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Written By Zyanya

Sept. 18, 2020, 3:18 a.m.(1/17/1014 AR)

I have not yet written a proper journal. In the Archives I preserve my poetry because they speak for me in many ways, my impressions of this new home. These impressions are perhaps more clear in my cradle tongue and to those accustomed to the forms of poetry I have mastered. They do not translate I do not translate directly, I think.

It has been very hard.

The differences between Arvum and Weijin, or Arvum and all of the Empire, are vast. Not only in age but in knowledge, in philosophy, in experience. It is the difference between stepping into a cultivated garden and facing a wild forest. The Empire is immense, with great natural beauty...but it is also old and in that age its culture has been tended. The blood which watered the soil has had time to fade. Not so, here. It is still fresh.

There have been kindnesses and gifts made. There have been understandings and knowledge shared, friendship offered, invitations accepted. I have also angered some by disagreeing with them or by explaining what is known of history outside of this land, where the people were made to forget. I have been called a slave. I have been told true art can only be crafted in true freedom. I have been told I am wrong in my thinking and that to disagree is an insult. I have learned quickly to not see the staring and to smile when I am insulted for in this land of freedoms there is no shield for the common person offended, or wounded, or killed. Here the judges do not ride to bring their justice. It falls to me to carry this responsibility of answering well even when cut deep.

You are a proud people here. Bright and willful, fierce and stubborn. You hold light in one hand and cruelty in the other, and both are as natural to you as breathing. I have worn the writs of an Imperial citizen and cannot conceive of bringing harm to another. I do not understand these instincts yet. Our sufferings in the Empire taste of different sorrows.

But I am learning. My blood is your blood. You are me. Maybe I can be more like you.

Written By Medeia

Sept. 18, 2020, 2:17 a.m.(1/17/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Brianna

I can only say that I am grateful to Lady Halfshav for finding herself in my path, for seeing something in me, for accepting me, for trusting me, and - I hope - for being a friend. She is surprising and lovely and blunt. Exactly the right kind of person I should have around me.

Written By Talwyn

Sept. 17, 2020, 11:47 p.m.(1/16/1014 AR)

I return to town and get to visit sweet Lucita, I am glad she and the children are doing well.

Of course, I arrive to talk about marriage. Not my own of course.

But it's odd how some things change, some remain the same.

Written By Tanith

Sept. 17, 2020, 8:04 p.m.(1/16/1014 AR)

Mine is worth exactly, specifically two.

Written By Porter

Sept. 17, 2020, 6:14 p.m.(1/16/1014 AR)

I'm never going to fix that damn bench.

Written By Alessia

Sept. 17, 2020, 5:38 p.m.(1/16/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Roxana

I honestly could not ask for a better patron. The past couple of years have been a delight and I'll never get tired of our late night gossip. And I'm more than grateful for your generosity.

Written By Arik

Sept. 17, 2020, 1:55 p.m.(1/16/1014 AR)

It is interesting to see marriage discussed it always is. I think it is always more interesting when it is not the Head of House discussing it. The rights of nobility comes with the duty of marriage. We marry to continue bloodlines and secure alliances and we marry at the whim and wishes of our Head of House. What marriage is for is not for the scions of a house to decide. What they choose to make their marriage about is their business but the decision of to what house they will be married, to what person, and for what price and gain is that of the Head of House or their Voices. These are the people that decide what marriage is and in most cases (hopefully all) they see marriage as a means to secure the future and select a match that is tenable or even enjoyable for their kin.

Everything else is but the peace we make with our duty. Anything less is an abdication of duty.

Written By Lucita

Sept. 17, 2020, 10:55 a.m.(1/15/1014 AR)

I was forced to give Medeia and Neilda their birthday presents early. Their cats and my dogs and the children were not a good mix when all wound up in the same area at one time. Separated out they should do much better and be easier to handle.

Written By Cassandra

Sept. 17, 2020, 8:42 a.m.(1/15/1014 AR)

The question has been posted about the value of human life. Are five lives worth one life?

If you ask a member of the King's Own, they may tell you that all 100 of them are worth our ruler's life. If you ask a Knight of Solace, how many of them would say they would trade their lives for a healer? If you ask a person in love, they may tell you they would trade their life for their loved ones.

What makes one life worth more than five lives is the question that should be asked here. What makes one life worth more than another? Five? One hundred? Five thousand?

How many people laid down their lives in defense of Copper?

What do you think human life is worth? A single human life.

Is it worth yours?

Written By Thea

Sept. 17, 2020, 7:42 a.m.(1/15/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Bree

It depends on who you ask. Sometimes those 5? They are very much willing to make the sacrifice for just that one.

Written By Sydney

Sept. 17, 2020, 1:53 a.m.(1/15/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Bree

It is most assuredly not.

But we are all of us beholden to exceptions in our arithmetic for those we care for.

Written By Mabelle

Sept. 17, 2020, 1:23 a.m.(1/15/1014 AR)

The Laurent mansion is engulfed in the scent of honey as the cooks work hard to have everything ready before the festival this weekend. I have actually been banished from the kitchen due to over indulging. Most things are ready, including my gown which was stitched to perfection by Mistress Caprice. However, I do not have shoes. I need shoes.

Written By Acacia

Sept. 16, 2020, 10:01 p.m.(1/14/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Bree

You ask if the life of one man is worth more than the lives of five?

Depends on who's doing the accounting.

Written By Sydney

Sept. 16, 2020, 6:17 p.m.(1/14/1014 AR)

My mind drifts often to poetry in these winter evenings. I'm certainly not the type to try my hand at it unless I've been suitably inspired or have been drinking heavily and therefore am suffering a considerable lapse of judgement, but it holds meaning to me. I've been reading more of it, trying to linger on each poem, and ruminating on what each one might mean.

What was the author thinking? What were the yearnings or fancies in their heart that made them put pen to paper and scribe dream to Dream, for some or none to read? Too often, I find I'm not able to decipher the 'meaning behind the meaning' that others purport to see, but there's beauty in something that can be looked at by many and seen identically by none.

How does it even work? I understand those that have a rhyming cadence, but these seem to be regarded scornfully or somehow lesser to the poetry that is merely sloshed about the page.

Who is to say
where poems begin
and where they
end --
When the rules
if there are such
aren't writ in stone
but float through
the sky

Is this poetry? Is it just a sentence that has been stretched and carried wastefully across parchment? I confess, I do not know the difference.

I find it thoroughly maddening.

And captivating.

But also maddening.

Written By Serapion

Sept. 16, 2020, 5:17 p.m.(1/14/1014 AR)

This has been an exciting and interesting new beginning for me, to say the least. I never thought that I'd have the pleasure of getting to personally know members of House Thrax or the royal family. I've been in this city for barely a few days and already doors have opened for me. I was invited to join the Order of East Light, with extra equipment paid for by the Order. A boon for a man like myself. My knighthood was impromptu and I fear securing a decent suit of armour would have been difficult for me. Even now, I can scarcely believe it.

The city of Arx seems to present new opportunities for me. Opportunities for knowledge. Opportunities for a new life. And perhaps opportunities to become like the heroes I grew up reading and hearing about. I know not what the future has in store for me, but I pray that I live through this new knightly life.

Maybe House Thrax will give me some land back home. A small tower with a nice library to retire to in my old age.

Written By Gwenna

Sept. 16, 2020, 4:22 p.m.(1/14/1014 AR)

Despite it being winter, which makes travel difficult, I find myself longing to be in Farhaven. I feel a need to walk through the forests, with nothing but the sounds of snow falling or the occasional scurrying animal to disturb my thoughts. I want to spend an evening working on tapestries with my mother and listening to stories told around the fire. She is a formidable woman, but also warm and full of good advice when I need it most. I suppose I'm just a bit homesick, with winter having come to Arx.

Or maybe it's something deeper that I just can't quite put my finger on yet.

Written By Bree

Sept. 16, 2020, 2:25 p.m.(1/14/1014 AR)

Is the life of one man worth more than the lives of five?

Written By Tanith

Sept. 16, 2020, 12:14 p.m.(1/14/1014 AR)

I had a conversation with Rukhnis some months back about joining the Physician's guild. We'd decided that since I wasn't ready to give me whole focus to improving my skills and attending to them that need it, I shouldn't join up; yet. Maybe when my life shifts into a later chapter, and my world doesn't have so many things in it to distract me. Maybe then.

Despite this, though, I find my focus arrested by some of the more physical aspects of being a Harlequin. I don't mind it, my mother finds it hilarious; I delivered her of several of my brothers and now this practical experience has led into something that's too involved to be a 'hobby' but not consistent enough to be considered a 'career'. Not that you need anything but a good track record to be pronounced a 'mid-wife', a good reputation under Death's Devoted isn't a bad thing either.

Written By Eirene

Sept. 16, 2020, 10:40 a.m.(1/13/1014 AR)

My children love winter far more than I do. This is their second winter in Arx and they're still transfixed by snow. They play snowball fights in the garden with the Riven children and they go ice-sliding on the pond. I've neither encouraged nor discouraged this, but I do regularly check to make sure the ice is frozen over. Not like they could drown in the pond or get trapped under the ice, but mothers have this way of worrying about the worst.

Being pregnant is an excellent excuse to nestle by a fire and work on my embroidery. It has flowers and says several lovely obscenities, before anyone things I've gone domestic on them. Between the Archives, the Grace, the Fox, and the Riven study, I've got a routine settled into place. Traversing the city while pregnant and in the snow isn't the smartest thing I've done, but when was I ever accused of being a genius?

I don't like being in the Archives alone. I make sure Planchet and Carissa stay close. I just feel... better for them there, even if it means they're listening in on my Whites. I don't feel like recording any Black Journals any time soon for reasons.

Written By Piccola

Sept. 16, 2020, 8:41 a.m.(1/13/1014 AR)

Relationship Note on Esme

To the learned Lady Esme of House Fidante,

I feel a reply is warranted to you is fain, even if the matter is on one on which I would not claim a scholar's expertise.

I do not deny the importance of marriage to our people, our culture, and our society. I do not deny the honor that it brings to those who agree to what you have described as a courageous sacrifice. And I do not deny that love is rare and easily torn to pieces.

What I find fault in is how love, for all of its rarity and beauty, seems oft discarded, undervalued, or mistreated.

If marriage is the constancy of the sun rising at the advent of each day, then I say that love is candlelight. I appreciate the security of believing the dawn will come, but I cannot deny the comfort from the flame in a darkened room. Without it, how would we pierce the night? How would I ever see the serene peace of my lover in slumber?

I profess that I may have more in common with the night patrol than the earliest cockerel.

I know you would not forget of love or its importance. I wish I knew more about it so that I would not feel so cold when my bed is empty or the wicks are burned down. What I believe is that, naively or densely, I would rather spend my life holding an eternal flame upon a parapet than to look forlornly from a window at the watch that ends the night.

I think such souls are the rarest and most beautiful of all flowers.

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