Gutz

Somewhere, Mirasul squints. He sips his mixed drink and reclines back into his chair, which was positioned on a beach shoreline. Utterly inactive...

Paloma Galbraith - an onlooker at the once-cheery, now turned grim event - prayed at her bedside for the speedy recovery of the Dona Salazar! "She stepped into the ring knowing what could occurr - as is bullriding. However, it is still a sorry state she is in, and I do hope this does not tarnish the public outlook on this traditional event. May GOD guide her recovery and keep her family well."

126 BALIAN ANNUM ༻ - ༺ The Pretext of Summer ──────────────────────────────────── 119 DESPUES DE RESTAURACIÓN ༻ - ༺ “ To Clothe The People ” VOL. I ♪♪♪ - translating to roughly “To Clothe The People” - stands as the motto for those whose hands wield fabric and needle, whether through gracious generosity or the necessity of mina. At the end of the day, the piece shall be worn on the back of an individual; live and true. The hope is that such pieces - handcrafted by Lady Paloma Galbraith - will make themselves evident to the public via this series of bi-annual catalogs. Each volume is intended to be published with items displayed and available for purchase at Viceroy Road V - located on the top floor of THE DEL LUXURY, Maravilla’s Shop. around the theme of Summer, specifically the season’s finale - and fall’s introduction. As the seasons change and alter, so too does one’s dressings. Each piece has been given thoughtful penance to not only the aesthetics of such transition between the seasons but also to the climate from which this publication is being made. Hyspia stands in a unique station amid a desert, where her kingdom is graced with the summer sun's heat, who steels her resolve as fall temperatures begin to make haste into the land. Thus, this collection is her pretext. Similarly, this volume seeks to be of a similar intention - a precursor, a gauge of interest. While this volume is small in nature, it is the hope that it will prosper and grow in magnitude - given the proper interest from the community. A. photoperiodism A LIGHT LINEN CLOTH EMBROIDERED WITH DAINTY FLOWERS UTILIZING STRING IN THE COLORS OF FALL- THE PROCESS OF PHOTOPERIODISM. EMBROIDERY NOTABLY MATCHES THE FABRIC USED IN THE CORRESPONDING VEIL. GOLD PIECING LINES ATOP THE FOREHEAD, NECK, AND BODICE PIECE. 150 MINA B. senescence AN ASHY PINK SILK DRESS WITH A FITTED BODICE, EMPHASIZED BY THE DEEP BLUE PIECE AT THE WAIST- FLOWING DOWN THE SIDE OF THE GOWN. ON THE BACK, GOLD BEADING ALLOWS FOR ONE’S BACK TO BE GRACED BY THE SUN. SENESCENCE, RESEBLANT OF THE SUMMER ANNUALS DYING OUT. 100 MINA A. canicular A PLAID, FITTED DRESS MADE OF LIGHTLY WOVEN LINEN - SPORTING THE COLORS OF THE MORNING SUMMER SUN. GOLD EMBELLISHMENTS ARE SPORTED AROUND THE NECKLINE, AS WELL AS DEEP RUBIES DAPPLED IN ALONG THE NECK. A DEEP BLUE SASH IS WORN ACROSS THE SHOULDERS, JUXTAPOSED. 150 MINA B. gesneriana AN ENSEMBLE THAT IS CURATED OF LAYERED SASHES- SPORTING A COMBINATION OF PINK AND BLUE SASHES. ALONG THE BODICE IS GOLD EMBELLISHMENTS, TYING INTO THE GOLDEN NECKLACE AND BRACELETS LOVINGLY SELECTED TO MATCH. A LONG COTTON VEIL RUNS DOWN THE BACK. 150 MINA ──────────────────────────────────── WORKS CRAFTED BY

Paloma Galbraith sat at the edge of Cascanova's new property, surrounded by a sea of blueprints. Yet, her attention was not on the carefully drawn plans before her, but rather on the well-worn pages of The Canonist Scrolls in her hands. Her brow furrowed in contemplation, and a trace of indecision clouded her features as she voiced her inner turmoil aloud. "I must confess a sense of empathy for my former peers—the Vourkehardt's. To witness the throne fall to the will of the Canonist Church - even in this momentary period - diminishes the sovereignty of this very kingdom. Singlehandedly does it uplift the voices of those whose air ought to be spent interpreting the will of GOD, placing themselves in stations once secular." She paused, her words hanging in the air, before continuing with a thoughtful resolve: "HOWEVER, I should wish for my Kingdom- and particularly those who lead it- to harbor virtue and abide by the word of GOD; whether that be of their own interpretation or those seemingly surfeited by GOD's loudest zealots. Indeed, I do find the methods of GOD to be derived from a relationship between MAN and his or her creator; not one of any state or church. Nevertheless, my time and efforts will remain my own, guided by careful thought and reflection. My adherance and loyalty to my Kingdom and her Governing body - aswell as to my Creator and his word - stays forever my own." She then recited softly, as if seeking solace in the scripture: "Shall I worship the strong man? Shall you worship the tallest among you? No, for the glory of GOD is not in mere magnitude, but in His fullness and His perfection." Her gaze drifted upward to the sky, a brief wince betraying the headache brought on by thoughts of the current political turmoil in Balian. "Verily, brother, the Lord GOD is the whole and only god..."

Paloma Galbraith wipes the ink from her hands and the sweat from her brow!

Dust swirled into the air as the reins cracked sharply, bringing the beast to a slow halt. Paloma Galbraith, shaded beneath the brim of her worn hat, surveyed the desolate desert before her. "The time has come," she murmured, her voice resolute, "to take the Galbraith mantle more firmly and stand within Balianese society through this period of transition." With a determined motion, she tucked the notice into the folds of her chaps, the paper crinkling against the worn leather. She'd utter quickly before taking off in the direction of Balian: "I trust the church has made an educated decision on the matter - we can only progress from here."

Within his retirement home, an extremely elderly Murtagh Amador smacks his lips as he stares at the missive. He'd puff on his pipe-- which had been lovingly packed with cactus green he harvested just the other saint's day-- before then exclaiming with a prideful tune: "Mea family grows even bigger, ag ea grow older!"

Name of Prospective Scholar: Paloma Galbraith Year of Birth: SA 182 Country of Origin: Balian Degree Enrollment: Degree of Alchemies & Magics Do you agree to abide by all rules of the Academy? yes

– ☀︎ Published the 9th of The Deep Cold, 1983 ┊ 116 Balian Annum ☀︎ – ☀︎ ☀︎ Through Difficulties to Honors ⎯⎯ n nurturing Balian’s coming generation, we place great emphasis on their education. The wonders of Aevos must ignite the curiosity of the youth, inspiring them to embark on the path GOD has designed for each of them. Let there be no corner of the world that children are limited to learning the nature of, for there is infinite power in knowledge. With this purpose in mind, House Galbraith and House Ruthern extend a heartfelt invitation to the people of Balian and beyond, to join us within the walls of Reutov for an enchanting night of magic and wonder - where children may firsthand witness a unique aspect of the world we reside in. “Marmoream se relinquere, quam latericiam accepisset.” ‘I leave to you of marble, what I found of brick' Duke Charles ‘Helveticus Maximus’ ☀︎ - A DISPLAY OF ILLUSIONARY AND VOIDAL MAGIC ady Belladonna Thatch has accepted the extended offer of performing for this event- rest assured which has been duly paid for. Advanced in the skills of voidal and illusionary magic, she will grace the audience with a variety of colours and shapes in a show sure to impress many! ☀︎ - A RAFFLE OF MAGICALLY ENHANCED ENJOYMENTS n addition to the live demonstration of magic, children in attendance will have the chance to enter a raffle- wherein various children’s items will be offered. However, it is of note that these toys befit the night’s theme due to their magical enhancements. We encourage those who wish to participate to add their name ahead of time for convenience's sake, but it should be noted that attendance will be required to qualify. Please see the attached list below to quell any piqued interest as to what exactly will be raffled: ☀︎ - Diving Duck: A small yellow duck toy that floats in the water. However, with a squeeze of its squeaky body, the duck will become more dense so that it sinks to the bottom of whatever body of water it’s in. Such a toy will make great practice for young swimmers who wish to practice their own diving! Infused with transfigurative magic ☀︎ - The Shapeshifting Stuffie: A friendly stuffed unicorn with a fuzzy lavender coat and a fuzzy white mane. It bore two black beady eyes and a happy smile stitched into its face. Upon tapping the unicorn’s nose, however, the shape of the plushie would contort and shift, until it resembles more of a dragon! It bore the same lavender coat and white accents, and of course, the ever-cheerful smile. What a perfect friend for any child! Infused with transfigurative magic ☀︎ - Winter Chill: A darling little snowglobe, with a tiny model of the Balian palace within it! Soft speckles of artificial snow dust the roof and ground once shaken. However, in addition to such, a soft breeze will also accompany each shake! The air could do no harm, although it would be just strong enough to dry someone off should they be wet. Infused with air evocation magic ☀︎ - Robotic Horsey: A small automaton horse that reaches no higher than one's knee. It ticked and clanked with every mechanical movement, and on each side of its body were two hooks, allowing for it to pull a small wagon or something similar. A plate in its chest opened up to reveal a gearheart and allow for repairs. However, what made this foal truly magnificent was its steel coat and mane, which were colored a deep onyx and glittered like the night sky with faux stars. Infused with War-forging alchemy: starforging magic ☀︎ - PERSONAL INVITATIONS ARE SENT TO THE FOLLOWING: His Royal Majesty, Alexandros II, King of Balian, and his royal pedigree and their children. Her Royal Highness, Princess Ariadne Casimira, Baroness of Tuvia, and her royal pedigree and their children. His Grace, Marcel Vuiller, Duke of Aquiliae, and his noble pedigree and their children. The Right Honourable, Achillius d'Arkent, Count of Salia, and his noble pedigree and their children. The Most Honourable, Tristan de Lyons, Viscount of Enderoca, and his noble pedigree and their children. The Most Honourable, Viviana Vilac, Viscountess of Valio, and her noble pedigree and their children. The Right Honourable, Friedrich von Augusten, Count of Hohengarten, and his noble family and their children. The Citizens and their children of Balian Citizens and their children of Cannonist & Allied Lands ☀︎ ☀︎ Signed, HIS ROYAL EXCELLENCY, Kristoff var Ruthern, Amiratus of the Kingdom of Balian, Lord Seneschal of the Crown Chief Minister of the Royal Duana, and Regent of Galbraith. HER LADYSHIP, Paloma Augustine Galbraith, Third Baroness of Cascanova, Matriarch of House Galbraith.

A young Lady Galbraith hummed as she scribbled out her application in pink crayon: Name of Prospective Scholar: Paloma Augustine Galbraith Year of Birth: SA 182 Country of Origin: Balian Do you agree to abide by all rules of the Academy? YES

Somewhere obsure in Aevos, a Mali'ker sat in deep meditation- the missive before him acting as the center of his inner turmoil. His brows furrowed and smoothed in turn, until finally, Mirasul opened his eyes with his contemplations at rest. "Amador harbors the blood of my late akthal huleyr - in his death, I find purpose to act." He reached for pen and paper, murmuring a declarative"Yyrel vex" before summoning his sorr to deliver the message, which addressed a 'Kasyana, Lady Esfir of Amador.'

In his retirement home, which was located in an undisclosed part of the North, Murtagh Amador sat in his rocking chair reading the missive. His mind would not be on the recipes, but instead stuck on the concept of thunderous thighs! "Good Goddan, mea years are past eam" he'd chuckle before puffing on his pipe, which was lovingly stuffed with cactus green- the centerpiece of the man's retirement life, naturally.

A veiled mali'ker found solace beneath the ancient boughs of the memory tree, its canopy concealing the night sky above. Yet, his gaze still managed to find the minor crevasses in the foliage the moon managed to pierce through - and with a tender gesture, he'd lay a hand upon his chest and mumur a hushed invocation into the tranquil air about the sacred space. A beat would pass thereafter the prayer, the ker staring quietly at a lit candle- which flickered in tandem with the incense that burned beside it. Turning with a measured demeanor- which had been done with thought as to not disrupt the serene space- he collected a handful of the sacred water that pooled at the tree's roots. As it would pass his lips, the veil of time parted before him, unfurling the tapestry of life he had seen previously first hand. Fifty years gone by in a fleeting moment, yet within that brief expanse he measured certain memories with careful exprobation. He'd peer then at the missive he had been clutching throughout the duration of this mournful ritual- one that had been penned to a Mirasul of Clan Val'taelu. The 'ker would break the silence only then, speaking aloud: "Koltira continue to guide me. I have another stop to make before returning home."

KEROK LAYEH LLYE A COUTURE COMMISSION COMPANY Those Who Learn From The Waters ♫ ♩ ♬♩ ♫ └─────────────────┘ INTRODUCTION: Val’taelu arrived on the shores of Aevos seeking security– first and foremost. Having since achieved this, especially within the nurturing and secure bounds of Celia’nor, Val’taelu now endeavours to deepen its roots by embracing the clan’s cultural emphasis on commerce and trade. Among the clan’s members lies a prevalent skill in seamstressing, a talent with Val’taelu intends to leverage through the establishment of its new enterprise: Kerok Layeh llye EXPANDING UPON ENLIGHTENMENT: The company will intially focus on commission work, where clients may engage with any of Kerok Layeh llye’s seamstresses to potentially fulfil a request. Pricing will be determined individually by each seamstress, as each’s skill fluctuates per method and means of curating pieces. The following is Kerok Layeh llye’s current open seamstress– complete with pieces from their expansive portfolio and corresponding prices. We look forward to updating our staff as Val’taelu kin continue to progress in their own skill levels and comfort. Mirasul Val’Taelu Commissioning a simple outfit may range between 50 to 100 mina, while a more complex piece may range higher– especially if the commissioner wishes to tap into Mirasul’s metal forging talent. A consultation on pricing is more than welcome, and birds are encouraged to be sent for such deliberation. MORE OF THE PORTFOLIO └─────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ MAY THE TIDES BE KIND չ¤ɮ ȶɦɛȶ’ʊչɦչɦɛʅ AITHLIN VAL’TAELU Taluhn Yokeryma of Clan Val’Taelu MIRASUL OF VAL'TAELU Tyuth’vehm of Clan Val’taelu, Dialectician in Practical Green Production, Hoarder of Intrinsics and Items. AMARIA VAL’TAELU Tyuth’szyr’mo of Clan Val’Taelu DAYENIRA VAL’TAELU Tyuth’szyr’mo of Clan Val’Taelu

ʅʊɦɮ¤ʅ ɱαשɦɛʅ ɮ¤ ʊɦʋ’ʅשɛ ɮʊȶɛαչɦ TO ACCREDIT THE WIND IN OUR SAILS ♫ ♩ ♬♩ ♫ └─────────────────┘ To those of Celia’nor, With utmost pride and joy, Clan Val’taelu heralds the completion of its new vessel: enagok'bhun, which will be henceforth referred to in Vel’luah alphabet as ɛռαɠ¤ӄ'ɮɦuռ. After the passage of years, the final plank is laid, signaling a new chapter for our Clan. Long ago, Val’taelu arrived in the lands of Aevos on a ship not of our own making, nor by our own choice. Cast aside by our ashen brethren of Ramasar, we now refuse to fade into the annals of history. Instead, we choose to forge ahead, embracing security and hospitality as our guiding lights. This ship, a symbol of our Clan's rebirth, now belongs to us. We, Clan Val’taelu, wish to formally express our gratitude to both Celia’nor and House Amador, who hails from the Kingdom of Haense. We thank Celia'Nor for allowing us to dock the boat on their land in this publication. On the other hand, we thank House Amador for their labor in building the vessel itself. Without both parties’ aid, the ɛռαɠ¤ӄ'ɮɦuռ would have yet to raise her sails. չ¤ɮ ȶɦɛȶ’ʊչɦչɦɛʅ, May the tides be kind, AITHLIN VAL’TAELU Taluhn Yokeryma of Clan Val’Taelu MIRASUL OF VAL'TAELU Tyuth’vehm of Clan Val’taelu, Dialectician in Practical Green Production, Hoarder of Intrinsics and Items. AMARIA VAL’TAELU Tyuth’szyr’mo of Clan Val’Taelu DEYANIRA VAL’TAELU Tyuth’kasy of Clan Val’Taelu

Murtagh Amador lies in his retirement bed, lamenting the good ol' days where he ran about Haense shirtless-- tattoo on display.

Mirasul Val'taelu hums as he re-enters Celia'nor from a business trip, a pack of coin he had scurried off to collect fisted in his hand- evidence of such leave from home. He had work to do, much of it-- yet he loved every second of it. "After the loss of Nor’Velyth, the conservation of 'ker culture is bigger than just my own Clan. I just hope my ashen kin may recognize that as well." he would muse to no one except himself.

A ker with striking emerald eyes gazed out from his perch in an undisclosed outlook. The ocean, a perennial fascination, captured his attention once more. It always seemed to come back to the ocean, but this time Clan Val’taelu would depart by ship of their own volition. And Mirasul couldn't help but grin at the thought. "Onto greater endeavors," he whispered before resuming his packing.

A flame- an eternal one. That was the motif of House Amador, as the Phoenix was a creature wrought up from cyclical regeneration. However, when Olessya's eldest daughters were born, instead of pride and maternity, she felt a pang of shame. Weren't they the continuation of House Amador? Weren't they the female first-borns she had longed for to defy her Sedanian mother? Were they not a timestamp on her tenure as matriarch of a fading house? She knew she couldn't offer her dotres a normal life. The burden of carrying the flame would inevitably fall on her eldest, Nataliya, and Olessya had made sure the girl understood the weight of that responsibility. But what of Liridona? Little, dear Liridona - as Olessya denoted her in her thoughts. A flameless being, a tool to perpetuate the regenerative cycle of their House. She would do what every other noble Haense-woman had done: forge alliances through marriage and joyfully bear children. This was her burden, to blend into the ash and soot amongst the flame. Yet here Olessya now sat, enveloped in a pearlescent glow, gently swaying in her oak rocking chair. The brown-haired girl, the Gem of Amador, appeared, and Olessya's lips tightened as she struggled to voice her regrets and apologies. She had suppressed the spark within this child, and when she wasn't looking, it ignited. No amount of apology, though she had tried, could mend this rift. The shame from their first encounter-- where Olessya first looked at her babes-- resurfaced, weighing heavily upon her once more.

"...abide by God's law as interpreted and written by the church for many hundreds of years," an elderly man echoed in his solitary retirement abode. He had never married himself, as the Canon law's direct—and still apparent—prohibition had made it so. "It's a pity for those who attempt to speak for GODDAN and impose their own morality on scripture simply because they hold power to." He tossed aside the provided copy, adding aloud then before sipping his brew, "GODDAN instills in eam a love and compassion for mea fellow man. Ea see no sin in that, ag will keep my religion a personal matter between mea'self ag GODDAN—as is the nature of religion in itself. Ea do wish the same could be said by those of the Church' ag its clergymen who speak so loudly with pens in hand"

In a remote, secluded location- far removed from Haense society- Murtagh Amador resides in his retirement abode. Here, he watches over his distant flock of sheep, tending to the plants he kept surrounding his dwelling with weathered, wrinkled hands. His gaze narrows as it falls upon a particularly new wee lamb, a sense of premonition stirring within him. He would later pray that night for the well-being of his kin!

A Mali'ker with eyes of a peculiar green sat engrossed in his work on the docks, deftly manipulating fabric and string with a slender pinner of cactus dangling from his lips. At intervals, he would pause to secure loose strands of hair, nip at the string he wove, or otherwise draw a large mass of smoke from the joint. But at a certain point, his gaze fixated on the ocean ahead, filling with bitter thoughts of his clan's discardment. Upon their arrival to Aevos, he had ventured into the new land with utter disdain-- but now reunited with his kin once again, he saw the importance of security. Mirasul Val’Taelu vowed to secure their triumph-- whatever that may be-- within his lifetime, a certainty burning within him.

A generous gathering of mina was swiftly ensconced within a sack, accompanied by an assortment of curiosities-- ones that only an elf of elcetic-nature would hoard with purpose. Mirasul had assured Aithlin of his arrival in Nor-Velyth by the next sun-rise. Yet, he found himself delayed by several days, much to the consternation of the enigmatic 'ker. Nevertheless, he now hoisted his weathered bundle of trinkets over his shoulder, extinguishing the fire he had been seated beside, and set forth towards the Moonlit lands-- the new home of his kin.

"ah shite" Murtagh Amador would squint at the page, taking a very long time to process the words written. He'd squint at his bank account, wondering how much his aedymamej was worth in coin.

Murtagh Amador delicately placed his hairbrush aside, opting instead for the weight of his glasses in his palm. He'd tenderly wipe the smoke that clung to the air before him, placing his spectacles upon his nose-- his attention fixated upon the portrait of his niece. Thus spawn a duality of emotions upon his features: sorrow and pride. "Ah- tha' gown.." he'd then marvel, his eyes adhering to the dressings donned, depicted in meticulous strokes. He'd study a minute more before leaning back, casting a thoughtful glance towards his closet-- where a multitude of patterns, needles, and fabric lay neatly stacked. "Fitsk dlum ze Birodal..." he'd intone, a incantation heavy with scorn and patriotism. For a girl so young, the martyr bore upon her shoulders the weighty duality of Haensei pride and bygone trauma! Nevertheless, the old man would stand and pick up his needle.