Letters

[Biske]

Nove 25, 206AR

In the North, men are easily replaced, ideals fleeting; but the land to which he is bound is eternal; his loyalty to it, absolute. My land has been destroyed for many years; in Myrken I have found again cause to fight, to lead as I was trained to do. She is beset by all sides, and yet I cannot bear to leave.

I hold no illusion that what I am doing is the only way, or even the right way; I will have a traitor's death before this is done. Amusingly, I do not seek power; Aeryn believes I am infected with the same madness as Kerrak, Helstone believes that I mean to kill him, and Treadwell already predicts that I mean to dispose of the council and rule in its stead. None of these are true; perhaps that is why I write here, in these letters, - so that when they are read, some insight may be made as to why I have done what I have done.

Ariane will discover the truth of my treachery; words of damnation that may fall from her lips will pierce far more than the curses of Helstone and his guard, Ramirez, ever could. Yet her alone I cannot deny this visit; perhaps her experience with Bromn will cause her to be merciful, or provide some insight

I have no doubts at all that Helstone is not working with the drow - knowingly. I fear I have made my move too soon, or that Helstone is not as important as I - or he - believe. No. No, Audmathus *must* come - either to retrieve his usurped toy, or to mock him as Helstone insists he does. And then I will force his hand, to make the drow attack Myrken at a time where she appears weak.

I can only hope that the forces I have gathered are enough - and that this ruse continues for just a bit longer. The recent elections are troublesome. Ramirez is the most obvious point of trouble; if bonds of family are as close here as they are in the North, he will demand to seek council with his sibling - which I cannot allow. And that will only fan the flames of fools.

Treadwell is less obvious a threat, but still a serpent in the grass. Where Ramirez will act out of love for his sister, Treadwell is dangerously, *stupidly* ambitious; he cares for none, save his own titles. He would see the town damned, to usurp Helstone's seat while it is, for the time, empty. He is loud, and reasonably well-spoken; but he is a coward at heart, and knows only enough politics to clumsily paw his way past honest men and into power. Unless he is neutrilized, he will support Ramirez.

Vanidor, the elf - I cannot say. Perhaps he cares only for the growing-things of Myrken, and will remain neutral - or can, perhaps, be swayed. Who knows the minds of the immortal? His is a mystery to me.

Aeryn, too, and Kerrak. Threads upon threads lie there, and yet with each one retrieved, it leads to yet another knot, another mystery to be uncovered. Helstone believes they seek to take Myrken; he claims the drow believe the same thing. Kerrak lies dormant, for the moment; but if it comes to it, I believe I stand a chance against the man, without having to resort to Thessaline help - and Thessaline debt. But at all costs, the Brotherhood must be kept. Without their numbers and strength of arm, the drow may overwhelm the town.

A council meeting must be made, and escort to Ariane as well; both potentially will kill any chance that there may have been to Victory. I must remain strong. And when the time comes, I will accept my death.

Hrimfax must be given to Ariane, for he will suffer no other hand.


By my hand and seal, and the gods-given truth; to be opened by any at the time of my death.

General Eriks DeMord Sleipner


This letter would join so many others; admissions, dark secrets, scrawled in neat script and tucked into unassuming envelopes, to be safetly hidden in Eriks' sprawling house. It was a rare moment of peace, to pour heart and soul onto paper; it gave structure to thoughts. There would be a moment of pause, and then another letter sent forth - this time to a certain fairy king.


Lord Richard Aengus;

I require information to be sent to me on a man who claims to have been held hostage by your people. You understand my concern of Myrken's safety, and such behavior is not quite conducive to the peace you claim that you and your peoples represent. His name is Aloisius Treadwell.

By my hand and seal,
General Eriks DeMord Sleipner

[Kylerryth]

The letter was sealed with red-and-gold wax that bore the sigil of Thessilane. The courier who delivered it had been ordered to hand it to none but the General himself, and upon delivery waited long enough only to inquire whether he would reply immediately or send a later missive.

General Sleipner, the letter began. The handwriting was blessedly simple and easy to read, with little flourishes on certain letters.

My companions and I believe we should meet in order to discuss certain questions, doubts even, that may exist in your mind and the minds of your fellow Councilors concerning Thessilane, her people, and her intentions.

Governor Helstone, whom we believe you have incarcerated -- yes, we have heard the rumors -- had many such questions and many more doubts about these subjects. We do not know that he shared his thoughts on them with you, or if similar thoughts have formed in your mind of their own accord, or if you have any thoughts and feelings regarding Thessilane at all. Regardless, we, as representatives of our country, greatly feel the need to address these subjects.

We would meet with you -- the entire Council, if you prefer, including Governor Helstone -- at your earliest convenience so as to clear any confusion about the aforementioned subjects.

Please reply at your leisure.

May the Light shine on and guide you.


By our hands on this day, and with sincerity,
[indent]Coran D'zir, Count of Calael, and the members of the Duke's Third Squad.[/indent]

[Treadwell]

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Lord Richard Aengus;

I require information to be sent to me on a man who claims to have been held hostage by your people. You understand my concern of Myrken's safety, and such behavior is not quite conducive to the peace you claim that you and your peoples represent. His name is Aloisius Treadwell.

By my hand and seal,
General Eriks DeMord Sleipner

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"Information? What sort of information could this General be wanting about Treadwell, hmmmmm?"

So it is that Richard Aengus puts pen to page and replies with a note that will grow to a proper bigling size once it's left tacked to the General's door with a greenwing's spear.

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To General Eriks DeMord Sleipner, Myrken Wood

If you seek information about Aloisius Horatio Treadwell, then I must say you've certainly written to the proper man. Of anyone alive, I should note that I know just as much about him as he does, up to a point of a little over a year ago, for reasons I shall detail later. He was a moderately accomplished actor in his youth, but the majority of his years (close to forty of his sixty-one total) have been spent in politics, mostly in his home of Westenford, a port city on the coast of Fisherman's Bay in Amasynia.

Mr. Treadwell there holds, and has held for a good many years, the title of Chief Magistrate--something close to your Governor/Judiciar, in Myrken Wood. He oversees the Westenford Parliamentary Ruling Council of Magistrates (or the "Ruling Council," in short, or "those horrid Bellies" in common tongue), serving as a tiebreaking figurehead for votes and an authority in presiding over Council meetings. In short, Chief Magistrate Treadwell's rule is law, there.

However, his rule, his law, is not the issue for which I had him summarily and suitably punished. One of my dearest friends--and closest advisors--bumbled into the kitchen at Babette's Tavern, outside the stone plaza where the Council meets. For his trouble, he was apparently knocked unconscious by a cook and served up as roast fairy with a side of potatoes and garlic to Mr. Treadwell. Instead of denying the meal or sending the remains back to us to be buried, he devoured it.

In short, Mr. Treadwell made the first, most grievous error in this series of events. He was brought subsequently to my palace in Old Hibera and put to sleep for his trouble. While he slept, I saw to the management of his daily affairs, taking on his name, his person, his memories, and his life, for the period of fifteen months. Neither Myrken Wood nor Westenford was done any harm during this time, and I should dare say that your Lord Treadwell learned the error of his ways.

My business with your new Councilor of Administrative Sanctions is concluded. His fault--a rather serious one under our law--has been rectified by our customs and decrees. Of his new position, one that he is immensely suited for beyond end (trust me! I know more about tax collection now than I would have ever hoped to learn otherwise!), I wish him and your province the best in all matters. However, given that the business of tax collection, the collection of rent, and the moderation of mercantile affairs all fall under his local control, his domestic jurisdiction, I have no further reason to concern myself with his daily affairs unless requested to do so by your Council or Governor, either through a letter stating such or by his own personal acknowledgement.

Never have I meant your Myrken Wood (or his home town of Westenford, Amasynia) any harm or malice. Never have I broken the Peace Treaty established in part by my own hand between your province and my kingdom some six decades ago. I look forward to a continued, thriving relationship between our lands, and I wish Myrken Wood--and ALL of her leadership--continued health, dignity, and perseverence through all endeavors for time eternal.

This twenty-sixth day of the eleventh month, 738 Aengus Reckoning (your Anno Regalis 206, if I recall correctly!),

Richard Aengus, New Hibera

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[Treadwell]

And, to another man in another province, another letter goes on horseback.

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To Jonathan Lincoln, Westenford, Amasynia

Jon,

I'll keep this rather brief. I've been re-elected to serve as Myrken Wood's Councilor of Administrative Sanctions. Until I have the time to come back home on a more permanent basis, I'm leaving you in control as Chief Magistrate, given that you're next in line for it in my absence.

Rest assured your new post is certainly temporary, although I can't rightly say for how long. Whenever I'm in town, I fully expect to be treated accordingly with all due titles and recognition. My father held that post before me, and I before you, and I will hold it again in time, I'm quite sure.

Good day. Should you see her, give my love to my daughter, Babette.

Aloisius
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