Written By Jaenelle
March 3, 2019, 10:14 p.m.(9/5/1010 AR)
Written By Ouida
March 3, 2019, 9:35 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Written By Victus
March 3, 2019, 8:22 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Written By Sudara
March 3, 2019, 6:01 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Written By Evonleigh
March 3, 2019, 5:35 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Written By Bliss
March 3, 2019, 5:17 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Iriscal.
I remember when he first brought me in here. Oh, the promises he made, promises to capture a girl's heart. We had been together maybe a week at that point, and all I could see was how handsome he was, how that smile pulled on my heart, and how skilled he was with his sword.
I knew this was a trading hub now, and I knew about the silkworks here, and yet, I wasn't really prepared to see bolts of aeterna and umbra for sale in the stalls in the market square. I think he saw how I boggled, and he laughed and told me that by the time we were done, I would have so many dresses of white and black I would be almost sick of them, that he would take me to the fanciest balls and that I would never want for anything again.
That was almost exactly ten years ago. It still feels like yesterday.
I opened a chest on the way in, making sure no one saw. I ran my fingers along the umbra. Formal gowns for the formal meetings I've been having when I need to. The aeterna, for looking brilliant in the rays of the sun. The other one, in case there's another ball, so I don't have to pretend to be someone else this time.
You were just off by a few years, Stefano. You always did have a problem with overestimating your longevity.
The second time I was here, I was done with you. You knew as well as I did that you had nothing more to offer me, and you made me no more promises. We rarely slept in the same bed anymore. I would find someone, and so would you, and off we went. No more promises of silks that you would never give me, your smile just turned my stomach, and your fancy swordplay just bored me to tears. I have no idea how you managed to kill that man in Granato. He must have wanted to die.
Excitement had become boredom. We only made it a few days across the Split before I was done with you. Saying goodbye to you was just as easy as saying goodbye to Tor. I know your heart still broke, but mine didn't, Stefano. It was never yours to tie your anchor to.
* * * * *
I thought I was done writing about Iriscal, but I'm not. I went to the walls of the fortress today, and climbed to the top. It's a clear day, and the winds are calm, and in the distance I can barely - just barely - make out the walls of Tor. I think maybe I can even smell the roses, but that's probably a conjuration of my mind.
It's not time yet. Not quite. But I can feel it inside me, and sometimes, I just know what needs to be done. This is one of those moments.
Written By Venturo
March 3, 2019, 5 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Amari
Written By Venturo
March 3, 2019, 4:57 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Written By Tibault
March 3, 2019, 4:54 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Written By Bliss
March 3, 2019, 4:38 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Audric
I didn't spend long at Fen de Lire. A shot of whiskey, a mug of beer. I threw them both on the road and crushed them under my heel, laughed at your foolhardiness, then moved on.
I think that's what you would have wanted. Our Lady of Terrible Puns is lucky to be the one getting to hear your stories now.
Written By Luca
March 3, 2019, 4:34 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Carita
My protege's daughter spent some time with me while her mother was in Maelstrom. Not all of it, otherwise I might not have survived. I never realized a child could have so many questions in them as Nerissa Darkwater does. I started running out of real answers long before she started running out of hard questions. In the end, I turned the tables on her and started asking the questions. I'm a wiser man now than I was before.
Did you know owls are not turtles? It means they're active at night. I have it on good authority.
She was rather taken with the large painting of Queen Alarice astride a golden-feathered griffin. Questions about Alarice were mostly easier to answer than questions about griffins, though we did make the attempt to hunt one down in the mansion. I thought for sure there would be at least one hiding somewhere, under a bed perhaps or in the kitchens. Alas.
After she was gone, I searched the wine cabinets in a last ditch effort. No griffins, either, but I found some memories worth keeping.
Written By Bliss
March 3, 2019, 4:30 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Today I met an old man who had lived in the same village his entire life. It was just on the outskirts of the Fen de Lire, and there were really only two streets, at an angle to each other, and about ten houses total. This man - his name is Ernesto - had been born there - he pointed out the window of the tavern to his house. He had married a woman who came by on a caravan. True love, he claimed, and since she lived with him until she died, maybe he was right.
He pointed to where they had lived, where they had raised their four children, all with families of their own now. One died in the war at Southport - a mercenary who met a mercenary's end. The Silent War got another, his whole family wiped out during one of the skirmishes there - they had moved to the Gray Forest for safety. The third he hadn't heard from in a long time. He assumed they were still alive, but wondered why they hadn't written.
The fourth was a wandering duelist like me.
Here was a man who had, by all accounts, lost everything. For whom so much had changed, even though he remained a fisher in a little hut by a river. Even though he would likely die that way. I asked him if he had ever traveled, and he assured me he had - but when I pressed him, he admitted that it was not more than two towns over to the market to buy some presents.
I don't know a lot about Ernesto, but I do know that he chose a life that was in almost every way, entirely the opposite of mine. A life I could not even begin to imagine. A life that would have me screaming.
But he smiled, happy for the attention of a beautiful woman. He shared the dirty jokes he had picked up over the years. And damned if he couldn't see things I couldn't at a glance.
I don't understand him. But I'm glad that I met him.
Written By Domonico
March 3, 2019, 4:17 p.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Written By Fortunato
March 3, 2019, 11:41 a.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Lisebet
Written By Elgana
March 3, 2019, 10:48 a.m.(9/4/1010 AR)
Written By Martino
March 3, 2019, 5:35 a.m.(9/3/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Videl
Perhaps, really, once is not enough and I must don the overalls again.
Written By Mirari
March 3, 2019, 3:55 a.m.(9/3/1010 AR)
Written By Sabella
March 3, 2019, 2:08 a.m.(9/3/1010 AR)
My father disappeared when I was ten years old, presumed dead in a shipwreck. I cannot tell you of how many nights I dreamed that he was still alive and wished on every star I could find that he could come home. My tutors often warned me away from such things saying I would only find disappointment in life if I lived with my head in the clouds and my heart full of dreams, but as a small child who missed her father so dearly, I couldn't help but hold onto that thin strand of hope that somewhere he was alive and would find his way back to us.
And as all childhood memories, that hope faded over time. It never went away completely, just a wistful sigh lost in a breeze on a random morning, but it was not longer the hope that I used my wishes on. I looked to the stars with other dreams in mind.
Yet I must be thankful to those old stars that carried my wishes with them all those years, because my father has returned to us! Where he has been and what he has been through I cannot imagine, but the fact that he is here now is a truth that even I am having a hard time coming to terms with. My father is alive and he is home and I could not be happier! It was a shock--a happy one--and I have enjoyed getting to know him once again. I have been able to introduce him to my husband and his grandchildren and tell him all the happy tales he has missed while he was away. And all of this just enforced one simple fact to me: you should never give up hope. Keep wishing and hoping and dreaming and be so thankful for those miracles that happen.
Because they do happen. My father is living proof of that!
Written By Lisebet
March 3, 2019, 12:02 a.m.(9/3/1010 AR)
Why am I still cold?
Written By Rysen
March 2, 2019, 11:34 p.m.(9/3/1010 AR)
The second party was hosted by Princess Liara Grayson, and was an extravagant, exciting affair. I hoped to congratulate Princess Sabella and Prince Niklas in person on the recent birth of their son, and was happy to find the Nightingale present, who, as usual, was dressed in such resplendent beauty as will not be soon forgot. There were games, drinks, food, music, dancing, and His Majesty the King arrived as well, which provided an opportunity for Prince Niklas to prove himself not only the greatest wit in Arvum, but also, its greatest dancer.
As for my own dance partner, on my pride as a poet, I will never do her justice in prose. I have read her books, observed her lessons, watched her show grace in defeat, strength and skill in the arts of combat, and compassion to those she meets. She is the embodiment of the ideals of chivalry and virtue, and the beating heart of what it means to be a knight. They say there are none above Grayson. Indeed, there are none.
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