to adopt a human for the same reason I don’t want to marry one. That child would be grown up in the blink of an eye – and be dead in the blink of another. I don’t want to endure that heartbreak.

The drama of it all tired me, though. Thank goodness we were able to get Harper into an orphanage. I hope he’ll be adopted soon, but dealing with all of that upset exhausted me. When Icroth mentioned he’d be heading back to Luxem, I asked if I might tag along. Luxem is a quiet place and I thought it might be good to get away from the bustle of Helena for a moment. On the walk there, Icroth told me a bit about his progress through his paladin trials. He had been to Urugan and bought rare materials which he intended to forge into holy armaments - but he needed the guidance of his commander at Luxem to do it. We ventured north past Reza and made our way to the valley of Luxem.

The lake at Luxem reflected the misty sky like a mirror - the surface as still as glass. “I love how quiet it is here,” I said to Icroth as we walked through the forward camp outside the fortress.

“The hustle and bustle of Helena gets to me from time to time.”

“Aye. I’m not one for crowds,” Icroth replied. “I go to Helena for two reasons. The library – and to run into you when I can.”

I did a double-take when I heard him say that - and if my people could blush, I am sure I would be beet-red. “Oh,” I said, finding myself at a sudden loss for words. “I… erm, I like running into you too.”

Icroth flashed a sardonic sort of smile. “You’re one of the few people who can stand me.”

“You’re not that bad!” I said. “At least not once someone gets to know you. I appreciated you sticking around and helping with that orphan earlier…”

He gave me a skeptical look. “What did I even do? Juan took care of everything.”

“Well, you could have just left me to deal with it by myself. You could have just said ‘I don’t like children’ and walked off.”

That got a laugh out of him. “I almost did.”

“Oh God, really? Then I’m doubly grateful you stayed,” I sighed. I offered to introduce him to some of my friends if he liked. Icroth is a bit prickly and blunt at first, but he’s really a good man in his heart. Perhaps he just has a problem connecting with others.

At that point, though, his commander - an elf named Ilphar - arrived and they went off to do a holy paladin ritual to bless the materials for the armor. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I watched from a fair distance. It seemed Icroth would be busy for the rest of the day, though, so I set off for Helena.

What did he mean by that comment, though? That he only comes to Helena to see me? Luxem is a fair distance from the capital. It’s a long walk – and he’d be going far out of his way. Goodness me. I think about what he said and my face starts getting hot. Icroth is very handsome for a mali. Normally, I don’t find elves attractive at all, but he’s got a different look. More masculine, mature, and dignified; far less foppish and feminine than most elves. And he can be very gentlemanly sometimes when the moment calls for it…

What am I thinking? This is Icroth we’re talking about! Icroth Vursur, who is about as friendly and charming as a cactus! He likely didn’t mean anything by it…

But what if he did?

 

Entry 35 –
1773 IST.

 

Spoiler

Happy 500th Birthday to me.

I meant to plan something grand and special for my birthday, but I got caught up in other business - like finding a job and a place to stay. Not to mention I seem to have found myself on the Petrine Laurel Gala planning committee (of which I and Mr. Napier are currently the sole members). I was in the middle of writing a letter to the Archchancellor about the planned gala when I suddenly noticed the date. It hit me like a punch to the stomach. I am now officially five hundred years of age.

My age is… perhaps a little vague since I never learned my actual birth date. I was sold into servitude when I was very young and my owners never bothered to acknowledge my birthday. It was as though I didn’t even have one. The date of a slave’s birth is hardly worthy of celebration, after all. So after I was released, I ended up just picking a date to be my birthday and I’ve counted my age according to that ever since. I might be older or younger, but this is the closest I can get to an accurate measurement. And, if my guess is anything close to correct, I’ve reached half a millennia in age at last.

I never thought I would live to see five hundred. Many years ago, Mr. Toov and I made a promise that, when he died, I would follow shortly after him. I loved him so much that I had no misgivings about giving up my nearly infinite lifespan to be together with him forever in death. So when I saw him beginning to age - reaching his 60’s, 70’s, 80’s - I kept poison on hand for when the day arrived. I knew I would face death without grief or fear because I would be with him and that’s all that mattered. But then we were separated by the Exodus and I didn’t know what exactly happened to him. Whether or not he remarried. Whether or not he had children. Whether or not he was even alive. Letters couldn’t travel easily between Anthos and Aeldin - the distance was too great for bird or courier. I’m not even sure if he tried to contact me. Many years later, when the Chivays returned to Oren, I learned that he died abroad. It shouldn’t have surprised me – he was old when he left – and yet I’d hung onto hope that I might see him again.

The day I was told of his death, I stared at that bottle of rat poison I kept in the closet. I sat down at the kitchen table, poured myself a glass of wine, and mixed it together with poison. I toasted to Mr. Toov and lifted the glass to my lips.

But I didn’t drink.

I set the glass back down. For a long time, all I did was sit and think. And then, after what felt like hours, I stood up, went to the window, and poured the poisoned wine out onto my rose bushes.

I was scared. I didn’t know what happened to elves after they died - whether or not I would get to see him again in the Skies. Whether or not I would get to ascend to the Skies at all. Suicide is a crime and a sin, after all. Would I be condemning myself to the Void if I ended my own life? Or worse, would my suicide be the end with nothing at all afterward? I also wondered if he’d found new love while abroad in Aeldin. He was gone for thirty-six years, which is no small part of a human’s lifetime. And though he was old, he was still handsome and fit. Still able to attract a woman’s eye. Mr. Napier confirmed for me that he had children after we parted. Thirty-six years. That’s long enough to fall in love and raise a family from birth to adulthood. Yes, the truth is that we were always doomed to be separated, both in life and in death. And me killing myself would have achieved nothing.

And now here I am. So far in the future. 330 years ago, I was supposed to die alongside my first husband, and yet I didn’t.

I just wish I understood why I still feel so sad when I think of it.

When I realized what day it was, I became uncharacteristically melancholy. I had gotten caught up in my other plans and forgotten to arrange a party. All I could think about was how old I was, how much I had lost, and how many things I had missed or forgotten. In an attempt to cheer myself up, I went to a local bakery in Helena and bought a cake. I’m not sure why I did that – I don’t even really like sweets that much – but I had to do something to distract from the onslaught of depressing thoughts filling my head. One can’t celebrate one’s birthday without a cake. I left Helena and wandered out to try and find a nice spot for a picnic, but the thought of sitting by myself and eating a cake I didn’t even really want all alone oppressed me too heavily to even consider it.

Perhaps on a whim, I sent a letter to Icroth and asked him to meet me at my picnic spot, which was a flowering field near a lake between Reza and Helena. To my surprise, he didn’t keep me waiting for too long.

“I got your letter,” he said upon arriving. “You said it was urgent?”

I felt a little embarrassed for lying to him, so I admitted the truth. I just didn’t want to celebrate my birthday alone. Icroth furrowed his brow when I told him. “You brought me out here for your birthday party?” he asked incredulously. “Where is everyone else? You mentioned wanting to throw some grandiose celebration.”

“It snuck up on me,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be tricky. I just worried you wouldn’t come if I didn’t make it sound urgent. But if you’re busy and want to leave, I won’t keep you.”

Icroth was quiet for a moment. “I have some errands. Go wait by the lake. I’ll be there shortly,” he said - and I anticipated that’d be his excuse for ditching me. I couldn’t blame him for it, though. It was a bit of a sad little affair, just me by myself with a cake. Regardless, I did what he said and went to sit by the lake, where I set up a little picnic blanket along with plates and cutlery. I unboxed the cake - it was pink with little red frosting roses - and I waited for him.

I was expecting him to leave me waiting, but he returned just as promised – carrying a bouquet of wildflowers he’d gathered from a nearby field.

“You shouldn’t go without a present on your birthday, Miss Tanith,” he said, presenting the bouquet to me. “Forgive me for not being more prepared. Happy 500th, Miss Tanith, and may you live five-hundred more happy years.”

“Oh dear, I can’t imagine what Oren will look like in another five hundred years,” I laughed, accepting the bouquet and putting the flowers in one of the glasses I brought. “It’s already so different.”

“Likely a mali’ker emperor married to an orc chieftain,” Icroth quipped.

I giggled. “Well, one can hope!”

I cut the cake and served us both a single slice. We ate in silence as the little, silver waves upon the lake lapped at the shore. The cake wasn’t too sweet. It smelled fragrantly of roses - a scent with which I am intimately familiar. As Icroth finished off his piece, he turned to look at me. “Why me, of all people?” he asked. “Could your other friends not come?”

“I imagined they were busy,” I said. “I didn’t want to trouble them.”

“So I’m the only one you invited,” he called me out. And I was glad for my dark mali’ker skin because I surely would have blushed.

“You’re one of the only other old people I know,” I murmured. “All my other friends are thirty and forty. They… wouldn’t really understand. What it means to turn five centuries old. I don’t – I don’t even know if people are meant to live this long. Even Mali like us. I thought I would lose my mind long before now. And… I think I did, for a while.”

Icroth raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

I found myself talking without even really thinking about it. “Like you, I spent quite a while alone. Out in the woods. I had a little plot of land that I tended - just me and my chickens. And while I was there, time… just seemed to slip through my fingers. I would fall asleep among the flowers in spring and wake up covered in the fall leaves. I would suddenly notice all my chickens were dead even though I thought I’d been feeding them. I’d blink and suddenly everything would be covered in dust and webs. I lost time. Huge amounts of time. People would visit me sometimes and they swore up and down we’d known each other for years, but I couldn’t remember their names. I don’t even know if they were real or dreams. That’s… why I write down so much now. In case I start losing time again. I worry I’ll blink and suddenly Helena will be a crumbling ruin that I’ve been wandering around for centuries like a ghost.”

“That’s just what it’s like, living among the valah,” Icroth said. “They don’t see time the way we do.”

“I suppose,” I replied. “I thought I was just going senile.”

He grinned. “That’s possible too.”

I paused for a moment and looked over at him. “What a dreary birthday, hm?” I said with a little smile. “Why is it that I always talk about sad things when I’m with you?”

“Because you don’t have to put up a front with me,” he answered bluntly and plainly. “There’s no bowing and scraping, no ‘yes sir’ and ‘no sir.’ You smile too much around the valah. But it never quite reaches your eyes. It’s fake.”

His words struck me at my core. It’s true, I have certain habits that are a holdover from the days of the First Empire when my people were persecuted. Back when the more polite and quiet you were, the more likely you were to survive. But it never occurred to me that it was fake or a front. It had been drilled into me since a young age, perhaps. But I had come to think of it as a natural part of my character rather than a facade I put on around the humans.

I didn’t know how to respond, so I fell into silence and ate my slice of cake. “You invited me here because you know you don’t need to be fake around me,” Icroth concluded. “That’s why.”

“I don’t think it’s fake,” I mumbled, staring down at the cake plate in my lap.

“You’ve been wearing a mask for so long, you don’t know how to take it off,” Icroth replied. “You don’t know who you are without it. Though, to your credit, you seem to be trying to figure it out. Which is better than most people, who I’m sure would be happy to wear masks their entire lives.” We were quiet for another moment before he spoke again.

“I’m glad you don’t have to be fake around me,” he said, leaning forward a bit. “You and I have gone centuries without anyone to understand us, Tanith. No friendships have ever lasted. But I want you to know I will be here from now on.”

Icroth has a way of saying things that leave me completely disarmed. “What is with you lately, saying all of these things…?” I asked, unable to look him in the face.

“I’m a stubborn old ass. But I’m tired of being lonely and I daresay you are too,” he said. “I’m tired of having no friends and no one to speak with. And it sounds like you’re tired of watching everyone you love die.”

When I spoke, I found my voice choking up with tears. “I am,” I mumbled. “God, I am.”

“Then let me be an anchor, then. For the both of us.”

How can he always leave me at a loss for words?

Every night, I prayed for God to send me someone to be my companion throughout the centuries. Just one person that I can hold onto, to keep me from getting lost amid the endless flow of time. Was that person really Icroth? Was he the person I was searching for all along? I looked at him suddenly.

“Come live with me in Helena,” I said. “When your paladin training is done. The NGS is going to build me an apartment on the top floor of the new museum. It won’t be glamorous, but I daresay it’s better than sleeping on the ground.”

Icroth wrinkled his nose. “Valah cities leave a bad taste in my mouth,” he said. “I’ve been forced out of my home before with no warning. Second-class citizens and all.”

“It really is a nice place,” I assured him. “Think about it.”

“If you say so,” he said. By that point, we had finished our cake and it was late. I boxed up the leftovers inside my picnic basket and Icroth walked with me back to Helena. As I bid him goodbye, my mind swirled with thoughts.

What do I feel about Icroth? He’s not at all charming. Not a single drop of friendliness or good cheer in him. When I’m around him, I feel more melancholy than anything. He’s blunt and plainspoken to the point of brutality. But… perhaps he’s right about me. Perhaps I don’t need to put up a front when I’m around him. Perhaps we can be perfectly honest and open with one another. And he has one advantage over every other man in Helena, in all of Oren - and that’s that he won’t die from old age and leave me. While tomorrow is never promised, if everything goes well, he could be with me for hundreds of years to come.

I can’t say that I have feelings for him, though. He is a handsome man, but… not at all romantic. We have no burning, ardent passion for one another. It’s like he said. He’s lonely and so am I, so we may as well fix each other’s problem. But can we truly settle for that? Is it fine to just look at one another, say “you’ll do,” and have that be the arrangement for hundreds - if not thousands - of years to come?

I don’t know. If God sends me the companion I asked for… I would like at least to be in love with him. Could I ever fall in love with someone like Icroth? The truth is, I don’t know.

 

Entry 36 –
1773 IST.

 

Spoiler

Today, they held the Festival of the Springmother in the wood elven village of Siramenor. I was at the opening of the new Carrington Casino when Juan sent me a letter. The wood elves were having a dancing competition as part of their celebrations and he needed a partner to do the tango. Well, I’ve never been one to turn down a Juan Lyons adventure, so I wrote back saying I was on my way!

Siramenor is quite a ways away from Helena, though, so I had to walk very swiftly if I wanted to get there in time. The village is located to the south along the coast. The land is all gentle, rolling green hills and thickly growing trees. The defensive wall around Siramenor is grown from the living wood of the forests - that is, they’re all healthy trees rather than unfeeling logs or stone. I entered the village through the eastern gate and found myself suddenly in a beautiful, green fairyland completely unlike Helena.

The one complaint I have about Helena is perhaps the lack of greenery. There are very few trees within the city limits. No public parks or gardens - though they do have a greenhouse near the Novellan Palace. And certainly, the palace itself has an impressive garden but it’s cordoned off from the public. It’s safe to say that Siramenor does not share Helena’s problem! The trees grew so thickly that they nearly blocked the sun. The perfume of flowers, fruit, and greenery swam through the air. Dew-laden grass tickled my feet as I walked to the festival grounds in the center of the town. Juan was there waiting for me.

My, the sight of the wood elves frightened me at first! They were all tribal folk dressed in loincloths and wearing animal masks! Many of the men went shirtless to show off their elaborate tattoos. They had necklaces of teeth woven from vines and leather - and some of them were covered head to toe in feathers! Hardly any of them wore shoes.

Juan calmed me down. “Tranquila, Tanith! The wood elves are a peaceful people,” he said. “I would not have invited you into danger, amiga! It is different from the Empire, but that does not mean it is bad.”

I had always been told that the elves were a brutal, savage, backward people - and their appearance did little to sway my opinion. But as we watched the dance competition unfold, I saw the artistry and grace in their movements and their decor. They didn’t wear the silk coats and powdered wigs of the Empire, but their masks and clothing seemed to be made with the art of dance in mind. They moved and swayed with the music in a most rapturous and astoundingly beautiful way. A man in a lion mask performed the music on his fiddle and I couldn’t help but feel swept away in the song. The elves’ laughter and cheering was infectious and I soon found myself laughing, cheering, and clapping as well!

Eventually, it came time for Juan and me to perform. Juan put a hand on my waist and guided me onto the dance floor. He turned to the elf in the lion mask, playing the fiddle. “How familiar are you with Savinian tango music, amigo?” he asked.

The lion-masked elf laughed and gestured to Juan with his fiddle bow. “You’d be surprised, Ilir!” And with that, he put bow to string and burst into a song full of passion and romance. Juan plucked a nearby rose and clenched it in his teeth before bowing with a flourish and offering his hand to me.

“Er, Juan—” I mumbled, taking his hand. “I think it might be worth it for me to say I haven’t done any ballroom dancing since the Horen Masquerade some… three-hundred-and-something years ago…”

“Just follow my lead, amiga,” he whispered and we began to dance. He led me in a quick, spritely pattern of steps around the dance floor. I struggled to keep up with him at first, but I think we elves might be natural dancers because I quickly fell into the rhythm. Once I was able to match him step for step, Juan decided to get a little bit fancy with it. He spun me around and swept me off my feet, bending me backward almost to the floor! The wood elves were all such skilled dancers, I suppose he felt the need to show off a bit too! Before I knew it, the song had concluded to the raucous applause of the wood elves. Juan held up my hand in triumph, we bowed, and exited the dance floor.

There were a few more dances to go - each one more fluid and impressive than the last - before it came time to vote for the winner. “I doubt we will win,” Juan said to me. “But we are not here for any victories. Simply the good memories we make as friends!” The wood elves allowed us to vote as well. I cast my vote for an elf named Rháthalas who did an impressive dance in honor of his pregnant wife. Eventually, the votes were tallied… and a hunting horn sounded through the glade as they prepared to declare the winners.

“Brothers and sisters,” the elf in the lion mask declared in his most bellowing, booming voice. “I am proud to present to you the winners of today’s dance competition! Juan de Ponce de Lyons and his partner Tanith!”

I laughed and hugged Juan. An elf presented us with our winnings - a thousand marks, which we split evenly between the two of us. After that, we went on to enjoy the rest of the festivities. There was a mask contest - won by a Mali’ker in a most impressive fox mask - as well as drinking, feasting, and, of course, more dancing. Juan showed me around the town of Siramenor and we ended up chatting with several of the elves. They invited me to come back sometime, saying their Green Priests would be glad to teach me more about their ways.

One elf - Coyote, he said his name was - commented favorably on my hair. “I have never seen a mali’ker with pink hair before. It is the color of cherry blossoms,” he said. “A sacred tree. The symbol of our Springmother. A blessed omen.”

They were a wonderful, warm, and welcoming people. So vibrant, energetic, and just beautiful to look upon. When they removed their masks at the end of the mask competition, I was struck how breathtakingly lovely they all were. The festival was genuinely wonderful, unlike anything I have seen in the Empire.

After the festival, Juan and I went our separate ways. I had a bit too much to drink at the party and I got an impulse to go and visit Icroth at Luxem. He and I are both Mali who were born and raised in Oren, separated from our own cultures. Wood elven culture is not the same as Mali’ker culture - not by any means - but it’s still closer to our people’s beliefs than what they preach in Oren. I thought we might both like to learn sometime.

I found him having a meeting with Jack in the small fortress next to the lake. They invited me to join them inside by the fire since it had gotten late into the evening and was now quite cold. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Jack, so it was nice to talk with him again.

“My dear Tanith,” he asked, pouring me a glass of Sutican whiskey as we sat down at the table near the hearth. “It is always a pleasure to see you. When is your birthday again?”

“Oh, I’m afraid you just missed it, sir,” I said. “Icroth and I celebrated it the other day with a picnic.”

Poor Jack! He started pouting like a little boy. It was rather adorable. “I’m sorry I missed it,” he sighed. “I don’t have any gifts or treats prepared!”

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself, sir!” I said to him. “I know how busy you are and I don’t hold it against you! I actually have some leftover cake still if you’d like me to bring it up here to Luxem. I wouldn’t mind have a second party.” Jack seemed to brighten at that. He’s such a dear old man. Who would have guessed he liked sweets so much? Well, I suppose he was very fond of the mango smoothies down at the Dragon’s Rest, wasn’t he?

I enjoyed my whiskey while the two men talked Paladin business. I have to admit, I didn’t pay too much attention. I was a bit tipsy and the Sutican whiskey - as delicious as it was - was not helping matters much. Eventually, however, Jack had other duties to attend to. “Make sure Tanith gets home safely,” he said to Icroth, who nodded.
Icroth and I chatted on the walk home to Helena. I was all bubbly and giggly from the whiskey.

“You’ll have to come with me to Siramenor soon,” I said, linking my arm with his. “Let me show you how I won the dance contest!”

“Right here in the road?” Icroth asked incredulously, but I was already grabbing his hands and drawing them to my waist. “I don’t dance,” he said bluntly, pulling away from me.

I huffed at him. “All men should know how to dance!” I said. “How ever did you woo your wife if you don’t know how to dance?”

“I freed her from slavery,” Icroth replied with all the subtlety and tact of a warhammer to the skull.

And just like that, I didn’t really want to dance with him anymore. That man. He certainly knows how to kill a mood.

I asked him a bit more about his wife, the traveling mali’ker doctor. She had been an indentured servant to a human noble family. Icroth fell in love with her and was able to purchase her freedom on his small soldier’s salary from serving in the Savoyard Elven Auxiliary Unit. His wife did not love him in return, but she tolerated him – and being a soldier’s wife was a step up from being a valah’s servant. She was able to get some education, and become a field medic.

They were apart often, Icroth said. He was a hotblooded young soldier in search of glory. Her passion was for healing and caring for the sick - two diametrically opposed professions that sometimes brought them into conflict. She didn’t appreciate his wanton slaying of his fellow men at the behest of the Savoyards. And he? Well, he wanted to become a war hero and earn esteem in the Orenian Empire. A pipe dream for an elf, especially back in those days, but he was young and foolish. (His words, not mine.)

When his wife died in a raid on Adria toward the end of the war, Icroth found himself overwhelmed with guilt - along with the realization he would likely never earn the respect he so craved from the humans.

“I was penniless and grieving after the war,” he said as we walked. “My illusions had all been dashed upon the rocks.”

Icroth is like a penitent monk in the church, forever flagellating himself for mistakes that happened centuries ago. Mistakes he could not have foreseen and could not have prevented. I turned to him. “I worry about you,” I said. “That’s why I’m always bothering you. I worry you have no friends and never do anything fun. You shouldn’t spend all your time being gloomy over the past. There are so many delightful and wonderful things in the world too. Like flower crowns and dance parties and, yes, maybe having too much to drink at the Springmother Festival. Let’s visit Siramenor and the mushroom island and simply have a good time without any worries. I like you so much better when you smile and laugh, Icroth.”

“I do too,” he said. “That’s why I like talking with you.”

Ugh! He’s awful and dreary, but he does have a way of saying things that make me blush.

By that time, we’d reached Helena and he bid me goodnight. Oh, Icroth. I really would like to help him to smile more.

 

Entry 37 –
1773 IST.

 

Spoiler

I’m a bit worried about Juan. I think he’s got too much on his plate and he’s overwhelmed. I’d like to help him manage, but… well, the circumstances are a bit scary.

I received a letter from Celestine earlier today letting me know that the museum renovations in Helena are nearing completion! They’ve set me up with a little apartment on the third floor. It’s not particularly fancy, but it’s a comfortable little room to be sure. There’s a small, private garden area in the back which I plan to turn into my own private green space. I’m already starting to think about the flowers I want to cultivate - azaleas, perhaps, and maybe hydrangeas. Something that perfumes the air with relaxing fragrances.

I was looking around the Market Square for a gardening shop when I ran into Juan. Color me surprised, he was wearing a black, formal suit coat and tie. Juan’s the type of man who normally has his shirt collar open to show off his chest hair. “My goodness, Juan, what is the occasion?” I said, approaching him from across the square. “You look so formal!”

“Ah, there was a royal ball in Haense,” Juan replied - and I could tell right away that something was wrong. He was staring blankly off into space, looking distracted.

“Oh my, did you dance with the Queen?” I asked, meaning to tease him a little bit. After all, Juan Lyons always says that he wants to spend time in the company of the most beautiful women. And surely the Queen of Haense is one of Oren’s great beauties.

Under normal circumstances, Juan would have likely joked back or teased me in return. But he just seemed distant. “No, I only danced with Celestine,” he said quietly.

“Well, you look very dashing,” I replied. “Quite a different Juan than usual.”

“Sí. A proper, boring member of the House,” he mumbled before suddenly wandering off.

I just knew that something was bothering him, so I followed. Juan ambled off in the direction of the woods outside of town, seemingly unaware that I was chasing after him. I tracked him for several minutes through the underbrush. Finally, he stopped in a clearing, where he folded his arms and regarded his surroundings with faint melancholy. It seemed as though he wanted to be alone so I wasn’t sure whether I ought to approach him or not. But I’d come all this way out into the woods - there was no turning back now. “Juan?” I called out softly, not wanting to startle him. “Are you all right?”

I startled him anyway and he whipped out his cutlass. “Agggh!” he cried out, spinning to face me. His cry caused the birds in the nearby tree to take wing. When he realized it was me standing there, he quickly stowed his blade away. “Tanith, amiga… you scared the life out of me.”

I apologized and reiterated my question. “You seem off,” I said. “What’s wrong?”

Juan frowned, averting his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck. “I do not like this, Tanith,” he said, gesturing to his formal outfit. “I am… turning into the kind of man who wears things like this too fast. How did I end up having to wear these fancy suits? It’s not me.”

“It’s just a change of clothes, Juan. You’re still you, even in a suit,” I said.

“Sí, maybe,” he sighed. “But, Tanith, I have changed. I’ve changed so much and so fast, I do not even understand what is happening to me.”

I gazed at him for a long moment - and I realized shortly that this wasn’t about clothes at all. This was about Celestine and about being a member of the House. In fact, it was about growing up and growing old, taking on more responsibility.

“…Are you getting cold feet?” I asked him quietly. “Is that it?”

Juan ran a hand over his face. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Celestine. I’d be a terrible husband. I’m leading her on, playing with her feelings. It’s wrong.” And all of a sudden, he got a panicked look in his eye. “I have to get out of here. I will book passage on a ship to a distant land. Tanith! Do you want my minas?! I don’t need them! They won’t be worth anything on the frontier!”

I clapped my hands on his shoulders. “Juan! Tranquilo!” I said, borrowing one of his Savinian words. “You mustn’t do anything rash! Calm down — let’s go and talk about this. You can tell me anything.”

We found a cliff overlooking an autumnal colored glade filled with massive trees and mushrooms. Juan sat on the cliff’s edge, letting his legs dangle and resting his head in his hands. “I wasn’t supposed to get this far,” he muttered, dragging his fingers over his face. “I always figured I would be dead by now. Eaten by a crocodile. Fallen off a mountain. Stabbed by bandits. Sí, I lived every day like it was my last! Seeing all the most beautiful places, bedding the most beautiful ladies. And now — now look at me! I am a member of the House of Commons. I am deciding laws. I am thinking of children and marriage. I am wearing formal suits! What happened to me?”

“Juan,” I said. “Aren’t those good things? If you died young, think of how many things you would never get to see and never get to explore.”

“Sí, sí, but it has all just happened so fast,” he muttered. “There are so many things to do. I must look at laws and do my duties for the NGS and spend time with Celestine. I met her mother the other day, Tanith! Her mother! I have never met a woman’s mother unless I was seducing her mother!”

“But isn’t this what you wanted?” I asked him. “You love Celestine, don’t you?”

He was quiet for a long moment. “…Sí.”

“Don’t you want to marry her?”

Again, for a long moment, he said nothing. But then quietly muttered, “…Sí.”

“It’s a big change, maybe,” I replied to him. “But it’s a good change. You might be overwhelmed right now, but surely it’ll become less scary in time. Loving another person… joining your life together with theirs… it’s a wonderful thing, Juan. Love is a wonderful thing.”

“I worry, though, Tanith,” he said, looking down at his hands. “Lyons men. We do not live long, amiga. Exploring is dangerous and only becomes more so when you get older y slower. It was better to live life free and unconnected to anything. Now I have so many responsibilities, so many people I might let down if I do something wrong. I hate the politics. They are terrible for me. I can only pray for the end of my term to come quickly…” He turned to me, frowning. “Tanith, amiga… the House of Lords, they killed the Marital Consent Act. They said that patriarchal consent was a bulwark of the Orenian family.”

“What?” I blanched.

“I am afraid to keep pushing for it,” he said. “I will be going up against many powerful men, making many powerful enemies. Celestine, she would be so heartbroken if anything were to happen to me.”

I fell silent for a moment as I thought things over. “Well,” I said. “Just leave it to me, then. I’m the reason you wrote the bill in the first place.”

“You would take my seat?” he asked, eyebrows lifting.

“Well, why not?” I said. “I don’t have any family. I don’t have a spouse. There’s no one relying on me. I can make as many enemies as I like. The fate of Oren’s women relies on that bill. I’m the one who raised the issue, so let me take over. If the House of Lords has a problem, they can bring it to me.”

“Speak to Jonah, then,” Juan replied. “He likes you. Perhaps we can work something out.”

I nodded. “Then you’ll be free to explore and write books and win Laurels and love your lady without worry.”

“Sí, I want to buy a big house in the country and make many Salinas Ruiz Villalpando de Ponce de Herbert-Lyons babies with her,” he sighed, looking out over the cliff. “And when I am too old to go adventuring with you, you shall have a whole pride of Lyons to accompany you to whatever exotic place you like.”

I smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Then it’s settled. I’ll write to Mr. Elendil as soon as possible.”

We talked for a while longer about various things before we returned to Helena - and I like to think he’s feeling better now. But, oh… dear me. I’m not certain what I agreed to here. Am I really going to try and become a politician? Me? Of all people? Juan made it sound so dangerous too. Are the members of the House of Lords really that scary?

I want to make Oren a better place - not just for women but for everyone. I’m frightened, though. Politics is a foreign land for me - and the politics of Oren are so complicated, it takes years of study to even begin to understand them.

But if it helps my friend, what harm would there be in serving for a term? Four years is the blink of an eye for someone like me.

I’ll have to consider this carefully.

 

Entry 38 –
1773 IST.

 

Spoiler

So exciting! As of this writing, I am officially a member of the Northern Geographic Society! They inducted me into their ranks today at the Circle meeting. I’m a little nervous. I felt somewhat out of place among the others of the NGS. They’re all such accomplished writers, thinkers, explorers, and scientists! As for me, I’ve hardly done anything of note. My only claim to fame is the fact that I’m very old… and I am far from the oldest elf who has ever lived. By elf standards, I’m not even elderly. I am, at best, middle aged! Come one, come all, and see the famous middle-aged elf!

The meeting took place in the NGS Museum in Reza. I swear, every time I visit that place, it gets more impressive and beautiful! Juan had several maps on display and we took a moment to walk around and admire them before the meeting.

When the meeting began, we went down to the new archival wing that’s still under construction. There’s a miniature amphitheater in the center of the archival wing for our NGS meetings. Celestine took the podium and delivered her updates before prompting the two newest members - me and Princess Alexandria Barbanov - to stand up and introduce ourselves.

I went first. Her Highness seemed a little shy, so I didn’t mind. Though I must admit, I felt a little embarrassed. Everyone else assembled at the meeting was a great explorer or scholar. Up until recently, I was just a barkeep. I’ve never published anything and I reckon I don’t have much to say! But regardless of my experience - or lack thereof - the Society gave me a very warm welcome. There were a few raised eyebrows when I mentioned the subject of my age. The princess Barbanov seemed impressed when I told her I’d met her famous ancestor, the Exalted St. Siegmund! I can’t claim I was great friends with Exalted Siegmund, but I knew of him through Lorin and he accidentally knocked the tray out of my hands at a party once. To think such an awkward man ended up becoming an Emperor, a Saint, and a Prophet, the patriarch of century-spanning dynasties!

Maybe Her Highness thought I was one-upping her, though. The first thing she said when she took the podium was “Sorry to disappoint you all, but I am niet an ancient and wise elf. I am just a humble botanist, trying to make sense of the world; and a woman who just wants to help with this war, where blood will niet be spilled needlessly.” Goodness… I felt terribly guilty. The last thing I ever wanted was to make anyone feel bad or small, especially if that someone is a princess. I never meant to be a show off. I suppose I should probably apologize to her next time I see her…

The rest of the meeting went well, though. Celestine asked everyone what scholarly studies they’d been pursuing lately. Princess Alexandria was conducting a study on the Scyflings. Otto Wittenbach was working on expanding the archival wing and the natural history hall of the museum. Isabel de Falstaff has been working with the Imperial Foreign Agency on a classified project. Angelika Bykov is busy with her political work in the House of Commons. And Juan is, of course, drafting his new book exploring the southern regions of Arcas! I didn’t have much to report, sadly, but hopefully I shall have something interesting to add next time. After that, we discussed the opening of the new museum in Helena and concluded the meeting for the time being.

I returned home to Helena to look over the progress made on the museum. The displays are up, but it lacks the exhibits. I’m thinking of drafting some informational pamphlets containing what I know about the Chivays and the First Empire since I suppose that’s my particular field of expertise. But before I hunkered down and got to work, I wanted to show off my new home.

I sent a letter to Icroth and arranged for the two of us to meet in the Helena Market Square. To my surprise, he came fairly quickly. Icroth is a very prompt man as I’ve discovered. I showed him the museum in progress and I’m happy to say he was quite impressed! As we walked through the stands, I turned to him and asked, “Have you thought about coming to live in Helena, Icroth?”

He shrugged. “I’ve not put much thought into it.”

I pouted at him. “You told me you’d consider it. Goodness, Icroth. How much longer do you plan to keep living like a vagrant?”

“Until I complete my trials. Then I’ll feel like I’ve accomplished something,” he replied.

“Well,” I said. “Perhaps we can work on your trials together. I’m an official member of the NGS starting today and I need to do something exciting so I can report on it at the meetings.”

He smiled a bit - a rare expression for him. But one I certainly love to see. “I’d like that.”

So I proposed that we head on a day-trip down to Siramenor. My last experience in the wood elven village was very pleasant and I’ve been eager to understand more about elven culture. I thought perhaps we might find one of the Green Priests who would be willing to teach us. Icroth agreed to come along. His elven is rusty and he wanted to practice. I took him by the hand and we made our way south along the road to Siramenor.

Unfortunately, none of the Green Priests were available to sit down with us. But we did meet a lovely elven lady named Saria who was happy to chat about her experiences. I think she fancied Icroth because she kept looking at him curiously. My, love certainly is in the air at Siramenor! Saria has the most gorgeous eyes - the exact color of polished turquoise. It’s a striking hue that I’ve never seen before. Saria sat with us in the tavern and we spoke for a good, long while about the Aspects, the Spirits, and the Animal Gods. She mentioned Xan, which caught Icroth’s interest, and he explained that he training to become a paladin.

“I was engaged to a Paladin once,” Saria replied. “Are Leric and Mithras still around? I can’t think of the last time I’ve even seen a paladin…”

“You… don’t mean Leric Tresery, do you?” I asked. I thought surely to God not. But Saria’s face lit up with recognition.

“The very same!” she said. “Leric was a Keeper, one of Xan’s Champions. I was engaged to his grandson. Leric was like a father to me. His son actually became the High Prince of the Dominion.”

I swear, my jaw must have hit the floor. I never imagined Leric was still alive! There were only a handful of elves who served in the Order of the White Rose - and Leric was one of them. I can’t believe my old friend might still be around. Even more shocking, his children went on to become the leaders of Malinor! Why, Thomas Chivay really is rolling in his grave! I can hardly believe it!

But Leric’s story gives me hope for myself. Leric, despite being an Oren-born elf and a White Rose, managed to reconnect with his roots and rediscover his people’s culture. Perhaps I can too. I really hope I can see him again. It would be wonderful to catch up after all these centuries.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get to talk for much longer. An issue in the village demanded Saria’s attention. So Icroth and I gathered our things and set off for Helena.

On the way back, I teased Icroth a bit about Saria’s interest in him. “Seems like she’s single,” I joked to him, "and she likes Paladins!"

“Not interested,” he grumbled. “Besides, I'm only an initiate. Doubt she'd want a newbie.”

“You never know!” I linked my arm with his as we walked.

I feel like Icroth and I have gotten closer. Saria mentioned that she thought we were siblings when we arrived. I’ll take that as a good sign. I’m not sure Icroth is the type of man I could fall in love with. But a brother? I could see that, certainly. My grumpy, sourpuss brother who needs to learn to let loose and have a little fun.

I’ve come to believe that family is where you find it. It’s not blood that dictates the bond between two people. A family can be anything. It can be a First Empire military order and their resident dark elf servant. It can be a ragtag group of explorers and scholars who meet once a year in the museum basement. And it can be two lonely Mali’ker stranded in Oren with enough tragedy between them to fuel a thousand stage plays.

I’m happy to have someone like Icroth, though. If I can count on him to be my brother throughout the centuries, then I’m not sure I need a soulmate. He’ll be enough.

 

Entry 39 –
1774 IST.

 

Spoiler

Oh, I desperately want the museum opening to go well! Celestine and the NGS have put a lot of trust into me, so I must make sure things work out according to plan. Today, I put out a flyer about our search for exhibit items. I’m certain some of these old families have things they’re willing to donate or at least rent. Antiques, garments, jewelry, weapons, even small household objects. I have a little skill as a seamstress, so even if something’s ratty and moth-eaten, I’m sure I can restore it! I’ve gotten a good response so far. An anonymous benefactor offered up John VI’s coronation robes, as well as some noblewomen’s dresses. Ah, it makes me wish that I’d saved some of my old things from back in the day, but I didn’t. It simply wasn’t practical to keep ball gowns and jewelry when I was struggling just to get by.

I’m sure the exhibits will come in due time, but what makes me the most nervous is the academic writing. I was hoping some scholars and historians would come forth and offer to work on the informational pamphlets for the exhibits, but no one’s volunteered yet. Goodness gracious, I’m rather worried I’ll have to do some - if not most - of the writing myself. Thankfully, I remember a great many details about the First Empire and quite a lot about the Chivay and Carrion dynasties, but… the rest of it is a blank to me. I was a child during the age of Aegis, so my memory is foggy there as well. Little girls hardly spare a thought about who is king and who’s making alliances with whom. If no one volunteers to help, I suppose I’ll be spending the next few months in the library brushing up on my Orenian history… I tried to recruit Lauritz Christiansen to write for us but he didn’t seem interested! Alas!

After I put up the flyer and made contact with a few potential benefactors, I decided I would go look through the NGS museum at Reza. The NGS museum is so breathtaking and detailed - truly a monument to the Society’s love of history. I figured that I could get some inspiration - and some ideas about how to write academic literature - from the displays there. Since Icroth is a lover of history, I decided to invite him along with me. He needs to get out more. He’s no longer a hermit! And being an effective paladin relies on making good connections and strong friendships!

Happy to report Icroth and I had a nice time at the museum. I showed him the unfinished archival wing - and I’ve never seen a bigger smile on his face! He mentioned he liked books, but he’s much more literary than I would have given him credit for. I shall have to find out his favorite novels and non-fiction so I can read them. Sometimes I worry that we only ever talk about sad things, so it’d be good to be able to discuss something we both enjoy.

After the museum, I’d gotten a bit hungry so I proposed we visit the market and pick up some food. Walking around, we passed by a bakery selling the most decadent dark-chocolate covered cherries. I’d forgotten my wallet at home, so Icroth paid for us. We sat in one of the local parks and talked. As we chatted, I offered Icroth one of the cherries. He took it and sniffed at it like a dog before putting it in his mouth and chewing slowly.

“Picky eater?” I asked.

“No, I just don’t normally eat sweets,” he replied. “I don’t like complex foods. Bread and water are mostly fine, with the occasional grown vegetable or fish. No alcohol.”

“I suppose it’s a virtue to live simply,” I said, eating another cherry. “You must think I’m a decadent lush, with all my fancy food and alcohol.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he answered. “Living simply is just easier for me. Cheaper. I stay fit. Healthy. Never have a hangover. And so on.”

“I suppose that’s one way to keep looking trim and healthy in old age… I’ll admit I’ve never been particularly in shape,” I sighed. “It was easier when I was younger and working on a farm every day. But these days, it seems I’m an academician. Thankfully, my elven heritage keeps me from getting too plump and happy… Though I’m told most men like a girl with a little meat on her bones.”

Icroth blinked. “Sure,” he said. “You look fine.”

I ate another cherry and studied him where he sat, on the opposite side of the bench. “What kind of girls do you like, Icroth?” I asked him.

“I don’t have a type,” he replied with a shrug. “Whoever will take me, I suppose.”

“Well, you liked your wife. What was she like?”

I’ve been thinking about ways to get Icroth to be more social and outgoing. I think he’d be so much more tolerable and less grumpy if he just made some friends. And, in my experience, nothing softens a man’s heart quite like a romantic partner. Just look at how much Celestine has changed Juan - and in such a short amount of time! A nice girl could really bring Icroth out of his shell, I’m sure of it. Saria, the lady from Siramenor, seemed to have an interest in him. I thought I might help encourage that along. Or, if not Saria, then someone else. I’ve been privileged to meet a lot of nice girls in Helena. I’d be happy to play the part of Icroth’s wingwoman if he could find someone he liked.

Icroth pondered my question. “She was plain,” he said. “Skinny. She kept her hair short like a soldier’s. Cropped close to the skin on the sides, but longer on top. She didn’t want it getting in her way while she was working. She wasn’t concerned with how she looked.” He flashed a slight grin. “We got along well in that regard. Simple people.”

“Of course you’d fall in love with someone as plain and practical as you,” I huffed.

“I wasn’t practical back then,” he said. “During my time in the military, I drank. Smoked. Fought. All of that. Just as all soldiers do. I was rowdy and foolish. She could hardly stand it sometimes.”

“But it sounds like she rubbed off on you,” I replied.

“She did. I loved her very much.”

“What did you think of Saria?” I asked him out of curiosity.

“She seemed quite nice,” he answered.

“Did you find her pretty?”

“I can hardly remember what she looks like now,” he grunted. If that isn’t the most typical Icroth response I’ve ever heard… It’s going to be a challenge finding someone as direct, plainspoken, practical, and ascetic as he is. Women in Oren these days tend to be a bit frivolous with their silk gowns, brocade, bonnets, and curled wigs. Perhaps one of the women serving in the ISA? This seems like it’s going to be another project I’ll need to work on.

We got to talking about other subjects. I mentioned that I’d like to cook dinner for him sometime. “I was quite the famous chef in the First Empire, you know. I catered all the fancy parties,” I said. “I used to make the most wonderful little hors d’oeuvres with salmon and capers.”

“What on earth is an hors d’oeuvre?” he asked, a frown line forming between his brows.

“Oh, delicious little bites that the butlers and maids would serve at balls and tea parties and such,” I explained. “They’d carry them around on trays.”

“Ah… I say this with love, of course, Icroth… but somehow I doubt you’re the kind of man to attend fancy parties.”
Icroth grinned. “Your bold assumptions are, in fact, correct.”

“It’s all right,” I said, giggling and covering my mouth with a hand. “I imagine my days of ballroom dancing are long over anyway. I doubt they’ll make the mistake of elevating me to the Peerage again.”

“Peerage?”

“Oh, I was a Baroness once.”

Icroth’s eyebrows shot up. “How?”

“Marriage,” I said. “My first husband was a baron.”

“And they let you take your husband’s title? They let a baron marry a mali’ker?”

“Well, he was the Lord Marshal of the White Rose Order and the Lord Inquisitor of Oren. He wasn’t the kind of man you told ‘no.’” I explained. “I’m certain half of Oren was terrified of him. He could light a man on fire with a snap of his fingers and cleave a person in two with a single swing of the sword.”

“He was still just a flesh and blood man,” Icroth replied. “No better or more important than any other man. No offense meant to your late husband, of course.”

“Oh, none taken,” I sighed. “Our marriage had a somewhat bitter end.”

“Bitter?” he asked.

I told him about the Great Exodus that brought an end to the First Empire. About how I was forgotten by accident. It was a logistical error. A great fleet of ships departed from Abresi that day. Everyone thought I was on a different boat. Mr. Toov remained with the soldiers, I’m sure, and he likely assumed I was with Lynesse and Julianna and the other wives of the Rose. And perhaps the women concluded I was on the ship with my husband. When the mistake was discovered, it was too late and too dangerous to turn back. I’m sure Mr. Toov was in a panic when he realized I’d been left behind. I have often imagined the scene when the boats docked after months at sea - and he searched the crowd for my face only to find I wasn’t there.

“It hurt so much that I was left behind,” I said. “It’s one of those things I don’t like to think about. I know it was an accident, but… I felt so abandoned and alone. Words… can’t even begin to describe it. But… I’ve stopped being angry about things that happened more than three hundred years ago. I’m here now… and my life is happy. I can’t ask for more.”

I looked over at Icroth and, to my surprise, he looked furious. I have never seen him angry before. But his eyes were hard as diamonds and a dark shadow loomed over his brow. “It’s not your fault,” he said firmly. “It’s theirs. To do something so irresponsible. Don’t make excuses for people who dropped you like trash. They’re not worth your rationalizing, Tanith. You were faithful and doing your best. They were the ones who embarked on a dangerous journey instead of taking a plethora of smarter choices. I’ve little sympathy for people who are disloyal.”

There he goes, making me blush again. My feelings toward the White Rose and the Exodus have become so complicated over the years. Just a tangle of difficult emotions that seem impossible to untangle. Was it my fault I was left behind? Did they even notice or care that I was gone? The questions piled up on top of one another - questions I will never, ever get an answer to. Not unless my former brothers of the Rose descend from Heaven and explain it to me. Icroth is plainspoken and blunt… but it helped. To hear him lay it out in such simple terms.

“My apologies for insulting the old White Rose,” he said. “I know they meant a lot to you. But you’re here and they’re worm food. Don’t waste another thought on them.”

“They’re Saints in the Seven Skies,” I corrected him.

“Worm food,” he said more firmly. “I don’t believe in Canonism. I doubt even the humans really believe in it. All that matters is you’re here now. And you owe those men nothing.”

There is a myth I heard once about a great king. He was presented with a knot of rope so tangled and messy that no one - not even the most brilliant minds of the kingdom - could find out how to disentangle it. The king, in his wisdom, simply drew his sword and cut the knot in half.

That’s what Icroth has done for me.

 

Entry 40 –
1774 IST.

 

Spoiler

Icroth has been around Helena a lot more lately and, I must say, I’m rather pleased by that. Little by little, I’m trying to introduce him to more people and help him reintegrate into society. It was difficult for me at first too, but I feel like I’ve made a happy home for myself in Helena. I’d like for him to be comfortable here as well.

It surprises me how well we’re starting to get along. By all accounts, we’re complete opposites. He’s taciturn, reserved, perhaps a bit grumpy and prickly. And he describes me as a ‘social butterfly’. He eats plain bread and drinks water while I like to cook the most elaborate things I can imagine. He’s a teetotaler but I can’t resist a fine cognac. I enjoy my frivolities while Icroth would rather live as humbly and simply as possible. (Really, he’s like a monk in the way he behaves! Too bad he thinks Canonism is a crock - I bet the church would LOVE him!) But despite all our differences, our conversations are interesting and enjoyable. And he makes me laugh a surprising amount. He’s got a very dry wit that just hits my funny bone every single time.

Lately, it feels as though we’ve been spending every day together. He’s been helping me set up the museum. I let him camp in the little garden area out behind the building and he’ll do odd jobs like cleaning up and moving heavy things. (He’s very strong, I’ve noticed. I offered to let him sleep on the floor in my quarters, but he said that would be inappropriate and he prefers to be outside.) Today, he helped me organize some books donated by Lauritz Christiansen. I think Icroth’s staying here because his Paladin training has reached a bit of a plateau. He’s required to slay two more unholy beasts to complete his trials and ascend through the ranks. But, as I’ve written before, unholy beasts are somewhat hard to come by. I’ve decided to help him with the task and I’ve been asking around, but no one has heard tell of any vicious creatures stalking the night. It’s wonderful to live in such peaceful times, but – goodness! Where is a nasty monster when you need one?

We were drinking coffee this morning in the garden when I proposed an idea to him. “We really should go to that mushroom island,” I said. “Or perhaps the sunken city that Juan showed me. I’m certain we could find a spore beast or… maybe a sea monster. Something like that!”

“I was thinking of going to Renalia,” he said out of the blue and nearly made me spit out my coffee.

“Er,” I mumbled. “Icroth, I can’t say my last experience there was… pleasant…”

“As you have said. Many times,” he grunted. “You can’t judge an entire city and an entire people based on one incident, Tanith.”

I huffed at him. “Isn’t that what you do with Helena?”

He laughed. “I know enough about humans from fighting in their wars, thank you,” he said. “Humans don’t change.”

Maybe he’s right and I was too quick to judge Renalia and the Mali’ker based on one solitary experience. But I’m still not keen on the idea of going back. Maybe we’ll visit again and won’t run into so many shady characters. A study on Renalian culture might be of interest to the NGS as well. Perhaps I’ll ask Celestine.

I would like to learn about other Mali’ker - what makes us dark elves tick. But the awful thing is that so many of us truly seem degenerate and depraved. Why are so many dark elves attracted to evil magic and horrendous acts? Are we naturally inclined toward wickedness? In my youth, I occasionally did things I ended up regretting. I remember being very territorial and hostile toward new hires at the White Rose - anyone who might threaten my place as the Rose’s resident elf servant. I was jealous and demanding toward Mr. Toov and I would sometimes hurt myself to get his attention. I’ve done my best to grow out of those things. I always just viewed them as defects of my personal character. Yet I wonder how much of that was my own failing and how much was actually simply my disposition as a dark elf. Yet not all Mali’ker seem to struggle with inner darkness. Icroth is melancholic, perhaps, but I’ve never seen him wrestle with any demon besides grief and guilt. Anyone would feel grief and guilt after going through something like what happened to Icroth. I don’t blame him at all.

I wonder what happened to Lanqui. We haven’t spoken in quite a long time now. It’s a shame. He was a nice young man and gave me a real insight into our people. He talked often about wanting to be a hunter and a warrior in the Pale. I suppose he’s gone off to achieve his goals. My hope is that he’ll come back around Helena sometime. Truly, I think he would adore Icroth. They would get along splendidly. Maybe the three of us could discover what it means to be dark elves together.

Ah, what other news is there? It’s been a quiet few days. Not that that’s a bad thing, mind. I prefer quiet days, honestly, but they don’t give me a great deal to write about. Mary Lucille has opened up a jewelry store in the town square. I can’t afford any of her wares, but it’s fun to look. She’s such a sweet girl and has grown into such a pretty young woman. Thankfully, it seems her arranged engagement fell through. I’m relieved. So even though the bill was quashed by the House of Lords, it doesn’t seem like she’ll be forced to marry unwillingly anytime soon.

I’ve heard that Mr. Napier was fired as the Minister of Civil Affairs, so I don’t think I’ll be working on that upcoming Laurel Gala anymore. Rumor has it he’s been running around town with an orc woman.

(I wonder if he’s feeling all right? He just turned forty - right on schedule for a midlife crisis. Perhaps I should check on him.)

I also had an interesting encounter with a young high elf. I was searching the market stalls for books when he approached me out of nowhere.

“Excuse me,” he said in a quiet and polite voice.

He had fair hair and pale skin, looking quite princely in his white and blue coat. “I’m here doing some research. My haelun asked me to learn about social hierarchy and society in general in Helena. Can you help me?”

Of course, I couldn’t turn down such a polite request. We went to the library where he asked me several questions about Canonism and the way society worked in Helena. I did my best to answer. Of course, I’m not a priest. But I was around for the founding of the Empire and the Church of the Canon, so I know a thing or two! (What a strange thing to say… to think Godfrey and Siegmund were gifted their Scrolls within my lifetime. To think I lived before a formal church even existed!) I told him about the Scrolls of Virtue, Spirit, Gospel, and Auspice, as well as about the four Prophets according to Canonism. It surprised me how much I remembered. After that, I explained the House of Commons, the House of Lords, and how both functioned to make laws. The young elf - whose name was Mael’ead Laraethryn - seemed a bit flummoxed by the whole process. “What makes nobility better than anyone else?” he asked. “Why does their bloodline give them privilege?”

“Ah, usually because their bloodlines are very old and storied,” I said. “Many nobles can trace their lineages back to the First Empire.”

“So because their name is old, they earn the right to be above others?” he asked.

I didn’t know how to answer that. It does seem silly when you think about it. And I suppose it seems even sillier from an elven perspective, given how long we live. Godfrey would elevate certain families to nobility for various reasons. Military strength, great deeds, things like that. And even generations and generations down the line, those same families still enjoy the privileges and rights earned by their great-great-great-great-great-great grandparents. It is perhaps a more egalitarian time in some respects. Commoners can earn titles and esteem through their accomplishments. But you still have the same old Carrions, Horens, and Chivays sitting upon the thrones of Oren - even if they call themselves Barbanovs and Helvets now. (Oddly, the Horens are still the Horens, but I suppose you don’t do away with the name of the Prophet that easily.)

After we talked for a while, Mael’ead said something interesting. “You’ve been alive for a long time, haven’t you?” he asked me.

“How can you tell?” I inquired.

“You’re very smart,” he said. “You should come to Tor Eldar. It’s not far. I live there with my Haelun. You would like it. Everyone is equal and free.”

There was an unspoken implication in his words - ‘Everyone in Tor Eldar is equal and free, not like in Helena.’ The elves have had democracy and elected officials for many hundreds of years already, I suppose. To them, Oren must seem like it’s behind the times with our nobility and our paltry representation.

Sometimes it seems to me that the House of Commons is just a bone thrown to the commoners to keep us from revolting. It’s a half-measure. Oren is full of half-measures. They make us feel as though we’re represented, but when we try to enact actual change, they quash our attempts at real reform and real justice. Thank God that Mary Lucille wasn’t forced to marry against her will, but… what if the situation had been different? What if her mother coerced her? The House of Lords would simply allow it to happen with no complaint. It makes me furious to think about it.

Icroth is right in that humans never change. It’s all window dressing, I suppose. The Emperor’s word is still the law. The most ancient bloodlines still lord over the rest of us. (Dear God, I can’t imagine how inbred they must be by now…)

I love Oren. It’s my home. There’s nowhere else I can think to go. Ah, but… seeing my bill crushed by the House of Lords… it took away some of my enthusiasm for Oren’s supposed democracy and progressivism. I thought someone like me could make a change, but real change is still out of reach. The common people will never have real rights until we remove the nobility’s stranglehold on power.

But I doubt that will ever happen.

Oren is Oren. Humans don’t change. They might put on new clothes. They might wear fancy wigs and pay lip-service to democracy. They might write laws enshrining personal liberty. But in the end, it’s still the same place I grew up in.

But perhaps I’m impatient. There’s a reason why humans are slow to change, perhaps. They live such truncated lives. They’re born into this world as blank slates and they turn to the past for guidance, emulating the behaviors of ancestors from long, long ago. ‘It worked for them, so why won’t it work for us?’ they ask themselves.

But the problem with that is… sometimes their ancestors were wrong. Horribly, wickedly wrong.

And it’s up to us in the future not to repeat the mistakes of the past.

But the humans alive today never experienced what I experienced. They only see an idealized version of the before-times, depicted through art and plays, sanitized to make them feel good.

And so they fall into the same behaviors over and over again. The fight for real change is so, so painfully slow because of that.

 

Entry 41 –
1774 IST.

 

Spoiler

I am VERY worried about Edward Napier. He’s going to get himself hurt if he keeps acting like this! Thank goodness I thought to check up on him. But unfortunately the situation is complicated. Matters of the heart usually are…

I was sitting in the Dragon’s Rest today, working on a draft of an informational pamphlet for the Aegis exhibit of the museum. Might as well begin at the beginning, as they say. My memories of Aegis are distant, fuzzy, and unformed - more like brief flashes of images than any useful information. The sunlight-dappled, green pathways of Malinor. The King’s Road winding between the rolling hills along the seaside. Al’khazar, with its timber buildings clustered together like mushrooms in the hollow between two mountains. Golden fountains spilling water, with droplets that glistened like diamonds.

I had little awareness of politics back then. I was a child - and later a young woman. I kept my head down, focused on my labor, and paid no mind to things above my station. I’ve been checking out as many books as I can find about those days - and it’s surprising how many things I missed. It’s a bit like pulling back the curtain.

But there I was, jotting down notes and flipping through pages, when Sir Christiansen decided to join me. (He’s been knighted - very exciting!) He took note of my books and asked how the museum was coming along. Research has been going surprisingly well, but we still lack material exhibits. A few things have been donated but not enough to fill two floors of a building. I know Sir Christiansen to be a well-connected man, so I threw myself on his mercy. “I would feel strange writing to these noble families and asking for their possessions,” I admitted to Sir Christiansen. “I don’t even know any noblemen… and I feel so awkward around people of high station. I’m just a common person, not worth anyone’s time!”

“I doubt any noble families still have possessions from that far back, Miss Tanith,” he replied. “Such things would need to have survived hundreds of years, dozens of wars, and scores of regime changes. But the Church might have some.”

“Oh, I’m terrified of the Church,” I sighed. “I doubt they would look too kindly on a dark elf soliciting their holy artifacts for crude public display.”

“The High Pontiff is a most wonderful man. Perhaps I could bring it to his attention? I intend to invite him to play Werheg with me sometime.”

Ah, thank God for Sir Christiansen and his many friends! As it turns out, running a museum is much more than just scholarly research and writing. It requires a good deal of networking and leveraging of connections too. I’ve been in Helena for a few years now, but I can’t claim too many friends. Juan is my friend, of course. Celestine and Mr. Napier too. Sir Christiansen is becoming a good acquaintance. And there’s Icroth and Mr. Jack. (Jack - now there’s an idea. He could certainly help me with writing about Aegis… Maybe if I ask very nicely, he’ll have something to donate?) But when it comes to nobles and people of storied lineage and great political influence, I don’t know any of those, really! The best I’ve done is an awkward encounter with the Queen of Haense, pfft.

Around that time, Mary Lucille popped in to say hello as well. She was wearing an absolutely lovely navy blue dress - looked like she was getting ready to go sailing.

 

“I have some news!” she said, sitting down next to me at the table. “I am engaged to Joseph of Selm! My fortune teller says it will be a good match. Overall, I am relatively pleased with it.”

It’s still an arranged union orchestrated by Mary Lucille’s mother, but she seems to be reacting better to this engagement than the first one. I’m pleased by that at least. If she’s happy with the match and marrying with her consent, there should be nothing wrong. But while I’m glad Mary Lucille isn’t being coerced into something against her will, that still doesn’t fix the injustice many other women throughout Oren are facing. I have to admit I am thoroughly disillusioned with the political process in Oren. Mary Lucille still dislikes her mother for arranging a marriage behind her back. Of Mary Phillipa, she said – and I quote – “She is a wretched beast and I uninvited her from the wedding because I do not want the reincarnation of Iblees at my happiest day.”

At that time, Edward entered the tavern. I’ve been worried about him lately with the rumors I’ve been hearing, so I beckoned him to come and join us. He was in high spirits for someone who’s just been fired from his prestigious job. I asked him what he had been up to lately.

“I’m planning to finally finish the Omnibus my Great-Uncle started,” he said. “A complete catalogue of all living creatures.” As it turns out, Mr. Napier is something of a naturalist. I wouldn’t have guessed it since he doesn’t strike me as an outdoor person. I mentioned he ought to get in touch with the NGS since they’re opening a natural history section of the Museum in Reza - and I inquired if he’d like to write anything for the Helena branch.

“I’ll admit my Imperial history is… limited,” he murmured a little shyly. “I know Harrenite history inside and out. But Imperial? Why, I couldn’t name a single person from the Duke’s War.”

“What?!” I nearly shouted. “The war that tore Oren completely in two and you can’t name a single participant? Hugues Sarkozic? Olivier de Savoie? Vasili Vanir? Kazimir Vladov? Anything? That war nearly ruined my life! I almost died!”

“Tanith, my dear, I could tell you all about Aegisopithicus and Mustela Lutris, but not a thing about a Savoie or a Vladov,” he replied with a shrug.

“I’m much the same,” Sir Christiansen admitted. “My knowledge of history is woefully incomplete.”

“Who are those people?” Mary Lucille asked, inspecting her nails.

I sighed. “I suppose history that happened hundreds of years ago doesn’t matter so much anymore…”

Mary Lucille patted me on the shoulder. “Tanith… you are rather old. I mean, you do not look a day over fifty but most of the people around here cannot name even their great great great great grandfather!”

 

(I don’t look a day over fifty? What on earth does that mean? Fifty is practically a baby in elven terms, but… certainly not so much in human years!)

Mary Lucille suggested I might check the Eternal Library in Haelun’or. Mr. Napier proposed I contact the Archchancellor since he is a great scholar on Imperial History. But I’m hesitant to bother the Archchancellor after I wrote him a letter once and he never responded. He scares me a little.

Sir Christiansen and Mary Lucille had appointments, so they ended up leaving us. Mr. Napier and I sat in silence for a time, with me pouring over my notes and him enjoying his tea. At last, I thought to broach the subject that was on my mind. “…Since we’re alone for the moment, Edward… might I ask a personal question? …Are you… doing all right?”

“Oh, splendidly,” he replied with a smile. “I’m free from my government obligations, I’m starting to do work that I enjoy, I’m looking at buying a nice estate…”

“It must have been difficult getting fired, though,” I said. “And there are other rumors going around…”

“I didn’t get fired,” he replied. “I retired.”

“No, the other rumors,” I said. “Completely untrue, I’m sure. It’s rather ridiculous. Something about an orcish wife. Or a slave. Or a slave-wife. Assuredly a modern man like you would never, though!”

Edward laughed. “What kind of absurdity is that!” he said - and, for a very brief moment, I was relieved. But then he pulled the rug out from under me. “No, Gragmar is fully a citizen if she wants to be.”

“You mean you really have been keeping company with an orc of all things?” I asked incredulously.

“And a very pleasant one at that,” Edward said with a beaming smile.

“But certainly, said orc is just a friendly acquaintance and not… erm… what people are suggesting…”

“Nay!” he exclaimed suddenly, banging his fist upon the table. “I’m a man of action and principle, and by God - if I cannot stand by my heart, then what can I stand by? A more fair heart and mind I’ve yet seen in not just orcs, but many a lady about here.”

“You married an orc?!” I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

“We’re not married yet,” he corrected me.

“Engaged?!”

Edward gave a singular nod. “Certainly. If the Emperor can do it, I don’t see why I can’t.”

Wait, what?!

“The Emperor’s wife isn’t human?!” I could feel my eyes nearly popping out of my head in shock.

Edward waved a hand. “No, no, his wife was human. But he has had mistresses. Mostly of the Elven variety. The man seems to enjoy his lithe and beautiful elven sorceresses, I’ll leave it at that,” he huffed indignantly. “But who bloody cares. If I wish to wed an orc, I shall, and that will be all.”

“But your children will be half-orcs!” I said. “Aren’t you worried they won’t be accepted in Oren?”

“They’ll be a bit toothy and large-set, surely, but I plan to raise them right,” Edward answered me. “People of all kinds are accepted in Oren these days, Tanith. And I’ve met half-orcs before. The human genetics appear to be more dominant in most of them.”

“My children tended to be grey,” I replied.

“Well, perhaps dark elves are another matter. We’ll just have to see, won’t we? There will be a place for my children in Oren, I’ll make sure of it,” he said, completely unbothered by any of the objections I raised.

“Aren’t orc women… very large?” I ventured. “And muscular?”

“Oh yes, Gragmar is quite magnificent,” Edward replied, taking a sip of his tea.

“Edward… you can’t tell me you aren’t a little afraid she might hurt you!” I said. “How do you know she won’t go into some kind of blood frenzy and… rip your arm off?”

At this point, I could tell he was starting to get annoyed. “Tanith, she is a kindly soul. A very generous, sweet, and clever sort. She is a very disciplined character. She’s learning to read and write, to try and fit in. I assure you I am in no danger from her.”

I sensed I ought to back off. “Well… if you say so, Edward…” I murmured. “I just worried when I heard, that’s all… Between being fired and running around with an orc… I thought perhaps you were having some sort of personal crisis.”

“Oh, goodness no!” Edward laughed. “Simply… rediscovering my spark, Tanith. Perhaps it’s a bit odd, but… Well, I shall not go into dear detail about that further in good company.”

Dear God. Edward Napier is really in love with an orc. Well, he’s apparently not a homosexual like I thought he was, but… courting an orc woman?! Really? They’re hardly people! More like savage beasts that walk on two legs! How has he deluded himself into thinking an orc can behave like a civilized person? I’m terrified I’ll wake up one day and read in the Helena Herald that poor Edward was slaughtered by his orc wife in some haze of blood rage. Orcs have always been simple minded and violent. He is a rather… diminutive man. Slight of build. I am a good head taller than him and I am not even especially tall for an elf. An orc woman could probably break him like a toothpick.

Certainly, he might claim she is sweet and pleasant and gentle… but I’m fairly certain “pleasant, gentle orc” is an oxymoron.

This isn’t the kind of thing you can talk someone out of, though. People take matters of the heart very personally. I offered some legitimate concerns for his health and safety, but all Edward did was double down. He’ll unfortunately need to snap out of this himself… hopefully before his orc lady kills him - whether purposefully or accidentally.

Also… goodness me! It’s common knowledge that the Emperor keeps elven mistresses? Mistresses – plural? And there’s not rioting in the streets over that sort of impropriety? This really is a different world, isn’t it…?

But then again, I suppose I don’t have room to talk. Two out of my three husbands were human men.

 

Miscegenation might be against the law, but perhaps it’s one of those laws that people… tend to ignore more often than not. I suppose the heart wants what the heart wants. But goodness gracious, Mr. Napier is playing with fire right now and I can only pray he realizes his error as soon as possible.

Now that I think of it, that’s probably what Thomas and Peter and Velwyn were saying when Mr. Toov started courting me. I can just imagine Thomas pacing around his office in a furor. “What does he want with that damn knife-ear?”

And Peter, ever the more moderate and even-tempered of the two, just sighing and saying, “Well, let’s hope he realizes his error as soon as possible.”

Then Mr. Toov and I were married for forty-five years. Longer than Velwyn and Julianna. Longer than Thomas and Lynesse. Longer than any other couple in the White Rose.

Hearts are stubborn things in the end.

 

Entry 42 –
1774 IST.

 

Spoiler

Juan proposed to Celestine! Juan proposed to Celestine! JUAN PROPOSED TO CELESTINE! AH! I’m so excited! I’ve been waiting for him to pop the question and he finally did! Sooner than expected too! Oh, I’m completely over the moon for both of them!

He gave me the happy news today at the Dragon’s Rest while I was sitting and doing my research. Juan, that joker! He walked into the tavern with a big frown on his face. Sitting down with a heavy sigh, he looked at me and said, “Tanith… about Celestine and me…” Oh, I thought for sure they had broken up and I was ready to let him cry on my shoulder. But then he flashed a huge smile. “I proposed! We’re getting married in the spring!”

I nearly leaped out of my chair and knocked over all my books in my excitement! “You should have told me you were planning to propose!” I exclaimed. “I would have helped you plan it! Oh my goodness! Juan, you have to tell me everything right now!”

He gave me all the details, of course. About how he took her to a romantic glade of magical trees and bent the knee under the biggest and most beautiful of the boughs. (I should be a poetess.) He melted down the golden doubloon I found in the shipwreck and had it turned into a ring for Celestine - to represent their mutual love of adventure and exploration. Celestine, of course, loved the ring and accepted his proposal right away. They planned to marry come spring when the weather warms up and the flowers are blooming. They’ve decided to have the reception at the museum in Reza with the NGS and all their friends. Juan told me he had been speaking with the King of Haense about securing a property so they could settle down and look at starting a family.

“Is time for me to stop trying to be the macho man who has something to prove and to start becoming a man of duty to my family,” Juan said. “Sad news for you, though, is that I will not have time to take you to as many places as before.”

I laughed and waved him off. “You’re forgiven, of course.”

“But the good news is that you will be godmother to our children and soon have many Lyons to take you wherever you want to go,” Juan replied.

I simply couldn’t stop smiling. “I’ll love your family as if they were my own, I promise,” I said. “I couldn’t ask for a greater gift than the friendship you two have shown me. I’m so happy for you both and so proud of you, Juan.”

“Ah, gift. That reminds me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He slid it across the table to me. “I have a little gift for you. To aid in your adventures when I am busy being a good papá to my niños y niñas.”

I opened the box to find Juan’s trusty compass inside it. “You’re giving this to me?” I asked. “Won’t you need it for your adventures with Celestine?”

“Si, si, but I am having new ones made for us. Matching,” he replied. “His y hers. Very romantic.”

“You old sap,” I teased him. “What happened to Juan Lyons the great seducer? Irresistible to all women, yet beholden to none?”

“Ay, every bee finds a flower. Every sword has its sheath. For every lock, a key. Every foot, a shoe. Every king finds a queen. And she is mine,” he said, placing a hand over his heart. “I did not know what I truly wanted before I met her. But now, Tanith, it all makes sense. I am a completed man thanks to Celestine. I am transformed.”

I rested a cheek dreamily in my hand as I smiled across the table at him. He was the picture of happiness. “Congratulations, Juan. Being married is one of the most wonderful things in the world when you have the right partner. May your union be joyous and fruitful.”

“Ah gracias, gracias. You helped me get here, don’t forget this,” he said. “Without you, amiga, I would have gotten the cold feet and taken off to lands unknown. My horrible premonition would have come true! Thanks to you, I will not be old, drunk, and armless with no wife or child to love me.”

“Thank God I rescued you from that dismal fate!” I giggled.

“But don’t tell Celestine I almost left her, God no,” he said, standing up. “Now sadly I must leave you, amiga. The King of Haense calls me to do one last mission against the Scyflings. But once it is complete, I am retired from this fighting business to focus on mi familia.”

“You’ll let me help plan the wedding, of course,” I replied.

“Si, I would have no one else cater our union! And if Celestine doesn’t ask you to be the maid of honor, I am canceling the whole thing!” Juan grinned and leaned down to kiss me on the cheek.

“We must have a six-layer cake made to look like a map - ah! We’ll go over details when I get back. Hasta la proxima, Tanith!” And with that, he hurried off. I waved goodbye to him as he dashed out of the tavern. Oh, Juan! He’s always busy with someplace to go.

I’m so happy for him. Edward might be marrying an orc, but at least Juan found himself a perfect match. I couldn’t think of anyone better for him than Celestine. I can’t wait to have dinner parties at their house. And children! Juan’s become such a family-minded man! I hope he’ll let me babysit his next generation of little explorers. And when they’re older, perhaps we’ll all have wonderful adventures together.

Juan really is the best friend I could have asked for. He was one of the first people to make me feel truly welcome in Helena. I love him with all my heart and I’m so glad he found the right woman for him. I can’t wait to get started on planning a wedding menu and designing a cake! Won’t that be so much fun? It will be a nice break from researching ancient history at the very least!

Ah… My hope is that I’ll one day find someone who fits me as well as Juan fits Celestine. Perhaps, if I’m lucky, in a few years, he’ll be attending my wedding too. I’d like him to stand at my side as my best man. Maybe luck will smile on the both of us!

Oh, I love weddings. They’re my favorite.

Spring can’t come soon enough!

 

Entry 43 –
1774 IST.

 

Spoiler

Sometimes I lie in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, and count the number of friends who have died. I list them off, one by one, in my head until sleep overtakes me. It’s such a long list. Every time I think I’ve finished naming every fallen friend, I think of another one.

Today, I added another name to the list.

God, it’s cruel. It never stops being cruel, every time it happens. How many deaths have I witnessed? Too many to number and yet every single one of them hurts like it’s the first one. I never want to say goodbye. I’m never ready. So many of them have died prematurely and pointlessly, losing their lives on bloody blades in the service of endless war. When I think of it, I feel sick enough to vomit. I feel so much hatred and grief that my blood might boil away inside my veins. Nothing comforts me in times like this. Nothing. No empty platitudes about my friends ‘being at peace’ or ‘in a better place.’ There’s no sugarcoating any of this. It’s just senseless and unneeded loss of life, plain and simple.

Juan had just proposed to the love of his life. They were going to get married, buy land in Haense, settle down, and start a family. They were going to run the museum together. They were going to have beautiful children. I was going to be their godmother. Just a few days ago, I was drawing sketches for their wedding cake and thinking up menus for the reception. Now it’s all over. None of that is ever going to happen.

Juan Lyons, my best friend, is dead.

I was doing laundry in the back garden behind the Helena museum when Sir Christiansen burst through the door, clad in a bloodied soldier’s uniform, and shouting my name. “Tanith! Have you seen Celestine?” he pleaded with me. “Please, I’ve looked everywhere. I can’t find her. She has to know. Oh, God!”

I tried to calm Sir Christiansen down, but he was in the throes of a frenzy. Tears streamed from red, swollen eyes. “It was horrible,” he sobbed. “It was horrible, Tanith! Oh God! Juan and I were on another mission against the Scyflings, at sea… We were cornered and Juan… he dueled the Scyfling captain to buy us some time to escape…”

I felt a pit of dread forming in my stomach.

“Don’t… don’t tell me Juan’s been injured, Sir Christiansen,” I said.

“He’s dead, Tanith! That bastard slew him!” Sir Christiansen wailed in anguish. “He died in my arms! This blood on my shirt - it’s his, Tanith. It’s his! What am I going to tell Celestine?!”

At first, I wanted to believe this was some kind of prank. Juan is – was – a jokester. But he would never do anything this cruel. No, I could see the blood plainly on Sir Christiansen’s shirt. Juan’s blood. It was still red and fresh, as though it had come right out of the veins. “Please… tell me there’s something of him left to bury,” I pleaded with Sir Christiansen. “Tell me there’s a body.”

“All I have… is this letter he wrote to Celestine,” Sir Christiansen murmured, touching a letter tucked into his breast pocket. “The ship sunk… and took his body down with it.”

“There’s nothing left of him at all –?” My voice cracked with horror and grief. “What will we do? Bury an empty coffin? That’s not a funeral! How will we –”

At that precise moment, the museum door opened and Celestine stepped inside. In her arms, she carried a box of supplies for the new exhibits. She paused in the doorway, staring mutely at the bloody Sir Christiansen and me with the pleasant smile fixed on her face - though it slowly began to fade. “Tanith, dearest, what’s wrong?” she asked me. “Lauritz, you didn’t make her cry, did you…?”

I couldn’t even look at her when Lauritz took the blood-stained letter from his pocket and delivered it to her. The sound that came out of Celestine’s mouth, my God. Sir Christiansen scrambled to reassure her, promising her that he died a valiant hero and saved them all with his courage. But honestly, what good is heroism to the fiancée who was counting on him to come home? He had a future to look forward to, a woman who loved him, plans he was making. All of those plans are now erased, swept away by a tide of war, leaving nothing behind. I would rather Juan flee like a coward and live than die like a hero. I wanted to say something, but I held my tongue as much as I could. I suppose if the tales of Juan’s heroism in battle comforted Celestine in her grief, it counts for something…

I ended up giving her Juan’s compass - the one he gave to me before he left. She deserves it far more than I do. There was no way I could keep it selfishly for myself - not now that he’s dead. Celestine was his wife-to-be. He kept that compass on his person everywhere he went – and now it deserves to be in her pocket. That’s where Juan would want it to be, I think.

Once Celestine had calmed down and had a drink, Sir Christiansen and I walked her home to Reza. We lingered a while around the museum to keep her company, but eventually, she was just too overwhelmed with emotions and needed to retire. She told me of a plan to take a sabbatical for a year or two. She couldn’t hope to continue her work with the NGS while handling Juan’s will and mourning his loss. She wanted time to rest, time to think, and time to pray.

Oh, Celestine! She was so thoughtful even after just hearing about the loss of her fiancé! She looked at me with tearful eyes and said, “He cared for you too, Tanith… I know how much he meant to you, and how much you m-meant to him. And there’s n-no shame in admitting that yourself. He- He was your friend, perhaps one of your best ones, and I am sorry for your loss as well.”

How can someone be so selfless even at a time of great grief like this? Words really can’t capture how much I admire her. She is the sweetest and most wonderful person. Not only intelligent but deeply kind and empathetic. At that moment, I could see very clearly why Juan had fallen in love with her.

I wonder if she knows how I felt about him.

I don’t think I will ever tell her.

Nothing happened between me and Juan. I didn’t want anything to happen. I’ve sworn off human men and I’m sticking to that promise. From the moment Juan and Celestine got together, I supported their relationship wholeheartedly and I couldn’t wait for their wedding. But… I can’t deny my own heart. I loved him too. He was my best and closest friend. Juan Lyons always had a kind and encouraging word for me. He made me laugh and blush. I never… I never felt old when I was with him. I felt young in spirit and young at heart. He was my brother. And if circumstances had been different - if he had been a handsome elf instead of a human man - I would have fallen for him very hard. I fell for him a little bit even as a human man.

God…

God, he’s gone.

We’ll never go on another adventure together. I’ll never see his smiling face or hear him laugh ever again. He’ll never joke or flirt with me ever again. I’ve cried so much that my chest feels empty and all that’s left is this dull, throbbing ache.

Juan wouldn’t want me to be miserable, though. He would want me to keep having fun adventures and discovering new places. He’d want me to walk in the deepest, darkest part of the woods. He’d want me to search for treasure in reef-laden sunken ships. He’d want me to sit in the shade of a giant mushroom. He’d want me to go sledding across the snow-slick surface of a glacier. He’d want me to see the most beautiful places and spend time with the most beautiful people. That’s how Juan Lyons lived and that’s why he put that compass in my hands before he left to fight the Scyflings.

Juan Salinas Ruiz Villalpando de Ponce de Lyons – if you can read this, know that I love you and I always will. And I know you’re in Heaven making the most beautiful map of the Seven Skies.

Rest in peace, Juan.

 

Entry 44 –
1774 IST.

 

Spoiler

I miss Juan. I’m trying not to dwell on him - keep my mind busy - but I’m surrounded by things that make me think of him. Focusing on research is difficult because the NGS reminds me of Juan. He never lived to see the Helena branch completed. He didn’t live to see the natural history wing finished with his beautiful maps on display. I go through my day in a fairly pleasant mood - and then suddenly I remember he’s dead and I feel sick.

I’ve taken up bartending again. Just because it’s something that doesn’t make me think of Juan. It keeps my hands and my mind busy. I’m still working on projects for the museum opening, of course, but… I have to admit my enthusiasm has gone out of it. Juan would want to see it finished and I’ll make sure that happens. It’s just hard right now, especially with Celestine on sabbatical. I miss Juan so much. I want him to drop in like he usually does and sweep me off on another adventure.

I feel like I should know how to deal with loss by now. I’ve certainly gone through enough of it. But it feels fresh every time. Grief is something that is formless, ever-changing. Just when you think you’ve understood it, it takes a new shape. Life always finds unique ways to hurt you - even after five-hundred long years. But I don’t want to become hard-hearted and jaded. I’m not like Icroth. I’m not going to be a Mali who wallows endlessly in my own misery. There’s still a future worth looking forward to – at least I hope so. I truly, truly hope so.

Getting old is so awful, though. The longer I live, the more regrets I have. The more loss I suffer. The more faces I will never see again. The more names I add to the ever-growing list of deceased friends and lovers. Maybe elves are not meant to live among humans for that reason. The weight of repeated loss after repeated loss becomes too heavy to bear.

I need to write about something other than how sad I am… Oh!

Mr. Lorf dropped by the Dragon’s Rest today. He used to be one of my coworkers. I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned him in my diary before. We weren’t really close friends and didn’t spend time together outside of work. But it was nice to see him, I suppose. He seems like he’s gone through some hardship as well. His hair is shaggy and unkempt - and somewhere along the way, it seems like he lost an eye. He told me he took up alchemy but got kicked out of the college for unauthorized experimentation or something like that. He had a girlfriend but got in a conflict with her family that ended violently. And he’s been living as a highwayman since then. (Truth be told, I’m shocked he’s not in jail or standing trial right now… but maybe nobody pressed charges. I felt a little afraid talking to him and I considered calling the ISA… but nobody likes a snitch.)

He asked me what I had been up to and I mentioned the museum. “Museum, that’s a hell of a thing,” he said. “I hear you’re old enough to be one of the exhibits. You’re what? Five-hundred? Well, you don’t look a day over fifty-eight.”

Lord have mercy. He’s the second human who’s told me something like that. Do I really look like I’m in my fifties or sixties? It can’t be. I’m an elf! I keep staring at myself in the mirror and trying to see what they see. Is it my hair? Or how I dress? Perhaps it’s the glasses. I don’t have wrinkles. Elves don’t get wrinkles. I feel as though I’m reasonably pretty. No great beauty, perhaps, but pleasant enough to the eye. Ugh. Humans make me feel so ancient. Perhaps I need to update my wardrobe and be more stylish. I admit I haven’t kept up with fashion over the years. Maybe Mary Lucille will help me if I ask her nicely. She’s on the cutting edge of style. Edward is very fashion-conscious as well. He might be able to suggest a few changes. Our last meeting ended on a somewhat sour note with me criticizing his orc fiancée though.

Perhaps dark elves simply aren’t attractive to most humans. They see my pale-colored hair and it looks elderly to them. The elves of Siramenor quite liked my hair, though. And a mali’ker man – I think his name was Fyrrathul – came into the bar earlier today and he was very flirtatious, my goodness. He kept calling me ‘maleyulni’ii.’ I looked it up after he left and apparently it means ‘little diamond.’ He went on and on about how beautiful my hair and eyes were. He’s not exactly my type, but it was nice to be complimented. I don’t often feel pretty. Juan would praise my beauty to the skies, of course, but I think he was just exaggerating to make me smile. (He did seem to have a liking for older women, though. He admitted once that he’d been trying to seduce me when we first met. And he mentioned bedding girls’ mothers on more than one occasion…)

Speaking of old people, I wrote to Jack a few days ago and asked him if he’d be willing to meet and talk about Aegis with me. He remembers it far better than I do. He happened to be in Helena today, so we met up and I showed him the new museum. (He’s never been to the museum in Reza! I have to take him sometime!) He was very sorry to hear what happened to Juan – and warned me to go and pray at the battle site so that Juan doesn’t return as a ghost. Apparently, the Paladins are hearing more and more of revenants appearing these days. I’m going to take a candle to the beach near where Juan died and pray for him like Jack said. I want him to be happy and at peace in the Seven Skies. When I die, I want Juan to take me on adventures to the most beautiful spots in God’s kingdom.

Jack and I sat for a while in the back garden and he told me about his time in Aegis. He served under Hochmeister Gaius Marius in the Teutonic Order - and, at one point, he was the King of Hanseti. Hanseti exists partly because of Jack. He told me of the Undead assault on Al’khazar. About Pampo Perea’s funeral. The Phoenix Rebellion and the legendary duel between Eze’kiel Tarus and Gaius Marius for the crown of Oren. And then, after Tarus, Exalted Godfrey would, at last, emerge and lead the unification of Oren under one empire.

“I wish I could say I was on the right side back then. But I wasn’t. I delayed the unification of the Empire for years,” Jack said to me. “I served Hanseti as its king. But Hanseti was a cold, harsh, and lonely place. No one came, and all my effort became rage. Why wasn’t anything working? We had competent commanders. We had competent builders. Why was no one coming? Why did I reign over a ghost town? What was wrong with me?”

I watched as tears started to fall from his eyes. I have never seen him cry before.

“That rage eventually consumed me, and I blamed everyone else except for me. I killed my friends for a belief that turned out to be worthless anyway. I murdered Samuel Bealcrest and Mirtok de Nurem for nothing. I was written off the history books. Everyone forgot me.”

“Jack…” I stood up and I moved to hug him. “Jack, you mustn’t… Everyone made mistakes back then. Even me. I have so many regrets from Asulon and from Anthos… We’re blessed to have those mistakes forgotten. And look at Haense now. That’s the land you once ruled. It’s bustling and beautiful, full of culture and life. A kingdom you helped to found. It’s still here.”

Jack’s tears continued to pour down his face. “Is it? The people I loved are no longer there. I know not the houses, nor the faces. They’re all gone. Buried under earth and water in a long lost land. But I still hold it in my heart.”

I felt tears welling up in my own eyes. The way he feels about Hanseti is the same way I feel about Kaedrin. The sigil of the White Rose flies everywhere, from every tower and banner. Prince Frederick Helvets has the same blue eyes and auburn hair as his far distant ancestors. And yet… and yet… it’s still not the same. It never will be. The people we loved are gone. And here we are. Here we are, in spite of everything.

“I’ve wanted to go and join my brothers for so long, Tanith, yet I’m still here because Xan bids it,” he said to me. “I have to keep fighting to protect humanity. It’s all I have, my only reason for living.”

“Then it’s a good reason,” I replied. “Any reason at all is a good reason to keep living. There were some days for me… the only reason I woke up was to feed my chickens. Even something as little as that is good enough. Because if you weren’t here, Jack, I wouldn’t have met you.”

“I never told anyone about what I did. I couldn’t tell anyone. I had to lead the Golden Lances. There was no time to mourn, after my imprisonment. I never told anyone, but you,” he said, his voice hoarse from the tears and no louder than a whisper. “I’ve walked alone for all my life, after Hanseti. I no longer knew anyone I could call a brother.”

“Then maybe I can be a sister,” I said, letting him go from the hug but keeping my hands upon his shoulders.

“I’ve caused so many deaths. What if I do something horrible to you too, Tanith?” he asked me - and he was trembling. The famous dragon slayer was trembling in my hands. “You’re too kind to an old bastard like me. You should treat me with disdain, after all I’ve done. All I failed to do.”

I smiled at him, as reassuringly as I could.

“Don’t worry about me, Jack. I wouldn’t be here today if I wasn’t hard to kill. And… regardless of who you were in the past, you have always been very wonderful and good to me.”

He managed to return my smile at last. He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. “Xan has me in His service for twenty more years. And I hope I will count you as a friend until my contract ends,” he said. “But duty calls… and I must go.” I gave him another hug before he left. We promised to meet up again sometime soon.

Oh, Jack.

I know it’s hard, my friend. I really do. The burden of centuries is a heavy one. Every loss, every regret. The list just keeps getting longer - minute by minute, hour by hour, year by year. Time is merciless in all the things it takes from us.

But there is a future, I think. There’s still a future. I didn’t meet Jack centuries ago. I met him here and now in this beautiful present, with all its joy and pain still unfolding, still being written. Our stories aren’t over yet.

I really am glad I met him. He’s the last Teuton and I’m the last White Rose. A pair of relics stuck outside of time. But at the very least we have each other, if nothing else.

 

Entry 45 –
1774 IST.

 

Spoiler

I wrote in my diary yesterday that I was the last White Rose, but… it seems that isn’t the case!

A few months ago in Siramenor, Saria mentioned that Leric Tresery was still around. At the time, I thought - oh, how exciting it would be if I met him again! Wouldn’t that be nostalgic? But in the back of my mind, I figured such a meeting would never actually happen. It’s a big world out there and the chances of encountering one single person seemed astronomically low. Especially knowing that Leric was off being a Paladin somewhere - having grand adventures and defeating the evilest of foes.

Well, guess who I ran into today!

It all started earlier in Helena. I was feeling restless and having a hard time focusing on anything. Juan still weighs heavily on my mind. Jack mentioned that more and more ghosts have been appearing in Arcas lately and it worried me. The last thing I want is for Juan to be a ghost, but I have no idea where his ship might have sunk. Sir Christiansen mentioned that they were fighting in the icy seas north of Vasiland, but he couldn’t pinpoint it exactly on a map. I suppose I will make a trip to Vasiland to go pray and light a candle on the beach as Jack said. I don’t know where Vasiland is, though, unfortunately. I’ve never been there. So I ended up heading to the library to see if I could find an Atlas. Normally, when I don’t know where someplace is, I ask Juan. But I, unfortunately, can’t do that anymore.

Who should I meet at the library but Icroth? We hadn’t seen each other in several weeks. He camped out in my back garden for a time, but eventually, he packed up and moved on. Our eyes met across the shelves and he nodded to me, smiling. “Tanith, it’s been some time. Doing well?”

And I realized all at once that he didn’t know yet. He didn’t know that Juan was dead… and I was going to be the one to have to tell him.

I opened my mouth and no sound came out. Words completely abandoned me and my eyes started filling with tears. Icroth immediately set his book aside and got up from the table where he was reading. He rushed over to me. “What happened?” he asked me, closing the distance between us.

“You’re right, you know,” I managed to choke out as a few tears rolled down my cheeks. “About humans. You’re right.”

“I don’t like being right,” he said. “Talk to me.”

“Juan’s dead,” I whispered hoarsely as the tears rolled off my chin and fell on the carpet below.

Icroth’s eyes widened and he sucked in a breath between his teeth. “What?” he asked. “How?”

“How do you think, Icroth?” I said, and it came out more hateful and angry than I intended.

Icroth is perhaps the only other person who might understand my feelings about Juan’s death. About how pointless and tragic it was. Everyone else has swallowed the line about him being so heroic. How he died defending Haense. But the plain truth is – Haense didn’t need Juan to die. He could have lived and gone on to raise a beautiful family with Celestine. But instead, he gets to be a hero.

“The Scyflings killed him. I’m told he died… a very… heroic death defending Haense. But I can’t… I can’t stand hearing any more of that garbage. I don’t want him to be a hero. I don’t care about heroism or defending Haense. I want him to be alive.”

Icroth did nothing but stare silently at me for a moment. “It’s a damned shame. He was a good man,” he said at length. He put a hand on my shoulder. “Come. You mentioned he liked Siramenor. I was planning to head that way after I finished reading. We’ll toast to him there.”

That was the best suggestion I’d heard all day.

And so we set out for Siramenor.

The tavern in Siramenor is a nice place. It’s cozy with a warm, wooden interior and arched doorways to let in the fresh air. The bartender did us a kindness. He heard we were here to toast to a fallen friend, so he gave us a few drinks on the house. I got a sweet, smoky bourbon with an oaky taste. Barrel-aged spirits seem to be a specialty among the wood elves. It makes sense. Elves would, of course, know how to make the best kind of casks for their alcohol. No one understands the intricacies of lumber better than the elves. Icroth got tea, of course. His teetotaling makes me feel like a drunkard, but I like what I like. And what I like is aged in a barrel for twelve years and served on the rocks.

It’s funny. Back in the days of the Rose, I wouldn’t touch alcohol. I thought it was sinful. I wonder what the younger me would think if she saw me now.

Once I got my whiskey, I lifted my glass in a toast. “To Juan Salinas Ruiz Villalpando de Ponce de Lyons,” I said. “May you find peace in the next world. And make the most beautiful map of the Seven Skies that anyone’s ever seen. When we die, I hope you’ll be the first to greet us - so you can take us on new adventures to the most beautiful places in God’s kingdom.”

“Hear, hear,” Icroth replied, taking a sip of his tea. “Will there be a funeral?”

“I don’t know. Celestine is the executor of his estate. It will be her decision, I suppose,” I replied, swirling my whiskey in the glass. “There’s nothing to bury. His body’s sunk at the bottom of the sea. And Celestine has gone on sabbatical… I’m worried there won’t be a service at all.”

“It isn’t fair,” Icroth said. “To you. Or to Celestine. Or to Juan. Foul business, war.”

“I can’t stand it,” I said, shedding a few tears on the bar counter. “I have lived through so many God damned wars. I am so sick of them.”

“Then why do you insist on getting involved?” he asked me pointedly, leaning closer to me. “These politics you like to dabble in. They’re nothing but war through different means.”

His words cut me and I looked away. “I’ve lost faith in the Oren political system,” I said. “They killed the bill that Juan and I worked so hard on. We wanted so badly to make a real change and improve the lives of women in Oren, but they quashed my legislation without a single thought.”

“Then let them hang themselves by the very noose they tied, Tanith,” he said. “You can’t save the humans from their own mad lust for power and war.”

“I don’t know if real change even exists. You’re right about humans. They’re always the same. Always,” I muttered. “It’s still all the same people in power from hundreds of years ago. They’re worse than elves that way. They change the name but it’s the same people. Chivay is now Helvets. Carrion is now Barbanov… But it’s a coat of paint on the same people with the same beliefs. They have a democracy to make the people like me feel as though we have a say, but if we say anything His Majesty dislikes, it’s squashed.”

“All of that. The two parties. It’s controlled opposition and political theater,” Icroth replied. “It funnels new ideas into a false dichotomy controlled by the crown. In the end, everything is in service to Oren’s endless war machine - because that cycle of death is what makes men the richest and the most powerful. But as I said, they fail to see it’s a noose around their own necks.”

I pushed a hand into my hair, my shoulders shaking as I gripped my whiskey glass. “Why does that noose have to hang my friends too, though, Icroth? Juan fought so hard for my bill. We wrote it together and we were going to make a difference. Now my bill is dead. He’s dead. I – I just – I can hardly stand it.”

At that moment, someone walked into the bar. Before then, Icroth and I were alone - and I felt safe being a little vulnerable. I quickly dried my eyes and avoided looking at the newcomer. But something about the elf who walked into the bar caught my eye…

He was tall, well built. Dark skin, like most mali’ame. Black hair, perhaps a little shaggy. I knew him from somewhere, but I couldn’t quite figure out where. He took a seat at the other end of the bar and I kept stealing glances over at him. Eventually, I couldn’t resist any longer and I called out to him. “Excuse me… but you look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

The elf turned to look at me - and I saw recognition light up in his eyes as well. “Pink hair,” he said, noting my braid. “And the glasses. I would recognize you anywhere, Tanith Toov. It’s been a long time, little sheepherder.”

“Leric Tresery!” I exclaimed, shooting up out of my seat. “It’s really you!”

He grinned. And it was that same mischievous smile he had from back in the day. “In the flesh!”

Icroth and I moved chairs over to where Leric was sitting. I introduced Icroth to Leric and vice versa. My God, it’s been three hundred years since I last saw him, but he still looks the same. Still a shaggy bastard who needs a haircut. But there’s greater wisdom and maturity about him now. A certain grace. Back in the days of the Rose, he was reckless and a bit wild, needing direction. But today? Why, that’s a different story. “To think,” he said. “The last two White Roses ended up being an ’ame and a ’ker. Fate has a good sense of humor. And me – I went from crucifying elves to becoming their sworn protector.”

Leric told me all about what he had done in the centuries since I saw him last. For a while, the Treseries were a noble family in Oren. (To think, an elven family in the peerage!) But then, he went on to become a Paladin of Xan and founded his own order called the Golden Lions. He married, had a child, and his son went on to become the leader of Malinor, ushering in great reforms for the elves. “I would love for you to meet him someday, Ilir,” he said to me with a joking smile and a wink. “I think you would like him. He takes after his father.”

“We should try to get together for dinner sometime,” I suggested. “I’d love to meet your wife as well. And I could introduce you to some of my friends. We’ll make a party of it! It’ll be just like old times.”

“Now that would be a pleasure,” Leric replied, grinning. “I remember how much I loved your cooking back in the Rose. It was always something to look forward to after a long day in the field. But… enough about me, Tanith. Where did you run off to for all these years?”

I felt the good cheer go out of me. “Oh, well… I can’t claim I did anything exciting. When Mr. Toov died, I… well. I’m fine now. That’s all I can say,” I replied. I hardly wanted to rehash my years spent in misery and isolation. “I’m working as a bartender in Helena at the Dragon’s Rest. And I help the Northern Geographic Society with their museums. I’m nothing impressive like a Paladin but I get by and I’m happy.”

Leric bowed his head respectfully at the mention of my first husband. “So long as you’re fulfilled and content, that’s all that matters. Excitement is overrated. A comfortable life is a good one.”

We talked for several hours more - sharing memories of the White Rose, Ard Kerrack, Krak du Rhoswen, and our fallen friends. Icroth was quiet the entire time, just watching and sipping his tea. I tried to get him involved, but he said he was content to just listen. Eventually, though, the hour grew late and it was time for us to head home. Leric wished Icroth luck on his Paladin trials. “Serving Xan is perhaps one of the best decisions I’ve made with my life,” he said. “May it give you a similar fulfillment, Icroth.” With the promise that we’d keep in touch and have dinner together sometime, we split and went our separate ways. I made sure to hug Leric before I went, though. When the Exodus occurred, I never got the chance to say goodbye to a lot of my old friends. Leric no longer identifies with the Rose, but… even so. Hugging him felt a lot like hugging all the people I missed from so long ago.

Along the way home, I turned to Icroth. “What did you think of him?” I asked.

Icroth shrugged his shoulders. “He was fine. Friendly enough,” he commented. “Similar to most old Mali, though. Likes to talk too much about all the impressive things he’s done in the past.”

“I’m old and I’m not like that!” I protested and Icroth smirked.

“You are especially like that,” he teased me. “But you were crying earlier and you’re smiling now. So I would say it was an evening well spent.”

I pouted at him and huffed, but I still took his hand and held it all the way home.

Icroth is harsh and blunt. He doesn’t tell me the things I like to hear. He tells me the truth, even if the truth is painful. But… I think he does care about me, in his way. And I care about him too. I wonder if there could be something between us.

I don’t know, though. I had feelings for Juan and it’s going to take some time for me to get over that. I don’t know if I’m ready. And Icroth – it’s hard to tell what he feels about me. Perhaps he just thinks of me as a friend or a sister. I can’t say.

He’s good looking in the way that I like. And we get along well. But…

Well, is it wrong to want to be romanced? Just a little bit? I’m like most girls. I want to feel beautiful and special too. I want to feel desired - physically and emotionally. I know that love isn’t always fervent, passionate, and intense. Sometimes love is just a slow, comfortable, everyday sort of thing. But at least at the beginning, you want to feel some of that amorous fire. And Icroth? I don’t think he has a single romantic bone in his body. He is the least passionate man I’ve ever met. He’s so plain and direct. I’m sure if he wanted to be with me, he would have just… said so by now. I suppose that means he’s not interested.

Of course, he’s not interested. Who am I kidding? I’m not attractive. I’ve apparently become an ugly old woman without even realizing it. Every human in Helena seems to think I look like I’m over fifty. Fifty-eight! Ugh, I can’t believe Mr. Lorf said that. I feel hideous. That one dark elf flirted with me, but… looking back, I think he was probably trying to get a free drink.

I’m an elf and I look like a 58-year-old human woman… I can’t believe this! Elves aren’t supposed to age! I hate this! Leric looked exactly the same as he did three hundred years ago! But I look like I’m FIFTY? Almost SIXTY?

I need to lay off the drink, lose some weight, get better sleep, probably buy new clothes, and do something new with my hair. How am I supposed to find my Elven Prince Charming if I look like I’m fifty-eight… ugh. How horrible. I didn’t realize how much I’d let myself go…

 

Entry 46 –
1775 IST.

 

Spoiler

It’s been a long time since I’ve been in any kind of relationship. Elves live a very long time and there are ample chances to fall in love with many different people throughout the centuries. But long-term relationships have been somewhat sparse for me. I’ve only really had three. There was Mr. Toov - my longest marriage to date at forty-five years. Nearly half of his life and about a tenth of mine. And then I was married to Mr. Olora for about thirty years before he was killed. Mr. Gyffard was my shortest marriage at only five years. He died in 1617 during the war between Haense and Courland if I remember correctly. But Lord knows I’ve lived through so many wars, it’s hard to keep track now.

But the point is… very few relationships have endured for me. That’s why I’ve wanted to find love with another elf – to have something that could last, hopefully, for several centuries.

I wonder if this new relationship will be the one that sticks.

Today is a mix of good news and bad news. I woke up this morning to find an eviction notice posted on the Helena museum door. The NGS has apparently been neglecting to pay their taxes. I would pay – I have enough money from bartending to cover it, I think – but I don’t really know how. The museum’s property deed isn’t in my name either, so I don’t know if it’s legal for me to pay taxes. I’m not exactly sure what to do. I suppose I ought to consult a tax professional but I’m not sure how to get in touch with one! Taxes and property laws are beyond me. Perhaps Mr. Napier or Sir Christiansen will be able to help me if I ask them. They’re both very educated on the laws of the Empire.

Truth be told, I think I am a horrible museum curator thus far. I haven’t been able to secure many exhibits at all. And while I am writing and doing some research, I just haven’t been able to work as of lately. A million and one things keep distracting me. I can’t help crying every time I think of Juan and I think of him often.

I am trying to cheer myself up, though! I sought out Mary Lucille today. It’s been bothering me that people think I look so… old. Elves don’t age. That’s our gift from Father Malin. I don’t have wrinkles, so I’ve concluded that it must be my clothes and my hairstyle that’s making me look so ancient. I’ve always been somewhat conservative in my dress, I’ll admit, and it’s difficult to keep up with the current fashion trends. They change so swiftly from my perspective. But, well, I’ve decided I want to start looking prettier. Mary Lucille is the most fashionable person I know, so I went to her office today and threw myself on her mercy.

She said - perhaps more like shouted at the top of her lungs - “TANITH. I would be HONORED to give you a makeover!”

Mary Lucille asked me what made me suddenly decide I need a new look. She has been a dear acquaintance for many years, so I told her the truth. “There’s a man I think I like,” I said. “And I would hate it if he saw me as this ugly old woman.”

Mary Lucille leaped out of her chair and grabbed me by the shoulders. “WHO?! You must tell me, Tanith! Do I know him?! I simply have to know the name of the man who has caught THE Tanith’s attention!”

(Goodness, she is an enthusiastic and energetic woman…)

I felt my face heating up and I was glad that we dark elves don’t turn red the same way that humans do. “Oh, well…” I began, a little afraid to admit it out loud. At that point, I hadn’t told anyone about my feelings. Mary Lucille is a friend but we only talk once in a while. “He’s a dark elf like me. He’s very manly… The strong, silent type. But I don’t know if he’s interested in me. He hasn’t given any indication… I thought maybe if I looked a bit prettier, he might be a little more… well, you know, forward.”

“NAME, Tanith!” Mary Lucille demanded. “I need a name! I am ITCHING!”

I just blurted it out. “I-Icroth Vursur!” I stammered. It was the first time I ever admitted out loud that I liked him. “You wouldn’t know him… He doesn’t come around Helena often. He’s a Paladin of Xan, you see, and –”

“You MUST bring him to dinner. I insist on it!” Mary Lucille replied and her eyes glinted with a mischievous energy. “We’re going to make you STUNNING. You’re going to be fighting men off with a stick when I’m done with you! Ohoho, if this Icroth fellow doesn’t act fast, he’ll regret it!”

Mary Lucille had a full schedule today, but we made plans to meet up soon for my makeover. I have to admit I’m a little nervous. God only knows what Mary Lucille plans to do with me. I just hope I’ll still be recognizable at the end of it.

After meeting Mary Lucille, I went to go and start up a shift at the Dragon’s Rest Tavern. Who should I meet there but the exact person I had just been talking about? Icroth was sitting at one of the tables sipping tea with a stack of books he’d gathered from the library - all of them on the subject of ghost hunting. I felt my nerves spike when I saw him. I was almost tempted to hide so he didn’t see me, but Icroth noticed me almost immediately. He gestured me over to his table and bade me to sit down.

“What do you know about ghosts?” he asked me, closing one of his books.

“Oh, well, Jack mentioned them to me last time we spoke…” I said. “He said more ghost sightings are occurring lately. But I’m afraid I don’t know much.”

“Did the White Rose ever encounter them on their adventures?” Icroth pressed. “I recall you mentioned they were monster hunters.”

I shook my head. “The White Rose mostly fought Frost Witches if you’ve ever heard of them,” I replied. “The Frost Witches might have been before your time, though. They were quite the nuisance back in Asulon but I do believe they’re extinct now.”

“I’m not familiar with them, no,” Icroth replied. “Jack is gathering the Paladins to investigate the ghost of a soldier near Morsgrad. We aren’t sure if it’s hostile yet. I want to be prepared.”

“Oh, well, I remember that gold weapons tend to be effective against supernatural creatures,” I mentioned. “You’ll want something made of gold, I’m sure. Preferably enchanted.”

Icroth nodded. “Good advice. Thank you,” he replied. With that, he returned to his books.

I sat anxiously across from him, fidgeting, trying to think of something to say. “Icroth, may I ask you a strange question?” I began, nervously toying with a strand of my hair. “Do you think I look old?”

He wrinkled his nose and glanced at me like I’d said something very foolish. “Not particularly. We’re Mali. We don’t age.”

I huffed. “I know! But… my clothes and my hair. Do you think they look old?”

“You dress appropriately. And you seem to emphasize practicality over vanity,” he said. “All the women in Helena look the same to me anyway. You’re different. Perhaps that’s why they perceive you as looking old. I wouldn’t worry about the opinions of others anyway. Who are they to you? Nobody.”

“Well,” I ventured. “Maybe there’s someone I want to impress.”

“Then that is somebody, not nobody,” Icroth replied. “If there’s a particular person you want to impress, just ask them what they like and… do that, I suppose. I hardly know, Tanith. I don’t go around trying to impress anyone. Whether they’re impressed by me or not is their business.”

“So just go right up and ask? Directly? That’s not very subtle…”

“I am not subtle,” he answered. “But regardless, most people are easy to understand. I can usually read someone within a few minutes of meeting them.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “What do you read about me, then?”

Icroth paused for a moment as he lifted the teacup to his lips. “You have a heart of gold,” he said. “You’re selfless, almost to a fault. Humble. And you’re polite enough not to call people on their nonsense.”

“Is that a good thing?” I inquired skeptically.

“Politeness can get you far. At least until you get stuck behind the bar listening to someone polish their bicep the entire evening.” He cracked a small smile as he chuckled. And my, when he smiles… Oh. I really like it. His whole face seems to transform, if only for a moment. He’s normally so dour, but that smile just lights up a room. I could look at that smile all day. He set his teacup down and gave me a somewhat sly look. “So, why are you interested in my opinion on your appearance all of a sudden?”

“Oh, well…” I murmured, glancing away. “Just… out of curiosity.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you look fine as-is,” he replied, “but do whatever makes you happy.”

“Looking fine is all well and good,” I said, waving off his comments. “But do you think I look pretty?”

Icroth shrugged. “Yes, I do.”

His answer threw me off. “Really? All right.” I sighed. Normally, I would have been pleased to know he thought I was pretty. But if he truly thought I was pretty, wouldn’t he have… said something by now? Tried to pursue me? Given some indication of his interest? He was giving me a compliment, yes, but that compliment felt a bit like a punch in the gut. If he thought I was pretty but hadn’t done anything yet, then surely that meant he wasn’t interested in me romantically.

“Is that not the answer you wanted?” Icroth asked, giving me a confused frown.

“Oh, no… I’m very flattered,” I said, moving to get up from the table. “I appreciate it. I do.”

Before I could say my goodbyes and walk off, he reached out and took hold of my wrist. “It’s me,” he said, fixing me with those pale blue eyes. Those eyes that feel as though they cut right through me. “You’re trying to impress me, aren’t you?”

For the second time that day, I was very glad dark elves don’t blush. “W-why would you assume something like that?!” I stuttered out. “How rude! You’re very presumptuous! Conceited! To think that I would – ”

“Your poker face needs work,” he laughed, gesturing for me to sit back down. And I did. “Don’t worry. I’m not offended. But I already think you are very pretty, Tanith. Otherwise we wouldn’t be together.”

What?!

“You —? Me —? Together?” I stammered, my eyes going wide behind my glasses. “What do you mean, together?”

“We’re together, aren’t we? Courting?” Icroth replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We agreed that we were together two years ago.”

My face went slack. “W — What?! Two years ago! I — I most certainly did not agree to that! Us, together?! What on earth gave you that impression?!”

“I said I was tired of being lonely and I said that I would be here for you from now on,” Icroth replied steadily. “I was telling you I wanted to be with you.” He let off a short laugh. “Did you not understand? What did you think I was saying?”

“I don’t know exactly — but not that!” I shook my head rapidly. “B-but you – I thought – you – I don’t –” My words came out in a jumbled, tangled mess. “You’re awful! My goodness! Us, courting?! Together? But you didn’t – but you don’t even flirt with me – !”

“Tanith, we’ve been going on outings together regularly. Holding hands. Having long conversations, just us two.” He leaned toward me across the table. “And I will have you know, I have been flirting with you for the last two years — though it appears you haven’t noticed.”

“Well, that must mean you’re not very good at it, then! If we’ve been together for two years, then — then why haven’t you tried to kiss me?”

“I figured we were taking it slow.” Icroth covered his face with his hand. “Ha… this is on me. I thought I had made myself clear, but it seems I was not clear enough.”

“How can you spring this on me all of a sudden! After giving practically no indication!” I stuttered. “You’re not very romantic!”

“I’m not,” he chuckled again. “I’ve told you that before. You shouldn’t be surprised. But those are my feelings. You’re under no obligation to return them, but I don’t want you to be confused.”

“You — ! You already make me confused, you terrible man!” I covered my face with my hands. “After all this time and nothing, I figured you weren’t interested in me at all! I know you! You would have said something by now!”

“I did say something. I thought I made myself very clear on your birthday.”

“Well, it went right past me! I’ve spent all this time wondering and fretting over whether you liked me or not!” I let out a groan. “I thought maybe if I looked prettier, you might make a move! But all this time, you’re over here — thinking we’re already together!”

“Well, now that we’re on the same page,” he said, closing his books and putting them away in his rucksack. He reached across the table and gathered my hands in his. “I will state my feelings plainly. So that there is no more confusion. I want to court you, Tanith. Properly. If all goes well between us, I hope to marry you. I presumed you felt the same. Do you?”

“I — !” I looked down at my hands, clasped in his. Then my gaze returned to his face. He stared steadily across at me, with no sign of insincerity or falsehood on his features. “I — do. I do feel the same.”

Icroth smiled. “Then we’ll start over fresh today.” He paused to check his watch, then rose to his feet. “I need to meet with Jack in Morsgrad. But we’ll talk more once I return.”

Before he left, he stopped next to my chair. He brought a hand to my chin, tilting my head back to look him in the eye. “Beautiful,” he said simply before turning and exiting the tavern.

I had to sit there with my head down for a long time to recover from that one.

He’s awful! Just the worst! The very worst! Going all this time and saying nothing at all! Making me think he wasn’t interested! And then just – coming out and confessing it all of a sudden! Oh, I hate him! I can’t stand him! He’s terrible!

I’m probably going to marry him.

I think I’ll still let Mary Lucille make me over. She seemed very excited about it, but… oh goodness. I feel like the most beautiful woman in Helena right now. Like I’m glowing. Like I’m full of light and it’s shining out of every part of me.

I’ve always heard that girls are at their prettiest when they’re in love.

 

Entry 47 –
1775 IST.
 

Spoiler

It’s election season again in Helena. I wasn’t sure if I was going to vote this year after seeing my bill get crushed by the House of Lords. But I suppose the fight for change is a slow one. The election is being handled a bit differently this year. People are allowed to run as independents now. Every candidate is running his or her own campaign, so one needs to assess them on their merits as individuals.

The Josephite aligned candidates in Helena are Edward Napier, George Galbraith, and Viktoriya Pruvia-Albarosa. The Josephites were the ones fighting hardest for mine and Juan’s marriage bill, so I cast my vote along those lines. I know the party system has its flaws, but there is something to be said for organizing under specifically defined ideologies rather than just having a free-for-all marketplace of ideas. Icroth has criticisms of the two-party system because he doesn’t think the parties ought to be the gatekeepers of new ideas – and that ideas should be judged on their own merits rather than being immediately categorized as Red or Blue. (And I would tend to agree with him on that. People have a kneejerk reaction against an idea that doesn’t come from ‘their team’.) But I do think perhaps the party system and organized political ideology prevents cults of personality from forming. Oren’s history has often been plagued by cults of personality in my experience - with entire empires collapsing the moment their beloved figurehead dies.

My hope is that the Josephites will start including more legislation for the protection of women, children, minorities, and families in Oren. I’m no lawyer and I don’t have an exhaustive knowledge of the Oren Reformed Code, but it did seem to me like protections for some of the most vulnerable in our society were severely lacking. It disappointed me that none of the candidates really seem to be making protections for minority and vulnerable populations their priority, though. Perhaps that’s something I can talk to Mr. Napier about, since he is rather fond of certain green minority populations.

I also hope there’s a push to break from Canonist Law and more toward secular law. Not everyone in Oren is Canonist and I see no reason why I - as a secular individual - ought to be forced to adhere to the laws of a faith I do not personally follow. I used to identify as Canonist loosely but I’ve started to move away from that in recent years as I learn more about Elven faiths. Religion ought to be more a matter of personal choice than government regulation. The last time I checked, Oren was not a theocracy with the High Pontiff as its head of state.

But, ah… I suppose that’s enough of Tanith’s political diatribes for now.

Mary Lucille gave me the promised makeover today! I’m sitting here writing this in a brand-new gown, shoes, and hat! Bless the Carringtons - they are all so generous to me. I could hardly believe she commissioned a new outfit for me. It’s a deep red-wine colored garment and I think it suits my complexion very well. She also gave me a bag of cosmetics made especially for me. Typically, I don’t bother with makeup. Human cosmetics don’t really suit my skin tone, considering that most humans are pink or brown and I am grey. But – again, bless the Carringtons for their generosity – Mary Lucille had something commissioned perfectly to suit me and I could not be more grateful. She also gave me some oils and soaps to help manage my hair texture. Dark elven hair is a bit different in texture and quality from human hair and I’ve always struggled to keep my locks looking tidy. Usually, I just ended up pulling it back, braiding it, and leaving it alone. I thought curling my hair would be impossible, but Mary Lucille achieved it somehow! That miracle by itself ought to qualify her for sainthood.

I keep looking at myself in the mirror and I can hardly recognize the woman I see there. With just a change of clothes and hair, I look so much younger and fresher! And to think, Mary Lucille didn’t request a single mark in return for her services. She is a wonderful young lady and I just adore her.

I wonder if Icroth will like my new look, though. He complains that all the women of Helena look the same to him. They all wear their hair long and curled with stylish hats and high waisted dresses - that’s the fashion these days. And with my new clothes, I do look much more like a modern woman of Helena. I hope he doesn’t scoff and turn his nose up when he sees me. I think I look very pretty, even if this isn’t my typical style of dress. We’ll find out what he thinks when I see him next, I suppose. But… if Icroth really does like me as he claims, he shouldn’t be put off by a simple change of clothing. After all, I’m still the same Tanith.

To think, I’m still getting new-relationship jitters after five hundred years, three marriages, and God only knows how many flings. You’d think I’d be past all that, having lived for so long and had so many relationships. But falling in love is new and unique every single time. No two love affairs are ever the same. Am I in love with Icroth? Well, not yet. But there’s a possibility there. For many centuries now, I’ve been looking for a partnership that will last. This is my first real relationship with another elf. Mr. Olora was a wood elf and we were married for thirty years, but… well, with his orientation being what it was, our marriage was more of a friendship than a romantic partnership. We married in order to protect him from Oren’s draconian laws against homosexuality at the time. But Icroth – well, this might be different. I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high – it’s all still brand new – but it’s exciting, isn’t it?

I really do hope he thinks I’m pretty.

Speaking of love, I’ve noticed a lot of people asking me for courtship advice lately. I was bartending earlier when a young Savinian girl came up and started telling me about her love woes. We talked for a good, long while and I think I gave her some good insight. It was strange, though. I had never met this girl before in my life, yet here she was suddenly opening her heart to me without even knowing my name. I suppose I just have a trustworthy sort of face.

Wouldn’t it be funny if I started publishing a courtship advice column? I wonder if anyone would write in with their problems. That might be a fun diversion.

 

Entry 48 –
1775 IST.

 

Spoiler

I finally got the tax situation figured out, thank goodness! I have to wonder, though – who is the bookkeeper for the Northern Geographic Society? I ought to find out who it is and give them a piece of my mind! As it turns out, the NGS was three YEARS behind on their taxes for the Helena Museum. Nobody had been paying! We owed 1500 marks in back-taxes! I had enough money saved in the bank to cover the problem, but dear me. Someone needs to be paying closer attention to the finances in the NGS. You’d think a group of bookish intellectuals would be more conscientious. But oh well, the situation’s been resolved. George Galbraith helped me reverse the eviction and get the taxes paid properly, so I won’t be getting kicked out any time soon. He offered to help me pay if I couldn’t cover the cost, but I’ve been making good money bartending and saving all I can. I’ll consider the 1500 minas to be my donation to the NGS.

I spoke with Mr. Elendil and his nephew today as well. Mr. Elendil is forecasting a Josephite victory in the House of Commons. He tells me that he intends to keep pushing for the rights of women to choose their own partners, but that they’ll have to make some compromises with the House of Lords to get the bill through. Ugh. I hate that. But I suppose progress is progress, no matter how slow it might be. We elves have the virtue of patience - and Oren has already changed so much from its former state. Perhaps in another hundred years, I’ll see even greater progress toward equality for all people.

The open letter I wrote caused a great deal of discussion and drew attention to a little-known issue. I’m not certain I want to be directly involved in the political process - that is, sitting in the House of Commons and crafting legislation - but perhaps I can use what voice I have to bring attention to certain causes. Even if my agitating doesn’t get legislation passed, it’ll at least raise awareness if nothing else.

Icroth seems to think that politics are just violence in another form. And I agree with him to a degree. Poor legislation can certainly bring about as much death as a sword. But if one can mitigate the violence done in the legislative process, is it not one’s duty to do so? In the past, I failed to prevent a great deal of death and suffering. Indeed, I sat idly by while it happened. In some cases, I even condoned it. So I feel like I have to make things right where I can, if I can. Icroth tells me I am persistent. I wasn’t sure I agreed with that characterization, but… thinking more about it, he’s right. One doesn’t live to be five-hundred-and-two years old without being a little persistent.

We met up again today. He came by the Dragon’s Rest toward the end of my shift. I wasn’t expecting him! He hadn’t seen me since my makeover and his reaction was completely priceless. He stood there blinking, looking me up and down, and let out a single word - “Stunning.”

I smiled and did a little twirl for him. “You really like it?”

“I do,” he replied. And I couldn’t have been more pleased. “That reminds me, I have a gift for you.” I noticed he’d been holding a hand behind his back. With a flourish, he revealed a bouquet of deep, ruby red roses. “A vendor was selling them and they made me think of your eyes.”

That man! He goes on and on about how he isn’t romantic at all. Not a single romantic bone in his body. Yet here he is surprising me with flowers for no reason other than the color reminded him of my eyes. I teased him about it and he frowned. “I’ve done some thinking and… you’re right,” he said. “I am unromantic by nature. That’s why you ended up getting confused and thinking I didn’t like you. A woman like you deserves more effort. So this is my attempt to be better.”

Icroth walked with me back to the museum, where I put the roses in a little vase in my apartment. We decided to sit outside in the back garden for a while and chat. “I have some good news,” he said. “Jack saw fit to promote me. I’m no longer an Initiate. You’re looking at a full Paladin of Xan.” He told me that, up in Morsgrad, they encountered the ghost of a soldier from many ages ago. The soldier mistook them for reinforcements and swept them up into a strange dream-vision of the past. There, they were called upon to fight against horrendous beasts and protect a princess bearing a mysterious pendant. Their struggle was successful (mostly) and, at last, allowed the ghost to be put to rest.

 

After seeing Icroth’s valor in battle, Jack decided to promote him to a Paladin of Xan.

 

“I feel different,” Icroth said to me. “It’s difficult to describe. More attuned to Xan’s holy magic, I suppose.”

“So what now?” I asked him. “What’s the next step?”

“I don’t know,” Icroth replied. “I suppose I’ll just continue helping as needed. Something tells me that the battle we had in the dream isn’t quite finished yet.”

“But in the meantime, you’ll be visiting me and buying roses?” I teased him.

He smiled. “Most definitely.”

I proposed we find a way to celebrate his promotion - perhaps by traveling somewhere and having a vacation, just the two of us. “We keep talking about that mushroom island but we haven’t been yet,” I mentioned. “Or maybe Sutica. I’ve wanted to see what all the fuss is about over there. And I do so love the sea. I’d also like to go to Vasiland and have a little memorial on the beach for Juan too… Although that trip would be a bit less fun than the others.”

“I doubt Sutica will be fun,” Icroth grumbled. “Oren despises them. We go there and we might get caught in a riot.”
“Well, as long as I have a big, strong Paladin on my side, I ought to be fine,” I said.

By then, evening had started to fall. I saw stars twinkling in the little slice of sky above the back garden. Icroth glanced up. “Clear tonight,” he said. “Ought to be a full moon. Come.”

Icroth stood and gestured for me to follow him. I didn’t know where he was leading me at first. Imagine my surprise when he suddenly began climbing up the vines growing along the wall and pulled himself up onto the roof of the museum. I struggled a bit to follow him, especially in my long dress, but he offered a hand and helped me up.

Just like that, we found ourselves with the best view in all of Helena. To the west, we could see the beautiful white marble horse fountain, all surrounded by blooming roses. To the east, the Novellan Palace glowed with hundreds of tiny lights. And above us hung the perfect silver circle of the moon.

We sat down atop the gables and held hands as we gazed upon our glorious view of the capitol. Everything was awash with gold and silver light, with playful shadows flickering from windows and streetlamps. “It’s a pretty town, isn’t it?” I observed and Icroth nodded. “You know, I didn’t like the style of Helena at first, but I’ve become very fond of it. The more time you spend in a place, the more it grows in your heart. It’s true of people too.”

“Implying something about me, mmh?” he chuckled.

“You’re an acquired taste,” I joked. “But you didn’t like me at first either.”

“I didn’t like anybody - least of all myself - for a long time,” he replied.

“What made you change your mind about me?” I inquired.

“You’re persistent. You didn’t give up on me.”

I huffed at him. “Oh, so I’m just the thing that wouldn’t go away.” I sighed. “Well, I suppose it’s the same for me. When God keeps putting you together with the same person over and over, that probably means He’s giving you a hint. And I have been praying for a handsome Mali’ker companion for a while now.”

Icroth scoffed. “You might want to keep praying. Whatever God sent me is probably not worth worshipping.”

“My goodness, you’re so ruthless - even to yourself!” I turned to look at him. “I suppose I’ll just have to like you enough for the both of us, won’t I?”

“And there’s your persistence again,” he said with that smile of his that I like so much. “I should have expected it from the woman who badgered her husband into making her an Inquisitor. Jack is still laughing about that one, you know.”

“Oh, of course he is.”

We sat on the rooftop and talked for several hours more. About our friends, the NGS, and the Paladins. About where we planned to go and what we planned to do. We talked about possibilities for the future - marriage and children later down the road if things worked out between us. We stayed up all night talking on that rooftop - just getting to know one another better. I haven’t talked like that with anyone in years. And as the moon began to sink below the rooftops and the pink blush of dawn silhouetted the Novellan Palace, I leaned over and I kissed him.

It took him by surprise. “I haven’t been kissed since Vailor, hundreds of years ago,” he said.

“Ah, then we have a great deal of catching up to do,” I replied - and kissed him again.

Maybe I’m a bit forward. But technically, we have been courting for two years — at least according to Icroth. I find that the older I get, the less I like to waste time. We elves are blessed with near-infinite lifespans, but it’s still important to make every moment count. I’d like to make memories I can look back on when I’m six hundred, seven hundred, eight hundred years old. And maybe, if I’m lucky and things work out, Icroth will be there to remember them with me.

 

Entry 49 –
1775 IST.

 

Spoiler

Dear God, someone please save Edward Napier from himself. I fear that man’s gone completely mad.

Today, they announced the election results for the House of Commons. It’s a fairly even spread between Josephites, Everardines, and Independents. All of my candidates got elected - Jonah Elendil, George Galbraith, and Edward Napier. My friend Sir Christiansen also claimed one of the seats. It’s a good balance, I think, though I wish there were more non-human representatives in the House. A dwarf man ran for election, but he sadly only got two percent of the vote - not enough to secure a seat. I have to admit, the electoral process still leaves me a bit cold, though. I’m still disappointed that the House of Commons passed my bill, only for the House of Lords to crush it. The whole affair somewhat soured my enthusiasm for Orenian politics. But I’ll still do my civic duty and vote regardless. I am considering doing some activism on my own and raising awareness about certain issues I personally care about. I’ve adopted a few pet causes that I’m thinking of writing about.

But anyway… Edward came into the Dragon’s Rest today and I wanted to congratulate him on his victory - as well as apologize for my earlier comments about his orcish fiancée. I had been thinking about it and, well, I have no right to judge or criticize. Heaven knows my past marriages have been… somewhat unconventional, to say the least. Mr. Toov and I were probably the most bizarre-looking couple in the First Empire - an eight-foot-tall half-giant with his petite, pink-haired, dark elf wife. As Edward sat down for his usual tea, I asked him if we might chat a moment. I led him to a quiet table in the corner and we sat down to talk.

“Edward, I feel I owe you an apology,” I said, lowering my voice. “About my comments the last time I met, regarding your fiancée. I realized it was rather small-minded of me to say such things.”

Edward gave a singular nod and a smile. “Thank you, Tanith. Gragmar, though Orcish - has been nothing but a dear and gentle companion, despite a few mishaps.”

That word caught my attention immediately. “Mishaps?” I inquired, lifting an eyebrow.

Edward tried to dismiss my concerns with a wave of the hand. “Oh, just a sprained wrist and a broken shoulder.”

I felt my eyes nearly pop out of my head. “She did what?!” And I had to fight to control the volume of my voice. “She broke your WHAT?!”

Edward tried to calm me down. “It’s a long story, but – trust me, it was purely accidental. I’ll sum it up this way. Sneaking up on your two-hundred-and-seventy-pound orcish fiancée is a very good way to get two-hundred-seventy-pounds of surprise force directed at you.”

I sat there completely speechless, gawking at him as I opened and closed my mouth. “E-Edward!” I stuttered out at last. “I don’t – it doesn’t matter how surprised she is! She shouldn’t ever hurt you!”

“It was really my fault. I shouldn’t have snuck up on her,” he deflected. “You know how orcs are. A somewhat bellicose people!”

“L-Listen… Edward…” I ventured cautiously, not wanting to put him on the defensive. “I know what it’s like to love someone in a different, shall we say, height and weight class from you. But the thing about Mr. Toov was…”

“Oh, right, I read somewhere that he was a very large man,” Edward said. “They called him a half-giant if I recall correctly?”

“Yes, he was about eight feet tall,” I said. “But…”

“My goodness, eight feet!” Edward exclaimed. “Gragmar is a little under seven.”

“Edward, that’s not the point,” I continued, trying to keep him on topic. “The thing about Mr. Toov is that he treated me with exceeding gentleness. He was very aware of his strength.”

“So is Gragmar!” Edward protested.

“Edward! She broke your…!” I exclaimed. “Baldir never broke ANYTHING of mine! He was as gentle as a lamb when it came to me! He had a very even temperament - not at all a violent man. Not unless it was necessary, that is.”

“Well,” Edward huffed. “He was a White Rose. But that’s neither here nor there. Tanith, I promise you. Gragmar is as sweet as a peach. She’s very tender and careful with me. And she’s been steadfastly apologetic when she hurts me accidentally. She’s just not used to humans, you see. Our relative fragility compared to her species. There’s a vast number of cultural differences, as I’m sure you understand…”

Dear Lord. That orc woman is going to kill him.

I’m accepting of unconventional relationships and love affairs. Certainly, it’s possible to find love anywhere - even in unexpected places. I’m a dark elf and I found love in the Order of the White Rose, of all places. I’ll go on the record and say I don’t think miscegenation ought to be a crime. I’ve always personally preferred human men to elf men. Icroth is the first elf man I’ve ever been attracted to. It’s certainly possible that good-hearted, gentle, sweet-natured orcs - orcs worth loving - exist out there. But this ‘Gragmar’ does not sound like one of them! Not if she’s already breaking Edward’s bones!

I didn’t press the issue with Edward, but… I feel like I ought to keep an eye on him. I think the poor man’s bitten off more than he can chew here. Orcs and humans are simply too different culturally and physically to have a functional relationship. I was able to marry Mr. Toov because, in spite of his size, he was culturally a human. Orcs are far more vicious than humans. Edward’s orc fiancée is already being violent toward him - and he is much more fragile than a male orc.

If I notice anything unusual, like Edward bruised or limping, I am going to alert the ISA right away.

 

Entry 50 –
1775 IST.

 

Spoiler

When I served in the White Rose, my life had a quality of regularity and rigidity about it. I knew exactly who I was and what I was supposed to do, no tricky questions or uncertainties. Every morning, I woke up before dawn to get breakfast on the table. After that, I washed dishes, I mended and laundered clothes, I tended to my garden, I made lunch, I swept and mopped, I fed my animals, I got dinner ready, and then I had a precious few hours for myself and my husband before bed. Simple, steady. Work kept my mind busy so it didn’t have time to wander. I had something priceless and enviable - a safe place and a sense of belonging in a chaotic, bloody, violent world. It didn’t matter at what cost.

When I lost the White Rose, I became unmoored, like a boat in the harbor suddenly pushed out to sea and carried away by the currents. Questions I never thought about suddenly began popping up in my head. Where do I go? What do I do? How will I make a living? Where do I belong? Do I belong anywhere? Is there a place for me in Oren? Is there a place for me somewhere out in the world?

And those questions have stuck with me ever since. I’m still looking for the right answers.

It’s a funny feeling. I went through life having all the solutions right in front of me, living each day practically unthinking. I wasn’t at all prepared to have the rug yanked out from underneath me. I never considered a life without the White Rose. In the back of my mind, perhaps, I knew that it couldn’t exist forever - but I had other things to worry about then. I could think about the laundry, the cooking, the garden - the endless list of chores I had to do. I could think about my husband and his keep. I had my moments of sadness, anguish, uncertainty, fear. But I could always put them away inside little bottles inside my mind. Put them away in little coffins under the rose bush. The busier I kept my hands, the less I had to think.

These days, I feel as though all I do is think.

Sir Christiansen dropped by the Dragon’s Rest during my shift earlier today. He and I hadn’t really talked since he came to give me the news about Juan. “In a few hours, I’m leaving to lead a final push against the Scyflings,” he said to me as he ordered a glass of water. “We’ve got the upper hand in the war, but we can’t let ourselves get complacent. I wanted to make sure I said goodbye before I left.”

“Surely not a permanent goodbye?” I asked him with a note of concern.

“Well, once the war is over and my term in the Commons is complete,” he said, “I intend to go home. Real home. A place called Kaldin far across the seas.”

I asked him why he intended to leave Oren. The news shocked me since Sir Christiansen is a very eminent figure in Helena and the Empire at large. Not to mention he’s got wife and children to think of. Sir Christiansen frowned a moment, contemplating the glass of water I had given him.

“There are parts of my life I can’t remember,” he admitted to me. “Most everything before age nineteen. That’s the age I arrived in Oren. Part of the reason I want to go back home is to try and find out what happened. What it’s like there.”

“If it makes you feel better,” I said, “I don’t rightly know where I’m from either. From Malinor, I suppose. I have very faint memories of back then. But I hardly recall the faces of my parents. In fact, a dark elf came in a few weeks ago and told me I couldn’t possibly be full Mali’ker because of my hair. He said I had to be something else.”

“What else could you possibly be?” Sir Christiansen asked, glancing me up and down. “You look like a dark elf to me, for what it’s worth.”

“I have no idea,” I said. “Everyone has their little mysteries.”

“Suppose we’re all just trying to find our place in the world. For all I know, I could be the long lost king in exile of some foreign kingdom,” Sir Christiansen replied, finishing his water. “Either way, I need to make my way over to the Novellan Palace. That’s where we’re convening to march on the Scyflings. Wish me luck, Tanith!”

I bid him good luck and goodbye. The bar was empty when he headed out, so I closed up for the evening. On the way home, I dropped by the bank and paid taxes on the museum. My bank account has been looking a bit peaked lately. A good amount of my savings have gone toward paying the back-taxes on the museum, but it’s for a good cause and I wasn’t really using the money anyway, so I don’t mind.

I walked past the Novellan Palace on the way between the bank and home. The gate stood open today - easy access for the ISA who were readying for battle. I know I shouldn’t have trespassed but I found myself overcome by a strong desire to go and look in the gardens. So I slipped in.

From the entrance, I hooked a left and walked down the pathways to the side garden - past the statues of the Carrion Emperors, the House of Lords, and the Archchancellor’s office. Just like that, I found myself standing in front of two very familiar faces.

Peter and Robert.

I don’t like the statue of Peter. They couldn’t find a decent likeness of him - so they gave him the “Olivier de Savoie” treatment as the Archchancellor called it. In other words, they put a faceless great helm over his head. I simply detest it. I could describe what Peter looked like for them if they asked me, I’m sure. Tawny hair, blue eyes. But ah, Robert… his bust is a wonderful likeness. Looking at it, I feel almost as though I’m seeing him again hundreds of years after his death. From the moment he was born, Robert was like Thomas in miniature. The resemblance between the two of them was always startling. If you put a young Thomas Chivay next to Robert, they might even look like twins. So seeing Robert is also a lot like seeing Thomas again.

For several moments, I studied the statues of my two old friends. As I looked, a strange melancholy came over me. Perhaps it sounds a bit mad, but - on a whim - I started talking to them.

“It’s certainly been a while, you two…” I said - not loud enough for anyone to really hear me. “Do either of you remember me?”

Of course, they didn’t answer. They’re just statues. But all the thoughts that have been bothering me lately seemed to pour out as I talked to them. “You know,” I said to the silent, stone busts, “it’s funny, but… I can’t remember if I got married at Rivia or Krak du Rhoswen. I can’t remember what year it was or what flowers I wore or what my dress looked like. My own wedding. Can you believe that?”

I paused as though I was waiting for them to respond, even though I knew they wouldn’t. I searched their faces as if somehow hoping one of them might chime in with a memory I was missing.

“Huge parts of me are just gone now,” I said. “Sometimes I wonder if I was ever really part of the White Rose at all. Or if I imagined it. You know, I could just be lying to everyone. Who would possibly know what was real and what wasn’t? I don’t even know what is real and what I imagined anymore.”

I extended a hand out toward Peter’s face. “Do you remember me?” I asked again. And got no response.

At that point, though, I heard people approaching through the garden. I didn’t want to get caught trespassing, so I swiftly made my way back to the front gate.

I’ve been checking out a lot of books from the library lately about Aegis, Asulon, the Early Empire. I have them sitting in stacks all around my apartment. There are so many things that I don’t remember - so many things that I was part of and yet not. I’ve been reading through Thomas’s memoir, for example. And he said that Toov brought me into the White Rose when I could have sworn that it was Velwyn Ashford.

It was Velwyn, wasn’t it?

I have the clearest memory of sitting down in his office for the first time. When I mentioned I was a housekeeper for hire, he ran a finger over his dusty desk and said the fort could use a woman’s touch.

It’s so clear. It’s so clear, but… is it real? Did I just imagine it? How many of my memories have I fabricated?

I think I wore pink flowers on the day of my wedding. Forget-me-nots, all braided through my hair. Or perhaps they were red.

The longer I live, the more questions I have, the more mysteries I collect, the more imagination and memory seem to intertwine. I envy young Tanith for her certainty. For her ability to live life unthinking. She was Tanith Toov, wife of Baldir Toov. She was a housekeeper. She was a good elf who knew her place and minded her business and did her work. She might have felt sad or lonely or scared from time to time, but those feelings never lingered. She was too busy to think or to feel.

I’m here hundreds of years in the future trying to recall what it was like to be her. Trying and failing. Searching for my place and not finding it anywhere. Trying to understand myself, where I come from, what I’m meant to do – and struggling when I used to be so, so sure of it all.

I was a wife. I cooked. I did the dishes and laundry. I tended to the garden. I took care of my animals. I served the White Rose and never questioned what it meant to live as an elf in Oren.

But that was then.

And this is now.

 

Entry 51 –
1775 IST.

 

Spoiler

I mentioned in my last entry that my funds were getting thin. Well, seems like I don’t have to worry about that anymore! In my hands, I hold a banknote for ten thousand Imperial marks. Juan Lyons left this money to me in his will. I’m not sure why. I felt strange accepting it from Celestine earlier today. For some reason, he left Celestine and me the exact same amount - his life savings split equally between the two of us.

Celestine returned from her sabbatical today and I was glad to see her. She looked much refreshed from her time abroad. She dropped by the Dragon’s Rest today while I was sitting at the bar with Edward Napier, discussing proposed amendments to the citizenship laws. Celestine asked if she could meet with me when my shift was over. We made plans to meet at the museum. So I finished up my shift and my chat with Edward, then headed for the museum. (He seems exhausted – he was adding heaps of sugar to his tea trying to keep himself awake and kept nearly drifting off during our conversation. I wonder why he’s not sleeping well?)

I found Celestine at the museum, unpacking boxes of books and items. “Tanith, dear,” she said to me with a concerned furrow of the brow. “I couldn’t help but notice the eviction letter on the door outside on the door… Did I forget to pay taxes before I left?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” I said. “I had a little saved up from bartending, so I was able to cover it.”

Celestine’s eyes widened. “You paid our taxes with your own money?” She whipped around to face me. “Tanith! I am so sorry for putting you in that position! I’ll compensate you for your troubles, I promise.”

I waved off her concerns with a smile. “Oh goodness, no,” I laughed. “Please consider it my donation to the NGS. It doesn’t bother me one bit. The money was just sitting in my bank account anyway. I’m pleased to help a good cause.”

“Even so, I’m terribly sorry. In the aftermath of Juan’s death, I… suppose I forgot to attend to some of my affairs here before I left on sabbatical,” she said. “You’ll have to forgive me for that.”

At the mention of Juan, I saw her face fall. Although she was happy and smiling up until this point, I could see easily now how much the death still affected her. I put a hand on her shoulder and drew her at once into a hug. “You don’t have to apologize for a single thing,” I said. “I’m so happy to see you smiling again. I was worried about you, you know.”

Celestine seemed taken aback by my hug, but she nodded. “I… really am doing better,” she said. “I honestly think I am.”

“I know,” I replied. “But remember you don’t have to force it. And it’s perfectly all right if you’re still a bit out of sorts. I know Juan would have wanted me to look after you. So I don’t mind paying the taxes.”

“Ah, speaking of,” Celestine said, pulling away from me. “He left you something in his will, dearie. We’ll need to head by the bank later to fetch it.”

“What, money?” I said, lifting an eyebrow. “He left me money?”

Celestine flashed a mischievous grin and leaned in, lowering her voice. “Ten thousand marks.”

I was so stunned, I hardly knew what to say. “Ten… thousand what?” I stuttered. “That’s – what? My God! That’s – that’s so much! What would I even spend it on? I’ve never had that much money before in my entire life!”

“He left me the same amount,” Celestine replied. “Plus an additional ten for the NGS. And I intend to put it to use getting this museum up and running at last! Mark my words, this place will be open within the next Saint’s Week. Or… maybe two Saint’s Weeks.”

We went upstairs to the meeting room to discuss opening plans. I hated to admit it to Celestine, but I neglected work during the time that she was gone. I should have used that time for research and writing, but I couldn’t help feeling weighed down by grief at the loss of Juan. Celestine, though, bless her, forgave me immediately. “It’s difficult getting a museum operational,” she said. “The research and writing is no small feat! You’re doing fine. I wasn’t here to give you guidance, after all. I can’t expect you to do the whole thing by yourself.”

“Ah, it’s true that you’re an old hand at this by now,” I replied. “I’ll trust in you, then.”

We discussed what was still needed for the museum opening. “People are all whipped up in a patriotic fervor thanks to the Emperor declaring war on Sutica,” Celestine said. “We can use that to our favor. Patriotic people love history.” (It seems like Icroth and I won’t be visiting like we planned any time soon. Oh well. I’ll have to go see the beach some other time.)

Somehow or another, the conversation got onto politics - and then onto religion, family, travel, and too many other subjects to name. Celestine and I ended up talking for much longer than I expected, late into the evening. She told me a secret that I don’t want to write down for fear that someone might read my diary someday. It’s nothing illegal or scandalous, but it’s a personal and private matter that really isn’t for me to commentate on. But I was so flattered that she confided in me. Celestine really is such a lovely lady and I want very much to become a better friend to her.

Toward the end of the evening, she asked me a question. “Tanith,” she began hesitatingly. “I know you and Juan used to go out on trips together. He and I often went out exploring as well. It was such great fun… and I miss it, quite frankly. Would you be up for joining me on an adventure or two sometime?”

I was so surprised and delighted that she asked me. “Why, I would be honored!” I said. “There are so many places I’ve been meaning to go, but it’s no fun by myself. Like Fenn and Haelun’or and Sutica. I’ve spent so much of my life in Oren. And while I love Oren and Oren is my home, there is a whole wide world out there. I’ve recently been spending more time in Siramenor, for example…”

“Siramenor? I don’t think I’ve been there,” Celestine replied. “Wood elf country?”

To think, there’s a place that I’ve been that Celestine hasn’t! We made plans to go and visit Siramenor together. I told her I’d be glad to show her around. I mentioned to her that I’ve been wanting to get in touch with my elven heritage - to better understand where I come from and my place in the world. “I warn you, though,” I said. “The wood elves aren’t particularly fond of clothing.” And that made her laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry, dearie. I’ve been doing studies on the orcs of Krugmar lately and, trust me, they’re no fans of clothing either. You know, if you really want to understand elven culture better,” Celestine suggested, “you could try to take my approach toward the examination of another culture. When I draft an ethnography, I do my best to socialize with the people about which I am writing the best that I possibly can. If I can, I try live among them and observe what their everyday life is like!”

“Oh dear, I’m not sure I can do that,” I replied. “They’re… very different from Oren.”

“It might take you out of your comfort zone,” Celestine replied. “But you’d come away with a much fuller understanding of the people you’re trying to learn about.”

“Perhaps you’ve got a point,” I conceded. “But I think I’ll stick to just brief visits for now.”

We talked about visiting the other elven cities as well. Celestine even said she could get me into Haelun’or - which is something I never thought would happen in a thousand years. A dark elf in the Silver City? I suppose anything is possible in this day and age.

After that, we dropped by the bank to pick up the minas Juan left me in his will. I’m still thinking about what I might like to do with them. Maybe I’ll do as Celestine suggests and use the funds to live abroad for a year or two. Or perhaps I’ll do what Juan and I always said we’d do - open our tavern, the Cook & the Cartographer. I don’t know the first thing about running a business, though. Property in Helena probably costs an arm and a leg too…

 

But we’ll see, won’t we? No harm in asking around.

 

Entry 52 –
1775 IST.

 

Spoiler

Oh, I’m so excited! Mary Lucille is getting married to Joseph de Selm and she sent me a personal invitation! It’s so pretty, on such nice stationary. I can’t stop looking at it. (Can’t imagine how much a printing job like this must have cost, though…) I pinned it to the wall in my apartment just so that I can keep looking at it and enjoying it. Is that strange? Icroth said it was an odd thing to do, but what can I say? I like pretty things. Not to mention, this is the first invitation to such an event I’ve ever received. It’s very flattering.

Icroth’s been staying at the museum with me again lately, sleeping in the back garden. When it rains, he comes inside and sets up his bedroll in the little hallway outside my apartment. In the mornings, we drink coffee together and talk of things - just anything and everything. There’s something very comfortable about it. I could see myself doing this for years. I invited him to come with me as my date to the wedding, but he seemed a bit less than enthused by the prospect. Icroth is still wary around humans, I’ve noticed. As if he keeps waiting for them to lash out and treat him badly. I don’t blame him for feeling that way. You’ll probably find that attitude among a lot of older elves. But I think the wedding might be a nice chance to introduce him to Helene society and perhaps even make a friend or two. I’ve well-loved the Carringtons since moving to Helena and I’m sure Icroth would love them too.

I checked the dates in my diary – did I really move here ten years ago? It’s 1775 as of this writing. Mr. Napier wrote me that fateful letter in 1765 and I came to Helena shortly after. I can hardly believe so much time has passed so quickly. But then again, it feels as though time always moves fast for me.

A young lady came into the Dragon’s Rest earlier today and was asking me questions about life in Helena. She was considering a move from Kaedrin to the capital. I almost said, “Oh, I hardly know anything! I’m new in town myself,” but then I realized just how long I’ve been here. It feels as though I blinked and an entire decade passed.

I asked the lady – her name was Ryuu, a Farfolk name, though she claimed to be Adunian – why she was considering a move from Kaedrin. Owynsburg and Helena couldn’t be more different as far as cities go.

 

Owynsburg is a quiet country town surrounded by beautiful scenery - and in Helena, the buildings are so tall you can’t see the sky sometimes. Not to mention the constant crush of people everywhere. “The war, sadly,” she said in reply to my question. “Someone rode into Owynsburg on horseback and started shooting people with a crossbow. We all had to flee for our lives!”

“Someone from Sutica?” I asked. “I’m surprised hostilities are starting so soon… and as far north as Kaedrin too! How horrible!”

“I’m not sure who it was,” Ryuu replied. “All I knew is that I had to get out of there!”

“Thank goodness you weren’t harmed,” I said as I poured her a cup of tea. “Well, I can assure you that Helena is very safe. I’ve lived here a good while now and I’ve never had the slightest bit of trouble.”

“That’s such a relief to hear,” Ryuu said to me.

She took a sip of her tea and regarded me strangely. “Hm. May I ask… are you an elf?”

I blinked, not expecting such a strange question. In fact, it made me laugh. “Is it not obvious…?” I replied, twirling a strand of my hair. A high elf or a wood elf with clipped ears might pass for a human, but surely not a dark elf like me.

“It’s just – your ears. And the way you dress. It’s not like any elf I’ve ever met,” she said. “You dress like a human - and you don’t use any elven words when you speak. I didn’t want to be rude by assuming.”

Her statement struck me in a very odd way. I have been sincerely endeavoring to learn more about my people - about elven culture in general. But I suppose when you get down to it, I still don’t look or act like an elf at all. Whenever I visit Siramenor or other elven cities, I feel awfully out of place. My clothes are different. My speech is different. Even the way I move and act is different from them. I am never certain how to conduct myself around other elves. The culture of Oren is all over me and I can’t extricate myself from it.

A few days ago, Mr. Napier and I were chatting and he mentioned the possibility that someone might be able to reconstruct my ears. Or, failing that, craft some prosthetics. I have been thinking about that conversation a lot lately. My ears are so ugly and I’ve always been ashamed of how mutilated they look. I wonder if getting my ears back would help me feel more like an elf again.

 

Entry 53 –
1777 IST.

 

Spoiler

After my conversation with that young Adunian lady, Ryuu, I decided I would try to visit Siramenor again and see if I could meet with one of the Green Priests. The first time I visited Siramenor, I met with a priest by the name of Coyote - or Laetranis, as it’s translated in Elvish. He told me that the priests would be happy to educate me on Elven faith anytime I liked. They often hosted elves like me, raised in Oren, who came seeking information on their culture. And I must say, I was very intrigued and eager to learn.

The more time I spend in Helena, the more I feel Canonism isn’t for me. Sadly, I’ve yet to find a good alternative. I understand that the Mali’ker of Renalia engage in ancestor worship, but… well, I’ll be blunt. Names like Khel Oussana don’t mean anything to me. Perhaps if I understood more about the history, they would feel more significant, but I also don’t see the point in worshipping ancestors. I personally knew many of the Saints and Prophets named by the Canonist Church. Some of them were even my friends. They weren’t Gods, but rather deeply flawed men and women who, in their short time on this earth, managed to achieve something great. They should be respected, perhaps, but not treated as divine.

Lanqui mentioned ‘tayna’ to me many years ago when I first came to Helena, but… he up and disappeared before I could get a full understanding of what ‘tayna’ meant. I hoped that the Green Priests might be able to help me grasp it better.

Unfortunately, on all my subsequent visits to Siramenor, I hadn’t run into any of the Green Priests. I met Saria on my second visit with Icroth and she was most helpful, but my conversation with her kept getting interrupted by a rude interloper. The third time I visited, I met Leric again and that was wonderful on its own… but it brought me no closer to understanding what I wanted to learn. I hoped the fourth time would be the charm - and I’m happy to write that it was!

I woke up earlier in the morning and packed myself a picnic. Before I left, I made sure to stow my valuables safely at home. They say bandits are stalking the roads these days and it’s dangerous to travel - but surely no bandit would care to bother a single dark elf with no money. Thankfully, I encountered no brigands along the roads and my trip was wholly peaceful.

When I arrived in Siramenor, I was surprised to find it so busy! Perhaps they were having some sort of party or event today. Lucky for me, I noticed a familiar face in the crowd - Saria, with her striking red hair and beautiful teal eyes. I raised my hand and called out to her in an attempt to garner her attention. “Miss Saria! I was looking for you!” I said. “Do you remember me?”

“Tanith, yes. Looking for me?” she repeated as she approached me from across the clearing. “I don’t like the idea of anybody from the Empire looking for me.”

I think it was meant to be a joke, but her comment struck me like a slap to the face. I looked down at my Imperial-style clothes and remembered how out of place I looked and felt among the elves of Siramenor. How, in spite of my grey skin and pink hair and red eyes, I’ve never felt like an elf once in my life. “I was just hoping to talk with you again, that’s all,” I said, “since our last conversation kept getting interrupted by that rude man. But if you’re busy, I’ll go.”

“Oh, no! Not busy at all!” Saria replied. “It’s a bit noisy here in the square, though. And the tavern is more crowded than usual. Shall we go to the beach?”

I think Siramenor has some of the most beautiful beaches in all of Arcas, so I was glad to go with her. As we made our way down to the water, we ran into Laetranis - or Coyote - and a dark-skinned elf who I, at first, mistook for Leric Tresery. Tresery blood apparently runs quite strong, though, for I later learned that it was actually his son, Tristin. My, the two of them look just alike. They could be twins, in fact.

I introduced myself to Tristin as a friend of his father’s. “Ah… Rose woman,” he said, his face lighting up with recognition. “My father spoke often of you.” He had some business to attend to, so we couldn’t speak for long, but it was a pleasure to meet him at last. He is apparently quite famous if what I’m told is correct - Tristin Tresery, the so-called true King of the Elves. He united the divergent elven states and cultures under a single banner - becoming the first elven king since Malin. He’s rather like Exalted Godfrey in that way.

What a strange twist of fate - that someone so grand and important to the elves would spring from the loins of a White Rose.

After Tristin left us, Coyote offered to give me a sermon on the Wild Faith - called Elnarnsae’ame in the Elven tongue. We retired to a beautiful, green grove situated within a cave. A small waterfall spilled through the mouth of the cave and pooled in a clear spring at the bottom. Coyote sat cross-legged at the water’s edge and packed tobacco into his ornately carved ivory pipe. “What questions did you have for us, then?” he asked me as I sat down across from him.

“Goodness, where to begin,” I said, hesitating. “Do you know anything about ‘tayna’?”

Coyote lit his pipe and lifted it to his lips. “It means ‘spirit’ in the old tongue, I believe it is what the elves of Aldemar call their Malinist faith. The elves of Aldemar follow an ancient King who lives no longer, but our people follow the wild gods, who are more ancient and primal than any Prince or King. The mali’ame way of life revolves at its core around one simple precept: living in harmony with the world around us. It is not kings or princes, power, or imperialism that drives us – only our relationship with the wild, on both a personal and a community level. That is why while other elves worship the memory of venerated, but long-dead leaders, like Larihei and even Malin, we Irrinite mali’ame maintain our relationship with the spirits of nature who embody the trees, rivers, the world they walked among. We have our heroes, ti. Our named ancestors. But no one is more important to us than nature itself. How do you think we maintain that harmony with it, Tanith?”

“Well, your village has such beautiful trees and gardens,” I said. “By cultivating and maintaining nature, you keep the harmony?”

“You’re swimming in the right river,” Coyote replied. (What a charming turn of phrase!) “But it goes beyond that. It is every aspect of our day to day lives. How we weave our clothes, how we build our homes, how we obtain our food. And how we treat one another. Many of the things you Imperials take for granted come from the flattening of wild lands. Your clothing, flax or wool, comes from lands paved for pastures or farms. We weave our clothing from barkcloth, the silk of wild worms, the pelts of animals, and so forth. We take what we need and nothing more from the wilds without warping it to suit our selfish desires.”

I thought of Helena and how it sits atop a lake. Mr. Napier has called it a marvel of human ingenuity and engineering, but I couldn’t help but imagine how extensively the construction process must have damaged the natural shorelines, flora, and fauna of the lake. Not to mention the great amount of waste Helena must dump into the waters surrounding it on a regular basis. “I suppose that’s true…” I said. “I imagine it took a great deal of finagling to get Helena to sit atop a lake…”

“We were more practical and built our village on the coast,” Coyote said, grinning. “The natural shape of the land guides our creations. This land is the gift that Cerridwen and Cernunnos created hand-in-hand. It is not ours to distort on a whim.”

“Cerridwen and Cernunnos,” I repeated. “I’ve heard those names before.”

“They are our two main Gods, though they have many faces,” Coyote said as he breathed in the smoke of his pipe. “They exist in eternal balance, maintaining the harmony that is the natural world. Cernunnos, known also as the Father or the Horned Lord, is the primal side of nature. He is the hunt, chaos, blood, and strength. Cerridwen is the Mother and she is the gentle, growing and nurturing side of nature. They are the Circle of Life. The Mother is new life and growth, while the Father is the hunt, the harvest, decay, blood, and death. Nature’s beauty and nature’s power embodied in the two. But we do not see our Father as cruel or wicked. That is a gross misinterpretation. When lightning strikes the woods and a fire rages across the countryside, it may remove the old dead growth and make room for the new. The Father cannot exist without the Mother and vice versa. They are a union for a reason. Life and Death in our faith are connected as lovers are. And on that note, let me teach you about the Mani.”

He rose from his seat and led us out of the cave onto the coast once more, where the wood elves had erected a great number of wood-carved statues in the form of animals. Coyote gestured to the artworks with a sweep of his arm. “The Mani are the children of the Mother and the Father, Tanith. Each one is the immortal spirit guardian of a species. Each one is ancient and powerful. Cernunnos and Cerridwen are intangible in nature, the unspoken, primal energy that drives the life and death of all living things. The Mani, however, are more… tangible. They don’t exactly show up commonly, but they can be summoned, spoken to, communicated with. Ancient spirits, ti, but more grounded in our world.”

“And you say they take the form of animals?” I inquired.

“Ti, one for each species. There are many thousands of them,” Coyote explained. “But there are a few to whom we assign the greatest importance. Bolomormaa, the bear mother. Hamatsa, the Dolphin Prince. Nemglan, the Thunderbird, and Amaethon, the Stag Lord. But there are many more and we often devote ourselves to them both on a tribal and personal level. In fact, most of the markings you see on our bodies were styled to honor the Mani. The reason we mali’ame wear less clothing than other people is not that we are of… loose morals, as your valah might say. It is because our tattoos carry a sacred cultural purpose. They tell each other what tribes we belong to. Who we are, and what our role in society is.”

“Oh, I never thought you were of loose morals!” I said, distressed that he might think such a thing.

“It’s… a little shocking, coming from the Empire where we honestly can’t wear enough clothing, but it doesn’t bother me. The body is a beautiful creation. And your tattoos are splendid to be sure - works of art. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve been admiring them.”

He flashed a rather boyish grin in my direction. “I’m flattered to have the attention of a graceful being like yourself, Tanith,” he said - and I might have blushed if it were possible for my people with our grey skin. “But yes, as a part of our harmony with nature, we often model ourselves upon the Mani. Saria was a Druid of the Seal. As for myself, I am sure you can guess the Mani whom I have taken to emulating.”

“Seals are amazing animals,” Saria remarked. “They’re so free. So nomadic, but also true to their pods. They know their family and their home, no matter how far they might wander.”

“And my relationship with the coyote is long and complicated,” Coyote added. “When I was an infant I was visited by Him. My elders saw it as an omen and named me Laetranis in his honor. Laetranis is the vision bringer. He is both a provider of spiritual enlightenment as well as a trickster and an instrument of cruel jokes. A double-edged blade, to be sure. Different vocations throughout our tribe associate themselves with different Mani - whatever best fits their way of life. A warrior will follow the mighty wolf Morea and the indomitable boar Moccus. For the wolf and boar are fierce and cunning, just like the warrior must be. Artists, poets, and singers tend to follow the Hummingbird and Raven, for one embodies color and vibrancy and the other cunning and sharpness of the mind. Our healers, if not worshipping Cerridwen herself, will often devote themselves to Hamatsa the Dolphin, as he is the prince of the waters. Water is our sacred essence of life. So, in these ways, we not only stay close to our gods and our traditions but also serve our tribe.”

Coyote is mesmerizing as he talks and I found myself transfixed by his descriptions of the Gods. I have always loved animals - but I never saw them as anything other than mere beasts. Certainly, animals could have their own funny and dear personalities and traits. But in the end, as much as I might have loved my chickens and lambs, they were for our slaughter and use. Not meant to be revered as equals.

“Men think they exist at a level above the natural world,” Coyote concluded. “But wood elves know otherwise.”

“Our people, the ‘ker, have a few different symbols we revere,” Saria added. “But I can teach you about them later. It’s getting late and I suspect you don’t want to be on a dark road with bandits lurking about.”

I looked up at the sky and noticed how far the sun had sunk. It rested on the horizon like the yellow of an egg. “Oh, you’re right,” I said. I had been so transfixed by Coyote’s preaching that I lost track of time. I gathered up my picnic basket and gave the two of them my gratitude. “This has opened my mind a great deal,” I said. “Thank you both, sincerely.”

“I’ll teach you about mali’ker culture and old Ker’nor next time we meet!” Saria said to me. “Just write to me anytime you’d like to talk.”

It seems like I’ve made a friend — or maybe two — in Siramenor! Coyote’s preaching gave me a great deal to think about.

I have always well-loved nature, but… perhaps only in its more domesticated forms. When I served the White Rose, I tended the vegetable gardens and raised the livestock. My favorite place to be was among the swaying, golden fields of wheat… or throwing corn to my lively gaggle of chickens. I remember how my heart would overflow in lambing season when the sheep gave birth to their young. The delicate little bleats of the lambs in the pastures, staying close at the sides of their dams - it was music to my ears.

When I married Mr. Olora, my second husband, we would turn the fields together - feeling the wet earth and wriggling worms between our fingers. We would smell the rain as it glazed the furrows. Our hands would strain as they pulled hearty roots from the earth and cut the twirling vines, as they plucked fat and juicy apples from the boughs of the orchard.

Those days were happiness and serenity for me. It’s something I dearly miss in Helena, where there is so little green. But Juan - bless him - led me to some wild and beautiful places out in Arcas, including Siramenor. He helped remind me how much I loved nature.

Last time I met Coyote, he said my hair was the color of cherry blossoms - the symbol of Cerridwen, the Springmother. I wonder if I have always been connected to Her, although I never realized it. Coyote also said that water is the sacred essence of life, used by healers and worshippers of Cerridwen… Perhaps it is no coincidence that I took up the practice of water evocation in my youth.

I always thought I had lived completely disconnected from my elven heritage. But perhaps the Aspects were calling to me in their own way, even if I couldn’t always hear them clearly.

Goodness, what am I thinking? Am I really going to convert to the Wild Faith? I don’t know. It spoke to me, though, in a way that Canonism hasn’t. In retrospect, I feel like my life has been touched more by Cerridwen than by the Saints and the Aenguls. Could it be? All my life, I’ve been called in a certain direction, but never been able to hear it until now?

 

Entry 54 –
1777 IST.

 

Spoiler

They held a memorial service today for Juan in Farrador. While writing his book, he spent a great deal of time in west among the Order of Orrir’Ullral. I’m told they’re a guild of beast hunters - and they provided Juan with regular work. The Orrir’Ullral live in a remote, unmapped part of the world and relied on Juan to help them categorize and navigate their lands. Farrador is an extremely long way away from Helena, over the mountains and through dense forests. I considered not attending the service, but I felt compelled to go in spite of the great distance. Juan was my best friend. If he’s watching from the Seven Skies, I want him to know I still care about him.

Icroth and I packed our things and traveled to Farrador together. Icroth is an old hand at camping in the wilderness, so he didn’t mind escorting me. I expected the journey to be unpleasant, but it really wasn’t so bad. The landscape around Farrador is beautiful to behold, full of dewy pines, proud boulders, and babbling brooks. We followed a river up into the mountains and, every morning, Icroth would catch us a fresh fish for breakfast. He’d lend me his knife and watch as I prepped, cleaned, seasoned, and cooked the fish over the campfire. When I asked him why he insisted on fishing - after all, we packed plenty of rations - he smiled at me. “I like to see a master of their craft do their work,” he said. “It’s graceful.”

I’ve never heard of anyone refer to cooking as graceful before. But I suppose after hundreds of years, I’ve become a very practiced hand. Some aspects of my work are more instinctual than conscious thought now. Back when I lived with Mr. Gyffard and the Black Fox Company, I once prepared a full-course meal while black-out drunk - and it was delicious. Or at least good enough to please a gaggle of intoxicated monster-hunters. I was a teetotaler much like Icroth before dear Mr. Gyffard got his hands on me. The only thing I really got out of that marriage was a drinking problem - one I’m still struggling to deal with.

After several days of travel through the wilderness, we arrived at last in Farrador. There, we met Celestine and her bodyguard Chirr. It’s been a while since I last saw Chirr, so it was nice to meet up again. Chirr’s another old ’ker. Not quite as old as me, but close. Her earliest memories date back to Anthos. Strange to think that I was a grown adult, married, when Chirr was just a child. Elven aging is… strange.

In Siramenor, I met three generations of elf - a grandmother, a father, and a son - and they all looked exactly the same age. I’m too used to Oren where old men become decrepit and grey haired.

Chirr kept looking at Icroth strangely as we stood in the fortress courtyard, waiting for the service to start. She stared at him with a furrowed brow, searching his face as if trying to place him.

“You seem familiar,” she said at last. “Have we met somewhere before?”

Icroth blinked, taken aback by the inquiry. “I… do not believe so,” he said. “Perhaps? From where do you hail?”

“Ah, the million-mark question,” Chirr joked.

But before she could say anything else, Vyasaldris - the mistress of Farrador and our hostess for the evening - announced the beginning of the ceremony. She requested we follow her out to the shores of the nearby lake, where they had erected a pyre in honor of Juan.

The Farradorian funeral rites are a good bit different from Canonism, but I found them very charming regardless. The memorial ceremony would have three parts. The first was a ritual burning; the second was a feast in Juan’s honor; and the third would include releasing paper lanterns at dusk. Vyasaldris presided over the burning ritual. She opened the ceremony with a moving tribute to Juan.

“Thank you to those whom spent the time to journey here,” she began, nodding toward Celestine. “Juan was a beloved friend and ally to us. While his departure left many of us grief-stricken, he would not want us to mourn. So, instead, let us celebrate the vibrant and fulfilling life he led.” She gestured to the pyre burning brightly on the lakeshore. “This flame is meant to symbolize Juan’s life, how it brought light and warmth to everything around it. Juan showed us that no matter how hard life can be, we must embrace every moment. Juan was a true adventurer. For him, each day was a chance to discover something wonderful. He showed us that even the old and tired can be made new again. What I remember most about Juan is his mischief, his zeal for life, his creativity, his passion, and his sincere belief in man’s fundamental goodness.” Vyasaldris looked back over the crowd. “Juan may be gone, but we still feel the warmth and love he gave to us."

At the sermon’s conclusion, Vyasaldris invited us to take a slip of paper and write down our favorite memory of Juan. I took a piece and stared at it for a long time. The blank page gazed back at me. I had so many memories of Juan - so many of them happy. How could I possibly pick one? My eyes wandered over to Celestine. Her head was bowed, her hand darting across the page as she wrote, her eyes glazed with a sheen of unshed tears. 

And suddenly the perfect memory dawned on me.

Juan sometimes hid his true feelings behind a mask of swagger. I remember the first time he really opened up to me. He and Celestine had been together for several months at that point and they were considering marriage. Celestine even introduced Juan to her mother. Juan’s life had begun to change in a profound way. He was in the midst of a transformation and he felt it. He used to be a freewheeling, free-loving adventurer without a care in the world. Now he had a woman who loved him and a growing burden of responsibility. He told me how much it scared him, to see his life take such a turn.

I have been married several times - both successfully and unsuccessfully. I’ve given my heart away more times than I can count. But I wouldn’t trade those experiences - both the good and the bad - for anything. It’s a wonderful and beautiful thing, to join your life together with the right person. A well-chosen spouse elevates you beyond your past self. You see yourself reflected in the eyes of your love. It sharpens you, bringing your flaws and strengths into greater clarity. You’re accountable to your partner, who not only wants you to become your best self but expects it. Requires it. There is perhaps greater freedom in independence, but one cannot become the best version of one’s self without seeing themselves through another’s eyes. Life is a dance - one that only becomes more intricate, more beautiful, more complex with a partner.

I told Juan as much. He and Celestine were perfect for each other - a match surely made in Heaven. Celestine feared a man would hold her back, but Juan loved freedom just as much as she did. He admired and respected her work. He would never demand she give it up for his sake. Their passions - travel, learning, exploration, adventure - fit together like hand in glove. They could only make each other better if they married. That was why I’d happily set my own feelings for Juan aside. I knew I couldn’t sharpen him the way Celestine could.

Juan would later tell me that he wouldn’t have proposed without my counsel. He wanted to, but his fear held him back. I was the one who eased those fears and pushed him in the right direction.

That’s the memory I wrote down on the scroll.

I tied mine into a lover’s knot before casting it into the fire.

Celestine threw her scroll into the fire after me. As she cast her missive into the flames, her stoic outer demeanor failed her. Tears spilled down her cheeks, reflecting orange in the firelight. Celestine has always tried to present herself as a strong woman, not prone to girlish feelings. As the tears began to fall, she turned away and walked swiftly into the woods. 

I moved to follow her, but Chirr put a hand to my chest and stopped me. “Give her a moment alone,” Chirr said to me quietly. “Even just coming here was hard for her.”

Out of respect for Celestine’s feelings, I did as Chirr said. Celestine didn’t return for the rest of the evening.

After the burning ceremony, we went back inside the fortress for a feast in Juan’s honor. Chirr, Icroth, and I sat together at the table. I have to admit, I felt a bit snubbed because Chirr and Icroth only talked to each other the entire dinner. I sat next to Icroth and he didn’t turn to speak to me once. I ate and drank in silence. Temptation got the better of me and I put away several glasses of wine. Chirr and the elven women of Farrador seemed… rather taken with Icroth. Vyasaldris’s sister kept smiling and laughing when he talked to her. And Chirr studied him with an avid interest the entire time.

Isn’t Icroth supposed to be courting me?

He’s a handsome man. He doesn’t look like any other Mali. He has a rugged, masculine edge - but with a gentlemanly core. I should be glad that other women admire my beau. After all, doesn’t that mean I have good taste? Even so, I am so old. I’m nearly twice Icroth’s age. And while I am reasonably pretty, I daresay I don’t compare to most elven women. The years have taken their toll on me. Chirr is so lovely. Her skin is so dark, it’s almost midnight black. A perfect shade of ebony obsidian. And her hair! Such perfect, snow-white ringlet curls! They bounce and shimmer with every movement of her head. She looks so fresh. Not to mention she’s a seasoned warrior and adventurer - someone who could assuredly keep pace with Icroth out in the field. But me? I’m more of a liability than anything else when dangerous situations arise.

But this is my flaw. I’m a jealous woman. I always have been. For example, Mr. Toov would often leave me for long stretches of time. Every time he left, my mind came alive with all kinds of torturous images. I pictured him cavorting with beautiful girls in detail, to the point where I made myself furious and sick with hypothetical situations of my own making. It got to the point where I wondered if I secretly wanted to be cuckolded. My mind created these scenarios compulsively, completely unbidden, with no basis in factual reality. Mr. Toov was always a loyal and devoted husband. Up until he departed on the Exodus, he only ever had eyes for me. I know he probably lost his mind with panic when he realized I wasn’t on board the ships to Aeldin. He remarried eventually, yes… but so did I. I can hardly hold that fact against him. Who knows how many years he spent trying to contact me? Trying to get back to Asulon to be with me? At least that’s what I think to comfort myself when I imagine him remarrying.

Chirr’s interactions with Icroth were probably completely innocent and I’m making up some fantasy scenario in my own head again. Even so… I’m mad that he never once talked to me the entire dinner. But maybe he was just eager to talk to someone else after traveling together for several days. Who can say. But we’re going together to Mary Lucille’s wedding soon. Hopefully he’ll be more attentive to me then.

After dinner, we returned to the lake where the pyre in Juan’s honor continued to burn. Vyasaldris and her people handed out paper lanterns to the crowd. “Our final rite in honor of Juan’s memory,” Vyasaldris said, “is lighting and releasing these paper lanterns. They symbolize the light that Juan brought into our lives. Just as his light touched all of us, may these little lights journey forth and bring the warm glow of Juan’s memory to others.”

I took two lanterns - one for me and one for Celestine. I think she and I will light it and send it off later by ourselves. I want her to be able to participate in the rituals too, even if she left early. I lit my lantern and said a prayer for Juan as it lifted off into the sky. It’s my hope that the lanterns will find him somewhere in the Seven Skies and remind him how much we all loved him. We had a moment of silence as we watched the lanterns disappear above the trees, growing smaller and smaller in the darkening sky. With that, the memorial service concluded and the guests dispersed.

Icroth noticed how quiet I was as we walked back to our camp. “You’re upset,” he said. “Did you dislike the service?”

“No, it was lovely,” I replied. “A good send off for a good friend.”

“You’re missing Juan, then,” Icroth theorized.

“Of course, but…” I trailed off.

“But what?”

I didn’t want to tell him the real reason why I was upset. It seemed so petty. How would I sound to him? I’m angry at you because you spent the whole evening talking to Chirr and barely said a word to me. By God, I’m five hundred years old. Jealousy like that is juvenile. I’d expect that kind of behavior from a fifteen year old, not a five hundred year old.

“It’s nothing,” I said.

He scoffed. “I can’t stand when women say it’s nothing,” he replied. “That almost always means it’s something.”
We didn’t talk much more after that.

We returned to our campsite and I’m here writing now. Icroth is asleep on his bedroll and I’m up scribbling by candlelight. I’m trying to talk myself out of being jealous but it’s hard.

I’ve prayed so long for a Mali man to come and be my companion. Perhaps it’s foolish, but I ended up pinning those hopes on Icroth. I let myself be overeager. I want a soulmate. Is he my soulmate? It’s too early to say. Our relationship is still new.

When I introduce him to people, I still refer to him as ‘my friend Icroth.’

I need to temper my expectations. Maybe this relationship with Icroth will last. But then again, maybe it won’t. Few romantic bonds truly stand the test of time. We might be together forever. We might be together for a few years. We might only last a few months. Only time will tell.

 

Entry 55 –
1777 IST.

 

Spoiler

Well, I finally arrived back in Helena from the journey to Farrador. Unfortunately, I came home to find a few nasty surprises.

Our journey back home was significantly less pleasant than our trip there. Icroth and I hit a storm coming down the mountains that waylaid us for several days. We spent the better part of a week holed up in a cave as the torrent poured down outside. I am glad I brought my traveling clothes because my lovely silk dress would not have survived. Thank you, Juan Lyons, for convincing me to buy pants! I still didn’t know how to tell Icroth why I was upset with him, so there was an unspoken awkwardness between us the entire time. To make matters worse, I checked my calendar and realized that the storm delay had caused us to miss Mary Lucille’s wedding. Oh, I’m so annoyed! I hope she’s not mad at me. She went to the trouble of printing a personal invitation just for me and I sincerely wanted to go. It meant a lot to be invited. I never get invited to balls or weddings or fancy parties anymore. That’s one of the things I miss about the old days - all the elegant events I was privileged to attend. When next I see Mary Lucille, I’ll have to give her a nice present and my most sincere apologies.

Icroth dropped me off at the gates of Helena. We said our goodbyes and parted ways. He intended to head north to Luxem, to see if he could meet with Jack and find out what his next step was. As for me, I made my way back home to the NGS museum and my little apartment.

I pushed my key into the building’s lock… only to find my keys didn’t work anymore. Confused, I pressed my face to the nearby window and peered inside… only to discover that all of our furniture and display cases were gone!
I ran back to the town square as quickly as I could and luckily ran into George Galbraith. He’s helped me before with problems regarding housing.

“Mr. Galbraith, there’s a terrible problem with the NGS museum!” I exclaimed, out of breath. And who should walk up and join us right at that moment but Celestine?

“Tanith, dear! What’s wrong with the museum?” she asked.

“Either we’ve been evicted or robbed and I’m not sure which one!” I said breathlessly. “The entire museum has been cleared out! Furniture and all!”

“What?!” Celestine’s eyes shot wide open and she looked toward Mr. Galbraith. “I thought we had our back taxes sorted out. We took care of it a few Saint’s Days ago, didn’t we, Mr. Galbraith? We didn’t… flounder on that, did we?”

Mr. Galbraith rooted around in his satchel and pulled out a massive ledger. He flipped through the pages, his mouth set into a thoughtful frown.

“Well… it seems as though you’re all paid up. That’s what the tax ledger indicates.”

“A robbery doesn’t make sense, though,” I said. “They cleared out everything! Even the display cases and the mannequins. And we didn’t even have any valuables on display…”

“I think what happened,” Mr. Galbraith theorized, “is that one of our clerks didn’t double-check the ledger and had you wrongfully evicted. I sincerely apologize and I will make sure you’re noted down as the owners and that you’re paid up on your taxes.”

“What about the furniture, though?” I asked. “The place was stripped clean.”

“It likely ended up in one of our storage warehouses to be auctioned off,” he replied. “If you can give me a list of what you’re missing, I can make sure it’s shipped back to the museum post haste. I would hate for this incident to delay your opening. Sir Stafyr told me all about the good the NGS has done in Reza and I’m eager to see you complete work on the branch here in Helena.”

“We will get that list to you as soon as possible, Mr. Galbraith!” Celestine said. “Thank goodness this got sorted out. Come along, Tanith! Let’s go and see what all’s been taken and what we have left!”

Celestine and I made our way back over to the museum. The door was still locked and neither of our keys worked, so we were forced to climb in through one of the windows. The museum was dark and, like I said, completely gutted. Not a scrap of furniture was left. “I think we have a few tables and spare pieces up in the attic, if they haven’t cleared it out yet,” Celestine said. “We can bring them down to fill the space - and hopefully there’s a cot so you can have a bed for tonight.”

“This is dreadful,” I murmured as I followed Celestine up into the attic. Thank God, they hadn’t finished evicting us yet and a few pieces of furniture still remained in storage.

“Chin up, Tanith!” Celestine told me cheerfully as she stooped down to lift one of the spare tables and carry it down from the attic. “It could have been far worse! What if we’d been evicted when all our priceless artifacts were on display? All we’re missing is a few tables and mannequins, nothing to cry over! We’ll get them back shortly. So long as it doesn’t happen again, we’ll be fine.”

Oh, Celestine. She’s so strong and optimistic. Nothing gets her down. Buoyant is a good word to describe her. If she faces a setback, it hardly ruffles her feathers. She springs right back into action.

I helped her move the furniture out of storage and down to its proper location. “What I don’t understand,” I said as we pushed the heavy display cases up against the wall, “is why an educational institution like the museum isn’t tax exempt.”

“Oh, I agree with you!” Celestine replied. “We’ve received exemption status in Reza and for our other new branch in Owynsburg as well. Helena isn’t keen to grant exemptions, though.”

“I wonder why,” I sighed. Education is a public moral good. Too many people in this Empire have no idea where they came from. Besides, there is no better predictor of future behavior than examining what has happened in the past. We need to know the mistakes of the past so we aren’t prone to needlessly repeating them. Humanity’s history is a series of patterns - patterns that become all the more apparent the further back you step.

I’ve heard rumors that Helena is hemorrhaging money, though. Between paying city officials, providing the ISA with salary and armaments, and doing city maintenance, they’re struggling to break even on the books. That’s why they’re so ruthless about taxes and can’t even grant exemption to educational institutions.

Another problem is likely a lack of gainful employment in Helena. The Carringtons were wonderful in helping me get established and on my feet in the city, but I meet impoverished men and women without jobs every single day. Many people end up turning to crime out of desperation. Few can afford the steep cost of housing. So the Helene city officials are forced to raise taxes on those of us who do own property. It’s a vicious ouroboros. Helena is a place where one can either make their fortune or rot in poverty with little in between.

I don’t feel I’m smart enough to offer solutions on these problems. My thought would be to focus on social welfare and the public good. If people are afraid of losing their homes and incomes, they’re more likely to turn to crime. A safety net is required for newcomers to flourish in Helena. It’s easier to take risks on new ventures when you aren’t in danger of losing everything you own.

The military is also the largest employer in the city. I’ve heard many stories of men going straight from the poorhouse into the ISA. I suppose the ISA is an easy source of food, clothes, and housing. In a way, it’s more of a welfare program than a military force. But isn’t it awful? To force men and women to put their lives and health on the line in exchange for basic necessities like shelter and clothing and food?

How did we manage back in the day? It was somewhat similar to how it is now, I suppose. We had these great military orders that gave purpose and function to lost young men so they didn’t turn to crime. Membership in the White Rose came with the added bonus of food, clothing, rent and tax-free housing. Perhaps the merchant guilds of today are trying to fulfill a similar purpose, offering apprenticeships and housing to those willing to take up a craft. A more peaceful and productive alternative to the knightly orders of yesteryear. But it still seems as though poverty is an issue that plagues the Empire.

Anyway…

Celestine and I got the furniture moved. Once we'd finished putting everything in place, I mentioned the lantern I brought her from Farrador. "You left before the final ceremony," I said. "I brought a lantern back for you just in case you wanted to do it here."

Celestine's good mood vanished before my eyes. She bit her lip and, for a moment, it looked like she might cry. But she held it in.

“I'm sorry I ran off, Tanith,” she said. “I just… couldn’t stand the ceremony. I miss him so much. It brought back so many memories. I’ve been doing my best to move on, but…”

“We don’t have to light the lantern!” I added quickly. “I brought it just in case you wanted to.”

“No, I do want to,” Celestine replied. “I do. It’s only right. Perhaps tomorrow, though.”

I wish I could tell Celestine that she doesn’t have to be so strong all the time. It’s all right to be a little fragile, especially after the death of someone she loved. She is entitled to her feelings - and they don’t make me respect her any less. In fact, I respect her all the more for forging on ahead despite everything weighing her down and holding her back. She’s an admirable example of modern womanhood, one I want to emulate.

 

Entry 56 –
1777 IST.

 

Spoiler

Celestine and I are making excellent progress on the museum! Celestine must be out there soliciting donations, because I’ve received a lot of packages at the front door lately. I’ve been opening so many boxes and crates, it feels like my birthday! One benefactor sent us a legitimate Teutonic Order Sariant helmet. They are exactly as I remember them, with the black and white wings on the sides of their head. It’s a bit rusty but that’s to be expected after three hundred years! Another person donated a Flay bandana that somehow survived the centuries - a little moth eaten but otherwise intact! I suppose there are still Flay devotees out there in the world - descendants or relatives Augustus Blackmont. I know many still revere his name and even call him a Saint. Amazing how such a terrifying and wicked man can still inspire such loyalty. One box contained what the donator alleged to be the coronation robes of King Andrik Vydra. We put those on one of our mannequins at once. How exciting! They’re very sumptuous with red velvet and mink trim. I also received a small package from the Draugr Library at the Cloud Temple that contained a leather-bound notebook. The cover was embossed with the image of a crow. When I opened it up, I found myself reading the diary of Lorina Carrion - the famous Raevir princess! To think such a thing has survived this long! It must be two hundred and fifty years old by now.

As for me… I’ve donated something myself. I’ve kept a White Rose tabard in my closet for many years - a memory of times gone by and a reminder not to repeat the past. I think it must have been one of Thomas’s because there are some ancient food and beer stains on it. Regardless, I’ve tried to keep it in good condition. Someone donated a suit of 14th century armor to the museum. I put the surcoat on over the armor - and it was suddenly as though a White Rose orderman was standing there in front of me.

I’ve finished writing my informational pamphlets for the museum. We just got several sets of them back from the printer. I put a few of them out on the display cases. It’s starting to look like a real museum! We still need pamphlets on the Horen Restoration, the Fifth Empire, and the Pertinaxi, but… I’m not really equipped to write about those. I left Oren shortly after the end of the Duke’s War in 1526.

Two hundred and fifty three years. That’s how long I lived in Oren - from the beginning of King Dan’s reign in Al’khazar up until the death of Guy de Bar. And then another two hundred and fifty years living as a hermit in isolation. To think I missed so much while I was away.

I’m happy, though! Happy to be back. Happy that I was blessed enough not to live through the horrors of the Pertinaxi. Happy that my memories are being put to good use in this museum. Happy that the mistakes of the past are now relegated to mannequins and display cases.

We had a Northern Geographic Society Circle Meeting today in Reza and I was so eager to share my updates with the other members! We had several exciting and wonderful announcements today. Edward Napier and Lauritz Christiansen have joined the ranks of the NGS! Mr. Napier plans to open a museum of Harrenite history in Kaedrin. (An interesting location - The White Rose’s relationship to the Adunians was… fraught at the best of times.) Lauritz joined because he has recently taken up exploring and writing scholarly articles about the different people groups throughout Arcas. Karl Amador also joined us as a member today! He is a member of the House of Commons (though an Everardine) and a wealthy donor. He’s organizing a Haensi Cultural Festival and wanted to collaborate with us. I can’t wait. I’m delighted by everything that’s going on so far.

Archchancellor Basrid also came by the museum in Helena later in the evening. I had been running errands and getting things unpacked when suddenly Celestine came down the stairs with the Archchancellor in tow! The sight of them scared the life out of me and I nearly dropped my books. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be in the museum and I hadn’t heard anyone moving around upstairs as I was unpacking! “Oh, Tanith! I didn’t know you were here! I’m sorry for scaring you!” Celestine said to me. “If I’d known you were around, I would have invited you up to chat with us!”

“Oh, it’s fine! I would have come up and said hello if I knew!” I replied, putting my books down. I curtsied to the Archchancellor. “Sir.”

The Archchancellor regarded me with a cool stare. “Eis, eis, Miss Tanith,” he said. “Some surprise.”

“Once I finish my ethnographic study on the orcs of Krugmar,” Celestine said, “I’m planning to release a study on the greater province of Helena. So I invited the Archchancellor over for an interview! He is, after all, one of the people who’s lived here the longest.”

The Archchancellor could not stay and chat long, of course. A busy man, he is. He bid his goodbyes and swiftly departed. After he was gone, Celestine came over to me with a sly smile and lowered her voice. “Tanith, I have wonderful news!” she said. “I showed Sir Basrid a sample of the material we intend to put in the museum. He was quite impressed! He suggested that we might be able to go to the Livery Board and petition them for a tax exemption with his support, if we could show them examples of what we will have on display.”

“Oh, goodness! That is excellent news!” I replied. “We won’t have to worry about being tossed out on our ears any longer.”

Celestine beamed. “Indeed! Might I have your permission to submit your writings to the Board then?”

I blanched. “Oh dear, do you think they’re good enough?”

“They were good enough for Sir Basrid,” Celestine said.

I felt my heart drop into my stomach. “You showed my little pamphlets to Sir Basrid?!” I squeaked, my voice jumping an octave in fearfulness. “B-but he’s an eminent scholar in Imperial History, isn’t he? A very educated and respected man!”

I dreaded the thought of an accomplished academic like the Archchancellor looking over my work. I’m an amateur, not a professional by any means, and my writing reflects that. Moreover, I never went to school. Everything I know is self-taught. Someone like Sir Basrid probably has degrees a-plenty and spent years in university building his knowledge! I thought surely he would scoff at my sloppy attempts at history writing!

Celestine told me that wasn’t the case, though. She smiled and waved a hand. “Oh, you worry too much, Tanith! He was very impressed with your work!” she laughed. “He mentioned you were quite humble too. You know he would have seen it anyway. The museum is open to the public - including Archchancellors!”

“I suppose you’re right,” I sighed, deflating. “But for some reason, that man just terrifies me. The first time I met him, he quizzed me on every Emperor I had ever met.”

“He’s a lovely fellow when you sit down and chat with him,” Celestine replied. “Powerful people are still just people, Tanith. Why, you should know that better than anyone! You told me you changed Emperor Robert I’s diapers!”

“That’s true,” I said. “It’s hard to explain. Thomas and Peter and all my friends in the Rose… they weren’t so powerful and important when I met them. Just low-rung nobles in a tiny fort!”

“Well, everyone starts somewhere. And we’re all just ordinary people at the end of the day,” Celestine replied. “Let’s hope the Livery Board likes your work and sees fit to grant us a tax exemption. Oh, by the way, Chirr will drop by later to deliver a few more things. Would you mind waiting around for her?”

Of course I didn’t mind; I planned to stay and work on arranging the exhibits anyway. Though I felt a bit awkward at the prospect of meeting Chirr again. I haven’t seen Chirr since we got back from Farrador. I’m ashamed I got so jealous and worked up at the memorial service. After all, Chirr was just talking innocently with Icroth. She probably wasn’t even trying to flirt! Yet I allowed myself to get all bent out of shape and angry anyway. Icroth is well within his rights to talk to whomever he pleases, man or woman, human or mali or anything else.

My tendency toward unreasonable jealousy goes all the way back to the White Rose, though. It’s old. When I worked for the White Rose, I always felt like I occupied a precarious position. I thought surely, someday, they would wake up and realize they had a filthy Mali’ker - the worst of all the elven breeds - in their midst. That’s why I worked myself to the bone to prove I was good. To prove I was different, that I was worthy of being among them. I had the same sort of worries about Mr. Toov - that he’d realize the mistake he made marrying an infertile elf. That he’d doomed his family line by wedding me. That he’d replace me with a human woman. The thoughts drove me wild with jealousy and anguish.

I drove away a lot of potential friends with my jealousy. But I don’t want to do that to Chirr. We old elves have to stick together, don’t we?

Anyway, a few hours later, Chirr arrived with some more boxes. “Evening, Tanith,” she said as she shouldered the door open and set the boxes down on the floor. Straightening up, she looked around the first floor with a smile. “This place is really coming together! It’s looking nice. Are you getting close to opening day?”

“Oh, there’s still so much work to do, Miss Chirr,” I said, moving to start unpacking the boxes. “But progress is progress, no matter how slow! Thank you for dropping these things off.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she replied. “And please, just Chirr is fine. ‘Miss’ is far too formal for my sort.”

“Ah, my apologies. Old habits die hard, yes?” I laughed softly. “It’s a remnant from my days spent as a servant in the old noble houses.”

Chirr lifted an eyebrow as she watched me sort through the boxes. “You served noble houses?”

“Oh – why, yes!” I turned and gestured toward the suit of armor on the nearby display stand, wearing the White Rose tabard. “I worked for this group right here. They were my employers for… oh, goodness. Probably over fifty years.”

Chirr’s eyes opened wide. “You worked for the Order of the White Rose? You can’t be serious,” she said. And her surprised look quickly hardened into one of contempt. Her tone of voice grew bitter. “I’m surprised they would ever allow one of us within their walls.”

I pondered over her sudden change in demeanor and, suddenly, it hit me. Chirr was born in Anthos, during the height of the White Rose’s power. Us Mali’ker were among the most abused and oppressed by the Order of the White Rose. I felt myself overcome by a sick feeling of horror and guilt. Who could say what kind of awful things the Rose had done to Chirr and her family? I hadn’t thought about it before. All at once, flashes of memory danced across my mind’s eye. Elves with their ears chopped off. Crucified. Brutalized. Treated worse even than animals. Was Chirr among the people we’d abused so cruelly?

I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet for a long time. “I…” I began, full of hesitation. “If it helps… and I know it probably won’t, but… I am not proud of who I was back then. Ever since they disbanded, I’ve… well, I’ve been trying to atone for the things they did. In my own small way.”

Chirr let out a long sigh. “I’m, uh…” she paused. “I’m sorry, Tanith. I’m in no place to judge. We all have things we’re not proud of. It just came as a shock. I’m sorry.”

I turned my head to look at her. “I was a very different person back then,” I said. “I really was. I hated my own race very much, but I… hated myself most of all. But I’ve spent many years trying to unlearn that hatred.”

Chirr looked at me kindly, her eyes softening. “How could you ever hate yourself, Tanith? You’re so beautiful and kind. You should be proud of the heritage that made you so.”

I stood up and smiled at her. “Thank you. You’re very sweet.” And then, to change the subject – “Say, if you don’t mind, I’ve been wondering… how do you get your hair to look like that?”

Thankfully, that diffused the awkwardness between us. Chirr stayed a while and gave me some advice on how to curl my hair. We parted a little while later on good terms.

I’d like to be better friends with Chirr. I feel foolish, letting jealousy get between me and a potential friend. It seems I’ve still got a lot to unlearn.

 

Entry 57 –
1778 IST.

 

Spoiler

Another donation arrived in the mail a few days ago. It was a package wrapped in brown paper, fairly nondescript. Attached was a letter from an anonymous donator. He mentioned that a certain dress had been passed down among the women of his family for many years. The dress was delicate and hundreds of years old, but it hadn’t been worn by anyone in centuries. All it had done for generations was hang in a closet and get eaten by moths. The donator thought it would be put to better use in a museum, which is why he chose to send it along.

I cut the package carefully with my letter opener. Beautiful gold and seafoam-green silk spilled forth into my lap. The combination of colors struck a chord somewhere in my memory and I hastened to remove the rest of the paper. I held the dress out at arm’s length and let it unfurl to the floor. My eyes widened as I recognized exactly what I was holding.

It was the same dress she wore that night. It had to be.

I remember waking up once late at night to the sound of someone knocking furiously on the door of our manor in Hyrr, back when I was a baroness. A rapid, panicked pounding noise roused me from my slumber and I moved to get out of the bed. Next to me, Mr. Toov grumbled and rolled over. “Let zhe servants tend to it, Liebling,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “If it eez important, zhey vill let us know.”

“The servants are probably asleep,” I replied, going to the wardrobe and throwing a cloak on over my night dress. “I’ll handle it.”

“Mrrrhhhhmm…” Mr. Toov grumbled before pulling a pillow over his face before falling back asleep. “Be safe.”
I made my way downstairs from our bedroom. Torchlight flickered on the stone walls, casting strange shadows that left me feeling ill at ease. Whoever was at the door continued to beat frantically against the wood. Taking the keys in hand, I unlocked the door and peered outside.

A blanket of quiet snowfall lay over the Kaedrini countryside. The fields surrounding our manor in Hyrr lay quiet and fallow. Snowflakes drifted in lazy spirals from the sky and moonlight played across the drifts. There, standing at the door with a fur-trimmed cloak pulled over her shoulders, was Lorin Blackmont. Underneath her cloak, she wore a dress of seafoam green stained with soot and droplets of blood. Her eyes - which were the richest and deepest royal blue I have ever seen on a person - were wide as saucers and bloodshot from crying.

“Thank God,” she whispered hoarsely as I answered. “Thank God you’re awake. I didn’t know where else to go. I – “

“Lady Blackmont,” I said. “What’s wrong?”

As I spoke, she burst into a fresh wave of tears and lifted her shaking hands to her face. I put my arms around her shoulders and ushered her inside, through the foyer and into the kitchen. After taking her cloak and hanging it up in the coat closet, I lit a fire in the kitchen hearth and set about making her a cup of tea. By then, Lorin had controlled her tears. She accepted the tea with trembling hands and muttered a quiet “thank you” before lifting it to her lips.

“Are you hurt?” I asked, noting the blood splatters on her dress.

“No,” she replied - and the emotion in her voice was not one I could easily describe. The heartbroken rasp of unspeakable grief mixed with the guttural growl of unquenchable anger. She stared into the depths of her teacup and her eyes burned. I never knew the color blue could look so violent.

“What happened…?” I ventured cautiously.

For a long time, she did not speak. Lowering her teacup and setting it down on the table, she lifted her head and looked at me. “My son Tiberius is dead,” she said. “Murdered.”

“By whom?”

Lorin gazed at me as though she wanted to answer, but the words were stuck in her throat. She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut before letting out a shuddering breath. “I have no proof,” she said. “None. If I told anyone what I thought, I would sound like a monster. I feel like a monster.”

I pulled out the chair next to her and sat down, taking her hands in mine. “Lorin, you know I would never cast judgment on you.”

“You’re one of the few who wouldn’t,” Lorin croaked, her voice heavy with sobs. “That’s why I came here.” She looked down at the wedding band on her right hand. “Being a part of this family - it’s nothing but judgment. From everyone. Wicked glances, cruel words, leering smiles. From both outside the Dreadfort and within it. I’ve tried to bear it with grace.”

“And you’ve done so admirably,” I assured her.

“I challenge anyone to endure what you’ve gone through with the same grace.”

She smiled in spite of the glimmer of tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. “You’re a kind girl as usual, Tanith.” Lorin reached for her teacup and took a sip. “There was a banquet tonight. Tiberius wanted to celebrate becoming the new Lord of House Blackmont. But truthfully, he was mostly celebrating the fact that his father was dead. We both were.”

“And good riddance!” I added - and that made her laugh. A soft, weak laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

“We’re in agreement on that,” Lorin said, her faint smile vanishing like morning mist. “Tiberius wore a new set of armor forged just for him. He looked good. I was proud of him. I truly was. He sat me down at his right hand. And for the first time in… God knows how many years, I felt hopeful. I thought, We’re finally free. We can be happy now. That’s what I promised him. I told him over and over, Tiberius, once your father’s dead, no one will be able to hurt us anymore.”

Her mouth tightened as she struggled to hold in the tears. “I hate that I lied to him,” she choked out. “He made a speech at the banquet. To the bannermen. He lifted his goblet and proposed a toast. At that moment… I don’t know. I looked over at Lucius. And his face. Something about his face.”

She pushed her fingers into her thick, auburn hair. “Have I gone mad?”

“You think Lucius poisoned his older brother…?” I asked. And the look on Lorin’s face told me everything I needed to know.

“I know my own children,” Lorin replied, her voice so soft it was barely above a whisper. “Tiberius… I could always see myself in him. He wanted what I wanted. To be free of his father. To live in peace. But Lucius. Lucius is his father through and through. Anything to get ahead. Anything for power. He’s barely fifteen and he’s… God. He’s dead behind the eyes. Just like Augustus. There’s no heart in there.” She swallowed again, staring hard at the wood grain on the table. “He terrifies me.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked, leaning forward in my chair.

“I can’t – “ Lorin bit down hard on her bottom lip as a few tears slipped from beneath her eyelids. “I never loved anyone or anything as much I loved Tiberius, Tanith. It didn’t matter what his father did to me, as long as I could see my son. Anything at all, anything August’s wicked little brain could come up with – I would have endured it for Tiberius. Nothing else mattered to me, except the possibility that he and I could be happy someday in the future. That is the only thing that has kept me alive through all of this.”

“Lorin…” I murmured, squeezing her hand.

“But life is cruel.” Her fingers tightened on the teacup until her knuckles turned white. “There is no lesson I have learned more thoroughly than that.”

“If you really think it was Lucius…” I suggested, “surely he could be brought to justice.”

“I doubt it,” Lorin replied. “No one would take my word anyway. I’ve decided, Tanith. I’m leaving Oren. I can’t… I can’t be in the same house as my son’s murderer. That is asking too much of me. I’ve endured a great deal, but that is a step too far. I’d just be waiting for him to kill me too.”

“You think we would do that?”

“I know he would, Tanith,” Lorin said, turning her bloodshot eyes toward me. “I know my children.”

“You could ask your uncles for help,” I protested. “Maybe Lord Carrion would…”

“Don’t say that name to me,” Lorin hissed. “Don’t say either of those names to me. I won’t hear them. They left me to rot in Hell for the sake of their precious alliance. Turned a convenient blind eye when I was being beaten and violated by the worst man in Oren. They’re dead to me.”

Her words cut me to the quick, but I didn’t dare say a word contradicting her. “Where do you plan to go?” I asked.
“I’ve hired a bodyguard. An old friend of my husband’s named Kirrekith. A dark elf like you. He’s… rough around the edges, but with a good heart,” Lorin said softly. “Lucius might come after me, but I say let him. He won’t find me.”

“You seem confident…” I murmured.

“Anything is better than staying one more minute in that wretched house.” Lorin’s teeth grit as she spoke. With that, she pushed back her chair and abruptly stood. “I’m not telling anyone else where I’m going. You’re the only one.”

“Why me?” I asked.

Lorin smiled bitterly. “You’re the only friend I have in this world,” she said. “No one else is worth a damn. When I thought of the people I wanted to say goodbye to… your name was the only one that came to mind. I feel like, through all of this, you’re the only one who cared about me. The only one who looked after me, who had my best interest at heart.”

“Of course I do,” I said.

“I doubt anyone else would open their door for me at midnight with a warm fire and a cup of tea,” Lorin replied, regarding the empty teacup sitting in front of her. “It’s the little things. That’s the only thing I’ll miss when I’m gone from here.”

“Lorin, please, I need to tell Thomas and Peter something,” I pleaded.

Lorin’s expression softened, if only for a moment. “Just that I’m alive and I’m safe. But nothing else.”

“You have my word,” I replied. I rose to my feet and the two of us embraced before she headed out.

That was the last time I ever saw her.

Later on, I learned that Lucius had her executed as well - assassinated by a Blackmont loyalist known as Xander. She was right about him, although I hated it for her and wished it could have been different.

All the memories came rushing back as I held her dress in my hands. I took it upstairs and put it on the mannequin next to the one wearing Andrik Vydra’s coronation robes. They looked good standing next to each other.

It shocks me sometimes – how clear my memory can be. How a touch, a smell, a color, a taste can send me hurtling back through time to a precise moment. This museum is slowly filling with the ghosts of friends I knew lifetimes ago. Sometimes I’m glad the old stories live on and that the people here in the future still care about what happened in the past. But at the same time, it feels me with the strangest feeling. The memory of words left unsaid, of deeds left undone, of tragic tales with no happy endings, of people who suffered and died without retribution.

My prayer is that Lorin found some small measure of happiness before she died, somewhere on the run with her handsome elf bodyguard. She always did like adventure stories. Maybe Kirrekith did the little things for her to show he cared. The warm fire and the cup of tea. That’s a happy thought, at least. I’ll hope for that.

Icroth came back today. Like a cat, that Icroth. Here one day, gone the next. I woke up this morning to find him shirtless, washing his clothes in the back garden and hanging them up on the line. He gave me no notice that he’d arrived. “You could have knocked on my door, you know!” I chided him and he smiled.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he replied. “I noticed the museum is coming along. You should be proud, Tanith. You’ve done a great job.”

“Oh, I barely did anything! Just scribbled down some words on some paper,” I said. “Celestine’s done a great deal of the heavy lifting in terms of donations. We wouldn’t have a single thing to display if not for her!”

“Well,” he said. “I’m sure you were able to write things that no one else could. Humans can only read about the past. You lived it.”

I thought about Lorin and the dress inside - how I knew things about her that no one else did.

“Put on a shirt and come inside,” I said to him. “I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine.”

We went inside and I gave him a tour around the exhibits we had out. He smiled when he saw the coronation robes of Andrik Vydra. Apparently he’d been there on the day - when he was a very young child with his parents. After I’d shown him everything, he turned to me. “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone on an adventure together. Perhaps we’ll take that trip to Salvus and the Mushroom Island soon.”

“Ah,” I said. “Chirr and Celestine wanted to come along too.”

“We can include them if you like. Or it could be just the two of us,” he replied.

I looked over at him, regarding his expression. “What did you think of Chirr?”

“The woman from the funeral?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“You… seemed quite taken with her,” I murmured, toying with a strand of my hair.

He cracked a smile and let out an incredulous little laugh. “Not particularly. Why do you say that?”

“You two were getting along well,” I muttered, starting to feel foolish. “You talked with her the entire evening…”

He exhaled a sigh. “You felt threatened because I spoke to her for too long during the dinner? That’s why you’ve been upset with me?”

His words felt like a punch to the stomach and I realized just how silly it was for me to have gotten jealous over nothing. “O-Oh… when you put it like that, I feel ridiculous…”

“She was a pleasant woman, but, Tanith,” he said, turning toward me and putting a hand on my shoulder. “You ought to know me well enough by now. I am not the kind of mali who would go falling madly in love with someone I met once at a party.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” I replied. “I… have a bad habit of getting jealous over little things. I know it’s irrational and… and when I catch myself acting like that, I try to talk myself out of it. But it’s sometimes hard to rationalize your way out of a feeling once it’s gotten ahold of you. I really do trust you.”

“I trust you too, my dear,” he said. “Perhaps we’ll go somewhere alone together, then. No Chirr or Celestine. To help you feel better.”

My eyebrows shot up. “‘My dear’?” I repeated back to him. He never called me by a pet name before. When he said that, I felt as though something inside of me lit up like a light. I always loved it when Mr. Toov called me ‘Liebling’… I never thought anyone would call me something like that ever again.

“My dear,” he echoed with a nod and a smile.

I couldn’t stop myself from beaming after that. “We sound like an old married couple already,” I teased him and we laughed together.

He’s a different kind of man, Icroth. Not really like anyone I’ve ever been with - but I like it. There’s something comfortable about him. I know I really can trust him with my heart. I never would have thought I’d fall for a man like him, but you find happiness in unexpected places.

I heard a proverb once that said “Happiness comes in the small box, not the large one.” And I think that’s true.
I think that’s true. For me, happiness is when Icroth calls me his dear. It’s sitting in the back garden with him and watching the birds light on the laundry lines. It’s gazing at the moon from the museum rooftop.

For Lorin, I couldn’t change the pain she went through. But I was her friend. I made her tea when she came in from the snow and held her hands when she cried. Small gifts of caring when it felt as though all the world had abandoned her. That’s all I could do, but I know how much it mattered to her in the end. That’s why I know we’re still friends, even now, even hundreds of years later.

That’s how I want to be - the person who delivers that small gift of love, that small box of happiness.

 

Entry 58 –
1778 IST.

 

Spoiler

Ah, the process for getting the museum open is taking so long! I feel like we’re so close, yet so far! Progress is still progress, though. Every day, we get a new exhibit to put out on display or a new donation comes in. Everyone tells me the museum is coming together beautifully.

The first floor displays are shaping up nicely. We have exhibits on the Pre-Imperial World, the Founding of the Holy Oren Empire, Military Orders of the Early Empire, and the Carrion & Chivay Dynasties. The mannequin wearing the White Rose uniform catches me off guard every time I see it, though. I’ve jumped a few times in fright because I caught it out of the corner of my eye and it startled me. Seeing that surcoat just brings back so many memories. Many good, but complicated. I think my feelings toward my old friends will never not be complicated. I’ve simply got to make peace with that. History doesn’t have many easy answers.

Upstairs, we’ve got displays on the Fifth Empire and the Reformed Kingdom of Oren. Next to Andrik Vydra, we’re planning to display a set of armor worn by Olivier de Savoie. And, of course, there is the diary written by Lorina Carrion. Celestine was so impressed that we got the original diary, handwritten by the Raevir princess, that she insisted that it be put out as its own exhibit. Celestine is very fond of Raevir culture and history, so I figure that’s why.

“We want to make sure to lock that one up tightly,” Celestine said. “Put it under glass and double the usual security. It’s so delicate and old, I don’t want people even breathing on it!”

“It’s just a book, though,” I said. “Hardly diamonds or gold! Do you really think someone would want to steal an old diary?”

“The diary of one of the most famous and controversial noblewomen in all of Oren’s history?” Celestine replied. “Of course they would! I can’t imagine what it would go for at auction – but we got it for free! Lucky us!”

Well, if Celestine says so!

I only wish we had more space. The Sixth Empire, the Pertinaxi, and Modern Oren are all completely unrepresented in our museum. I suppose that’s for the best, though. The Pertinaxi are a bit controversial - and the wounds from their regime are still quite raw. When I asked Celestine about the Sixth Empire, she wrinkled her nose and waved a dismissive hand. “Not worth writing about,” she said. My goodness. Oren must have gone through some dark periods indeed. Perhaps we’ll eventually be able to expand and include some more of the modern history eventually, though.

Celestine posed an interesting question to me as we were unpacking, though. “Tanith,” she said. “How would you like to come on a special expedition with the NGS?”

“I would love to,” I said. “I adore traveling. But what sort of expedition is it?”

“Karl has been investigating some mysterious pillars discovered throughout Arcas,” Celestine explained. “There’s one to the far north of Haense. It might not be anything special, but… then again, it might be something very special indeed! Lauritz and I have been putting together an expedition team to go investigate. A few Circle members but also a few outsiders. I’ll be the expedition leader and the field doctor for the group. We’d be thrilled to have you along!”

“Oh, well, if it’s magical in nature,” I said, “I do know a little bit about magic. That might be useful!”

Celestine’s eyes shot open wide. “Magic? Tanith, I had no idea! You’ve never mentioned it!”

I felt my face heat up as I worked on arranging some of the displays. “I’m not very good at it,” I admitted. “My husband Mr. Toov taught me. He was very skilled, but I can’t claim to have his talents.”

“Toov was a White Rose, wasn’t he?” Celestine asked, glancing toward the mannequin. “That means… you’ve been practicing magic for over… three hundred years?! You must be an expert by now! You truly are more talented than you let on, Tanith! Bloody hell, you’re too humble…”

I didn’t want to tell her that I’ve only ever used my magic for parlor tricks. Back in the days of the White Rose, I only used water evocation to wash dishes and clean chamber pots and do laundry! If I try very hard, I can pull off a few impressive spells here and there. When I lived by myself and had a lot of time to meditate and practice, I became a very sharp mage indeed. But I haven’t put much time into practice lately. Other things have been on my mind. I’m certain I’m nowhere near as skilled as I used to be. Magic is one of those things that tends to slip if you don’t use it every day.

Oh well. Perhaps I’ll take some time to practice and brush up before the expedition.

“Do you think Icroth could come along as well?” I asked Celestine. “He’s a Paladin of Xan. He’s very familiar with things of a magical nature. He’s had all sorts of bizarre adventures with the Paladins. One time, he told me he fought a ghost army in a dream vision of the past.” I realized quickly how silly that sounded. “I know that seems ridiculous. But, ah… if you knew Icroth, you’d know he doesn’t tend to joke or exaggerate about that sort of thing.”

“Well, he’s more than welcome to join us,” Celestine replied. “His skills could be useful. And failing that, we could always use some extra backup. No telling what we might encounter in the far north of the kingdom. The highlands are quite dangerous and unexplored, I’m afraid. Did I ever tell you the time I went on a dream vision quest in Krugmar?”

By then, we’d gotten onto different subjects. Celestine showed me the draft of her ethnographic study on Krugmar. I am trying to be more open-minded toward the orcs since our dear friend Mr. Napier seems dead set upon marrying one. I’d like to remain friends with the Napiers, whether they be human or orcish. Celestine is so tolerant and open-minded toward other people. I’d like to emulate her example and treat other people with the same respect. She invited me to come with her to Haelun’or when she sets about writing her ethnographic study of the High Elves. Since I’m keen to learn more about different elven cultures, I heartily accepted her invitation.

Celestine and I talked for a while more before she had to depart. I feel as though she and I are becoming closer.

After Celestine left, I went out into the back garden and sat down in the grass for a while. I closed my eyes, letting the faint sounds of the city wash over me. And I extended a hand to touch the voidal energies coursing through the air.

It’s hard to put my finger on it exactly, but the nature of the voidal energies has changed over the many hundreds of years I’ve been practicing evocation. Accessing the void used to be easy - as natural as breathing. Mr. Toov could wield fire on a whim, pulling it instinctually from the void without the need to focus or channel it. He could snap his fingers and burn a foe to cinders. If I was having trouble lighting my stove, all he had to do was stare at the logs and they’d ignite. When it rained, he would simply use magic to evaporate the water before it touched us. It used to be easier for me as well, though I was never as talented as Mr. Toov.

Nowadays, though, it takes a great deal more focus to access and pull the energy from the void. It’s something I need to sit and think about. I don’t know if I’m just out of practice or if the energies have changed over the years. It’s difficult to put it precisely into words. Metaphysical things like this often evade language.

In my mind, I imagined ice. Veins of cold spreading and spiraling over the surface of a window. The crystals of a snowflake forming from the water in the air. A shudder ran through my body and a sudden coldness touched my fingers. I opened my eyes to see snowflakes dancing through the air around my hands. They followed my fingers as I moved them, shimmering and swirling in dizzy circles.

I rose to my feet and, with a violent motion of my arm, flung the snowflakes through space in the direction of the wall. At my command, the snowflakes condensed into hard-packed, blue ice. The chunk of firm, brittle ice smashed against the wall, exploding into a shower of shards, before vanishing back into the void.

Decent. But nowhere near as good as I once was.

The last time I earnestly practiced my magic was hundreds of years ago now. After the Duke’s War, I had grown sick of Oren and its instability. I’d survived two hundred and fifty years of near-constant war and bloodshed - with only brief periods of peace in between. I took the money I’d earned from the produce stall with Mr. Olora and I went deep into the countryside. That’s where I stayed for years.

I was not completely alone, though. As much as you might try to avoid people, people often come and find you whether you like it or not. My cottage was remote, but travelers and explorers would still occasionally come by. In times of peace, I didn’t mind entertaining visitors. I’d give them a hot meal and a place to sleep in exchange for help with a few chores around my farm. But then Haense and Courland declared war and conflict erupted once more.

The thought of soldiers razing my little cottage, slaughtering my chickens, killing my dog, trampling my carefully tended gardens - I could hardly stand it. I resolved not to let the war disturb my hard-won peace. I would protect my little homestead at any cost.

The idea came to me as I was sitting in front of the mirror one day. I touched the grey skin on my face and thought back to the early days of the White Rose and the barony of Rivia. Back then, our greatest enemies were the Frost Witches - grey-skinned sorceresses with white hair and the power of ice at their fingertips. I, too, wielded the magic of ice. With the right application of my appearance and my evocation, perhaps I could start a rumor frightening enough to keep the soldiers of Haense and Courland away from my doorstep.

It was maybe not my brightest idea.

Regardless, I began scaring off visitors with the use of my magic. Word must have spread about the Frost Witch living deep in the Haensi wilderness. Though my efforts kept casual visitors away, they invited guests of a different kind.

I’ll never forget the night Reeve Gyffard showed up on my doorstep.

No one tells you this, but the Haensi wilderness is dark, especially in winter. The sky turns black at night and no stars break through the cloud cover. The trees turn into jagged, obsidian teeth through which no light is able to penetrate. Snow muffles the sounds of the forest, turning everything to crystalline silence. When I snuffed the candles and laid myself in bed, it felt as though all the world had disappeared around me. I was floating in a void of pitch darkness. I slept soundly on those nights and nothing could wake me.

Nothing, perhaps, except a stone crashing through my window. I woke up the night to an ambush. A steel-toed boot kicked through my door. In blind panic, I reached out and seized hold of the voidal energies - flinging them mindlessly in the direction of the intruder.

I’ve never seen anyone move as fast as Reeve Gyffard, though. He flashed like lightning through my cottage, dodging everything I lobbed at him. In an instant, he had me pinned against the wall with his sword to my throat. “TEETH!” he bellowed at me, hot spittle landing on my cheeks. “TEETH! NOW!”

I spat in his face. When I wouldn’t comply with his order, he grabbed me roughly by the chin and forced my mouth open.

 

The change that came over his face was instant. “No pointy teeth,” he murmured, lowering his sword and letting me fall to the floor. “Yer no witch.”

“No,” I gasped, my heart hammering against my ribcage. Just a moment ago, I was sound asleep. Now this man was standing in my cottage with sword drawn - ready to kill me. It was perhaps the closest I have ever come to death in my entire life.

“What the hell are ye doin’, pretendin’ to be a goddamned ice witch? Idiot woman,” he snarled at me. He had a thick accent that I can still hear in my head today. “I would ‘ave killed ye if I didn’t know t’ look fer the teeth. In fact, I oughta kill ye anyway fer lobbin’ a fawkin’ spear of ice at me. Damn near took my ’ead clean off.” He reached down and offered me a hand.

Five years later, we were married.

Mr. Gyffard was a monster-hunter by trade - the leader of a small band known as the Black Fox Company. The first time I met them, it sent me spiraling back to memories of Rivia. Gyffard had a certain aspect of Thomas Chivay - the same auburn hair (though Reeve wore his long) and strong accent. He drank, he fought, he laughed loudly. The camaraderie among the Foxes reminded me so strongly of the Roses, it was almost as though I had stepped back in time. I think that’s why I was so drawn to them. Why I stayed. It was a taste of years gone by, a replacement for everything I had lost in the Exodus. I aided them in their monster hunts with my ice magic. And when we weren’t hunting, I cooked meals and cleaned up around their guildhouse.

My marriage to Reeve was not an especially pleasant affair. One minute, we’d be cuddling, kissing, making love. The next minute, we’d be screaming our heads off at each other and smashing plates against the wall. We drank often - and Reeve was a mean, belligerent drunk. Despite everything, I loved him intensely. He could be wonderful when he wanted to be - charming, thoughtful, tender, considerate - but he could change like the flip of a coin. I never knew if I was talking to the sweet and gentle Reeve or the furious, raging one.

The feeling among the Black Fox Company was such that, regardless of how badly we fought and hurt one another, we were all a family. And we would stay a family no matter what. I wanted that sense of belonging, of companionship so badly that I would have remained even if the worst happened.

I still miss them sometimes. Nigel, Kasper, Ariel, Faizan, Haider, Jun, Cole, Irene. For 12 years, I lived and worked with the Black Foxes - a fraction of the time I spent with the Rose, but still long enough for them to have left an impression on my heart. When Reeve died in battle, though, we split our separate ways… and I never saw any of them ever again. I doubt any of them are still alive.

It’s strange sometimes. How you can love people so deeply. How they can become so important to you. And then… one day… they’re gone from your life forever. You may not even know that day when it comes. Perhaps a year or two passes and you find yourself wondering where your friend has gone - only to realize that your last meeting was the final one.

I suppose the only thing we can do is love the people we love as much as we can while we still have them.

 

Entry 59 –
1778 IST.

 

Spoiler

Dear me. It seems my magical abilities are going to come in handy after all. Celestine told me more about our upcoming expedition today. It’s not what I expected. We won’t merely be jaunting up north to inspect some old ruins. No, in fact, it going to be something far, far greater than that.

Allow me to explain.

After wrestling with Olivier De Savoie’s armor for a time, we finally managed to get it in place on the armor stand next to Andrik Vydra. Thank goodness, one less headache to deal with. Celestine wiped her brow and let out a sigh. “I think we’ve earned a break,” she said to me with her usual bright smile. “There are a few things we ought to go over about the museum and the expedition. How about we get some tea?”

I couldn’t say no to that. Dealing with these heavy boxes has shown me how terribly out of shape I am. I was parched! So Celestine and I made our way over to the Dragon’s Rest. She ordered green tea and I had a cup of Tiger’s Eye. (Archchancellor Basrid requested it every time he visited and I somehow never had it in stock. When the new barmaid mentioned having a kettle on the stove, I couldn’t resist trying it.) We settled at a table upstairs in a somewhat secluded corner.

“So I’ve made some progress on getting items for the Fifth Empire display,” Celestine said to me. “A friend of ours, a Pruvian princess, donated several things! And you won’t believe what I found the other day as I was going through Juan’s old things!”

I took a sip of my tea. It was sweeter that I was expecting; I wonder if Archchancellor Basrid has a sweet tooth. “What did you find?” I asked.

Celestine reached into her bag and took out a battered old journal. “The journal of John Lyons, a cartographer from the land of Axios! He documented many things that occurred under John III’s reign. I figure this will be a nice addition to the Fifth Empire display. He was Juan’s… great great great grandfather?”

“My goodness, a lucky find!” I exclaimed. “John Lyons, you said his name was?”

“The very same!”

Something about that name struck a chord in my memory - and not just because I was such good friends with Juan. “Axios, hm?” I asked. “Was he a redhead?”

Celestine gave me an odd look. “I… wouldn’t really know that, Tanith. There aren’t any portraits of him,” she said. “That’s a rather odd question to ask, isn’t it?”

I felt my face heating up and I let out an awkward laugh. “Oh, ignore me,” I said, waving a hand. “I’m sure I’m getting him confused with someone else! Just being silly, you know… There are hundreds of thousands of men named John, after all. Why, I can’t count the number of Johns I’ve met in my life! Moving on, moving on. You mentioned the upcoming expedition?”

Celestine stared at me for a long moment as she slowly put the journal away in her satchel. “Yes, well… I’m sure you’ve noticed all the strange occurrences going on around Arcas lately! The bizarre things in the sky. Lightning flashes, meteors, and eclipses and what not. I worry that the world may be coming to an end shortly… and we will be forced to set sail for a new one!”

“Of course,” I sighed, cupping my teacup. “I’ve been through this old song and dance many times before. Right on schedule too.”

“Goodness, I hadn’t thought of that before… You’ve lived through this quite a few times, haven’t you? Well, anyway, Mr. Elendil has given the NGS funding to conduct our own investigation into the events,” Celestine explained. “And it really couldn’t come at a better time, because the expedition we’re planning is going to be a bit more involved than we anticipated.”

I lifted the teacup to my lips. “How do you mean?”

“Mister Lauritz and I ventured up to the site the other Saint’s Day. To scout the area, make sure things are secure, get a feel for the conditions…”

Celestine stood up and walked over to my side of the table, sitting down next to me. She leaned close, lowering her voice. “It was very odd, Tanith…”

“Odd? How so?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow at the sudden secrecy.

“Tanith, I don’t wish to alarm you. I know you lived through the Undead Crisis in the Aegean Age,” Celestine said. “And you likely still harbor those memories from your childhood. Believe me, the last thing I should want to do is upset you!”

“You’re not telling me you found a portal to the Nether,” I said. “You must be joking.”

Celestine shook her head. “I am not. I wish I was! But – he went there. And he came back! You know what this means, don’t you?”

“W-what?!” I exclaimed, losing control of the volume of my voice. Several other patrons of the tavern turned to stare at us. I clapped a hand over my mouth and dropped my voice back to a whisper. “You must be mad. Sir Christiansen went through the portal and… he came back? Unharmed? He wasn’t… scorched to cinders? Or dramatically aged? Or missing even more pieces besides his eye?”

“No, he was fine! He said the atmosphere on the other side was quite breathable as well. Though it was so intensely warm!” Celestine replied. “Otto and I are determined we must enter the portal and explore the other side, Tanith! We can mount an expedition to another realm for the purposes of scientific study! The Descendant races haven’t been to the Nether for half a millennium! We must strike quickly while the iron is hot, Tanith! We have no idea how long the portal will be open!”

“The Undead are not something to play around with, Celestine!” I scolded her. “The last time Nether Portals opened here in our world… it was nightmarish! But… I suppose it is the duty of scholars such as we to find out precisely what’s going on…”

“Exactly,” Celestine replied. “And we need you on this expedition more than ever, since you remember what the Undead Crisis was like in Aegis! You have first-hand experience.”

My eyes fell to the table and I studied the wood-grain as I gathered my thoughts. “Celestine, you know…” I began. “To end the Undead Crisis in Aegis… someone had to sacrifice their life to close the portals. It was an orc if I recall correctly.”

Celestine’s eyes opened wide. “An orc?”

“Yes,” I said. “That’s what I heard anyway. I was only seventy-six when it occurred. Practically a baby.”

“I didn’t know that,” Celestine replied. “Books on Aegean history are incredibly hard to find these days. Few of them have survived this long…”

“I wish I could remember his name,” I sighed. “But… that’s not the point. The point is… I don’t want that to happen to anyone in the NGS. As noble as such a sacrifice might be, I’m not sure my heart could bear it if we went through that portal and lost one of our own while exploring the other side.”

Celestine put a hand on my shoulder. “Tanith, I promise I would never do such a thing. And neither will any of the other members of the Society. We’re explorers, scholars, and thinkers - not heroes. We’ll leave the heroism to the military,” she said with a firm nod. “But I understand if you don’t want to go on the expedition.”

“No, I certainly do,” I replied. “Just like you said, I have first-hand experience with the Undead. I know at least a little bit about what we can expect from them. If all goes well… perhaps we can find a way to stymie the oncoming apocalypse and save Arcas. It’s getting tiresome, this business of picking up our entire lives and moving every hundred or so years.”

“Then we shall proceed with excitement rather than fear!” Celestine declared. “And maybe I’ll finally get that damn knighthood I’ve always wanted!”

“That is the least they can give you if we find a way to save the world!” I laughed. “Dame Celestine. It sounds perfect.”

“Dame Tanith too!” Celestine said, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “Ah… you know, I’m nearing my fortieth birthday. It amazes me that I’m still able to do things like this.”

“Oh, forty’s not so bad,” I reassured her. “It’s a good age.”

“Most women in the Empire die before their sixtieth,” Celestine mused, tilting her head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Childbirth or war or… well, all manner of other things. Forty is a venerable age for a woman. I’ve likely lost my chance to ever marry. Men only ever seem to want children… and a woman’s chances of reproducing only go down after she reaches that magical fourth decade!”

I frowned and reached for her hand. “I don’t think that’s true of every man,” I said. “If that was the case, my husband Mr. Toov would never have married me. He knew well that we’d likely never have children and it didn’t bother him one bit.”

“Perhaps, but… after Juan, I think I’m fine with the life of a spinster,” she sighed. “He was unique. There won’t be another one like him. I’m just glad that monster Bralt and his Scyflings are finished at last. Juan’s murderers are finally defeated.”

“Oh, the war’s over?” I asked. “I hadn’t heard much in the way of news from Haense.”

“Indeed, Bralt met his end at last. The war’s over,” Celestine exhaled. “I can’t help but feel… strange, Tanith. All my life, I’ve held nothing but love for the peoples of Arcas. All the peoples, be they primitive savages like the Orc of Krugmar or highly cultured societies like the High Elves of Haelun’or. But… when Juan was killed, I… I just began to hate them. The Scyflings. I don’t suppose I’ll ever be able to forgive them for what they did to Juan and my niece.”

“Who could blame you?” I asked. “Nobody in their right mind would fault you for feeling that way. In all honesty, I don’t think it’s required of us to forgive everyone or to love everyone.”

Celestine gave me a quirked eyebrow. “Is it not?” she asked. “That surprises me coming from you, Tanith…”

I flashed a wry sort of smile. “There are people I haven’t forgiven for how they treated me, even three hundred years later. Why, some of my centuries-old grudges are… rather petty, in fact,” I giggled. “St. Adrian wrote a mean-spirited play about me that I never forgave him for. If I don’t have to forgive a saint for something as petty as a mean play… you don’t have to forgive the Scyflings.”

“But isn’t the world so much lovelier when you forgive and forget?” Celestine returned. “Not to say that we should always forgive and forget, but… I don’t know, Tanith. I don’t have to forgive them, so I shan’t, but I must not lose myself in my hatred.”

“Well, there’s a difference between… letting hatred consume you and simply… not forgiving someone,” I said. “I know that’s not very eloquently put. But I don’t hate Hadrien de Sarkozy. I barely think about him at all! But I still dislike what he did and I was still very hurt by it, especially at the time. Should I meet him again in the Seven Skies, I’ll ask him for an apology.”

“That’s… quite fair, actually,” Celestine said. She smiled at me, gathering her satchel and her books. “For now, I need to run some errands and head back to Reza, though. I’ll be back to assist with setup soon, though!”

I bid Celestine a fond goodbye and finished the remainder of my tea before setting off myself. At home, I spent a few more hours meditating and practicing my evocation.

My memories of the Undead Crisis in Aegis are so distant. But I want to help in any way I can. If our expedition can uncover some vital information to prevent the start of another such crisis, I’ll do whatever it takes!

 

Entry 60 –
1778 IST.

 

Spoiler

I’m trying to pinpoint the precise moment I fell in love with Icroth Vursur.

Looking back, there were so many little moments and I’m not sure which one was the tipping point. Was it the time he dove into the river to rescue my lost glasses? Or the time he gave me a bouquet of hand-picked wildflowers on my birthday? Maybe it was that evening we spent on the rooftop, looking at the moon and doing nothing except talking for hours. It’s hard to say. I’m not sure if there was an exact moment. Instead, a gradual growing of feelings that, at their culmination, became impossible to deny.

He’s lying beside me right now in the bed as I’m writing this. He’s curled up, his back to me, facing the wall - fast asleep. The lamplight lends a certain warm glow to his grey skin. It’s the warmest shade of grey I’ve ever seen. His shoulders are rising and falling like the swells on the sea. And I love him so much it aches. A good ache, though. Like the way your muscles ache after a hard day of work. I want to slide my arms around him and press kisses into the plane between his shoulder blades, where his spine meets the base of his neck.

Oh, it’s been such a long time since I’ve felt like this. I’m so happy. What a wonderful day, that led me to be here beside him.

Edward Napier dropped by the Helena museum to visit today. “I’m looking for inspiration for the museum of Harrenite history I plan to open in Kaedrin,” he said, wandering around the Helena museum with an appreciative eye. “You’ve done an admirable job here, Tanith! I read your pamphlets. The writing is outstanding. Almost as if you were…” He paused, chuckling. “Almost as if you were there.”

I giggled. “Ah, I wish it were that easy! I don’t remember everything!” I said. “I was up to my eyeballs in books for months doing research. How is your move to Kaedrin going?”

Edward let out a sigh. “Well, you know – bureaucracy has slowed between the war on and the various… strange incidents. Eclipse, meteors, rifts opening up in the sky, all that. But! It shall all come in good time. I have faith. For now, I’m staying at the inn.”

“Dear me, I hope you’ll get your living situation figured out soon!” I replied - and then added, “How is your fiancee handling the move?”

“Wife now, actually,” Edward corrected me.

“Oh, congratulations on your nuptials!” I said - wondering quietly to myself where Edward found a priest or a civil servant willing to bond him to an orc woman. But a man like him probably knows the ins-and-outs of the ORC like no other. (No pun intended… goodness.)

Edward beamed. “Thank you! As for Gragmar, she was raised in a nomadic society. So I doubt she cares much or even notices. She pops by when she wishes, stays for a few weeks…”

I tilted my head. “She doesn’t live with you full-time?”

“No, she’s much too free for that. Dislikes staying in one place for too long, you see. She gets stir crazy,” he explained. Lifting a hand to his chin, he stroked the tip of his mustache. “I don’t… really know what she gets up to in her own time. Hunting, perhaps, or something. She keeps her own habits and duties. But she returns when she misses me and I still have the pleasure of seeing her often.”

“Are you… satisfied with that arrangement?” I asked, my face scrunching up.

“Well, when we have our children, I expect her to settle down a bit. For now, I’m fine with it, truly. It’s her way of life and I would not want to restrict her. She isn’t human and I shan’t try to force her to live like one.”

“Very open-minded of you, sir,” I complimented him. I oftentimes wonder what my life would be like if I hadn’t been forced to live as a human. How my behaviors, customs, even my feelings and thoughts would be different. “You’ll have to excuse me if I find it a bit hard to understand. Though… now that I think of it, I suppose my beau is a bit the same way.”

“Oh? Your beau?” Edward inquired.

“Ah, I don’t suppose you’ve met him yet,” I replied. “He’s in and out much like your Gragmar. He stays with me from time to time, but he’s often away doing… ah, whatever it is paladins do.”

“Let me guess,” Edward said, quirking an eyebrow as a little smirk played on his lips. “Eight feet tall and rippling with muscle? That seems to be your type.”

I laughed. “Ehehe… well, no, not quite,” I replied with a wave of my hand. “But Icroth has his own sort of appeal. I should love to introduce you some time! I plan to invite him along on the upcoming NGS expedition next time I see him. Will you be coming as well?”

“Mm, err… what IS the upcoming NGS expedition?” Edward asked. “I don’t think Celestine’s told me.”

At that precise moment, the museum’s front door opened and in stepped Icroth. He shook the rain off his cloak - a downpour had kicked up as Edward and I were talking - and blinked in surprise to see a stranger in the museum.

“Evening,” he grunted, taking the cape off his shoulders and hanging it on the hook near the door.

Edward’s gaze lingered judgmentally on Icroth’s full beard and undercut, as well as the leather cuirass he wore. Inwardly, I cringed. It hit me suddenly how Icroth must look to the men of the Empire. The Pertinaxi, as I’m told, all had a certain look - hair shaved short on the sides but longer on top, often with bushy beards. The current aesthetic of the Empire had developed in retaliation to that, by favoring a clean-shaven face and long hair. Icroth also often wears armor like one of the knights of old - the knights who violently oppressed the people under the reign of the Pertinaxi.

Icroth’s choices of clothing aren’t intended to show support for the old regime, though. Like me, he thankfully bypassed the years of Pertinaxi dictatorship. He keeps his hair short for practical reasons, I’m sure, and wears armor due to his career as a paladin. The beard is perhaps an aesthetic choice… but I wouldn’t want him to shave it. I find his facial hair very attractive.

I might need to have a talk with him, though… I can’t envision him dressing like Edward, but perhaps a modern update to his wardrobe is in order…

Anyway, I introduced the two men. “Icroth, this is my dear friend Edward from the NGS,” I said. “He’s the reason I moved here to Helena, if you’d believe it. And Edward, this is Icroth.”

They shook hands. “You’ve certainly got a… distinct look about you,” Edward commented - and, again, I cringed. “A fellow who’s lived far harder than I.”

Icroth stifled a laugh. “I will take that as a compliment,” he said before looking to me. “I did not mean to interrupt. NGS dealings, I presume?”

“Oh, yes!” I exclaimed and gestured for them to follow me. “It seems I have a great deal to tell you both! Let’s head upstairs to the meeting room, shall we?”

We made our way upstairs to the fourth-floor meeting room. Once we’d settled in our chairs, I launched into the news. “Ah, it’s thrilling, really…!” I said, clapping my hands together. “A little exciting, a little scary, but most of all, important! It may mean preserving Arcas from whatever apocalypse is knocking at our door this time.” I leaned forward, lowering my voice and motioning them closer. Both men adjusted their seats.

“Celestine and Sir Christiansen have been investigating a ruin to the far north of Haense… At first, they weren’t sure what to make of it. But after a recent scouting mission, they discovered its true purpose. It is a portal! To a realm unseen by Descendant eyes in many hundreds of years - the Nether!”

Edward scoffed, sitting back in his chair. “I’m not sure if I believe that.”

“It’s true!” I huffed at him. “Sir Christiansen went through the portal and came back out!”

“How do you know it’s the Nether?” Icroth asked. “You’re certain he’s not mistaken? Transported to someplace here on Arcas that he wasn’t familiar with? Perhaps the Firelands?”

“I can’t say for sure, as I’ve not been through the portal myself,” I replied. “But Celestine seemed quite convinced.”

“A reopening of portals to the Red Realm,” Edward mused, stroking his chin. “Why, if such a thing were true, it might herald a second Convergence!”

Icroth and I both snapped our heads in Edward’s direction. “A second… what?” we asked almost at the same time.

Edward broke into a smile as he sat forward. “It’s a theory I have been developing for some time!” he said, thrusting his pointer finger into the air. “How familiar are you two with naturalism, physics, geology…?”

With that, Edward launched into the description of his Convergence Theory. I’ll attempt to sum it up in brief, though I fear that I’m not educated well enough to understand it. Edward described how there are certain plants and animals in our realm that seem to be touched or influenced by magic. For example, there are many ordinary plants that all have certain healthful properties - such as aloe soothing burns or chamomile helping a sore throat. But certain arcane herbs - such as Blissfoil - have extraordinary properties that far outstrip their more mundane cousins. They are anomalies unlike any other plant found growing naturally in our realm. The same can be said of animals. Dragons, though they look like large lizards, do not fit the taxonomic model of any other reptile. No other reptile has the ability to fly or breathe fire.

“Dragons also had six limbs. No other creature in the world has six limbs, aside from our friends the insects,” Edward explained. “Why would this one species of creature deviate so heavily from everything else? Goats and sheep, for example - we can clearly see their relation to one another. The same with geese and ducks. But dragons? They hardly resemble other lizards, save for the superficial aspect of scales! Almost every single magical animal breaks from the established taxonomic model. Dragons, mathematically, should not be able to fly.”

“And yet they do!” I exclaimed.

“Precisely. But it requires a very special body plan to enable flight. A body plan dragons simply do not have,” he continued. “How can a naturally occurring beast violate the immutable, inviolable laws that govern our world?”

“Why, through magic,” I said.

“Indeed. Magic,” Edward replied. “But why would these particular species possess magic? Why not others as well? Why do sheep not breathe flame, or rabbits talk, or horses fly?”

“Perhaps some species have developed a finer attunement to the magical energies than others,” I suggested.

“Well, the second part of my theory is the age of the world in which we live,” he went on. “There was a time before magic, Tanith, and that time was immense. Tell me, have you ever beheld the stripes on the walls of a canyon? It is my theory that each of those beautiful colors represent a different era of time. And if my calculations are correct, it indicates that our world is hundreds of millions of years old.”

“Hundreds of millions? But the Holy Scrolls…” I began.

“Perhaps they are more mythological than we like to think,” Edward replied. “We can see the stripes of the canyon. We can conduct tests on the soil to determine its age. Does that not make it empirical truth?”

“Dear me, Edward, you mustn’t let the Church hear you say these things!” I cautioned him.

“Ah, don’t misunderstand me. Simply because the Church is wrong about the age of the world doesn’t mean God is invalid! In fact, by studying the design and shape of our world, I think it lends more proof to the idea of God than ever,” Edward replied hurriedly. “But yes… if my experiments are correct, I would estimate the world to be five-hundred million years old. And magic, according to the studies conducted by the High Elves of Haelun’or, appeared precisely 1778 years ago.”

“What do you think happened 1700 years ago, then?” Icroth asked.

“It is my theory,” Edward ventured, “that 1778 years ago, a sort of… Convergence occurred. The rifts of space and time opened… and the Void intermixed with our world, giving rise to the magical examples of flora and fauna we’ve discussed. Monsters and magic appeared - as well as greater things, Aenguls and Daemons. I believe Horen was not the first man, but the first man to possess the aspect of magic.”

“Thank goodness we are among friends and not in the hearing of any holy men,” I sighed. “But what does this have to do with the Nether portals opening up? And everything else that’s been happening in the world?”

“Well…” Edward said. “Over the last seventeen hundred years, dragons have gone extinct. As have many other unnatural creatures. They are far rarer these days than they were in ages past, as I’m sure you both can attest. A thousand years ago, mighty arcane objects could be made - and now? Only things but fractions of their power. Magic has been… decreasing. The practice of magic becoming more difficult to learn.”

“Ah!” I said, my eyes widening. “It’s true! I’ve felt it myself. The voidal energies have a different… texture these days. I used to be able to cast much more easily. Why, it was as natural as breathing once upon a time. Nowadays, it’s far more fatiguing…”

“I believe the original Convergence may have been an accident of sorts,” Edward replied. “And all the magic in the world is… slowly… returning to its place of origin. Until now. All of this may be evidence of a second Convergence on the horizon! Perhaps the same mechanism that caused the original Convergence is responsible for opening these portals.”

“You should come with us to the Nether, Edward!” I said. “Wouldn’t it be grand to study the portal up close?”

Edward’s eyes shot open in alarm. “Go to a Nether portal? Are you mad?” he asked, spluttering. “Tanith, I’m nearly fifty! I’ve never fought in my life! I – I have a wife now! I’m trying to start a family!”

“But perhaps the portal could provide evidence of your theory!” I replied.

“I’m afraid I’m simply not going to endanger myself like that,” Edward said firmly. “I do not wish to do to my wife what Mr. Lyons did to his, Tanith.”

His words struck an uncomfortable part of me and I dropped my eyes to the table. An awkward silence fell over the room. After a moment, Edward cleared his throat. “My apologies for the insensitive comparison,” he muttered. “But it is that serious to me.”

Icroth was the one to diffuse the tensions. “Perhaps we could bring Mister Napier samples back from the expedition? For him to look over?” he suggested - and Edward perked up.

“Oh, that would be brilliant!” Edward replied. “I’ll put together some devices and equipment to give you. I’ll need geological samples, gas samples… water, if you find any there. Sketches of the terrain.”

I smiled. “Well, we’d be delighted to help,” I told him. “There’s an NGS meeting this coming month. So if you could put together a checklist and a selection of equipment by then, we’ll gladly bring back samples.”

“Then I have much to prepare for,” Edward said, gathering his things and preparing to go. “It has indeed been wonderful talking, though!”

With that, I showed him to the door and we bid him farewell. Icroth and I sat talking in the meeting room a while longer, discussing our plans for the upcoming trip into the depths. For some reason, Edward’s comments bothered me, though. Of course, I knew logically that the Nether expedition would be quite dangerous. A realm full of monsters, fire, and evil isn’t a place to play around. But the possibility we might die there had not occurred to me.

I looked over at Icroth as we sat next to one another and chatted. Without really thinking about it, I found myself reaching for his hand. Knitting his fingers with mine, I looked into his pale blue eyes and said what had been on my mind.

“I love you.”

He smiled - a soft and sincere smile that felt as though it filled the whole room with light. “I love you too,” he said. “I’ve loved you for quite some time. But what made you say it?”

“I… was just thinking,” I murmured, averting my gaze down to my feet. “Edward talking about his wife. How he can’t risk what happened to Juan happening to him. Going into the Nether is… dangerous. A foolish risk, one might even say. It’s fully possible we’ll all die in there. I didn’t want to take that risk without telling you.”

Icroth took me by the wrist and drew me closer until I was sitting in his lap. His arms twined around me, pulling me to him. He felt so warm. I rested my head in the crook of his neck and closed my eyes. Right there, in his arms, I was overcome with a feeling that this was exactly where I wanted to be for the rest of my life - however long or short it might last.

“Would you… maybe…” I murmured into his neck. “Would you care to stay the night?”

Of course, that’s the exact moment when Celestine walked in.

I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast in my entire life. I leapt out of Icroth’s lap and put as much distance between him and me as possible. Despite that, I’m certain Celestine noticed something was off about us when she entered. As it turns out, she had come in to check on the museum and hadn’t expected to see us there. She dropped by only for a minute and quickly excused herself.

Once Celestine had left, the mood was thoroughly spoiled. I wanted to bury my head in the sand. A hundred years ago, when my drinking problem was at its worst, I would have needed a full bottle of Carrion Black to recover from that kind of embarrassment. Thankfully I am more moderate in my drinking now. But still, having Celestine catch me with Icroth in an intimate moment like that… I wanted the Nether to rise up and swallow me whole!

Pushing back my chair, I stood up. “I think I might just go to bed, Icroth,” I said. “It’s late.”

“Tanith,” he whispered, standing with me and reaching for my hand. “It’s quite all right, dear. I’m sure she didn’t judge.”

“This is my punishment for getting too romantic in the meeting room,” I sighed. But then I lifted my gaze to meet his. “The offer is… still on the table, though. If you’d like.”

A frown spread over Icroth’s features. “Tanith, I –” he hesitated, closing his mouth and looking away. “I love you. And I want to. I’m not beholden to any valah ideas about propriety. But — I have been alone for a long time. Two centuries. It may be better to take things slow. I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

“You couldn’t possibly disappoint me, Icroth. But…” I added after a short pause. “If you’re uncomfortable, I won’t push you. I’m sorry.”

Icroth said nothing for a moment. He stood for a time in thought, then raised his pale eyes to meet mine. “I wouldn’t mind sleeping in a bed rather than on the floor for once,” he said at length. “Perhaps we can start with that and see where it leads.”

I smiled. “That would be very nice, I think.”

I’m happy. We have all the time in the world, so there’s no need to rush. Knowing I love him and he loves me is enough.

 

Entry 61 –
1779 IST.

 

Spoiler

Well, there’s good news and there’s bad news.

The good news is that the Helena Branch of the NGS Museum is finally, finally, finally open for business! We’ve worked so hard and I genuinely couldn’t be prouder of our efforts! How wonderful! It’s an absolute delight to stroll among the exhibits and see everything in its proper place. After weeks of living and working out of boxes, we’re finished at last and now everyone can enjoy the relics. Just in time for the Empire’s upcoming quadricentennial celebration too! What good timing, don’t you think? I couldn’t have planned it better myself. The quadricentennial festival is coming up in just a few short months and I’m sure the museum will be a big attraction.

To think, I’m older than the Empire. How bizarre that I was around to witness its founding. I wonder if I’ll live to see a full millennium of Oren. Good Lord, just think how ancient I’ll be by then - over eleven-hundred years old! I can hardly imagine!

But onto the bad news…

It seems our little jaunt to the Nether is going to be a bit more complicated than we anticipated. Ah, of course, it is. Who said going to a hellish realm to explore the land of demons would be easy?

Celestine called a meeting of the NGS Circle today. I had a feeling we’d be discussing the Nether expedition, so I brought Icroth along with me as a guest. I hope this will be the first of many meetings for him; I’d dearly like him to become a member with me. The meeting, unfortunately, did not go so well.

Icroth and I arrived a little late due to a delay on the tram. We walked in just as Celestine rang the bell to begin the meeting. “Welcome, everyone, to this meeting of the Northern Geographic Society Circle!” she announced, giving us a smile as we took our seats. “And a special hello to our guests today. This is going to be something of an unusual meeting, I’m afraid. Sir Christiansen, Sir Wittenbach, and I have a very important matter to brief all of you on.”

She invited Sir Christiansen and Sir Wittenbach up to the podium. “Many years ago, the Duchess of Valwyck - God rest her soul - informed Sir Christiansen and I about a mysterious pillar that she located on her lands. With everything that’s been going on, we thought that now was the time to investigate it. Lauritz, would you care to inform the Society what we found there?”

“We found a riddle inscribed upon the pillar,” Sir Christiansen cut in. “A poem describing water seeking life to leech. I’m not sure how we came upon the solution, but we at last determined that we needed to drown ourselves in order to activate the portal. Once the portal was opened, we were transported to a place we determined was the Outer Nether - our lives restored.”

“You drowned yourselves as a sacrifice?” Karl Amador exclaimed, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “But – you’re still here! What kind of black magic is this?”

“In a manner of speaking, all three of us died, ja,” Sir Wittenbach said with a somber expression. “But it was only a temporary death. We are all three very much alive now.”

“I am – I am not sure this expedition is acceptable in terms of my Canonist faith!” Karl spluttered. “To drown one’s self as a daemonic sacrifice and be transported to the Nether! This seems immoral!”

“It’s not a real death!” Celestine replied. “In order to access the Outer Nether, one must ‘drown’ themselves in the lake, but the portal allows us to return to the land of the living with all our possessions intact. In truth, I don’t believe we died at all. Rather it’s a test. An action that functions as a key to unlock the door. Karl, you’ve investigated other similar pillars. Did they not all have a riddle like this?”

“Da, all three pillars have riddles,” Karl murmured, referencing his notes. “I did not think they referred to sacrificing a life, though… There is a fiery pillar that sits at a volcano to the far south.”

“I would reasonably assume that one has to burn themselves alive to open that portal, then,” Sir Christiansen hypothesized.

“The Stone Pillar sits atop a tongue of land surrounded by huge ravines,” Karl said.

“Right, we’d probably have to fling ourselves off a cliff to our deaths, then,” Sir Christiansen sighed. “Considering our options, I would say drowning is the best and least painful option.”

Princess Alexandria suddenly stood up in her seat, her face flushed. “How can you all act so casual about this?” she shouted, her voice hoarse. “You’re speaking of killing yourselves and entering a hellish place! And treating it as if… as if it’s some vacation you’re taking! This isn’t some fun, fairytale adventure! Aren’t any of you the slightest bit concerned of the appearance of these portals?”

“Of course we’re concerned!” Celestine replied, gripping the podium. “The End Times are knocking on our door. We may be forced once again to uproot all our lives and go desperately searching for a new place to settle - just as our ancestors did in the past. The comets, the flashing lights, the Outer Nether… It’s all a bit of deja vu, is it not? We have to investigate this.”

Princess Alexandria grit her teeth, her fists clenching. She whipped around, her black hair flying, and stormed out of the meeting room. Celestine blanched as the princess hurried off - then scrambled after her. Sir Christiansen quickly followed, leaving Sir Wittenbach standing alone at the podium.

It was difficult to continue the meeting without Celestine, but Sir Wittenbach tried to inform us as well as he could. “I understand why zhou are all vorried about zhis expedition,” he said, “especially zhe drowning zhing, but I am vith Celestine on zhis. It is somezing vhich ve must look into. I’ve done some research into zhe Nether – I know ve vill need vater most of all. Zhere is not a drop in zhe Nether. Golden weapons too. And ozher supplies to survive und set up a proper forward base zhere.”

“Tanith and I are equipped with golden weapons,” Icroth said. “And I will bring along a supply of water and camping gear.”

“Make sure zhat your supplies are fire-retardant,” Sir Wittenbach warned. “The heat… it is intense. Nigh unbearable. And fire is quick to catch.”

“Duly noted,” Icroth replied. “I’ll see if there’s a way to fireproof them.”

“Perhaps with magic,” I mentioned.

At that moment, Celestine and Sir Christiansen returned with Princess Alexandria. “Alexandria had something that she wished to share with the Society before we proceed in our deliberations,” she said, taking the princess by the hand and leading her to the podium. Sir Wittenbach ceded the little meeting room stage to the princess.

Alexandria looked over the gathering, her face set into a grim frown. “Before Bralt’s forces had laid siege to New Reza… Klaus, the Barnevb, had approached me with troubling information,” she said. “He is one with… a strange sight, and often has glimpses into the future. He approached me in the courtyard and spoke this prophecy to me…”

Clearing her throat, she spoke of what had been foretold to her:

“Distant banners fly black and gold
And crows reign again in this kingdom old.
In orchid fields and reconquered lands
Come sin and spite from long-dead hands.
Five plagues borne of hellish flames
Shall shake the land as chaos reigns.
Darkness. Toads. Betrayal. Blood. Death.”

A silence fell over the meeting room as each of us contemplated what this might mean.

“Do you think the plagues might arise from the opening of these portals, then?” I asked quietly to the silent room.

“I don’t know,” Alexandria admitted. “But nothing good in my eyes can come from these portals. We… may have already experienced one of these plagues - darkness. Our sun vanished for nearly an entire month.”

“But…” I said. “Maybe if we go into the Nether, we can find a way to stop it. If we do nothing, it’ll all happen just as the prophecy says. Fate isn’t written in stone. It’s fluid. We have to try and do something rather than just… nothing. Bad things are already happening, so it’s up to us to try and find a way to stop them.”

“I only relay this prophecy as a warning,” Alexandria replied. “You all need to know what is at stake here. This is not something we ought to do casually. This is niet some fairytale or legend.”

Celestine closed her eyes, exhaling a long sigh. “I won’t lie,” she said, “I’m beginning to get a touch of cold feet about this whole ordeal. But… I would tend to agree with Tanith. We can’t just sit by and let these things happen.”

“Very well,” Alexandria replied, stepping down from the podium. “But I will niet go near such portals myself.”

“Completely understandable.” Celestine nodded. “If anyone else wants to back out… there’s nothing wrong with that and we won’t begrudge your choice. I will be personally leading this expedition into the Nether along with Lauritz and Otto. I know not everyone will want to come along - or be able to. But if we hope to make any discoveries down there, we need all the help we can get. Both academics and adventurers.”

“I wish to go,” Karl Amador said. “I have been studying these pillars for some time now. I must see this through.”

“You can count on Icroth and me,” I said.

Icroth nodded with a simple “Aye.”

“Then our objectives are twofold,” Celestine continued. “Our primary goal is to gather as much knowledge and as many rare materials from the Nether as humanly possible. Our secondary goal is to try to engage in reconnaissance and see if we can’t find a way to ‘stem the tide’ or warn the Inferi Alliance, as well as the Haeseni and Imperial governments, about any further horrors that might be coming. We shall set off as soon as the final preparations have been made. As to those who stay behind… Well, should anything befall us, you know what happened.”

“How long are we planning to stay?” I asked Celestine. “Days? Weeks?”

“As long as we can,” Celestine replied. “Until we complete our objectives. Or run out of supplies. Or… lose our minds. Our sources warned us that such is possible. But my hope is to construct a forward operating base near the portal so we can move back and forth freely. For now… I call this meeting of the Northern Geographic Society’s Circle to a close. Everyone, please go and rest up and prepare as much as possible.”

With that, she rang the bell and dismissed us. I held Icroth’s hand as we walked home, feeling uneasy. Once we were some distance down the road from Reza, I looked over at him. “What do you think about all this?” I asked.

“It was a mess in there,” he grunted. “They’re unprepared.”

“We have no idea what’s waiting for us,” I murmured and Icroth nodded.

“That’s the unfortunate part,” he replied. “But I see the validity in exploring these portals. Not for fun, as the princess accused us, but to discover why this is happening. Why now. And to see if we can potentially stop what is fated to occur.”

“I am terribly sick of having to endure a cataclysm every century or two,” I sighed. “Maybe just this once, we can find a way to prevent it.”

“I pray so, aye,” Icroth replied. “I’ll get in touch with Jack, see if there’s a way to build up my Paladin abilities in advance of this. I am certain they’ll be useful to us in the depths. They’re designed to combat this type of dark magic.”

“Thank you for coming.” I gave his hand a squeeze. “I know the prospect of suicide by drowning isn’t the most… appetizing way to spend a weekend. But I think as long as we’re together, we should be all right.”

He smiled and squeezed my hand in return.

“With all luck, things will go well! We just have to be brave.” I peered sidelong at him. “Although I think I would feel braver if I had a kiss from a handsome mali.”

Icroth let out a short laugh. “You are starving for affection,” he chided but stopped to kiss me anyway.

After we arrived back in Helena, he set off to go and purchase supplies for our excursion. As for me, I went to the library and began checking out the bestiaries to see if I could find information on the creatures we might meet in the Nether.

I’m slightly worried about the drowning, but… Celestine, Sir Christiansen, and Sir Wittenbach have been through the portal multiple times. Their presence here is proof that it’s safe - at least as safe as a portal to Hell itself can be. Even so, I don’t want my 504-year streak to end in an accidental suicide.

And there’s the question… are Celestine, Sir Christiansen, and Sir Wittenbach the same people they were before the drowning? Is it possible they’re imposters sent from the Nether to lure us to our deaths? They don’t seem different. No, in fact, they seem completely normal - their usual selves. But the possibility remains.

Perhaps it’d be wise to draft a will just in case.

 

Entry 62 –
1779 IST.

 

Spoiler

Dear me. I got myself into some nasty trouble today. It’s possible I’m too nice for my own good.

Today was a big day for the Empire - the eve of the ISA’s first battle against Sutica. To celebrate the occasion, they held a big military parade from the gates of Helena to Nauzica Square. Mr. Napier and I sat together and watched them practice for a time. Edward got the best seats in the house - a bench right next to the parade route! I got to see Emperor Peter III for the first time in the flesh - after ten years of living in Helena! He cuts a very regal figure in his red coat and long, curled wig. I used to think that the wigs looked a bit silly and effeminate, but… credit where it’s due. He wears his wig well and looks like a stately lion of a man while doing it.

 

We even exchanged words briefly, if you would believe it! When I arrived and sat down next to Edward, I noticed all the horses lined up and getting ready. “My, has the parade already begun?” I asked Edward, “I hope I’m not late.”

The Emperor, who happened to be trotting by on his horse right at that moment, turned and smiled at me. “No, no,” he said from atop his steed. “Just practice.”

I near about fainted when I realized he was talking directly to me! I wasn’t sure what to do. Curtsy? Bow? He rode past swiftly before I could do or say anything! Goodness me, I hope he doesn’t think I was rude!

He’s a rather intimidating man with his eyepatch and strong warrior’s figure. But maybe that fearsome face belies a kindly soul. As I understand it, he has few people who are close to him and he is all in all rather mysterious, though. I wonder if I shall ever get to speak with him again - properly, I mean. (Perhaps I should be cautious, though, if what I hear about his penchant for elves is true.)

After the parade, the Emperor took the stand in Nauzica Square and gave a speech to the ISA soldiers. He handed out several awards and even raised a man to the peerage and granted him a county! I must say, His Imperial Majesty is a compelling speaker. After two-hundred-and-fifty years of living in Oren, seeing multiple empires rise and fall, I have developed some… criticisms of the Imperial system. I do not think Oren is as good as it could be. But… it is much improved from what it used to be. And if this man is responsible for the vast changes I’ve seen, then… I can’t bear too much of a grudge against him. I much prefer this version of Oren over the First Empire. And I’m certain I would prefer it over whatever the Pertinaxi were doing.

After the parade, the streets cleared out swiftly. A good number of people headed to the Novellen Palace for the princess’s debutante ball. I wasn’t invited and I dare not crash an Imperial Ball, so I made my way past the palace toward home.

Outside of the greenhouse on the walk home, though, a strange woman stopped me. “Saint Honesty?” she asked me. “Is that you?”

I had no idea who she was talking about. “Beg pardon?” I said. “I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” As I searched her face, I noticed that her eyes seemed unfocused and hazy. Like she was half asleep. Her clothes and jewelry were very fine. At first, I thought she was a noblewoman. We were still close to Novellen… perhaps she’d gotten too drunk at the party and needed help. Or worse – maybe someone had slipped her something.

“It’s me, Tara,” she said, smiling at me. “Are you taking shelter under the tree? Let the rain wash away your tears, my dear.”

For the record… I was neither crying, nor standing under a tree. The sky was clear with not a cloud in sight. “Are you… feeling quite well, miss?” I asked, giving her a once over to see if I could spy any injuries. “Did you… hit your head? Or maybe eat or drink something strange?”

“I really must go, but I am glad to have met the rain on your face, Saint Honesty. Winter is coming to stab you tonight,” she said to me with a singular nod. “Don’t get blood on the newly built roads. You must be careful not to hurt the baby before she’s born.” She pointed at my midsection. Needless to say, I am not pregnant.

“Miss,” I said, taking her gently by the hand. “I think you need to see a doctor. Let’s get you to the clinic here in town.”

“Don’t stain the town red, don’t bleed too profusely…” the young lady, Tara, continued to warn me. Tears welled up in her eyes as she gripped my hand - so tightly that I felt her crunch finger bones. “He’s going to find you when you lay your head… Don’t sleep, please!”

By now, I was starting to be very concerned and alarmed indeed. “I won’t go to sleep, I promise,” I said, trying to calm her down. “Let’s go to the clinic together, shall we? See if we can find a medical professional?”

She nodded mutely. I lead her by the hand past the palace and over to the clinic near the square. By now, I thought for certain she must have been drugged. She seemed to be completely disconnected from reality - with no idea where she was or what she was seeing. I resolved that I would watch over her at least until she sobered up. A woman is very vulnerable in that position and I should hate to see someone take advantage of her!

 

As soon as I got her situated at the clinic, a redheaded nun arrived. “Oh, patients?” she exclaimed, lifting her brows as she entered.

“Thank goodness! Are you a doctor?” I asked. The nun nodded and confirmed that she was a nurse. I explained the situation - that Tara had come up to me on the street out of nowhere and started speaking gibberish.

“Oh, Tara,” the nun - Sister Madeleine - sighed. “Yes, we’ve treated her before. She’s a very troubled girl. She hurts herself and others too, though not with malicious intent. I believe it is some sort of mental illness or corruption.”

“What should we do?” I asked, glancing over to where Tara sat on the bed. “I don’t believe she’s a vagrant. She’s too nicely dressed and clean. Is someone taking care of her?”

“I don’t know, actually,” the Sister replied. “But there’s not a great deal we can do for Tara here. She suffers from something in the mind, not the body… But maybe we can take her to an ISA officer. She ought not to be wandering around on the streets alone and unattended.”

I’ve not much experience dealing with people who are mentally unwell. The nun’s suggestion sounded good to me, though. I’m certainly not knowledgeable enough to figure out what to do with Tara. The nun went over to the bed and took Tara by the hand, helping her up. But as we moved toward the door, Tara suddenly began to panic and lash out. “He’s coming like a whip, snapping every brick. He’s doing it for fun, painting in her blood!” she began screaming as Sister Madeleine pulled her out onto the street. “Don’t let him have me!” She wrenched herself free of the nun and began shrieking and pulling at her hair.

Tara’s episode caught the attention of a nearby ISA officer. “What on earth is going on here?” he inquired, stopping his patrols to observe the three of us.

“Oh, Officer!” I said, hurrying up to him and lowering my voice. “This woman is very confused and upset. We’re trying to find a way to get her home to her caretakers. Is there any way you could help us?”

“SHE BURNED ME WITH A METAL ROD!” Tara began howling, pointing insistently at Madeleine. “She wants to hurt me! She told me if I didn’t come with her, she would rip the baby from my stomach!”

The officer shot a terrified glance in the direction of Sister Madeleine. “My God, is this true?” he asked of the nun.

Madeleine shot him an apologetic smile. “This woman… Her name is Tara,” the sister explained. “She’s quite disturbed. She continues to hurt herself and others. She needs to be kept off the streets for her own safety…”

“Saint Honesty is coming to help us!” Tara cried out, pointing toward me. “But we can’t because the blood will be spilled on the new roads and she – “ Tara swiveled over to Madeleine, “– is organizing a secret murder! She wants to kill the child inside of me!”

“Let’s… take this slowly,” the officer said, looking terribly confused. “Can one of you explain what’s going on?”

“I’m worried this woman may be sick or drunk or drugged,” I said, touching Tara’s shoulder. “She needs to be somewhere safe. I think she might have a caretaker somewhere in the city… Someone who’s looking after her.”

“She’s going to kill us!” Tara screamed, flinging herself on the ground and pounding the pavement with her fists. “She told me!”

“Please, no one will come to harm in the walls of Helena,” the ISA officer assured Tara kindly. “The Imperial State Army will take care of any threats. Now then… Can you tell me what problem you have with the Sister here?”

“There’s no problem, officer,” Madeleine replied. “I’m a Sister of the Holy Church of the Canon. I wouldn’t harm a fly. I’m simply trying to do my duty by taking care of the ill, the lost, the needy.”

“I know what I’m talking about!” Tara barked hoarsely. She cast a terrified look in Madeleine’s direction. “You have to protect my baby from her! She attacked ME! She threatened ME!”

“I would never threaten a pregnant woman!” Sister Madeleine asserted. “On my vows to GOD!”

Tara began to sob and wail, covering her face with her hands. “You were my friend!” she bawled at Madeleine. “Until you betrayed me! You changed for the worse! We used to love each other!”

The poor ISA officer didn’t seem to know what to make of the situation unfolding in front of him – and I don’t blame him for feeling that way. “…I think we ought to go to the Bastille and get this figured out,” he said at length. “Come, all three of you. You’re being detained until this situation is sorted.”

And that is how I ended up being arrested and taken to the Imperial State Army Bastille.

He dropped us off in the office of Sir Othaman, was the commanding officer on duty at the time. After hearing from all three of us, he quickly determined that Tara was mentally disturbed. We managed to figure out that her caretaker was one Alaric DeNurem – a captain of the ISA himself.

Sir Othaman released Madeleine with his apologies and ordered one of his underlings to take Tara to a holding cell.

Tara began to panic again as the guards manhandled her. I pleaded that they take me along with her. Tara was still convinced that I was this “Saint Honesty” person and my presence was the only thing keeping her calm. I was allowed to stay with her, thank God. The poor thing was crying and groaning and wailing so loudly in her holding cell. She clung to me like a child and wept heavily into the fabric of my dress. I didn’t know what to do except pat her on the back and offer her my favorite handkerchief.

Eventually, Alaric DeNurem showed up to collect poor Tara, upon which I was dismissed from the Bastille. From there, I made my way back home to my apartment above the museum.

Lord have mercy, what an awful situation, though. My heart broke for Tara. Mr. DeNurem acted more annoyed and angry toward her than compassionate. I’m not certain if he fully understands the declining state of her mind. If he did, he wouldn’t be allowing her to roam the streets freely. A person in her state needs ’round-the-clock care or else she might hurt herself.

Oren has made many advances over the last several hundred years yet there are still far too many ways in which it’s lacking. The ISA officers seemingly had no idea how to handle Tara with gentleness and compassion. Putting her in a holding cell only exacerbated her agitation and made her even more unhinged…

Oh, and I just realized I never got my handkerchief back! Bother, I really liked that one. It had such a pretty pattern embroidered on it. I suppose it can’t be helped, though… No need to kick up a fuss over it.

 

Entry 63 –
1779 IST.

 

Spoiler

Oh dear. Oh dear. Something bad is happening and I’m not sure what to do about it! Someone I know is in danger and I’ve no idea how to help them!

It all started earlier today. I’ve been doing what I can to help prepare for the NGS expedition into the Nether - practicing my magic, reading anything I find in the library on demonic entities, collecting useful books on survival skills. There’s no telling what we’ll find beyond the portal, so we need to account for every possibility. Celestine is slated to be our group’s doctor, but I thought it sensible for me to brush up on first aid as well - especially relating to burns.

So I had gathered a big pile of books - some purchased from the bookstore in Nauzica Square, some checked out from the library. There’s a spot near the Novellen Palace where I’ve taken to sitting and reading when the weather is pleasant. It’s shaded under a tree and surrounded by tulips, so the perfume in the air is simply divine. I do so love flowers. Books in hand, I decided I would get some fresh air and sit at my favorite bench while I studied up.

By every account, it seemed as though it would be an ordinary day. The sun shone down lovely and warm upon me. The birds twittered in the tree overhead and dappled shadows played upon the pages of my book. A playful little breeze carried the scent of water. Then, suddenly, a shadow moved across the sun and I heard a terrible, ghastly wail from the direction of the Novellen Palace. The palace doors burst open as if pushed by an unearthly wind and creaked ominously on their hinges.

I thought about shouting for the ISA, but no guards were about. Fearing that someone might be injured and in need of help, I left my books upon the bench and ventured into the palace courtyard. Perhaps it’s naughty of me to trespass, but the cries of pain only seemed to be getting louder. If someone was injured, I figured it was my duty to help them and not just let them writhe in suffering!

The howls of agony led me through the garden to the door of Archchancellor Basrid’s office. Again, the doors flew open as if propelled by some strange power. When I stepped into the Archchancellor’s office, I found the place completely trashed! Books and papers strewn across the floor, curtains shredded as if by claws, items and curios smashed.

My first thought was that someone had broken in and assaulted the Archchancellor. “Sir Basrid?” I called, hesitating upon the threshold of his office. “Sir Basrid, is that you? Are you hurt?”

“Help me…” A voice from upstairs pleaded. And the voice triggered something deep inside my memory. It wasn’t the Archchancellor. He had a Rhenyari accent. No, this voice was… familiar. I hurried up the marble staircase. As I set foot upon the landing and saw what was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, I stopped dead in my tracks.

On the second floor of the Archchancellor’s office, there was a strange circular symbol drawn upon the ground, surrounded by bizarre red candles. In the center of that symbol was a ghostly presence - the figure of a man glowing a subtle blue. But it wasn’t just any man. It was someone I knew. A face I never expected to see again, not even if I lived for a thousand years.

“Hadrian de Sarkozy?”

He looked up at me. His ghostly form knelt upon the floor, limbs quivering, as one hand clutched his heart. When he laid eyes on me, a change came over his face - a look of recognition.

“Tanith…!” he gasped, reaching out toward me.

“Tanith… please…!” His mouth opened in an unearthly wail as the symbol beneath him pulsed with some sort of unknown magic power, inflicting torture upon him. “I need help…!”

…Hadrian de Sarkozy and I did not have the closest relationship. In fact, I think he plainly despised me and my husband at the time. I found him nearly intolerable - a prancing, arrogant, scheming, unkindly man who only saw the advantage he could squeeze out of other people. He was furiously jealous of anyone with more status than he - but seemingly Mr. Toov most of all. He saw my husband as his antithesis, a large and stupid brute. And me? I believe he saw me as some kind of wicked Mali’ker temptress swaying the Rose with my elvish wiles, though nothing could have been further from the truth. On my honor, I made every attempt to be civil to him. On occasion, I would even offer him my assistance with his courtship woes. (He struggled to find any woman willing to tolerate him, though he did eventually settle.) But he still hated me and made no secret of his complete disdain. Hadrien was one of those few people that I still held a grudge against, even hundreds of years after he died.

Yet here he was, trapped and in agony. Tears falling down his face. Begging me to save him from whatever magical bondage that held him.

I rushed immediately to his side and fell to my knees. “Mr. Sarkozy, my God! What’s wrong? How can I help you?” I asked him. “Is it this thing? This circle that’s causing you pain?”

“Tanith, you must stop this!” he wailed at me, his eyes enormous and shaking in their sockets. He looked so solid and real, I could have reached out to touch him. Then, all of a sudden, he vanished into thin air.

What on earth was I supposed to make of this situation?

I scrambled back upright and called my magic forth from the void. I blasted the summoning circle with water, erasing it from the floor and putting out the candles. It left a scorched mark upon the wood and gave off an acrid smoke that nearly made me hack up a lung. My nerves were all shot through as I tried to make sense of what I had experienced. The spirit of Hadrien de Sarkozy - St. Adrian, as they call him in the church - had appeared in front of me and begged for my help. In the middle of the Archchancellor’s office! In the heart of Novellen!

I didn’t want to get caught trespassing, so I quickly made my exit before anyone could show up and see me amongst the wreckage. Shaken, I made my way directly to the Bastille where I informed the ISA that I’d heard crashing, weeping, and strange noises coming from the Novellen Palace. But what I did not mention was the spirit and the summoning circle.

As I walked home, my mind ran through all possibilities regarding what I’d seen. There are strange rumors floating around about the Archchancellor. I’ve heard some say that he is a warlock who practices dark magic. People have seen him handling a black grimoire full of spells. Could the rumors be true? Is he a necromancer, harnessing the spirit of a Saint to grant him unearthly power and influence? They say Sir Basrid is the longest-serving Archchancellor in all of Oren’s history. Is this age of stability thanks to the use of wicked magic?

Regardless, I knew one thing. I had to free Hadrien at all costs. He and I may have had our differences in life, but I was willing to set those aside if it meant helping him in death.

I returned to the museum and found Icroth in the meeting room upstairs, reading a tome. He had been researching the demonic armies purportedly pouring out of portals in Korvassa to the south. Upon seeing the distressed look on my face, Icroth set his book aside and turned his full attention to me. “Tanith, what’s wrong?”

I found myself at a loss for words. “Icroth, a while back… shortly after Juan died… Jack warned me that ghosts are appearing more and more often now in Arcas,” I said as I gathered my thoughts. “I… saw one today.”

Icroth’s eyes widened. “Juan?” he asked.

“No, someone far older. It was… a man I knew back… God, back in the 1400s. Before you were even born,” I muttered, running a hand over my face. I told him what had happened to me - how I was reading on the bench near the Novellen when the doors flew open. About how I stepped into the Archchancellor’s office to find it trashed - with the spirit of a saint trapped in a summoning circle.

“His name was Hadrien de Sarkozy and… I actually used to hate that man! He treated me just awfully! But… seeing him trapped in that pitiful state, I… Oh, I couldn’t just leave him like that, Icroth! I hadn’t seen him in so long. Perhaps tempers from the old days have cooled. But when I looked at him, all I saw was a friend in agony who needed my help. I ended up using my magic to extinguish the candles and erase the summoning circle. He disappeared, but…”

“So he’s free now? At peace?” Icroth asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said, wringing my hands. “I think something rotten is happening and the Archchancellor is behind it.”

Icroth lifted a brow. “…You’re certain? Tanith, that is a heavy charge to levy at one of the most powerful men in Oren. What evidence is there, aside from the fact this happened in his office?”

“He’s a mage of considerable skill, so they say,” I replied. “And people have seen him with a black grimoire in hand. They say he’s some sort of warlock dabbling in dark magic.”

“You know that it’s my duty as a paladin to dispatch practitioners of dark magic, regardless of who they are,” he replied. “If this is true, you’re telling me that I may be obliged to kill the Archchancellor of Oren. I’m bound by my oath to Xan.”

I felt my stomach drop. “O-Oh…”

“And something like that isn’t as simple as raiding a small-time necromancer’s lair in the wilderness,” he explained. “I can’t go storming the Novellen Palace with a platoon of paladins. You need to have more than a rumor, conjecture, or suspicion. He had a ghost in his office. But you said it was trashed. Somehow I doubt he’d do that to his own space.”

I sat down in one of the chairs across from Icroth and buried my face in my hands. “I don’t know, Icroth! I’m just worried about the soul of poor Mr. Sarkozy! We may not have gotten along in life, but that doesn’t mean I want him to suffer in death! Oh, you’re making me feel so foolish!”

“You’re not foolish,” he sighed, rising from his chair and moving to put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re shaken up by what you saw and you want to help an old friend. I understand. But the Archchancellor may be a victim here as well. We don’t have enough information to act.”

“Do you think I should try talking to him?” I asked. “The Archchancellor?”

“Would he entertain an interrogation from two mali’ker? I doubt it,” Icroth huffed. “The powerful men of Oren rarely give our species the time of day.”

“So it’s all completely out of my hands,” I groaned, covering my face once more. “There’s not a thing I can do.”

“Let me speak to Jack about it,” Icroth replied. “But for now, we can’t rush to the conclusion that he’s a practitioner of dark magic. If we act in a hostile manner toward him, all of Oren is going to come down on our heads. So we need to be wise and cautious.”

“I’m just starting to feel very scared,” I said, lowering my hands and gazing down at the table.

“Things only seem to be getting worse and worse. And… I’ve been through this song and dance before. I know how it goes now.”

He knelt next to me. “What song and dance is that?”

“The End Times. Our regularly-scheduled apocalypse,” I said.

“Why does this one scare you so much if you’ve been through it before?” he asked me, keeping a firm hand on my shoulder.

“It shouldn’t! That’s the thing! I know we’ll get on a boat, settle somewhere new, and that will be the end of it… but…” I trailed off for a moment.

“But… how long can this go on for, Icroth? How long until we run out of places to go? The world isn’t limitless. Eventually, we won’t be able to flee anymore. Any one of these journeys might be the last one.”

“I know. I want to dig in my heels too,” he said, rubbing my shoulder. “But just because we’re afraid doesn’t mean we need to lash out blindly. There’s suspicion, but we cannot go overboard with the investigation.” He stood up and opened his arms to embrace me. “Come here.”

I rose from my chair and slid my arms around his waist. He rocked me in his arms and stroked my hair. “We’ll find out what’s going on, Tanith,” he said softly, kissing the side of my face. “The demons, the Nether, the ghosts. We’ll get to the bottom of it. The truth always comes out in due time.”

He managed to calm me down. Thank God Icroth stopped me before I rushed off to do something foolish. But I’ll be keeping my ear to the ground. If something evil is happening in Helena, I need to find out the truth. And I need to free the soul of poor Mr. Sarkozy from whatever bondage he’s being held in.

I’ve always been… rather intimidated by the Archchancellor. He’s a scary man, between his stern demeanor and the power he wields in Oren. But does that mean he’s a necromancer? I don’t know.

 

Entry 64 –
1779 IST.

 

Spoiler

Ghosts, demons, the Nether, toads, eclipses, darkness… It’s all piling up now and only getting worse.

I have been thinking a great deal about what I can do to help Mr. Sarkozy, but I’m at a loss. More than ever, I feel as though I’ve wasted my life. I’m five hundred and five years old, by God! Other elves have spent their centuries gaining skill and knowledge, becoming experts on all things mysterious and magical. And look at me! Now, when confronted by things of an extraordinary, fantastic nature, I have no idea how to proceed! And while I wait, Mr. Sarkozy is suffering. But dear lord, I don’t know the first thing about ghosts! I’ve been reading up on them in the library but it feels as though the information I’m finding is inaccurate and out of date. I tried sending a letter about it to the Archchancellor but he gave a perfunctory and canned sort of response. Icroth was right. The powerful men of Oren don’t have time for us Mali.

This morning, I woke up and resolved that I needed to ask for help. Icroth is going to reach out to Jack. Jack is well informed on things of a mystical, ethereal nature. But I’m antsy. I don’t want to wait when I know - for a fact - that someone is suffering. The Northern Geographic Society is composed of scientific scholars, researchers, and explorers - people who mostly focus on the earthly world and not the metaphysical one. But they’re my only friends and I need to tell someone besides Icroth about what I saw. Celestine is a shockingly well-connected woman too. If anyone can find out about ghosts, it’s her.

We had a Circle meeting today at the Reza museum and I was determined to say something. To my disappointment, not many people attended the meeting this year. Goodness, we only have one meeting every year and people still can’t make it? What a shame! But yes, today it was only me, Icroth, Sir Wittenbach, Celestine, Chirrr, and Angelika Bykov - as well as a person by the name of Asa Brolwic. I’ve met Asa briefly before when he dropped by the Helena museum once, but I didn’t know much about him.

We began the meeting by discussing Celestine’s recent publication - an ethnography of the City of Helena. As usual, it was very well done! There’s a reason Celestine is the most famous anthropologist in the Empire (and very deserving of a knighthood if you ask me)! She’s planning to do a study of Haelun’or next and wants me to come with her. I’m very excited to go. I’ve never been to the Silver City before - in any of its iterations - and elven culture is something I dearly wish to understand better.

Celestine also gave her congratulations to Karl Amador and Sir Otto Wittenbach for their hard work on the museum’s newest exhibit - dedicated to the Greatest Haensemen! It opened recently to great success. To my surprise, they’re thinking of doing a ‘Greatest Haensewomen’ exhibit next. Apparently, a good number of museum guests complained that there wasn’t enough female representation in the exhibit. My, this really is a modern Oren! For much of my life, women were considered a footnote in history - not really worthy of discussion beyond who they married and what children they bore. But nowadays, women can achieve a great deal beyond just wedding the right man and having his children! Celestine herself is proof of that – and that’s what I admire so much about her.

Celestine mentioned that she wanted to host an event at the Helena museum to generate more interest in our location there. She asked that I begin brainstorming ideas. It’s a little difficult since our Helena location is so much smaller. We can’t exactly host parties there. The Reza museum is so spacious and gorgeous. The Helena location is but a shack by comparison! I wonder if they’d ever let us expand. Likely not, since space is at a premium in Helena. Property is already prohibitively expensive in the capital and I know there’s a well-documented housing shortage. I wouldn’t be able to live in Helena if not for the NGS. There’s no way I could afford it!

After we finished discussing business, Celestine gave Mr. Brolwic the stand. “Asa is here to keep us informed about the events transpiring across the continent,” she explained. “Particularly the extraterrestrial invaders assaulting the lands of Korvassa.”

“The demons?” I asked for clarification.

“Extraterrestrial invaders,” Celestine corrected me. “After all, they came out of a comet!”

With that, Mr. Brolwic ascended the steps to the podium. A gruff and plainspoken sort, he rather bizarrely resembled Icroth. If not for the difference of their race, the two of them could have been brothers! Twins, even! I felt as though I were looking at my beau’s human doppelganger. Mr. Brolwic shaves his hair on the sides just like Icroth does, with the same short ponytail in the back. Not to mention they both seem to favor scarves and beards as well. Mr. Brolwic wears a red scarf and Icroth wears a blue one. They both keep a full beard, which is somewhat unusual in today’s Oren. Icroth was sitting next to me during the meeting and I kept glancing between the two of them, comparing them in my mind. But nobody seemed to notice the similarities except for me!

Upon taking the stand, Mr. Brolwic cleared his throat. “Right,” he said. “For those of you unfamiliar with me, my name is Asa. I am the Master-at-Arms with the Baer Company Hexmen, Arcas Chapter. And, for the time being, I am the Captain of your Nether Expedition. It’s my job to investigate, research, and report on dangerous sites of interest throughout Arcas. As of late, there have been three - all relating to the Inferi invasion.”

“Inferi?” I asked.

“The demons you referred to earlier, Miss Tanith,” he explained.

“Extraterrestrial invaders,” Celestine corrected once more.

“Sure,” Mr. Brolwic sighed. “The most volatile area, for now, is the crash-site in the Korvassa desert. I’ve recently made two trips there with my company. The men of Al-Faiz are holding the line, but many have died. The second most dangerous site is in the dwarven lands - the mountains bordering the Korvassa channel and Aegorothond. There is also the Helena meteor crash site - very near to the city itself. It’s in the forest some few miles distant from the urban center.”

“Do you have any idea what’s causing these celestial phenomena?” Celestine inquired and Mr. Brolwic shook his head.

“After consulting with the mages in Korvassa, we believe that they are voidal in nature. There are two voidal tears in the desert. Starry portals leading into darkness,” he said. “The creatures crawling out of these sites come in all shapes and sizes. Some that would be familiar to us, and some… very much not. The men of Al-Faiz tell me that the being leading the Inferi forces resembles a large toad. They’ve taken to calling it ‘The Toad Prince’.”

“Toads!” I exclaimed. “Just like the Princess’s prophecy said! Darkness, toads, blood, betrayal, death.”

“One of our members mentioned toads being a harbinger of the End Times,” Celestine explained to Mr. Brolwic.

 

“This is… very concerning, to say the least. How successful has the Alliance been at combatting the extraterrestrials, sir?”

“We’re still learning what’s most effective against them,” Mr. Brolwic responded. “Alchemical protective gear is necessary. Eye goggles, flame retardant garb. We’re not yet sure how effective aurum is against them.”

“This is different than the Undead of Old, then,” I mumbled.

“We should perhaps look at evacuation procedures,” Celestine said quietly. She cast an eye around the archival room, where we hold our meetings. All the rare, very flammable books lingering on the shelves. And I could tell she was thinking of the other artifacts throughout the museum too. It would take weeks to carefully pack and load all of them for shipping. “We need to prioritize the preservation of our documents and relics should the worst happen.”

“I’ll answer any questions if I can,” Mr. Brolwic said, looking out to the few of us attending the meeting.

I raised my hand. Mr. Brolwic acknowledged me with a nod. “I hope this doesn’t sound strange, but… have you encountered any… ghosts on the field?” I asked. “Are ghosts related to this at all?”

“I’ve not encountered such,” Mr. Brolwic replied. “But there are still a great number of unknowns. If any of you want to see the volatile sites for yourselves, I can arrange it. But… and I say this with the utmost respect… I would not recommend going by yourselves. The Inferi are extremely dangerous. My company can arrange for you to go and look, but be aware you’re doing it at your own risk.”

I sat quietly, wringing my hands as I worked up the courage to speak. “I’d like to go,” I said at last. “If it’s all right.”

Mr. Brolwic lifted an eyebrow. “We’ll make it happen then.”

Celestine piped up shortly after me. “You know, I think I wish to go as well, Asa!” she said.

“Not without me, you’re not,” Chirr added swiftly.

Icroth let out a little sigh. “Add me as a fourth,” he grunted. “My magic might be useful against these things. And I can’t let this one go by herself.” He gestured toward me.

“Right, we’ll talk logistics of it very soon, then,” Mr. Brolwic said. “I don’t want to take too many of you. If this goes **** up, I don’t want the whole NGS to end up at the belly of a gigantic toad.”

“Surely it’d be all right with just the five of us?” I interjected. “It shouldn’t be too bad with such a small number.”

Mr. Brolwic fixed me with a stern gaze that cowed me. “You aren’t thinking the right way, Miss Tanith. If the Inferi can put down hundreds of men in the blink of an eye… then just imagine how fast five can go. On that note, I’ll be on my way.” With that, he stepped down from the podium and left the archival room.

Mr. Brolwic left us all with an uncomfortable silence. After a moment’s thought, Celestine stood up to resume her place at the front of the room. “Well, with that, I believe this would be a good time to end this meeting of the Circle, unless anyone has any other news.”

“Before we adjourn,” I said. “I have a little something I’d like to share if it’s all right.”

Celestine stepped aside and motioned me up. “Of course, Tanith!”

I rose to my feet and hurried to the podium. “I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t say anything,” I began hesitantly. “Erm… Yesterday, I had a disturbing experience at the Novellen Palace.”

 

With that, I launched into my story - about seeing the soul of St. Adrian (or, as I know him, Mr. Sarkozy) trapped in a summoning circle in the Archchancellor’s office.

 

“He was in pain and begging me to help him. But before I could do anything, he suddenly disappeared. I don’t know what’s going on, but I worry it might be connected somehow with the Inferi or all the other strange incidents going on. Our friend Jack mentioned that the dead have been rising in greater numbers and… the timing just seems too convenient. Demons appearing, souls rising from the grave. It’s connected, I know it. I feel as though I’ve got to find some way to help St. Adrian. If you all know anything at all, please… I don’t want the poor man’s soul to be tormented.”

I fell into silence for a moment before I stepped down from the stand. “Er, I suppose that’s all.”

Celestine stroked her chin in deep thought, pursing her lips. “…It’s a bloody shame that none of us actually have access to the interior of the Novellen, Tanith. I certainly don’t, as a baseborn woman,” she said. “I wish Mr. Asa hadn’t just left. He could no doubt have proven invaluable investigating such a thing, with his paranormal experience.”

“Would Princess Alexandria have access to the Novellen?” I asked. “The Helvets girls are going in and out all the time.”

“She’s a Haensi princess, so I doubt it,” Celestine sighed, folding her arms. “But there is one hope! I happen to know an Imperial Princess who recently published a study on the ghosts of the Novellen! There’s a long history of the supernatural within the Imperial Palace. It’s possible I could arrange a meeting with her and we could go from there.”

“Oh dear, I hope so!” I exclaimed. “I sent a letter to the Archchancellor a few days ago and he brushed me off.”

“Heh, he’s a busy man,” Celestine replied. “But Princess Elizabeth ought to be able to see us.”

“I’ll be speaking to Jack as well,” Icroth grunted. “Haven’t been able to track him down yet.”

“You should meet Jack sometime, Celestine,” I said. “He’s the sweetest man. Just darling. And he used to be a king of Hanseti back in the day.”

Celestine’s eyebrows shot up. “How… old is he?”

“About my age, perhaps a little older,” I replied.

“I’d love to make his acquaintance then,” Celestine replied before stepping up and ringing the bell to conclude the meeting. “Thank you all for another informative meeting. Seems we’ve all got a lot on our plates in the coming weeks.”

Once the meeting adjourned, Icroth and I headed out. Along the road home, he glanced sidelong at me. “Tell me, Tanith,” he said. “You mentioned you are a water evocation mage. How does that work? Can you manipulate water when present or do you conjure it from nothingness?”

“It’s conjured,” I replied as we walked. “The first rule of elemental evocation is that we can’t manipulate what already exists in the world. The magic works by harnessing shapeless voidal energies and giving them a form on our plane of existence. The magical water has the same properties as ordinary water, but… with limitations.”

“Such as?”

“Well, any water or ice I conjure only exists while I can see it and channel it,” I explained. “Meaning it disappears back into the void if my focus or line of sight is broken. And I can’t conjure water where I can’t see it. So that means that drinking the water is impossible. Once it goes into someone’s mouth, I lose sight of it and it ceases to exist.”

“What quantity can you conjure at once?” he asked.

I paused a moment in thought. “Erm…” I mumbled, feeling embarrassed. “I’m really not very good at it, Icroth. It’s hard to conjure a great deal of water at once. Even harder to maintain it.”

“But how much? Indulge me.”

I gestured for him to step off the road with me. Together, we found a small clearing in the trees. Sitting down on a comfortable spot on the grass, I folded my legs underneath me and closed my eyes. With slow, steady breaths, I entered into a meditative state. My mind reached forth to connect with the void… and I felt the voidal energies weaving webs through the air around us. Formless, untouched, unnoticed, unharnessed. I extended my hands in front of me, cupping them as if to hold a liquid in my palms.

At my command, the voidal energies began to condense and take shape - manifesting visibly and tangibly on our plane. At first, just a light mist that floated above my cupped hands. But soon, the mists gathered and formed into a perfect orb of water. I focused upon the water, plucking skeins of energy from the air and adding it to the mass. Before I knew it, I had a globe of conjured water - about the size of horse and carriage - floating in the air between Icroth and me.

My cupped hands tightened into fists… and frost began spiraling across the globe. It froze into hard-packed, white ice. And with a flex of my hand, I caused it to shatter in a burst of glittering snowflakes. The snow descended onto the glade, covering the grass, but swiftly vanished into nothingness.

The magic left me breathless, though, and I felt my heart hammering in my chest. Across the glade, Icroth stared at me in plain awe.

“You keep telling me how bad you are at this,” he chuckled. “But I saw you conjure a full pond’s worth of water just now. This is good, though, aye. As Mister Asa showed, we’re quite under-equipped for the Nether. I had an idea. If you soak something in your water, does it stay damp?”

“It does,” I said, rising to my feet. The magic had left me a little dizzy, though, and I staggered. Icroth hurried to help steady me.

“It takes a lot out of you,” he observed and I nodded. “Would it be too difficult to keep our clothes soaked? It would act as an effective heat shield in the Nether or perhaps against the Inferi.”

“We could try it if nothing else,” I replied, leaning on him as we made our way back to the road. He kept an arm wrapped around my middle - and I won’t deny that I liked how it felt. His arm stayed there the entire way home.

 

Things may be bleak, but I’m endeavoring to keep a positive outlook. If we keep doing our best, there’s no choice but to succeed, is there?

 

Entry 65 –
1780 IST.

 

Spoiler

I had another encounter with Hadrien de Sarkozy today.

My morning started out ordinary. I woke up, made the bed, tended to the laundry on the line outside, made coffee – the usual sorts of things I do around the house. After finishing my breakfast (coffee and a scone from the bakery near the Dragon’s Rest), I checked over my to-do list. There are still many preparations to be made for the Nether expedition. While walking around the other day, I noticed that the alchemist shop near the museum was having a special on burn salves. A flyer hanging outside the door also advertised special flame-resistant armor treatments. If I know anything at all about the Nether, it’s that is a fiery sort of place! So I gathered up Icroth’s armor sets and carried them across the way to the shop.

The shopkeeper was a nice young lady that I’d met briefly before - Juniper Wick. I paid for the burn salves and inquired about the fire-treatments for the armor. “It’s two-thousand marks for a full set of plate,” she explained. “The ingredients for the process are expensive and rare. Plus it takes a good amount of time to apply it.”

I grimaced at the price. A bit steep, but fire-proof armor might prove necessary in the Nether when it’s a matter of life and death. I sighed.

“Would you mind terribly if I left the armor here while I take a quick trip to the bank?” I asked.

“Not at all,” Miss Wick said. “We’re open all day.”

While we were talking, though, I felt a strange presence directly behind me – as if someone were breathing down the back of my neck. My skin prickled with goosebumps and a cold chill shot along the length of my spine. Out of nowhere, Juniper started shrieking. I whipped around to find myself face to face with a ghostly specter lurking in my shadow - a man wreathed in glowing blue light with eyes as wide and hollow as chasms.

It wasn’t Hadrien, but the ghost of a man I did not recognize in the least. He lunged at us, passing directly through me and clawing at Juniper.

An ISA officer must have heard us screaming because he burst in through the shop door, arms drawn. As for me, I reached for the little aurum dagger I’ve been keeping strapped to my thigh lately. The ghost vanished into nothingness after clawing at Juniper, but we heard the shop’s doors lock shut just as the creature disappeared – so we knew in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t done with us yet.

At that moment, the ghost reappeared behind the ISA officer. Its spectral hands closed around the man’s throat and began choking the life out of him. “Get away from him! Let him go!” I barked, brandishing the dagger I barely knew how to use.

While I was shouting orders, the poor ISA officer had begun to turn blue. Without thinking, I lunged at the ghost and tried to stab it with my knife, but the creature dodged deftly out of reach. With that, it vanished once more and the shop’s doors unlocked.

With the specter defeated, we all tried to go back to our normal business - though no one could deny we were shaken by what had happened. I left Icroth’s armor with Miss Wick and headed up the road to fetch money from the bank. Upon reaching Nauzica Square, though, I swiftly realized that my experience in the alchemy shop was not an isolated one. Two other ghosts - Mr. Sarkozy and a lady I did not recognize - had appeared in the square, causing a commotion among the frightened citizens!

Hadrien floated down the street toward the cathedral, passing incorporeally through the bodies of anyone who tried to stand in his way. I chased after him, ducking and weaving through panicked citizens. At long last, I caught up with him on the steps of the church. “Hadrien!” I shouted breathlessly - and the sound of his name seemed to catch his attention. He jerked around and fixed me with a blank, empty stare.

“You…” he rasped - and fear struck the core of my being as the word slipped from his pale lips, “…are not safe.” With that, he phased through the doors of the church and vanished.

How does one continue with one’s day after an event like that? After receiving such an ominous warning? The ISA officers in the square scrambled to find some clue for the reasoning behind the ghost attacks. The priests in the church announced that they would be holding a mass to cleanse victims of any undead taint. As for me, I got the money from the bank and went back to pay Miss Wick. She promised me that the treatment would be finished before we set out on the expedition in a few months.

I do not really identify as Canonist anymore, but the incident with the ghosts had left me feeling uneasy and disturbed. Perhaps the priests at the cathedral could shed some light on the situation. So I ended up attending the mass for the victims of the ghosts.

The mass was lead by one Father Griffith of Gwynon. He and I have met before, albeit only in passing. He stopped by the museum once and mentioned he had a special fascination with the White Rose. Upon seeing me enter the church, Father Griffith bade me to come and sit in the front row pew. I told him about my encounters with Mr. Sarkozy, as well as the other spirits. His acolyte, a bald fellow named Guy de Soissons, swung an incense-filled censer around me three times to cleanse me of ghostly taint. The smell was so strong, I almost coughed – but I tried to stop myself in case the holy men took offense.

After the service’s conclusion, Father Griffith approached me. “I’ve long wished to speak with you, Tanith of the White Rose,” he said to me. “In private, if you do not mind.”

“Of course, Father,” I said. The church was not secluded enough for Father Griffith’s liking, so we ended up returning to the museum and using the meeting room on the fourth floor.

“You say you have encountered the form of St. Adrian twice now,” Father Griffith said as he took a seat around the large table. “What did he say to you?”

I elaborated on my two strange brushes with the ghost of Hadrien de Sarkozy. Father Griffith interpreted it with extreme seriousness. “The Saints do not lie, Tanith,” he said with firm conviction. “I received a prophecy once from St. Lucien that turned out to be true. If St. Adrian has told you that you are not safe, then you are not. Something is watching you. If you wish, I may send a letter to the High Pontiff regarding your experiences.”

“Oh dear!” I exclaimed. “You don’t have to do that, Father. I don’t mean to be a bother!”

“You are not,” Father Griffith replied. “Rarely do saints appear in person. If St. Adrian has warned you of incoming harm, you must heed him and allow our knights to protect you.”

“But, Father, I’m… not even really a Canonist,” I mumbled, ashamed to admit my lack of faith to the priest.

“You are Tanith of the White Rose, a companion to St. Thomas, St. Peter, and St. Lucien,” Father Griffith replied. “You served the realm once, so the Church shall serve you. I will speak to the High Pontiff and we will arrange for your protection.”

I felt ashamed for causing so much of a fuss, but I didn’t dare contradict the Father. We lapsed into a brief silence. After a moment, though, Father Griffith spoke again. “You said you are not a Canonist?” he asked. “After having been in the presence of saints and prophets?”

“I… don’t really know what I am,” I mumbled, feeling shy. “The Church of the Canon wasn’t… really… established when I was growing up. And I was always told that elves like me didn’t get to ascend to the Seven Skies. Or if we did, we only rose as far as the First Sky.”

“Owynist propaganda,” Father Griffith replied. “All descendant races may ascend to the Skies. Your life below determines your life above. Should you convert to the faith, you’ll receive a seat according to your purpose. There are elfkin and dwarfkin saints. If only the sons of Horen could ascend, we would not revere such.”

“Oh!” I brightened. “I didn’t know that. I had no idea there were elven or dwarven saints… I didn’t even know I could go to Heaven. Why, I simply thought I went into the ground and that was that!”

“That is a common belief among the Elvenfolk,” he replied, “that they rest in the earth until Malin returns. Tayna, they call it.”

“Yes, Tayna!” I exclaimed. “I’ve heard of that. A friend mentioned it to me once.”

“The concept is that if you are good and virtuous, you shall be reincarnated into a tree or a flower until Malin’s return. It is a strange belief, one we do not endorse in the church,” Father Griffith explained. “Malin himself likely practiced such a faith. The archives have many queer works purportedly written by him. But nonetheless, he shall be redeemed soon. It is no worry. You seem to be a woman of strong character, so I have no doubts we will see each other again at the terminus of our lives. Though I would like you baptized. That is part of why I wished to speak with you, actually.”

I blinked. “Eh, baptized?”

“The living companion of the saints should not be so uncertain in her faith,” he said simply. After a moment of quiet thought, he spoke again. “I mentioned earlier that St. Lucien spoke a prophecy to me. He came to me clad in golden armor with sword a-flame - and proclaimed words about my life to come.”

“What did he say?” I asked.

“This was many years ago,” the Father continued. “He told me many strange things, the meaning of which I am still puzzling out to this day. But you… you knew him. Know him still. If I spoke the words of prophecy to you, would it be possible that you might understand them?”

I frowned. “I… knew him as a human man, Father,” I said, looking down at the hands folded in my lap. “Not as a Saint. Velwyn was a friend, but… even in life, he could be a little inscrutable. He was polite and curious and kind, but very quiet and kept to himself. Julianna, his wife, was a dear friend to me, though. I made her wedding dress.”

My words brought a small smile to Father Griffith’s face. “I should like to leave a copy of the prophecy with you for your reading,” he said before reaching into his rucksack and pulling out a folio. Placing it on the table, he slid it over to me. “To see if you have any insight.”

“…I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very helpful, sir. I’m not very educated. I’m just an ordinary person,” I said, picking up the folio and flipping through it regardless. “I knew these people when they were alive, but… it’s been a very long time. And I doubt they are the same as they once were. They’re saints now. They’re with God. They’re not mortal people like you and me anymore.”

“Oh, how you damn me with your words,” the Father sighed.

“I didn’t mean it in a hurtful way!” I exclaimed, holding up my hands.

“What you say is true,” he replied. “I do not know what Saint Adrian means. Nor Saint Lucien. And I call myself a priest? God has a sense of irony.”

I paused for a short while before speaking again. “Well, at least in my opinion… mortal people aren’t really meant to know what God thinks,” I said.

A bitter frown passed over the priest’s features as he pushed himself to rise. “Take heed of the Saints, Tanith,” he said, his voice dropping low. “They know more than we ever shall. I’ll be heading back to the Cathedral to rest. But… before I go, I might confess something to you.”

He told me a secret which I don’t think I’ll put to paper. It’s not mine to share. Maybe one day far in the future, my diary will be put on display like the diary of the Carrion Princess. And if that’s ever the case, I don’t want to inadvertently reveal those words given to me in confidence. A person’s secrets are their own to share - if they ever decide to share them at all.

“Thank you,” Father Griffith said to me before he left, “for helping St. Lucien in his mortal life. Glory to God for all things, Tanith of the White Rose, and St. Lucien keep you safe from the prophesied danger.”

I wonder if it really is as serious as Father Griffith says. How could I be in danger? I’m no one very special or important - just an ordinary elf living my life. Why would anyone want to hurt me? What have I done to warrant these warnings from beyond the grave? I simply can’t see myself as that significant. Father Griffith called me a companion to the saints but I was a servant girl. I don’t think servants earn any special consideration from those on high.

I’m growing more uneasy by the day, though.

 

Entry 66 –
1780 IST.

 

Spoiler

Celestine and I finally took our planned trip to Haelun’or today. She has begun work on her ethnographic study of the High Elves. Icroth and Princess Alexandria tagged along with us. I was pleased that Icroth came too - or else I would have been the only Mali’ker in that whole city. Celestine invited us to come meet her and Alexandria in Reza so that we could all make the journey to Haelun’or together.

Something a little frightful happened as we were waiting on Celestine in the road outside the Reza museum, though. Friar Boniface approached us out of nowhere. I’ve encountered the Friar once before and seen him around Helena, though I cannot say we are close friends. He walked up to Icroth and me with a haggard, haunted look on his elderly face. “Would either of you have witnessed the siege of the Druid’s Grove many, many years ago?” he asked, glancing between the two of us. “I read that when the Denier returned to the realm hundreds of years ago, a large runic symbol floated in the air above the grove.”

Icroth and I peered at one another, then turned back to Boniface. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Father,” I admitted. “I don’t really know the first thing about Druidism.”

“Me either,” Icroth added. “My apologies.”

“I see… I see…” the Friar sighed. “I fear that same runic symbol now hovers over the demonic camp in Korvassa. The Denier – the one called Iblees – may be returning to this plane. He swallowed hard and looked the two of us in the eyes. “It is recorded in the Scroll of Auspice.”

With that, he began reciting the prophecy of St. Siegmund Carrion. “Attend brothers, and record my revelation: Behold, and the world is dark and silent for three nights, and the moon is bathed in blood. But there rings forth from the horizon a clarion, and the sun dawns. So Iblees is unshackled and suffers before its light. Lo! The virtuous dead are descending, and at their fore are the sons of spirit, and the sons of the first man and woman…” With the passage’s conclusion, he cast a darkened glance down at the stones beneath our feet. “I have seen the virtuous dead,” he murmured quietly.

“You’ve seen them too?” I said, lunging forward. “The ghosts roaming Helena?”

“There was a haunting in the basilica,” Friar Boniface whispered. “The dead are suffering. It is as foreseen by the Exalted Siegmund in the Scroll of Auspice in the Vision of Strife.”

“Father Griffith said he feared the End Times were upon us…” I mentioned.

“Are you informed of the… happenings in Korvassa?” Friar Boniface asked me. “It is the largest camp of demons ever recorded. Many bizarre and unholy creatures. An imperial scouting party reported an insectoid creature… ripping the souls from the bodies of soldiers…”

At that moment, Celestine and Alexandria arrived. “Tanith, Icroth!” Celestine shouted cheerily, waving her arm in the air. “Let’s hurry on our way! The Silver City awaits!”

Friar Boniface cast a furtive glance in Celestine’s direction. “My apologies for bothering you,” he said before darting away down a side alley.

Celestine peered after him as he hurried off. “My, is the Friar quite well?” she asked. Not wanting to spoil our trip, I decided not to mention Friar Boniface’s predictions. So, still in good cheer, we set off to Haelun’or – but Friar Boniface’s preaching lingered on my mind. He’s right. It certainly does sound quite a bit like St. Siegmund’s Vision of Strife. The moon went dark for nearly a full month… and anyone who lives in Helena could tell you that the virtuous dead now walk among us.

Friar Boniface surely did set the tone for our trip, though. Haelun’or turned out to be a frightfully bizarre and disturbing place. After a few hours’ walk, we arrived outside the gates of the Silver City. Haelun’or sits high atop a mountainous plateau - only accessible by a massive staircase and elevator. The High Elf guard at the gatehouse eyed us suspiciously for several minutes as he took down our names and information. His gaze lingered on me and Icroth for an uncomfortably long time. At last, though, he consented to let us in.

We stepped into a town square full of fair-skinned, blonde-haired, blue-eyed elves. In an instant, all eyes were upon us. I have never felt more ‘seen’ in all my life - though it was not a comfortable feeling. The judging eyes of the High Elves picked apart every aspect of my speech, my dress, my bearing, and my character. A contact of Celestine’s - a Mali’aheral woman named Dele Seregon - met us at the gatehouse and offered to give us a tour around the city.

The first stop on our tour was the market district. “Oh, I can’t wait to see the gadget store!” Celestine exclaimed as we entered the High Elven bazaar. “They were selling the most amazing little telescopes and pocket

watches last time I visited here.”

“Oh,” Dele hummed as she led us among the shops. “Aerendyl was pitted for treason, I’m afraid.”

“Pitted?” I asked, stifling a laugh. “What does that mean? Is he a peach?”

“Thrown into our pits of acid,” Dele replied without the slightest bit of humor. When she said that, I suddenly felt rather wicked for that peach joke. “But I still have some of his old stock at my shop if you’d like to browse it over.”

Dele invited us into her shop. She motioned for us to follow her upstairs into her stock room. “Oh, I also have some artifacts if you would like to look at them, Celestine,” she said as she sorted through the crates and barrels. Dele retrieved a telescope and a pocket watch from among her ‘pitted’ friend’s belongings. With a smile, she handed them over to Celestine. “Take a look in the box over there if you’d like to see them. They’re still packed up.”

Celestine wasted no time plunging into the box. “What is this?” she said, taking out a club and a few fragments of old armor. “A weapon from a primitive society! And armor as well? Magnificent! Where did you find these, Dele?”

“Oh, be careful. There are some chunks of descendant flesh in there as well,” Dele warned.
I blanched. “Flesh? Oh dear.”

“It’s from a feral elf,” Dele explained. “A cannibal, long past his time as a living being.”

Celestine’s eyes widened with interest. “Feral elves? Long past their time? Whatever do you mean, dearie?”

“Elves typically live eight hundred years. Perhaps a thousand at maximum,” Dele replied. “Most of us tend to go insane long before then, though. We lose our minds and turn feral. So it is the duty of younger elves to dispatch these unfortunate individuals.”

Just like that, I was suddenly all-too-aware of my age. A nervous little chuckle escaped my lips. “I… didn’t know that happened to us,” I muttered. One downside of living among humans is that I’ve never learned many things elves might consider common knowledge - such as the fact that I apparently have an expiration date.

“Do you want to hold the feral elf’s heart? I have it here,” Dele asked, pulling a paper-wrapped parcel out of the crate.

I couldn’t take it anymore at that point and I excused myself to go look at the other shops downstairs. Between the stories of elves getting ‘pitted’ and the elderly put down like wild dogs, I had begun to feel very uneasy here in the High Elven city.

Icroth followed swiftly after me. I turned to him in a harsh whisper. “Icroth, these elves are barbaric! So an elf goes mad and loses their mind at age eight-hundred… and they just… murder the poor creature? And they keep parts of their bodies? Not to mention the God-blessed pit of acid they seem to use regularly!”

Icroth grimaced. “I’m… aye,” he sighed. “And they won’t stop gawking at us.”

“I don’t like the idea that I only have three hundred years left before I’m slaughtered like an animal!” I hissed. “And my pieces put on display!”

Icroth flashed an impish grin. “I’m sure you’ll make a lovely museum exhibit, Tanith,” he joked. “Though I think you’re old enough to qualify already.” I punched him in the arm. He laughed, rubbing his bruised bicep. “I deserved that.”

Celestine, Alexandria, and Dele soon returned to join us. “Shall we head to the Eternal Library now?” Celestine proposed. I asked her if she’d taken any of the feral elf flesh for display. She grew very shy and sheepish. “W-well,” she justified, “Our High Elf exhibit is a bit bare-bones right now…”

“Then this will be the perfect thing to flesh it out,” Icroth joked – and I punched him again. I think it’s a little gruesome to put flayed bits of elf flesh out on display, but… well, the museum in Helena has a real severed head as an exhibit. So perhaps I don’t have room to talk.

We ended up heading over to the Eternal Library. It’s a vast and beautiful building with a multicolored glass dome for a roof. Light shines through the dome and casts a rainbow of hues over the white marble floors. The librarian there greeted us warmly and gave us instructions on how to check out books and obtain library cards. She wore a little enamel pin on her breast to denote her status as an archivist. Celestine was so delighted by the elf’s accessory that she resolved to get special pins made for members of the NGS.

We had a good time wandering around the Eternal Library and exploring the various wings. I’ve never seen such a massive and well-stocked collection of books! Some of them very ancient indeed! You could sit in that place for years and never run out of reading material! Icroth found several books on aenguls, demons, and Paladinism. I wanted to check out a book on ghosts, but it was sitting too high on the shelf and I had trouble reaching it. We decided that we’d come back to visit again sometime and bring a few of our group’s publications to donate.

Icroth and I decided to head back home after we finished at the library. The High Elves wouldn’t stop staring at us. One of them - a Mali’aheral man - made a horribly rude comment to me. He said, and I quote, “By your complexion, you either bathed in tar before you got here or you’re a dark elf.” Now, I used to be a member of the White Rose… and that’s still one of the more shocking things I’ve heard someone say about my race. The High Elves might be more tolerant of outsiders than they used to be, but… goodness. Tolerance is most assuredly not acceptance. Icroth and I could feel the stares and judgment throughout the entire city, so we endeavored not to overstay our welcome.

The journey home was thankfully uneventful - no bandits or raiders on the road. We returned to the Helena museum to find a crate waiting for us outside the door.

 

“Icroth, look!” I exclaimed, quickening my pace. “Your present has arrived!”

We took the crate inside and unpacked it, revealing the armor within. Icroth gasped in surprise as he touched the breastplate. “It’s cold,” he observed. “Enchantment?”

“No, alchemy,” I replied. “It’s been treated with a special coating to prevent harm from heat and fire. I figured we would need it facing the Nether!”

“Splendid,” Icroth said. “You may have saved my life.”

I smiled at him. “Believe it or not, I have a vested interest in keeping us both alive and well!”

He chuckled. “At least one of us does.”

I knew that he was joking. Icroth has a penchant for dark humor. Yet I couldn’t help but feel a little concerned. “Don’t say things like that,” I pleaded with him, taking his hands in mine. “You must promise me that you won’t take unnecessary risks when we’re down there on our expedition.”

Icroth huffed. “Tanith, I was joking.”

“I know! But I don’t like it when you joke like that,” I pouted. “I love you.”

“And I love you as well,” he replied. “My apologies.”

I gazed into his eyes. Those pale, icy-blue eyes that give me goosebumps every time I look at them. Oh, how I love the way they turn down just a little at the corners. How I love his heavy, indolent lids and pale, snow-kissed lashes.

Without warning, I felt the strongest rush of adoration come over my soul - like a warm gust of wind blowing from the south. The last thing I ever wanted to do was lose him. In that instant, I knew that he was the one for me - the soulmate I had been praying for. I knew it completely and without reservation.

“There’s… something I’ve been wanting to give you,” I confessed. “I wanted to wait until after we got back from the Nether but every day it seems like things get more strange and frightening. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Icroth furrowed his brow, staring at me quizzically. “What is it?”

“Come to my room,” I said.

We went upstairs to my apartment. On the bedside table, I kept a small box of valuables - trinkets and jewelry I’ve collected over the years. Not much, as I tend not to prefer jewelry, but a few things. Nestled among the plump, velvety cushions was a golden ring I had picked up at a store in Nauzica Square. Simple and practical without unnecessary decor. In other words, the perfect band for Icroth. I took the ring in hand and turned toward him, frowning.

“Do you remember what you told me those years ago on my birthday?”

He took a step closer. “Remind me.”

“You said that you would be my companion for the rest of our lives.”

“And I meant it,” Icroth reassured me.

I nodded once. “Then… if we’re planning to spend the rest of our lives together regardless…” I opened my hand, revealing the ring, and extended it toward him. “Would you?”

Icroth’s fingertips brushed my palm as he reached over to take the ring. As we touched, a jolt of electricity coursed through my body. My skin prickled with nerves as I awaited his answer. He turned the ring over, watching the light play off the surface of the gold. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet mine. “I would love to,” he said, before taking me into his arms and kissing me.

And he kissed me. And he kissed me. And he kissed me.

Any worries I had about the End Times, the Inferi, the ghosts, the high elves… it was all forgotten, at least for a little while.

I’m so happy.

For a long time, I thought it’d be impossible to marry again. I couldn’t bear the thought of wedding another human man, only to watch him age and die. It was either a Mali or nothing. Yet… I had nothing in common with most Mali men. They’d grown up in a culture completely alien from mine. They had habits, beliefs, and language I didn’t understand.

But then Icroth Vursur happened.

I truly believe God sent him to me. This man is my soulmate - the one destined to be my companion for the rest of our lives. When we get back from the Nether, I’m going to marry him here in Helena in front of all of our friends. Centuries from now, when Helena is long gone and everything has changed, we’ll still be able to hold hands, look back on everything, and smile.

 

Volume 1

Volume 2 (You Are Here)

Volume 3

Volume 4

[JediMaestro 240]

Spoiler

LET’S GOOOO, my inventories got swapped via glitch between personas and I was just about to try to find some entertainment to enjoy while waiting for tech team to sort things out. Perfect timing.

 

[JediMaestro 240]

Spoiler

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO JUAN!!!!

 

YEAHHHHHHHHHH ICROTH, GO OFF!!!

 

Still of the opinion it would make for a killer novel. I really love the way (unintentionally to a large extent, I'm sure, as is LotC's wont) many old and new plot threads spin together. The way past and present weave in Tanith's life is really fascinating and unique! Looking forward, as ever, to Vol. 3.