spiritsdw

[spiritsdw]

{Letters} - Sent at the Albion Embassy in Aelem

The Right Honorable The Earl of Carneath, Clarence Temple

Dear Lord Temple,

I think I am prepared to speak on the rest of what happened that first night we were here. I write to you with the strictest confidence, as these letters are personal. And I promised them that I would not report this back to His and Her Majesty, and I only tell you because you are the other half of my heart.

We will start at the beginning, according to Grissa’s recounting. He condenses it for me, and I condense it further to recount to you.

He took the four -- Pasha, Adi, Tazyrr, and Trielae, to the temple complex on Ydir, and there they found three small black stones in an offering bowl to Nynae. He still has one of the stones, which he hands over to me, along with a letter -- but that will come later.

It is more like shale in texture, but small like a river stone. It is darker than pitch, and all light seems to be swallowed up by it. Even a holy light, summoned forth by Grissa for the purposes of demonstrating, is consumed by this.

I feel the terror before I feel the curiosity, but he asks me to investigate it, and so I promised him I will.

He says before he can stop them, the four step through a shimmering portal that appears, as if by magic, behind Nynae’s altar. It vanishes before he can follow, and he is left by himself at the temple complex.

I cannot even begin to imagine what he felt then. He had a hard time putting it into words, the sheer horror at losing them, the fear, the concern. Being stuck there, uncertain if he should leave to find me or to stay and wait. And if they came back, what then? What would be the state of them?

Nearly an hour passes before he is joined by Ydir and Rimu, who lead Ulutka between them. And, immediately, the portal opens back up and out stumbles Pasha, Adi, and Trielae, carrying an unconscious Tazyrr.

Perhaps the gods knew something was amiss, because Rimu went to Tazyrr immediately to heal him. He had tiny, thin green lights appearing and flickering to life beneath his armor, Grissa says, though he doesn’t know what the cause of it is. At least then, he didn’t. He has a guess, now.

Through back and forth between the others, Ydir attempting to gather information from them, he learns that they were transported to Nynae’s island. They were confronted by Nadah, who warned them to turn back, but they pressed on anyway.

Pasha asks Nynae if they can try, and she lets them.

Tazyrr reaches for something in the well, the source of her corruption, and he blacks out.

Perhaps “blacks out” is too mild a term for what happened. Grissa himself doesn’t know the full details, though Ydir and Rimu explain a bit to him later. The source of corruption, like this small stone that I was given, that was left on Nynae’s altar, pulls life -- pulls essence, being -- from anything it touches. Small as this sample is, the one in her well is huge. He is no match for it, and it leaves him nearer death than anyone would like.

Pasha does not react well to this failure, and he does not react well to Ydir’s defensiveness. Even at the time of this recounting, hours after, Grissa still seethes at the way his god was treated. At Pasha’s inability to simply listen, to behave rationally.

“He’s not a soldier,” I remind Grissa.

“No,” Grissa agrees, “He’s a child.”

It’s hard to remember how young they are. They they were born in a world at the end of the war, and to be sure, Pasha has led an incredibly difficult life until the point where he was brought onto the ship. But that does not make him old, and it does not make him wise. It does not prepare him for the quick pace and harsh consequences of a missed step.

So short-sighted, Ydir had said, and I am inclined to agree. Pasha is impulsive, destructively so, and he does not think through the things that he says sometimes. He begs to be put back on the island, because he is a “foreigner” (Ydir’s word), and thus he should be below Ydir’s concern.

And here, I see some of Grissa’s frustration leaking over from pure anger at Pasha’s behavior to regret, something akin to pity. That this person (this child) would be so willing to throw himself on the chopping block. Increasingly so, it seems, but again, that is later.

Rimu, eventually, agrees to allow the twins to study these stones from Nynae’s altar -- and he leaves one with Ydir and takes Tazyrr and Trielae to his island.

(I had mentioned to him earlier, when he came to visit, if he might look in on them the same way he looked in on me. That there was something beneath the surface that could not be healed, but would help explain. I am glad to hear that it sounds like they are willing to work with him, which could bode well if they remain on Aelem.)

Ydir takes those remaining to Muya.

A strange desire, to want to visit her. But perhaps none of the others would have wanted to say what needed to be said out loud: “The only way to fix this is to sacrifice something else.”

As Grissa explains to me, one would need to take her place, or to take the nothingness into themselves. And then someone would have to replace that which was lost, to maintain the balance.

Muya asks why this is so important to them. “What interests you so much in saving something that is not yours?”

Pasha is far kinder to her when he tries to explain the situation, about how he feels about all of it. “Something did this to her, altered her against her will. The solution seems to be to cut her off, but all that will do is… it doesn’t make it stop whatever is happening to her. It’s not right.”

No, it isn’t, Pasha. It isn’t right. But that is the way of things.

“Not even for us, is everything fair, is everything justifiable,” Muya explains to him, and I can hear the exhaustion in Grissa’s voice as he recounts it to me. The knowledge that it isn’t right, and it isn’t fair, but his people have combatted this for a century. There is the edge of insult in his exhaustion. “It could have happened to any one of us, and it could have landed on my temple, and it would have been awful, but people would have adjusted and moved on, But it landed on the temple of the aspect of chaos, and people have adjusted and moved on. If it had tampered with the ocean or our agriculture, it would have been devastating.”

She concludes with, “I don’t know that there is an easy solution, or there is one that you could willingly accept, or there is a solution that you could walk away from and feel like you have done something good.”

And that is the nature of our work. That is the knowledge we keep in the back of our mind every time we make a choice.

And, perhaps, Pasha still doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand the sacrifice he is so willingly to give will not be willingly accepted. Choices and consequences.

“Just because he finds himself disposable does not mean that others do,” Grissa says, his hands gripped together on my desk. He doesn’t look at me as he talks, and as our conversation goes on, I wonder what sort of expression he is keeping from me, what sort of truth he doesn’t want me to learn on his face.

Pasha continues to practically beg to allow himself to be used as a sacrifice, despite being told again and again that it would be useless. My stomach twists hearing this -- it was not so long ago that I was telling you how much of myself I saw in him, the potential, and now here he is: Ignorant, willing to throw himself away, even if it does nothing.

I am speaking from a position of privilege, and I know this, you have told me this before. But never in my darkest days did I think that my potential was worth nothing. I had the confidence in myself to know that I could do great things, and so I ran away from my title and my family and enlisted as a nameless person. To do work that would help.

Pasha does not have that confidence, has never thought he was worth something elsewhere. Have I been remiss in not nurturing that in him? At what point am I coddling him, and at what point am I intervening from letting him traverse a dangerous line?

This is the argument that Grissa has with him, though it is less reflective and more brutualy to the point: “You’re a mortal, it would rip you from limb to limb, and then you would scatter among star stuff, and there won’t be anything to remember you by, your soul would be gone, there would be nothing left to mourn, and we will be no step closer to solving this.”

What Grissa does not say, but I can glean, is that much of his anger comes from the way Pasha’s words turned this from a problem about Nynae, into his own worthlessness, in his own failure to save her, into his problem.

A puzzle that cannot be solved with empathy, and cannot be solved by crying.

(He’s not a soldier, he’s just a child.)

Grissa confesses to me that he was horrified at the idea that he might have to take Ydir’s position, but he says that he would, if asked, without flinching.

The bravery that must take, to rewrite the entire course of your history. (Do not throw it away, Pasha, take command of it.) To do what your god would ask of you, and to ask him of a similar sacrifice.

“I would have asked his favor to take Nynae’s place, or to take her burden, and he would have asked me to become the new god of the ocean,” Grissa says. “I do not doubt this is what would have happened, and when I stepped out of Muya’s temple to speak to Ydir, he understood. He would be willing to make this sacrifice because it would be for the good of his sister, one he stood on equal footing with, and the payment made would be my own life tied to his.”

Rest assured, Clarence, this is not the solution that they eventually reached. There is hope yet, but for all the celebration that their victory calls for, there are more questions, and unknown consequences.

But Grissa, when forced with the choice, made the offer with a clear head, and I do not think any of us would have been half as brave as he was in that moment. There is bravery in noble sacrifices, but there is cowardice and ignorance in hasty ones.

The twins and Rimu join them on Muya’s island, and the twins announce that they have a plan. It is an incredibly risky one, and as such, Grissa will not let them proceed without speaking to me.

So they do, and I send them back off again, because I did not know as much then as I do now.

Would I have made a different choice if I had heard all the possibilities? If I had known what Tazyrr’s plan was, if I had known that Grissa had been one step away from becoming the new god of the oceans. If I had known all the stakes, would I have made such a gamble?

I knew that their so-called reconnaissance was, well, not a lie. As I said previously, it was a truth that they wish they could have maintained.

What came out of their return to Nynae:

Tazyrr was able to transfer the stone from one point to another.

Nynae is, for all appearances, cured.

No sacrifices needed to be made.

Confronted with such a close call, Grissa has gone to spend time with Ydir, with his family, and I have let him know that if he needs more time, he is welcome to it. I have left a larger offering with Ydir than I have in years past, and with Elder Attaria as well. Ydir’s willingness to take the poison from Nynae shows his devotion to his work with Grissa, and the amount of respect that he gives unto his cleric, and I cannot be more thankful for his trust. The same to Elder Attaria for her grandson, though I will not pry to see if she knows how close she was to losing him. It is not a wound that will need to be revisited.

But more to the point, as I work through these things: Tazyrr’s ability to manipulate this substance which, through a base level of study, seems to resist all influence of any kind. At the time of my conversation with Grissa regarding the subject, I had not had the opportunity to study the stone, but at the time of writing, I have given it a bit of consideration.

What energies I am able to manipulate, the stone is simple able to swallow. As I understand it, from the way that Grissa said Rimu and Ydir described it, the stone is perhaps not the cause of the severing to the plane of water, which happened across all the islands, but is the reason for her madness. It fell into her temple, and landed in her well the same time that everyone else was cut off, and this is what prevented the darkness from spreading.

Luck, perhaps. Pure luck that saved these islands, though it does beg the question of what this material is, where it came from, and how it functions.

To the point of where this particular stone has come from, there is a character who made an appearance that intrigues me. According to Grissa, the man calls himself Ma’sud, a salesman of sorts, who simply appeared in the temple once Tazyrr extracted the stone from the well.

Grissa confesses that he did not pay attention to their conversation, as his attention was on Nynae, but he heard Ma’sud mention that he was the one who left the stones on Nynae’s altar, and hoped to have the one that Tazyrr now hovered over.

In the end, thankfully, Tazyrr surrendered the stone to the so-called salesman, who then simply vanished again. (I would love to know the methods he was able to do this, and the two of them spoke of arcane magic like a thing dear and familiar, yet dying. Dead. Energies scraped together. What does this mean. How have items been used to fuel spells, how are people -- a century later -- still able to do these things? Could, perhaps, I do more if I had access to something that I could drain of arcane magic? Could I drain something at all?)

What would have happened if Tazyrr decided that this thing was more a curiosity best served in his own hands than in Ma’sud’s? Would someone have been able to stop him, now knowing what powers he could use? Would Tazyrr have turned them against any of the crew who tried to prevent him? Would Ma’sud have intervened, overpowered him, prevented it in some way?

There are too many questions but I take solace in the fact that a larger version of this stone is not aboard my ship, for I do not know what it would do to the engines.

I do not know what those who were curious to Dr. Segus’ experiments would have reacted to the stone’s presence. (The twins, for all their apparent disinterest; Pasha, in his desire for vengeance; Natalya, in her casual push for power over others. Myself… myself.)

We are nearing our end in Aelem, and at least now I have been given the respite that I desired upon our initial arrival to port. Everyone has mostly gone their own direction -- with the exception of the occasional rendezvous between Pasha, Adi, and the twins. They are clearly up to something, but strangely, I am not alarmed by their secret project. I think they will keep each other in check, in their own ways.

Additionally, I think the twins have fashioned the cells we have into a laboratory of sorts. To the very least, they have adapted to the space with great ease, and seem to find considerable comfort in spending their time there.

Certainly, the cushions they have procured from somewhere do look quite plush.

More to the matter of Tazyrr and Trielae and their position aboard the Titan… I have spoken to them, and I kept pace as we danced around the subject.

They cornered me in the embassy, where I have been spending some time sending and receiving reports from Albion (I am glad you took the time to send an official missive on the termination of our favorite junior aide in the transcriptions office, Percival Gregory; I will be sorry to see him go). We step into one of the meeting rooms, and as soon as I close the door their demeanor shifts.

Not to one on the offensive, not one of desperation. Cautious, tiptoeing.

They wanted to know what Grissa had told me. And I told them the truth, that primarily, the conversation did not revolve around them. As for my own curiosity, I did not press Grissa for those details. He mentioned what they had done, and that he promised it would stay between us. Only the crew that traveled with them to Nynae, and myself, as nature of being the captain.

He stressed the importance that it remained that way, that it does not become widespread.

“Is it important to you that it doesn’t become widespread?” Tazyrr asks, which strikes me as a weird question.

Tazyrr had asked Grissa that it remained private, saved for needing to update me, and so I took that request seriously. “It is important to me what you think should be the result of this,” I tell him honestly, and this seems to surprise the two of them.

That I would take what they want, what they would desire, into consideration. “You’re not going to tell the empire about us? Don’t you have to?”

I assured them that I would only tell “the empire” what is a danger to them. And, as far as they thought, were the two of them presenting themselves as a danger to the crown and myself?

They confirmed that they were not. “At what point do we become a danger to the empire?”

I find it very strange that they keep referring to Albion as an “empire”. She was, perhaps, when we first met, but just barely. Only I have a feeling the pair of them have walked Assalia far longer than I originally thought, and they lived to see Albion at the height of her Empire days. But, also, I understand their concern, coming as they did from a faction that turned them into the weapons we met in Agartha, who did not care what their opinion was, and made them a danger.

I warned them, as I warned Natalya, that causing harm to any of the crew is when they would be considered a threat.

From the looks on their faces, this displeased them. Because they would want the authority to act against Natalya if she took their autonomy from them. And they say as much, that if they have to act defensively, then they will.

“And when that happens, I will have to review the case before passing judgement,” I tell them, and this seems, at least, to satisfy them. That I will keep their secret (and you, my heart, in strictest confidence). That, should he learn of the situation, that His Majesty would back my decisions.

I would not turn them into tools of the crown. I would not see them my own personal weapons. I would expect the same as I do from any of the crew, and while they maintain a position aboard my ship, the should expect that same level of treatment from the others as well (Natalya notwithstanding, but she is a different story that I am trying to ensure does not become a complication).

“I do not expect anything more, unless I specifically ask it of you, and you are willing to give it,” I conclude, and again, this catches them off-guard. For once, I do not feel like I have to struggle to keep up with their conversation. For once, and I think just this once, I have achieved the upper hand (through compassion, no less, I am far from the politician I think my father hoped I would be).

We leave Aelem tomorrow, and I have overwhelmed myself with thoughts and questions, possibilities and ponderings, that I cannot hope to answer.

The small stone, for what it is worth, I have passed on to Rimu for safe keeping. I will leave it in the hands of a god to get rid of. They are, thankfully, too small to do anything, but I think they will be of use to learn some of the cause and effect that happened at Nynae’s well.

I will leave now to send my final batch of reports on the scouts from Gwaelod and review incoming notes for Lemuria. I shall post this letter as well, so that you may receive it in due time. It is strange to feel like it has been so long since I have talked to you, when technically we have used the telegraph to exchange official news.

But I miss you, as I always do by this point in my tour. As I do the moment we depart from Yielden. As I do, whenever you are not at my side.

Maybe this time, I will think, whenever I miss you too fiercely. Maybe this time will be the last.

I hate that it never is. Despite everything, it never is.

For you, my heart, all my love, Ean

[spiritsdw]

{Letters} - Sent at Albion Embassy in Aelem

The Right Honorable The Earl of Carneath, Clarence Temple

Dear Lord Temple,

It has not yet been a full day, and I think, unfortunately, I have spoken too soon about it being a relaxing time here. Currently, it is somewhere after one in the morning. I left my pocket watch in my room, I did not think to bring it with me, and I can’t go back there or I will just pace and fret.

The day proceeded much as I expected that it would. The crew went about their tasks, Arculf and I double checked the repairs to the ship, and Grissa went to spend well-deserved time with his family. Pasha and Adi have taken quite quickly to Tazyrr and Trielae, and what’s more, the twins seem to… well, if not welcome their presence, then accept it in due course.

I did not see the others for the rest of the day, as I had not planned to. I busied myself with the flow of reports from home and your letters and the usual.

At some point, I was paid a visit by the god Rimu. Even after all these years, the shock of a living god sitting across from me has still not worn off. (Perhaps I would understand better if I met the god-king of Gwaelod, but he does not appear to outsiders, not even when we negotiated peace with his people.) He asked after my health, as he does. Informed me that this slow spreading curse as we have come to call my own situation has not worsened. It is a bleak reassurance, but I have tried to stop worrying about it.

He must have sensed something, because he set aside his tea and asked if there were any changes, anything he could not see. I told him of my dreams (have I told you? That they come with increasing frequency these days? Ever since I left Albion, it is like a steady noose around my heart that pulls just too tight. I thought it merely the usual anxiety that I have learned to cope with, but now, I am not sure), I told him of my increased worries.

Ironic, isn’t it -- I improve mastery over my own abilities, and in doing so, I feel worse for it.

Rimu hesitated before speculating that it could just be an increased anxiety. He does not dabble with the spirits that have tied themselves to me, though his curiosity was originally piqued because of, as he calls it, the memory of poor health. Not a spirit of its own, but something that clung to me after my childhood illness. The thing that drew those spirits to me in the first place.

But that is neither here nor there. It is our usual run of conversation, and I am stalling. Wrapping my head around the events of the last hour.

Rest assured: I am healthy, physically. Better, mentally, to know I will have this opportunity to (mostly) relax.

After Rimu left, I remained in my cabin to mull over what he said. I could hear Nynae in the distance, but I did not think anything of it. We have been here several times over the last ten years. Her presence, her situation, is familiar to us, and we paid a lone wolf no heed. Those of us who have been here before, I should say.

I was awoken not long ago by an insistent pounding at my door and then Tazyrr shouting for me. And, still yet half asleep, I thought the worst had happened. The ship was burning, a member of the crew had been murdered, the sky was falling -- any number of things.

Instead, I opened the door to find the twins and Grissa, who looked far more embarrassed than I thought the urgency entailed, crammed into my doorway. Behind them, clustered together, were Pasha, Ulutka, and Adi.

Natalya has done something, I think with a lurch.

But then Grissa speaks before the twins get the chance. “The basic situation,” he explains, “Is that they believe they have found a way to save Nynae from the madness that plagues her.”

There is too much to unpack from that simple statement that I did not have the time or the coherence to ask for. So I stand there in shocked silence.

He suggests that we speak to discuss the various options that the crew wishes to take.

We meet in the map room, and I ask them to start from the beginning.

For once, the twins do not seem keen on being the ones to dictate the tale. They look to Pasha, who looks mortified at being put on the spot. Slowly, painfully, he says, “We might be able to uncorrupt her island.”

For all the things I thought they would say, even after Grissa announced it just moments before, I did not think it would be this. “And what are you going to attempt that the gods here have not already attempted? What makes you think that now is the time?” After a hundred years, what does it mean that they could shift it? Who are these people who stand before me, to be able to accomplish that?

Pasha, a bit braver now, mentions that he had somehow gained the trust of the goddess, despite the madness she has. That, maybe, she wants to be saved. And that she wants them to save her.

When I ask Grissa for his opinion on the matter, as these are his gods, his people, he had the expression of a man clearly in conflict. To go against something that had been ingrained in his culture for a century, to go about it at the hands of outsiders. But the desire to set to right something that has plagued a goddess of his faith for so long… That, perhaps, outweighed the negative feelings.

He said that there is the chance that an outsider’s perspective is perhaps what the goddess needs, that outside hands might be able to do something where her own kin and kind couldn’t. (The possibility that she acts outside of reason, outside of logic, does not escape him, as he’s not certain how much of her faculties she still remains after being cut off for so long, after being reduced to pure chaos.)

So I ask the group at large, “What are these options that you are wishing to explore?”

The twins do a marvelous attempt at appearing like this question does not make them uncomfortable. Though when Pasha, in turn, puts them on the spot, the attempt at subtlety flees and they full on grimace.

Knowing them as I do, I wonder if it’s not something that they would want to tell me in confidence. A part of the history that they know I’m aware of, that their more “direct method”, as Pasha put it, is not what he expects it to be.

There is a lack of the hemming and hawing that they do when they try to dance around a subject. There is a seriousness to their expressions that denotes the weight of what they plan on telling me. Here they stand, soldiers, ready to act.

They lay out the details of their plan: They believe there is the possibility that they could remove whatever the malignant cause is directly from Nynae’s well. “If it’s not too large of an entity,” Tazyrr adds, and I wonder what sort of thing must be down in that well. They want to go back and get a better idea of what they are dealing with, now that they have a theory in mind.

(Go back is a phrase I latch onto, and one that makes Grissa lower his gaze. No one mentioned having been on the island in the first place, but then again, how else would they have expected to receive the blessing of Nynae? Did I honestly think that she would have visited them here, on Ydir, simply because she had a feeling about these new arrivals? No there is something else, another part of this adventure, that they have not told me, because it does not matter to the situation at hand. And I worry.)

Trielae adds that they only wish to run a diagnosis once they get to the island, but that “we can’t make any promises”. They cannot promise that this will be something that they can do, that can be done.

Or, perhaps, they are not certain that they can promise it will be a simple reconnaissance mission.

“I can’t predict that something wouldn’t happen,” Tazyrr says, and I am certain we both know of the unpredictability of war.

“We have no intention,” Trielae says with all seriousness, and I wish as much as they do that by speaking those words, we could will them to be true.

I do they only thing I can in that moment. “Grissa or I will go with you and accompany you.” I let them know that I cannot allow them to go unsupervised in case something does happen. Our presence is only to ensure a modicum of damage control.

If something happens, I would like either one of us to be there to help control it.

A part of me, a small part that I have gotten better at ignoring, wants to be there for the sheer curiosity of it.

A captain first, a scientist second. I don’t know if it is the presence of the twins that makes this harder to maintain, that I feel like I am once again a soldier, Sebastian’s aide, able to move freely and take chances. To delve into these questions that fascinate me and search for answers.

“I don’t think there is much that you can do to control the situation if something does happen but… we can’t say no.” Tazyrr says this like a man ready to face execution. It is a heavy weight, dragged out of him and does not offer any relief after having been spoken.

I wonder if I make it better by reminding him that he is technically not part of my crew. They are not signed, they are not gaining wages. He is not under my authority.

He is allowed to say “no”.

I can tell that he wants to believe me, and then there is a sort of resigned set to his shoulders as he sighs. “Well, technically I have to say yes because I need one of your crew mates because he’s the only one that has charmed the goddess’ heart and has been allowed entrance.” He turns to look at Pasha, and there is so much I cannot believe I have missed in such a few short hours.

Pasha, charming goddesses now? How much of him had to bleed to elicit that sort of reaction from Nynae, to pierce through the haze of the chaos. How much of him has he given up, surrendered, to gain her trust?

How much of himself does he see in her, and is this the right move for both of them? If they fail, will that destroy him? Will that lead him to believe that he, too, cannot be saved? (Pasha, you are not a being of chaos, you are not an aspect that people pray to. You are your own person, and the chains that bind you are ones that you are making steps to pull free.)

Grissa volunteers to take the five of them back to Nynae’s island. “These are my people,” he says, though I do not know if he means the crew, or the culture that they are going to be attempting to amend. “So I will take responsibility.”

All I could do was to send them off with a “be safe”. Ignoring the resignation on Grissa’s face, the knowledge that there is something that he will not say to me in front of the others. The determination in Tazyrr’s expression, in Pasha’s. The danger that they set off to confront, and I remained behind my desk, asking them to be safe.

It’s not that I miss being in the line of action -- well, perhaps, a little bit of it is. I spent so long between the various fronts during the war, that to be stuck at my desk feels strange. But also, I think, a little bit of me is curious to see how the twins will perform this miracle. What Tazyrr thinks he has uncovered that the others could not do. That Pasha could open himself so freely to this goddess that she would trust him.

That something could upset Grissa so, who is normally so reserved, the bastion of calm in stormy seas. I cannot press him for answers, but I hope that he will tell me.

I hope that--

There is a knock at my door. I will leave this letter for now, because it is the exhausted ramblings of a man in the middle of the night. I hope the next will bring better news.

All my love, Ean

[spiritsdw]

{Letters} - Sent at Albion Embassy in Aelem

The Right Honorable The Earl of Carneath, Clarence Temple

Dear Lord Temple,

We have made it to Aelem on time, and as I predicted, there was no pursuit from the gang in Stroneth. We were welcomed with all the warmth and grace that Elder Attaria has always shown us. I think, perhaps, she is always thankful that we deliver Grissa home safely each time that she shows such hospitality, but I do not question it.

I, too, am thankful that he is safe. I am constantly thankful for his presence, and I know Arculf thinks the same. He provides invaluable counsel, and is a steadfast companion aboard the Titan. Many a time we would be lost without his navigation, and his wise words.

It was a tense trip to reach Aelem, as I carry cargo I cannot trust, and carry crew I cannot let out of my sight. For fear of what they would do to me, to the others. (Do I actually believe that Tazyrr and Trielae would have done anything to me? No, honestly, I do not. They are players of an incredibly long game, and I am not yet deemed a threat.)

I am comforted by my arrival here, if only because I have received the letters you have sent, and seeing your words always puts me at ease.

But I cannot relax just yet.

I let the others off the ship, as many of the crew have not been to Aelem, and we have the week to relax here before we carry on to Lemuria. I asked Natalya to speak with me before she left.

She spent most of the trip, as she always does, locked away in the engine room. This allowed me to know where she was at any given point, and to not have to address the concerns that were looming over those who have recently worked with her. Perhaps that is irresponsible of me, putting it off for as long as I did, but I wanted to think it through every potential angle.

I did not think that she would have tried anything on me, that was not my fear. I did not think that she would retaliate on those who told me, because she does not interact with many, and she knows very well what she did to them. I wouldn’t have to name names for her to know who it was I spoke of.  

I warned her against entangling with other members of the crew when it came to trying to influence their choices in specific directions. I let her know that if I caught word of it again, then I would need to take action.

“Resist the urge to make those decisions for other people, or forcing them to do what you want,” I told her, which seems like a reasonable thing to ask.

There’s a beat, and I think perhaps she understood what I told her. And then she says, “No one complained when I put the captain of the pirate ship to sleep.”

A strange deflection, and I can only stare at her in barely controlled shock for a few seconds before her words catch up. Yes, the one time she did not use it on a member of the crew, that is the time she pulls. And even then, to compel someone to sleep is not the same as forcing someone to be your friend so that they will do what you ask. It is not the same as forcing your comrades to stand down in the middle of a charged situation.

It is not an action committed against one of my crew.

“I understand that,” I told her, “and it was appreciated.” I did appreciate the assistance. It ended the situation faster and with fewer casualties than if we had kept fighting. “It is the members of the crew, and thus the citizens of Albion and Antilla that you will refrain from using those on.”

Not an order, not really. A warning, certainly, if she had the wherewithal to interpret it as such.

She doesn’t, or at least, not seriously.

“Yes, Sir,” she said, and left.

She is a girl who was raised in a certain fashion, and at a certain rank. Perhaps that creates a character that is unwilling to accept those of a lower status as worthy of her consideration. I had hoped she would understand, that by spelling it out for her in such simple terms, I could appeal to a base level of humanity that, alas, seems to escape her.

Should I make myself more available to her? Engage in more conversations, to learn her whims better so that I might understand better how she could reach such a conclusion? I am her captain first, I always thought, and never her father. I cannot take his place, though I do this as a favor to him. How would he react, seeing this behavior in her? How would her mother, or even her brother?

How would she react, having this same action forced upon her? Would she understand then?

I do not wish to dwell on this.

I will read your letters instead, to serve as a distraction.  

You must guess, then, that since I have your letters, I have sent the contents of the lockbox to Noah with all due haste. After speaking with Natalya, that was my first course of action. A relief to have that out of my hands, and a relief to instead have your letters in its place.

I shall reply to them at my leisure, as we are here for an extended period of time, and there isn’t much trouble for them to get up to on the islands.

Grissa mentioned, when I handed him the lockbox, that I could use a vacation. I am glad for the chance to at least have the chance to breathe.

I do not yet know if the twins have taken my offer to leave them here, or if they will carry on with us to Lemuria. That is a question for a week from now. Let them have that time to make up their mind. Perhaps the peace of life on the archipelago will appeal to them, after they have had a chance to experience it.

First, I think, I shall have some tea.

All my love, Ean

[spiritsdw]

{Letters} - Sent at Stroneth Port

The Right Honorable The Earl of Carneath, Clarence Temple

Dear Lord Temple, 

I have never been a man prone to drinking, but right now I think I could definitely lock my cabin door and spend the rest of the day nursing a few stiff drinks. 

We are still in Nibiru. I aim to post this before we leave tomorrow morning. 

I fear today is going to be a long one, and it is only half done. I pray to the winds to give me strength, even as I write this. I am so tired, and I wish

Did you know, every time I set sail from the Yielden Docks, I tell myself this will be the last time. Don’t laugh. It is hard to leave for so long. It is hard to leave you behind. There’s nothing for me at home -- except, perhaps, to be a glorified clerk to Illiam. Gone are the days where I could serve as Sebastian’s aide without trouble. 

Now he has court-appointed ones to do it for him. 

Each time we set sail, I wonder if I shouldn’t retire. But I am too young, and I will get too bored. Even if I find some quiet cabin where I can be alone to work on my inventions. I wouldn’t dare to ask you to cut yourself off from everyone else, just because I am stodgy like that. So the thought passes quickly from my mind, because there are too few rewards for so high a cost as to give this all up. 

But even so, I wonder each time. 

I did not write to you to complain. I am here to follow up in regards to the troubling letter I sent last. 

I tried to distract myself with the repairs to the ship instead of thinking about the drow twins, or the possibilities of what would happen to those I (unknowingly) let go with them. It only worked in as much as I did not have the energy to dwell on them. 

They have started to return -- Natalya and Ulutka have made their way back to the ship first, while they mentioned that the others were going to return a map (not the one of the fort, though at this point, I have little need for it). 

There was some half-hearted explanation, as the pair of them both seemed very distracted in their conversation with me. There were yellow flowers that had some connection to the undead, there had been some violence, and in the end, there had been no real answers. 

Natalya handed me a vial of clear yellow liquid -- bright enough to make citrine look like amber. She said it was from the woman’s desk, the color similar to the flowers that they found across the fort. “It might be worth pursuing,” she added 

Now, I will confess, the scientist part of me is fascinated by this. I have no notes at the time of writing this, but still I thought ‘What if I were to investigate this further?’ To keep a sample of it for myself to experiment with, and send the rest back to Noah and her team. What is the nature of this liquid? What could I do with it -- indeed, what would I be able to do with this woman’s notes, should I ever get them? 

It is a line of thought I am now ashamed to have considered. 

Ulutka mentioned hesitations that reflected my own when it comes to violence. I am glad to know that the crew does not question my actions -- “As representatives of this ship,” he had said, “we should know better than to leave corpses wherever we go.” 

He is a young man with a soft heart. His place aboard this ship is a strange one, but I am constantly thankful for his calm, level-headed approach to situations such as these. 

It is Natalya who worried me though. 

“I did try to diffuse the situation,” she said to me, and I knew immediately what that entailed. 

I did not know how to ask her what she meant by that -- what had she done, to whom had she made the attempt on. All I could think of was Pasha’s rage, boiling beneath a schooled expression. 

All I could think of was Tazyrr and Trielae, and what they are capable of when pushed. 

You understand now why I worry, don’t you? 

Conflict not just among outside forces -- perhaps my non-action stance has made them too passive when it comes to situations. Perhaps it is because I am trying to reconcile my memories of the war, of what it meant to serve on the front line, with what I am being asked to do now. I present them a disjointed front, telling them one thing and then asking of them another, that this conflict comes in from between their ranks.

Of course, the twins did not help the matter. They are a completely unstable element in the structure of my crew. They do not know how to handle these sorts of situations, and I thought they would do well enough together without my guidance, or that of Arculf or Grissa. 

Again, again, again -- Natalya. What must be going through her mind? What sort of process did she follow to ask this of me? 

She acknowledges that the woman they confronted had control of the undead, though I could tell from this conversation alone it was not through necromancy, but through science. Arcane magic is a thing of the past, and those who wish to follow old traditions must find new means. However Natalya asked to be involved in further research of this substance. “It seems like the sort of science that could improve the function of Albion’s military, prevent the loss of soldiers.” 

I cannot… Clarence, even now, my hand shakes with the anger and the frustration at that naive question. And I realized how foolish I was to think that I could keep a sample of this substance on my boat to investigate in my own way. I cannot tell you the anger I felt at her line of inquiry, the revulsion I felt towards myself for my own failings at keeping an eye on her. 

Why would she even suggest this? A girl so young, who lost her father to the war of politicking -- why would she even want to think of the eventuality of another war so close to the end of the first? 

I remember our fallen comrades, I remember standing there and seeing His Majesty Rupert struck down. Would I have wanted a way to save them? More than anything -- to save Sebastian the grief of trying to save his uncle, blood on his hands. More than anything -- to have them here with us again, that we could look back on this and remember those situations with a detached fondness. 

What this woman could do, I have no doubt, is not bring a person back to life. It is the science of Necromancy. It is the science of thralldom, it is nothing more than a puppet on a string and she would dare to ask if we could use it. 

That would make us no better than those who would force their subjects into service of a master who did not care for them -- of blind devotion to a higher power. 

What I do know of Nibiran culture, those who serve the sister goddesses do so willingly. They are not raised from the dead because she requires a warrior. They are a part of a ritual, and they do so because their goddess speaks to them in a way that I cannot understand. 

I retreated at that moment -- I would not say I ran from the conversation, as I had the presence of mind to dismiss them first, but it did feel a little as if I was running. I don’t know how to approach this. 

Again, she seems unconcerned with her ability to ‘diffuse’ situations (by creating new ones, it seems), and in this situation, Ulutka did not seem overly concerned about this. Indeed, his focus was on the overall tension of their group, of which there are undoubtedly many factors. 

I plan on penning a letter to Her Majesty and posting once it is safe to do so. It is not that I think those in Nibiru will read my mail, it is that I do not think they understand the haste with which this needs to be delivered. 

I have found a spare lockbox in a quick search of my cabin, and I plan on locking the vial away in it with the letter to Noah. 

For a moment, I considered pitching it overboard. Let the ocean take the damned thing. But I couldn’t risk some other hapless individual finding it once it washed up. I shall have to hide it, I think, because a part of me fears that if anyone who is interested in this knows of where I have stored it, they will come looking for it. 

I want to trust the crew, I do. I have no reason not to. But I have not survived through five years of war, despite throwing my caution to the wind and hiding from family, to simply ignore my instincts. 

Perhaps Grissa will be fit for the job. He has a favor with Ydir, and anything that has to do with undead (even in a scientific vein), I would prefer in the hands of a cleric. That he is a half-orc and larger than anyone on the crew certainly helps. I do plan on sending it as soon as we dock in Aelem. Yes, I think he will be best. 

I have yet to talk to the others. I have a long day ahead of me, I fear. 

~*~

Spirits of the air, I wish I had you here beside me. I need someone to talk some sense into me, before I start to think that something is beyond my control. I need your steady hand and your calm, level head. I do not know how I do this. It is going to be a very long rotation. 

I spoke to the twins. I passed the box to Grissa. I do not know... No, that is a lie. I know my next course of action. I must speak to Pasha. 

But first, the twins. Tazyrr and Trielae. 

They returned to the ship, practically arm in arm with Adi and Pasha. I do not know how I feel to know that these are the four that have bonded, but I know that they are both very dependent pairs of people. I suppose it is only natural for them to know how the other feels in this sort of situation. 

Surprisingly, the twins came when I told them I needed to speak to them. I showed them the letter--

Ah, shit, I never mentioned the letter, did I? 

See, this is how my train of thought has been lately. 

You remember the child I mentioned in my previous letter who was looking for her elder siblings? How Pasha, in his lingering anger, scared the child, how I found the twins on my ship clearly hiding, holding a stolen map of a fort? 

Not but three days after this (or two days ago, at the time of the writing of this letter), Arculf found some miscreant tacking a letter to the side of my ship using an ornate dagger. They were scared off, but the letter and dagger were left behind. 

In a scrawling hand, jagged letters forming a script that I can barely speak much less alone read, I could only stare at the letter which must have been a threat. I took it to the dock master, who translated it for me with something between a laugh and a prayer for my well being. 

Surprisingly enough, not a threat to myself, or to my crew. Well, not strictly speaking my crew. 

It was a request from a crew of local bandits, indicating that they were not too pleased with the actions of a pair of drow twins, who they know stole a map. It continues by demanding that I hand them over to their leader -- who graciously returned the female twin's dagger as a sign of good faith. (To me? To Trielae? I am uncertain.)  

I have no reason to decide either way, truth be told. Like I mentioned, I do not feel for them one way or another, but I did promise them that they would be a part of my crew so long as they acted in service of my request -- which, at the time of sending them to Fort Ptallo, involved ensuring none of the signed crew came to any harm. 

Now. 

I revealed the letter and the dagger to them, asked for a good reason why I should not hand them over, and Tazyrr had the gall to say that I would be acting predictably as 'the right hand man of the empire'. Perhaps he grossly overestimates my role in all of this. Perhaps he thinks I have Sebastian in my pocket, as opposed to my posting aboard the Titan being a favor repaid from Sebastian. Who knows. 

I also do not think I presented myself in the best possible light at that moment. I did not have the energy to get truly angry, because I knew the task that lay ahead of me. I confessed that I was surprised they even returned to the ship at all, and that I valued the fact that my crew was able to return on their own two feet (well, Pasha relied heavily on the support of Trielae's shoulder, but I suspect that was because he was drunk, not injured). 

So I tried again: "What happened in Agartha, and tell me why I should let you remain on my ship knowing your history?" 

My words sound vicious in retrospect, a tired man who desperately wants a reason to be rid of a potential liability. In truth, I wanted a valid reason to know that I could trust them. I have history with them, I know better than to give them free run of the ship, of my crew. 

But I wanted to put that behind us. I so desperately want to put the war behind me, but it seems at every turn I am reminded of my actions during that time -- of the consequences of those actions. 

The twins dance around the subject like professionals in a theater. It is tiring talking to them, without feeling like you are talking yourself in circles. And they desire the upper hand in every situation, knowing exactly how to game it so they know (or at least they think) they are getting the better end of the conversation -- that they are the smartest ones in the room. 

I asked again why they were on my ship, now that they knew I remembered who they were -- now that I knew they remembered who I was. Out of any ship, why mine? (The irony is that they truly picked mine at random.) 

Tazyrr says words that I feared: Asks if the type of people the empire hires now are those who would negotiate with people who treat other people like forms of currency. If he would not obey my command (as Captain? As the 'right hand of the empire'?) would I have that, and I quote "high-society girl force us near helplessly into submission again?" 

Again. 

Again.

"I tried to diffuse the situation," she had said, and I had reason to fear. 

"Would you have that girl force us into submission again?" he said, and I knew my fears were valid. 

It was a tremendous effort to keep my expression under control (and honestly, I do not think I did a very good job), but I could not hide the exhaustion. 

"If you decide to throw us to the wolves, will she eviscerate our autonomy and leave us like raw meat to hungry mouths a second time?" 

The twins made themselves clear on what would happen should it happen again -- I know the voracity of their threats holds real and dangerous weight. They would not hesitate. And, as Tazyrr put it, they would act with finality. 

So no, Trielae, this is not something I allow among my crew. The fact that it has happened three times, twice on allies, is unforgivable. I would have let it slide if it was merely towards the gnome pirate captain, or towards this woman they are calling a necromancer (she is a scientist first, I’m sure, and a magician second, if at all). I might have shown leniency if she showed remorse. 

But she has not, and so I cannot. 

I will arrange to speak to her. Possibly once we reach Aelem, so that I can ensure the others are off the ship. I do not wish to have to take drastic measures, but… 

She has deliberately placed charms and manipulations upon my crew, and by extent, the citizens of Albion and Antilla. I will give her a warning, as a sign of respect to her late father. But I do not want to have to have my worries compounded -- the mental and physical safety of my crew, both at Natalya’s whims and those of the twins, hinges on her ceasing this behavior. 

I have offered the twins a place on the ship, their payment to Aelem being their recounting of what happened the last five days. I might regret this -- no, I am certain I do regret this. They wanted to be dead. They will not be able to hide while on the Titan, so I am surprised that they remain on board. 

Tazyrr attempted to taunt me several times, but I have seen the way that a frightened hunter approaches those he thinks of as prey. “They’ve seen enough imperialism and don’t wish you well,” he said about my presence here in Nibiru, as if I have not made this rotation for nearly ten years. As if I do not know the history of Nibiru, or the weight that our flag carries. 

They have a limit to their patience, yes, and I know the extent of it. Soon, even the kingdom’s gold will lose its worth in their minds if I continue to berth here much longer, but again, I plan on being off in the morning. Do not take me for a fool, Tazyrr. I have seen much -- not nearly as much as you, I am sure, not nearly as much. But I have learned. And I understand. 

The twins did not seem to hear my words when I offered them an ultimatum, stay and work for me, or get off here or in Aelem. They went on with an explanation in that confounding, rapid way of theirs. Confirmed what I had suspected. They at least seem fond of Pasha, and for that I am glad. Well, only of the fact that Pasha can open up to more people, though I regret that it would have to be either of them. Of those he has been consorting with, however, the choice is the twins (who do not hide how they feel about you) or Natalya (who has now manipulated him, or attempted so, twice). 

They have made their dislike and distrust of both Natalya and, surprisingly, Ulutka quite clear. They did not like the way Ulutka tried to reason with the group of bandits -- though I suppose if they had just let him do as was his wont, I would not have found a dagger pinning a threat to my ship. 

I cannot cave to them, and let them do as they are wont to do, because that often entails violence for the sake of it being the quickest route to an answer. 

When finally they finished their explanation (the important facts about the woman at the fort and the flowers lining up with what Natalya and Ulutka told me), I asked if they found what they wanted to look for. 

In answer, Tazyrr handed me a worn leather journal. “Not really. It’s all nonsensical to me, a lot of big words. We don’t want it.” 

Now, admittedly, it has been over twenty years since we first met these two. And I have not interacted with them much since they found their way onto my ship. But I do not see him as the type to grab something that does not seem interesting to him, and make the effort of carrying it back. 

He would have left it for one of the others to grab if they thought that I needed it. 

I have not spent much time reading the journal -- just glancing through it before setting it aside. I will be revising my letter to Noah shortly, probably before I go to talk to Pasha and Adi. 

I do not trust his disinterest in the item. 

What’s more, he… 

Well, I have nothing to prove it. But I have been working on that alarm enchantment. I thought, perhaps, I could modify the alarm. A change in my surroundings that I do not authorize, as opposed to an interloper I do not permit. 

It went off as they were leaving. A small jolt in my mind. 

I have locked the door after them, and scoured for what might have changed in my glyph. I had thought to use it originally to warn me if anyone was coming while I worked (it would have been fairly handy in Agartha, before I joined Sebastian -- would have saved me many close calls). 

I do not know what it is, but it is the size of a small pearl. It is enchanted. How, I do not know. It is not the same sort of energies that I use, so it will take me awhile to undo this. 

He takes me for a fool. 

So I shall continue to play one, until I know what exactly he is up to. 

It is a dangerous game that I will be forced to play, and the board is my ship, and the other pieces are my crew. 

What am I doing, Clarence? Is it the right thing? 

I wonder. 

And I doubt. 

And I worry. 

~*~

I have spoken to Pasha and Adi and… it is mostly as I feared. I tried to apologize on behalf of Natalya, but I’m afraid it felt too shallow for the truth of the matter. 

Even though Pasha is aware, to an extent, of what I am able to do, Adi does not. And Pasha would not completely understand where my concerns and confusion come from, because Buyan is a place of technology. It always has been, and it was never steeped in arcane tradition the way other places have been. 

Where other continents have recovered and managed this past century, Buyan has thrived for it. 

Adi said that the twins showed more loyalty and concern for the crew than their own mechanic, but she doesn’t know. How fleeting that loyalty is, and how it only runs deep for each other. These are things I cannot say. 

I don’t wish to color their opinion, not so soon after Adi and Pasha have found solace. Perhaps, spirits willing, they will be a good influence on the twins in some way. 

But I apologized, for what it was worth, because I knew I had to. I knew I took a responsibility for her actions both as her guardian (of a sorts) and as her captain. It did, at least, mollify Pasha. 

To the point where he presented to me a gem, wrapped in cloth. 

At first, I did not know why he was handing this to me. Except for when he unwrapped it, holding it in the palm of his hand, I could recognize it instantly. That yellow -- it was unmistakably the source of the liquid in the vial that Grissa now keeps. 

I had not thought… That someone would bring the actual catalyst back with them. Were there others? Did, perhaps, the twins get their hands on one of their own, and should I continue to fear? They have no reason to trust me, nor to pass over their finds, as I did not ask them when I let them go (not that I think they would have obeyed that request anyway). This is also why I am hesitant to accept the gift of the doctor’s notes without questioning them. 

Pasha does not know about the notebook that Tazyrr passed off to me. But again I was asked if someone on my crew could use this to reverse engineer its effects. His request, while of a different bend than Natalya’s, still reeked of the same fear. His is a request born out of vengeance, I am certain, and that is just as dangerous. More, perhaps. 

I cannot deny that investigating the liquid or the crystal further was a line of inquiry I wish I could indulge. I myself had the same thought without even knowing what it could truly do, and now that I know… 

There would be no way to test it safely, not without asking someone to be a test subject. That is not something I can allow in such a setting.

How I wanted to take that stone and destroy it in that moment. 

Science be damned, I thought. I would not allow this to exist, had I an iron fist that would resolve to do so. But I am lenient when it comes to Pasha, because I see a bit of myself in him -- that brilliant spark, the knowledge that he could be something great if only given the proper chance. 

I left the crystal on his desk. I told him no. I think, perhaps, both Pasha and Adi are dissatisfied with my answer, but I cannot figure out why. 

That I denied them? Or that I would not allow this pursuit of vengeance? 

Clarence, did I do the right thing? 

What’s more, Adi seemed convinced that the group of bandits who had the map stolen from them, and knifed an ultimatum to the side of my ship, would pursue us if we left. I did not know how to console her beyond stating the obvious: They would not follow us. 

This seemed to annoy her as well, I think. Again, perhaps because I gave a firm ‘no’ when it came to an unasked question of how to finish what they had apparently started. 

Pasha had to kill one of their number, and I regret that he had to have been put in that position. Adi insisted that we would “pay the price sooner rather than later.'' 

That we would create “an unnecessary enemy”.

I think these bandits thought they could scare a small number of my crew into handing over what they wanted. I think the threat they delivered was empty once they saw the flag we flew, but had to follow through for show. 

I have been through these waters many times. I have begun to understand the way of port-side bandits and small-time criminals. We will not be followed. It is something, perhaps, she will learn through experience. 

What I would give, though, to keep them from having to learn such truths. 

What I would give to keep them safe. 

All my love,  Ean

~*~

May it please Your Majesty, 

I am writing of an occurrence that I believe deserves the attention of Your Majesty. 

I have recently come into possession of some disturbing information, and I will do my best to convey it to His and Her Majesty as truthfully as possible. 

As part of The Arcadian Titan’s quest across Assalia, we had reason to make berth in Stroneth Port in Nibiru. Please refer to the letter sent earlier for the details on how this came to be. 

One of the situations that has arisen, as I mentioned previously, is the return of the drow twins Tazyrr and Trielae, whom we have made a brief and tumultuous acquaintance with some twenty-odd years ago in Agartha when they made an attempt on His Majesty’s life. I did not think they recognized me at the time, and they have since claimed ignorance of the banner that the Titan flies, so please take that information with a grain of salt. 

They left with members of my crew to investigate rumours of undead at the abandoned Fort Ptallo, two or so day’s journey to the west. All six have recently returned, and they have brought with them troubling news. 

In the box that this letter was sent in there is a vial of bright yellow liquid, which I have come to learn is distilled from a yellow musk flower. It is not common here in Nibiru, but it seems to have flourished in Fort Ptallo. 

Also included is a journal belonging to the late Myrranda Segus, a scientist investigating the properties of the yellow musk flower and its mind control abilities. 

I have learned all of this second-hand, but I trust those who conveyed the information to me. I thought it best to send both vial and journal to Your Majesty with all due haste, so that you may investigate it with those far more qualified than I, and with far better resources than what I have aboard the Titan. 

Take heed, however: I was given the journal by Tazyrr. He passed it over with an air of indifference, but I think, perhaps, there is something untoward about the journal. I have reason to believe that he would not willingly carry something that he thought useless all the way back to hand to me, when he has vocally admitted to his distrust of both crown and general authority. 

I could not see immediately what was off with the journal, more than what I feel on instinct and my own knowledge of scientific and alchemical formulae. Please, when investigating the contents of the vial and journal, take heed. I would not normally ask this of you, but I do not know who else is more qualified than you and your team. 

With luck (and Ydir’s blessing, courtesy of Grissa), we will reach Carneath on schedule, and any updates may be posted there as planned. I will write immediately to inform the court should anything change. 

I have the honour to remain, Madam, Your Majesty's most humble and obedient servant.

Yours in Service, ever and always,  Lord Ean de Gillis Captain of The Arcadian Titan

[spiritsdw]

{Letters} - Sent at Stroneth Port

The Right Honorable The Earl of Carneath, Clarence Temple

Dear Lord Temple, 

Another letter so soon on the tails of the second -- not that it makes much difference to you. 

We were attacked by pirates as we began to cross Nibiru. Further east than usual, but add that to the list of things I am uncertain and uneasy about. The storms are pulling in quick, and they attacked beneath the cover of night. I am proud to say that the Titan withstood their attack, though took considerable damage to the hull. Two brand new holes that I am currently taking a break from bailing. Grissa has taken command of the water for the moment. I will have to leave something to Ydir when we make it to Aelem, and of course give Grissa a break once we are in the clear. 

To the matter of the pirates, I did not recognize the flag they flew, but they had an airship that rivaled the Titan (but not a crew to do the same, I am proud to say). They managed to get two bolts from their heavy artillery through our hull and tried to pull us in to them, but we managed to take down their masts (completely shattered them with a word from Grissa). 

Pasha attacked with relentless ruthlessness. I do not think his time at Stofiss had faded any by this point, though I had hoped. I know he might pass it off as defense of Adi, especially when the pirates began to board, but I do not think that was all. I worry for him. 

Ulutka was shot twice, but he assures me he is fine. He joked about needing to find a laundry service when we made port. I suppose if I could trust anyone to know if they are well, it would be our healer, but I will keep an eye on him to ensure that he is alright. 

The captain squared off against me, a small gnome who showed nimble aptitude against a larger foe and with not but a thin blade. Certainly managed to give me a bit of a run for my money -- but before you start worrying, I am fine. A few scrapes and nicks, but nothing serious. 

Natalya came to support me and, to my surprise, managed to put the captain to sleep with a mere suggestion. Again, I worry. Again, I am frightfully curious, but I don’t know how to press. 

I called for a ceasefire. I handed the captain back over, allowed the pirates to collect their fallen comrades, and let them limp away. 

Again, again, again: do people wonder why I do not press the attack? I am here to maintain the peace. I will defend if attacked, but I will not take advantage of a weakness. Let them know that Albion and Antilla are not looking for another war. I would do this even if it had not been asked of me by His Majesty, but I am glad that I do not have to go behind his back and offer forgiveness when he would prefer I destroy those in my path. 

We have seen so much during the war. Why do people think we insist on perpetuating the violence? What can we do to support those who have less -- you laugh and say that I have taken on too many strays, and while that is true, I cannot add another ship to my non-existent fleet. 

Besides, I think even Sebastian has a limit to his patience when it comes to my leniency. Giving a ship from the pirate contingent Albion’s flag would be a bit much. 

It has been a few hours since we have pulled into port in Nibiru. It is called Stroneth, a small port on the eastern half close to the regional divide. They do not have a dry dock, so we must work quickly and, I am afraid, exhausting poor Grissa in the process. I have crew on standby below deck to help bail the water for him. I was sent to rest and tend to my wounds -- superficial though they are. 

I think I shall sleep and, in the morning, finish this letter before I post it. 

But in case I forget to finish it and post it as it is, know that I sign it with my love, like always. 

++++

It appears I shall not be posting these letters today as I planned. Today has been a whirlwind of activity and it is not yet even time for tea. 

I did not sleep much, in fact very little, and was back down to assist with the process of bailing the water after I dressed my wounds and caught my breath. 

Pasha and Adi spent the night on the shore, and Natalya and Ulutka have left this morning to explore. Several of the others have gone ashore as well, but many are helping with the dock master's crew to start repairs to the ship. 

The alarming event, however, is a pair of stowaways that must have sneaked on with the workers and decided to camp out over the side of the boat. A pair drow twins, who are probably the most exhausting people I have ever spoken to in… well… ever. 

I have thrown them in the brig and, in the process, received a map from them of a Ptallo Fort on the western half of the country. I was prepared to write it off and hand them over to the dock master or possibly even Albian authorities in Aelem if I could tolerate them that long but they mentioned one thing which caught my attention: undead. 

A disconcerting amount of undead, they say. They wish to retrieve something from the fort which, while of no consequence to me, lies through the path of said undead. 

I worry. I worry. I worry. 

There is something familiar about these two, but I cannot place my finger on it. At the moment, I am too overwhelmed by simply listening to them talk over each other at such a rapid pace that it’s a wonder they can even understand one another. Perhaps, after I get some actual sleep, I will figure it out, but at the moment, that does not seem likely. 

Adi has returned to the ship, speaking of a small girl who was trying to find her older siblings, and, after yet another frightening display of frustration from Pasha, confessed to looking for two who stole something from a group of bandits. It does not take a scholar to put the facts together. 

I have a feeling the twins aboard my ship, while not matching the description or name provided by the girl, have come to a very convenient place to hide -- even if they claim it is because there was no sign telling them they could not step onto my ship. That our flag might have been merely a colorful tapestry instead of an emblem of a unified force of Albian and Antillan governance meant to keep the peace through Assalia. 

I have asked Adi and Ulutka to accompany the twins on their trip out to the fort: Adi, to keep an eye on them, and Ulutka, to investigate the rumours of the undead. I hope that it is nothing to worry about. I hope I am overthinking it, like always. 

We have been stalled for several days due to the damage to the Titan, but I am glad to at least know that the ship has held up. Ptallo Fort is not too far from the border of the eastern half of the country, so I have faith that they will be able to make it there and back again by the time we have finished repairs to the ship. 

All the same, I will entrust Pasha with the sending stone again to keep me updated. 

For now, I will go post these letters and try to get some actual sleep, despite my mind running scenarios over and over again until I have to work myself to exhaustion. 

All my love, a second time,  Ean

++++

(a note, hastily scribbled out, not bothering with the normal formalities. It is dated two days after the last letter.) 

Clarence: 

The twins. I have figured out where I know them from. 

It is the drow siblings from Agartha, the ones who were part of the group attempting to assassinate Sebastian. 

I thought they had died. No, truth be told, I do not know what I thought happened to them. 

It is true that they asked for our assistance in making it look like they had died, to trick the woman who they were working for. But after that…. I did not think that it was possible they would reappear. And in Nibiru, of all places. 

I do not know if they recognize me. I look different now than I did during my time in Agartha at Sebastian’s side. I will have to ask them when they return. 

I will have to keep them on the ship, I think. 

I wonder if I should hand them over to authorities… or if I should simply deposit them somewhere safe and out of the way? I do not feel a thing towards them one way or another, but I worry (I know, I say this often, but it is true). Did they recognize the crest and picked the Titan  because of her ties to Albion? Do they plan to attempt another assassination, to finish what they started? 

Should I break my vow of ending violence to simply save us the trouble down the line? (Would I kill them? Could I even? I do not know. I do not know.) 

I am writing a letter to Sebastian and Noah as well, but please, we must make a plan. I do not want to bring them back to Albion. I do not want to keep them on my crew if I know the kind of things they are capable of. 

-- Ean 

[spiritsdw]

{Letters} - Sent from the Royal Palace

The Lord Ean de Gillis ℅ The Arcadia Titan

My dear Ean, 

It seems that Her Majesty has been on edge as of late. There is something eating away at her -- mentally, I hope, but she has not been in top form since before you even left, and I wonder if you might have noticed. For a very long time, she refused to tell me anything about it. "It is nothing to worry about," she would say. "I am tired." And she would laugh in a way that implies 'oh being Queen of Albion is a bit exhausting, but nothing I can't handle'. 

And of course, I believe her in as much that I do not think it is something she can't handle. I know and trust her enough to believe that she is able to take care of the political struggles both at home and abroad with as much grace as His Majesty expects of her. 

My concerns are thus: She and Sebastian have been wed somewhere north of fifteen years. As long as Sebastian has had the throne. It is a long time for a queen to remain childless.

This is, of course, not something I tell you lightly or in the spirit of gossip. I tell you because I am worried for my dear and closest friend. I owe Noah much -- oftentimes, I feel I owe her my life, despite what she might say -- and to hear the rumours said about her when I am in Albion? I do not like it, but I am powerless to act against those who whisper. 

You would not stay silent, I think, should you cross paths with them. But they would be cowed by your reprimands -- the son of the Antillan head of council, close advisor to His Majesty, hero of the Battle of the Plains, the man who crowned Prince Sebastian at the Heathered Pass. Captain of The Arcadian Titan, sailing the skies of Assalia to keep the peace in the name of our nation. 

But Clarence, you protest. Are you not the Earl of Carneath? Are you not Her Majesty's trusted and loyal advisor? Why would they not listen to you?

For reasons I do not like to discuss, and you are too polite to bring up. 

But that is neither here nor there. I am writing to express my worries about Noah's health, and the rumors about her that persist despite all she does. 

That you and I know why she is not with child is in the strictest confidence. That she should wonder if she should make a public announcement is appalling. 

Despite the fact that their pairing had been arranged by Robert and Rupert before I even knew either of them, I worry that Sebastian's council will encourage him to take a mistress, or they will tell Noah to leave the court scientists so that she can focus on "more important things" (I say this because I heard one say this shortly before I sat down to write this letter, and I am livid merely remembering it). 

As if they have a place to tell Her Majesty what she should deem important -- she who has fought hard to join the guild and maintains her position there out of the results of her work and not her title as queen. She who has done great improvements in technology and science not only for this court but for the kingdom as a whole. And they would tell her that there are "more important things" that she should think about. 

I cannot tell this to Noah. I fear that she would construct another one of those foul tempered devices of hers and send it after the naysayers. That would not give them a good impression of her. 

Now, when I try to push her to see what her concerns are, they are directed outward. To the state of Lemurian politics beyond Carneath’s reach, to Buyan's export rates exceeding years past, to the political squabbles in Frisland that threaten to become a civil war. To you, far from home. To me, that the work seems to be giving me grey hairs at a faster rate (the joke will be on you, Noah, when I simply lose all my hair from stress over you, and what little there is will be no more). I do not want to push her so, but she is making it increasingly difficult. If only she would tell me what is wrong, so I do not keep coming up with strange theories, or worrying unduly, or anything. I have you to worry about, my love, far from home that you are; I do not want to also worry about the Queen and her nation. Maybe I can ask Sebastian. See if he shares my concerns. See if I am merely making up problems when there are none, or if there is anything he can do. I will keep you updated as best I can. If I am doing my math correctly, you should be several weeks out from Aelem. I look forward to reading your letters as soon as you are able to post them, but at least I know that you shall have mine waiting for you soon. Ilaka na ashfi-al, Clarence

[spiritsdw]

{Letters} - Sent at Stroneth Port

The Right Honorable The Earl of Carneath, Clarence Temple

Dear Lord Temple, 

By now, your birthday has most certainly passed at the writing of this letter (although this and the last will be posted at the same time, so you’ll receive them together), so I shall again wish you a splendid one. I wonder if I should get you something at our next port of call, but it is hard to get something that feels meaningful when I have been all these places numerous times, and you have not. Would you appreciate a tourist-y statuette? A clip, perhaps, for your hair? 

I’ve learned not to tease about a ring, so that is out. 

All the same, I should ask you next I see you. It has been years and I never thought to ask before, but I generally can stall our departure long enough that I do not miss your birthday, or it was before we were together. This year was not favorable to either of us, I’m afraid. Or you can tell me in your next letter, and I shall pick something up before my return home. 

I think by the time of reading this letter, you have read the reports from Adi in regards to what they found on the cliff-face. The emblem I have sketched for you here, as it is harder to describe it in words than it is to see it. I would like to know the court’s thoughts on the group, but I do not trust it enough to send it in a letter or via telegraph. But I hope that His Majesty is as concerned as I am, though I do not express as much to my crew. 

We are designed to keep the peace and to investigate. We do not have authority to engage in something that could escalate. There are many new faces on board, and I don’t want the worst to happen to them because I unduly alerted them to trouble. 

All the same, our crew made it back to us safe and sound, and we set off once again. 

As I write this, we have just recently pulled out of ‘port’ at an abandoned island that housed the ruins of Fort Stofiss. I would have loved to see it, as we have never stopped by here in all the years of my rotation. But, from what the others said, there wasn’t much to see. 

Except, perhaps, some frogs, but I will get to that in a moment. 

We thought it wise to dock and take on fresh water instead of risk running through to Aelem with the storms looming so close on the horizon. Even with Grissa calling down Ydir’s favor, we all agreed it the best course of action to stop by the island. It is one of several on the far end of Nibiru’s coast, one of the larger that managed to hold a fort at one point. Many of the others only would have served as food stores, or hide-outs for pirates in the space between Nibiru and Braesail. 

However, since the storms became more constant and wards began to fail, a lot of the presence here faded off to somewhere safer. But there were still notes of a freshwater spring from when forces came through here to see if a foothold would need to be secured (thank goodness one did not -- while they are close to Gwaelod here, they are closer still to Nibiru). 

And indeed, the island is largely uninhabited, save for a tribe of sentient frogs. I sent Grissa along with Adi, Pasha, Ulutka, and Natalya to fetch the water, and there was a small mishap involving some poisonous flora -- luckily, Grissa was there to tend to their wounds, or else I would be more alarmed at the state of them. 

As they were preparing to leave, they were confronted by these frogs, who stood on two legs almost about as tall as a human. They wore leathers, carried crude spears, and while they did not speak a common tongue, seemed to maintain their own conversation between themselves and smaller frog-sized frogs in croaks and grunts. 

Ulutka, somehow, managed to convince the frogs to let them go, as they were only there to collect water. But, as Grissa helped them load the barrels back into the skiff to return to the ship, the others expressed interest in wanting to investigate the rest of the island and the fort. 

Pasha did not want to go, and, I am hesitant to say, he was not given a choice in the matter. 

I have let a lot of Natalya’s tricks slide without comment, for they have been small and unobtrusive. Things easily passed off as something else, and so I have not drawn attention to them. But what she did to Pasha -- used a few words to change his state of mind so completely… That is something altogether more alarming. I do not know if she is even aware of it, more than just honeyed words and suggestions against weak minds. 

I do not think that it has occurred to anyone else that it might be something more than what she passes it off to be, and I wonder if that is because somehow her own obliviousness is influencing the minds of everyone, or if because they do not know what to look for. I know what to look for. 

Rhea, too, but I do not think she interacts with Natalya enough to form an opinion on the matter. Nat spends a lot of time below deck with the engines, and I do not want to say that that is a good place to keep her away from influencing the crew, but… I worry. When I agreed to keep an eye on her as a request from her father, I did not think… 

Pasha was very upset when he got back, and rightly so. I did not have the chance to talk to him properly about it, but I hate to think about the lingering conflict between them. More than just what that conflict means for Pasha, but for Natalya as well. If she doesn’t learn how to control these abilities, and continues to push people without their consent, it could go very wrong for her in the future. 

All the same. 

They went back to Fort Stofiss, and there they found a large frog who proclaimed itself a king. And this they learned because the frog could speak in common. I do not even know how to quantify this information. A large frog, dressing itself like a monarch of a ruined fort, and demanding a tribute from the four who investigated at the cost of 50 gold per head (a steep price for ‘trespassing’, but otherwise violence would have been pressed upon them). 

They returned with nary a hair harmed upon their head, but as the influence began to wear off of Pasha. Grissa confessed to me later that it made for an awkward ride back. 

My largest concern is that Natalya did not seem overly concerned when she and Ulutka reported what happened. I learned of Pasha’s frustration through Adi and Grissa. It has been a few hours since they returned to the ship, and he has not left his workshop. I wonder if I should go to him, or wait for him to open up to me. 

Either way. It is late, and the clouds are closing in quickly. Grissa assures me that it is not the storm and no cause for concern, but I still cannot help but worry. Lately, things have felt increasingly off. Ever since we left the docks. (I do not think that it is because it took us so long to get started, though the engines not starting were some cause for concern.) I think that since our last night on shore, I began to worry. 

Do you remember? You woke up to find me sitting at the desk. You said something to me, but I did not hear it. And when you repeated it, I still could not understand. 

Perhaps that never happened. I did not think to ask you the next morning what you had said. Perhaps it was just a dream, and there was something in the distance that I watched. And despite the way you called for me, and asked me to return to bed, I did not. 

I worry, Clarence. And it increases as the days tick on, and as the miles pass as ocean waves beneath us. 

I cannot wait for your letter when we reach Aelem, when you tell me to not worry, and you will give me evidence from past trips where I have expressed the same concerns to you and nothing has happened. 

“You are being silly, Love,” you will tell me, and your handwriting will convey that fond smile. 

I hope that that is the case. I would rather be silly than to worry. 

All my love,  Ean

[spiritsdw]

{Letters} - Sent from the Royal Palace

The Lord Ean de Gillis ℅ The Arcadian Titan 

My dear Ean, 

Each time I write “care of” I do always hope that the Titan is taking care of you. She must be, or else Sebastian and Noah would not keep sending you away from me. 

Ah, perhaps that was a bit jealous on my part. It does me no good to hold spite for a boat. Though if you must know, I do hold her a bit responsible for your consistent absence from court (and my side, and my bed). 

It has been not but a week since you have left, and I am writing a letter now instead of later because I am bored and shirking my duties in a way that would leave even Rhea proud of me. (Do not tell Noah, she thinks I am hard at study on the politics of the Lemurian-Agarthan treaties of some fifty years ago, but by your spirits of the winds, I do not have the head for politics. I still think she gave me this title as some form of a long-standing prank that I will not live to see the end of, if only because she will resolve to stubbornly live far longer than me just out of pure spite.) 

So perhaps I'll just hunch over my desk so that if she happens to wander into my office (in a fit of avoiding her own duties, you know how she is), it will look like I am busy, and she will be shamed into going back to her own work.

(The chances of this working are very slim. She will be able to read my deception all over my face.)

I don't remember if I mentioned this to you during your time back with us at court, but she wishes for me petition the Lemurian heads of state again for recognition of Carneath. I've told her time and again that we haven’t been viewed as a Lemurian state for... well... ages. I don't know how long. Longer than the war, longer than King Rupert (may the spirits bless him and guide him) had been alive.

Carneath has never known magic, that I know. Or else I don't think they would have treated Rhea so strangely. Carneath does not know what it means to be Spirit touched. They don't understand the ways of the people it has sprouted from, and that is what I worry about.

I know that Noah thinks, in gifting me the title and 'ownership' (as much as I loathe the word in this context) of Carneath, that they will be more likely to admit us to council. A Lemurian on the seat? Surely, they will listen to me then.

The truth is, to them, I am little more than a man masquerading at their culture. Despite the fact that I have been raised with my Lemurian roots strong, they hear my accent and they see my clothes and they know. They know. But I will try, because it is Noah who asked this of me, and I cannot say no.

So I am to petition Lemuria again. I will draft many letters to many heads of state, and many people beneath those heads of state, and I will write until all the ink in Albion shall stain my fingers.

I will not think of how last time I tried, they told me to find us a purpose. Because repairing the rift between Carneath and Lemuria and Albion will not be enough of a purpose. 

But we have no matron to guide us. We have no spirits of our own. Whoever it is who once watched over us left, and took our name with it. Now we are Carneath, and our blood is diluted with that of the softness of Albion. 

It is rude of me to say. It is rude of them to still hold such a claim. 

Albion has made many lengths to repair past grievances. And yet this is one that I cling to. It is one that has been made mine, who am not quite Lemurian, not quite Albian. 

I apologize, this has been a dreadful first letter. Good thing you won’t receive it alone, and you will receive it with many others that I will send. So you can see this one and do that little half-laugh that you do. And you will look at the letter and say, Then go grab yourself a goddess, then they will accept you. 

What an Antillan way of thinking. Is that why you all moved to the skies? You found no more challenge on the earth, and decided to harness the winds to take you closer to the boundless future. I mean this in the best way possible, do not let my previous grumbling color the way I phrase this. 

The brightness in your gaze gives me the strength I need. 

Perhaps I will petition a goddess. And I will ask her nicely: Return our name to Carneath. Return our blood to our people. 

And then we, too, will rise to the skies.

Ilaka na ashfi-al, 

Clarence 

[spiritsdw]

{Letters} - Sent at Stroneth Port

The Right Honorable The Earl of Carneath, Clarence Temple

Dear Lord Temple, 

I trust you are well. It has been three weeks since we have left Yielden, which might not seem that long unless you are like me and prone to dramatics when separated from loved ones. Perhaps it seems longer when I say “It has been a whole month since I have seen you last”. 

Your birthday is in two weeks as of the writing of this letter, but the spirits of the air only know how long it will be before it is in your hands. So I suppose a ‘happy birthday’ is in order, my lord, and I hope this letter brings you some cheer after the fact because I know getting yet another year older is a tremendous burden, and I cannot even begin to imagine what forty-four years of age must be like. Soon you will have wrinkles and grey hair and then all your charm will have to rest in your wit instead of your looks. Do not fear, though, I shall love you just the same despite all that. I am terribly sorry that I have to miss this birthday, but I plan on being home for forty-five, which is a far more stable number anyway. 

Speaking of birthdays, Rhea quite was inconsolable that we could not celebrate hers properly. A fact she told only to me and no one else on the crew, so I have a feeling that, while she is prone to dramatics, they are not quite up to my same level. We do not make much of birthdays here on the ship, through no choice of my own, but a general consensus of sorts. Still, it is nice to spend time with friends and family on these days. 

It has been largely quiet, which is generally my report at this point in our adventure. We spend most of this time in Albian territory, or at least that which we share with Ui Braesail, and their staunch neutrality has never once wavered. A fact which I am reminded of time and again as I sail this path. The hiccup, however, occurred in the form of a flock of hippogriffs which approached us two nights ago as we passed over the Gwealian border. 

I wouldn’t quite say that they attacked us, though there was a degree of cosmetic damage to the ship that is easily enough repaired. No one was injured, not even one of the hippogriffs (though I dare say if we had managed to hit one, there would be a lot more than cosmetic damage to the Titan because the creatures would have responded with all due force that they could have mustered). I was asked after their migration patterns, which I admit to not knowing much about, but did know that they typically would not have wandered so far from the cliffs where they make their homes unless there seemed to be an issue. 

Natalya and Adi both insisted upon checking it out, and I am loathe of the idea of passing any sort of possible situation so close to the Albian border. So we turned the Titan around and headed back to a cove very near the border itself. Arculf has taken Adi, Pasha, and Ulutka to investigate. As of the time of writing this, they are currently on the top of the cliff itself, having faced down unnatural fog and a rockslide to climb up it. What’s more, it appears that a small caravan has set up camp at the top of the cliffs. They do not seem to know about the hippogriffs in question, according to Pasha’s report, and suggest that it is possibly just a natural disturbance for another nest further up the coast into Gwaelian territory. 

Now, you might be putting together some clues and asking yourself, Why, I wonder how it is that Ean has received this information from his crew while they are currently on top of a cliff investigating and he is holed up in his ship doing boring things like staring at maps. Well, I say to you, I am so very proud to announce that the stones have worked. 

It has been nearly a year since I started the work on these stones. And Clarence, they work. No one has been able to use a pair of sending stones in ages, much less alone make them. It’s been a century since magic has been lost, and anything arcane is now a precious commodity. But I have finally completed a functioning pair and I could shout for joy if I did not think it would bring on too many unnecessary questions. 

I entrusted Pasha with its twin when he left this morning, and I waited anxiously all day -- unable to see through the thick fog, listening to the sound of a rockslide, and wondering if I lost my first mate and three treasured members of my crew because I thought it prudent to investigate wildlife wandering a bit further out to sea than normal. I don’t know how I would have been able to live with myself if that was the case, and it was a stupid risk for a low reward, no matter my desire to investigate any possible ‘disturbance’. The relief I felt when Pasha called in was far greater than the joy I felt at knowing the stones worked. 

After receiving his report, I sat down to write you this letter. And for a brief second, I wondered… if I couldn’t send you this stone. Books say that they could be used to transmit anywhere, but the enchantment is fickle. I do not think I could bear it if I left one with you and hoped to hear your voice, only to learn that the stone had left its communication range, or to not know if something had happened to the one I had left with you (or if something had happened to you). 

Letters do not remove that anxiety any, but it removes the instant communication that, if not instant enough, causes worry. I have learned to deal with my worries when separated from you when I can only send letters and I can only receive news once we reach scheduled ports of call. 

I long for the days when my greatest invention was simply a ruby that I could use to trigger a trap. But I am proud of my accomplishment, and I only wish that I could have finished it sooner so that I could test it and know if I could have given you one. It is a marvel it works at all, and yet still I am greedy for a better result. 

Instead, however, I have moved on to my next project. I already know that I can create stones with various effects. A skill I have honed over thirty some-odd years. I am attempting, now, to work on other objects. I do not think I am skilled enough to turn a rag into a dagger -- I am not some skilled magician of old. But beyond effects like daylight and fire, I have been able to cause small things to happen. You remember the alarm that you accidentally set off when stepping into my workshop? 

Yes, I know that you are still wondering how I did that, and now that I am far enough away that I can avoid being smacked by you for pulling this prank, I can admit that it was a trick of my own instead of a wire that you tripped or some other sort of trigger that you could have undone. 

There are many small things that I am learning. And I wish to be able to create patches or stones that I can imbue with these new skills. They would do well in a pinch, not only for myself, but for others on my crew. 

If, I suppose, I could ever tell them. 

I do not think I am ready for that, just yet. Perhaps one day soon. 

Or perhaps, I shall simply save it as a surprise and announce it before my retirement, and then simply fade into obscurity. That would be a great trick, I think. 

I have gone on long enough, and there is not nearly enough to update you on. I mostly wanted to wish you a happy birthday, and to brag a little about my achievements. I know that, if you were here, the smile on your face would be enough to ease my troubled heart. (I know that, if you were here, my heart would not be so troubled, but it would be eased nonetheless and I would be able to kiss that smile.) 

Give my regards to His and Her Majesty, and tell Noah to stop asking for my love when I send her letters, because I have none left to spare (respectfully, of course). Not when I give it all to you. 

So saying:  All my love,  Ean

[spiritsdw]

The Ishtar Gate, main gate of Babylon built during the reign of Nebuchadnezzar II (605-562 BCE). Enamelled tiles, mythical animals, lions, and gods embellish the gate which was dedicated to goddess Ishtar of Babylon, Mesopotamia (Iraq). now in Berlin

[spiritsdw]

Lord Ean de Gillis | Captain of the Arcadian Titan

Ranger / lvl 14 / 43 years second son of the de Gillis family (former aide and best friend to the king)

[spiritsdw]

“Daughter Of The Universe”

Modelling by >>>> Theresa Theresa

Nubiamancy currently has a crowdfunding campaign with the goal of creating short films based on content posted on our page.

Would you like to support? Click HERE

[spiritsdw]

Astronomical Clock, Prague 

[spiritsdw]

Tsarskoye Selo | Sergei Zubkov

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Magic Hour  | Athens |

[spiritsdw]

the waitomo limestone caves on new zealand’s northern island are home to an endemic species of bioluminescent fungus gnat (arachnocampa luminosa, or glow worm fly) who in their larval stage produce silk threads from which to hang and, using a blue light emitted from a modified excretory organ in their tails, lure in prey who then become ensnared in sticky droplets of mucus. photos by dylan toh & marianne lim, spellbound tours, martin rietze and z blue polaris