Clamor of the Logothete

[Hierophant]

Published in the less traveled corners of the city and spun without its cover in a long winding trail of papyrus, a work entitled 'Clamor of the Logothete' begins to circulate with hushed whisper, passed from hand to hand like contraband. It is a messy and disorganized series of pamphlets, and new pages seem to come and go.

"Alejandro Benjazar is a difficult man to read. When I broached him of the bloodshed, he only spoke of purer innocence bled that day. Were we not innocent?"


In the shadows of our divided leagues lies a truth too often ignored—a truth that echoes through out the corridors of power yet remains unspoken in the hallowed halls of the Accord. We are a city fragmented, torn asunder by the specters of our past and shackled by the chains of our present. Gold-White, White-Gold; a Lily on one side may not endure the stain of Ghalish mud on the other, yet both are bound by the same creed. The idea of forced disunity comes to mind. Why does rivalry between competitors turn to scorn and theatrics all ways? Why do we not practice what we preach? Illusion is engraved into our lives now more than ever and we do not fight it. No, we have made love to the facade.

The reminder of wartime looms large over our city, casting its long shadow upon our streets while our leaders dance to the tune of distant drums. The taxes remain unchanged, the rents unyielding, and the politics stagnant. If war has become our silent companion ere long after, then let us acknowledge it openly and embrace the urgency it demands. For too long, the interests of the self-serving few have held sway over the prosperity of Ephia's Well, while the needs of its people languish in neglect. Wake up, my friends, and see for yourselves that we have been wounded by our government and lied to. We must strive towards the promised city. The taxes can be lowered, the rents can be fairer, the leagues can be better!

Our adherence to the principles of this Republic ring hollow in the face of our fractured unity, the leagues standing as the pulpable in this exchange. We may choose the animal that best symbolizes our city, yet when it comes to matters of true import, our Assembly descends into chaos and discord. Common sense, that elusive virtue, should guide our steps as we navigate the labyrinth of progress. So I say, let it be on every Ephian's tongue to weigh the odds of our future, to forge a path forward united in purpose and resolve.

The time has come for we Ephians to reclaim our rightful place at the heart of our society, to cast off the shackles of division and embrace the promise of a united future. Let us not be bound by the sins of our past, but rather emboldened by the possibility of a brighter tomorrow. Together, as one, let us build a city worthy of our dreams—a city where the echoes of innocence lost are drowned out by the chorus of progress.

Yours truly,
Dimitris Alexandros
The Logothete

[Hierophant]

"How is progress?"

A hundred thousand dinars to expand this city and house the refugee, when the conditions of those who have called this Well their home for years endure the pointlessness of bureaucracy; in what world shall we make a Voice the be-all-by-all of this Republic?

We look to the Sandstone College and their namesake for commonality. We must not build outward, we must build up! The Glaziers shall provide our glass, the Archaeologists will dig for our stone and we shall build spiraling towers with little need to stretch the Shade's hospitality.

We are a city, a proud city at that, with a long and storied history. We are not a sanctuary for those who take advantage of the Mother's mercy, nor should we be expected to grant them freshly built homes without knowing the weight of their contribution.

This world is dying, it is true. We are among the last vestiges of civilization. Yet hear me now and heed the Ephian Question; civilization was not built in a day, but it can surely crumble in a day when the people cannot be assured of what comes next. Every month we hold an election, and every month the potential for new policy comes under hand. A new face to shackle our dilemmas upon until the next can take their place.

All the while, what good ideas they may have borne in spirit are lost to the interests of Baz'eel who wish nothing more but for the water to flow and this city to send its shipment. Like a distant father, our Sultan will send us riveting sights to fund this war effort but he will not send his legions, only the one that remains lamented in Misfortune and cursed by Wroth.

The poet said things are not as easy as they seem. This is right, good and right, but why then do we milk our pockets to expand our walls and our streets and the Shade many of us cannot understand but recognize its boon as the Ash falls all around us? Why do we not fix what is broken before we move onto the new? In a world where the solution to universal suffrage is to reduce the price of a Voice month by month and only when those who care for it are in office in a government that is shaky at best and always changing face, look closely and you will see for yourself what is the true obstacle for Ephia's prosperity and progress as a Republic.

Yours truly,
Dimitris Alexandros
The Logothete

[Hierophant]

"Get out of my city!"

Marcellus Saenus,

How long will you continue to test the patience of the people? Many of us did not cast our votes in your favor, nor could we have if we desired, for the notion of citizenship in Ephia's Well has been reduced to a mere satire, stripped of its rightful significance. We should stand as a Republic by the people, for the people!

The League of Purple is nothing more than a puppet, with Baz'eel pulling its strings. The true ruler of Ephia's Well is the Majordomo, and let it not be mistaken that our supposed elected officials are only there to maintain the status quo and underestimate our intelligence. They are mere fools, leading us blindly towards our city's demise, shackled by firm restraints, forced to witness the downfall of our home returning to dust.

So what are we to do? Civil war is not the answer; Enrico's rise only served to strengthen Baz'eel's grip on Ephia's Well, and Ibtihal's rebellion was doomed from the start, fueled by the poison whispered in her ear from the Layabout Ashfolk. Now, faced with the threat of war once more, we must question why the Maribids do not send their legions.

It is simple. They expect us all to die. Then when we are weakened, exhausted and battered, their legions shall come; they will end Iakmes, taking the glory for themselves as is fitting for the Royalists, and then they shall make their play. They will dismantle this fledgling idea of a Republic, this mockery of democracy and upon that day, hope shall flee.

We must act now, we must rally together and unite the only two leagues that mean to build upon the ideal Ephian Republic. The League of Gold seeks our autonomy already, and they have certainly accrued the finances to support such ambitions; the League of White has placed its focus upon the people, knowing full well they shall be the backbone of our city's future for it matters little who is in power, if the people are not content, they will become ravenous in their passion for freedom. And is Ephia's Well not the birthplace of freedom?

When will enough be enough? Your own words, 'Get out of my city,' shall come to haunt you. Your selfishness, cloaked in gilded armor, is reminiscent of an old man past his prime, clinging to a pointless museum of recent, disastrous history that is a mere blink in the annals to come.

The Heron will rise from the ashes and soar ever higher for the skies. It lingers for the Well is where the water flows, and why should Baz'eel sow a miracle that does not belong to them? Because their forefathers once held extravagant parties before even these walls were built, growing fat on the backs of their servants?

No more, my friends.

Yours truly,
Dimitris Alexandros
The Logothete

[Hierophant]

"Flame of warning, so long quenched. Never again shall it rage - where is the fire for us?"

By now you should be feeling that empty pit in your gut; whether it of wroth or of love, or of doubt and of question. It has been too long that bold word penned to paper found a home, too long your ears turned in perk to the question indeed.

Tell me you have not felt it, and I will concede my folly and accept that I am alone in this. I will brandish myself a liar and scutter back into the shadows where I belong, a footnote in history. But whom wishes to be so? A footnote in history?

Are we so complacent that we must conserve our true feelings and not let it soar as if the world will not end tomorrow, or the day after? That this is not in the most paramount and stark of ways an urgency to straighten our spines that wither before those who have told us no?

Fight for your place in this world. You have come far, and you have shed innocent blood in a foreign land not your own, but now it is yours. What have you done with this? Children laid slaughtered in once lavish corner, and you bickered over their bodies as if the swarm behind you has made you inhuman.

Exiled from your home and coddled by the brightest minds, and yet you heed the hubris of illusion and accept it as it is. A Nadiri speaks his truth, and meets the backhand of a Zenithar, a Rose thinks he has found his place, a Lost Hearth calling to him like a clarion cry and yet soon finds his hand held, his sword at bay for the 'greater good'.

"Do not heed the prattling of coin-hungry mercenaries. They are the shield, while you are the sword."

And what have you done with this sword placed in your hand, Aurelio the Lion? Will you defend your kingdom come when the day cometh, or shall you slip into the shadows, red drink in hand as it drips down your boyish chin, your lost and confused gaze scuttled into a euphoria that makes you no more than a drunk. I know this feeling too well, though bitter is the drink, heavier is the sword. Brandish it with pride.

Hziran 23, IY 7788. The day our troubles began.

Yours truly,
Dimitris Alexandros
The Logothete

[Hierophant]

"First I must know you are yourself, and not someone else's self."

And now the embers of our city's very soul flickers betwixt the darkness and the light. Its sadness casts a long shadow upon our home, and its tendrils pull and tug at our hearts. This is a crucible of strife and uncertainty, and now we find ourselves at a crossroads--a juncture where the echoes of yesterday clash with tomorrow's aspirations.

Each word etched upon these pages is a testament to our collective struggle, a beacon I had hoped that would beckon you from the ashes of complacency and reclaim our rightful place in the annals of history.

As the clamor of our discordant leagues rings through the air at every lull of the law, every ounce of progress be it of woe or pride to another and his, I remind you the weight of our responsibility. It is a flame of warning, extinguished too soon though the crows peck at my feet.

But to heed its call, we must first confront the darkness within ourselves and ensure that we are not mere caricatures of another's tempting game and that our love for Ephia's Well is true. I want us all to stand today not as pioneers of yesterday's dreams or architects of selfish ambition, but as stewards of a brighter tomorrow, forging a path guided by virtue, compassion, and boldness. The ideal Ephian.

Eleven long years have we languished in status quo, and each time this city has come close to the Promise of tomorrow it has been met by agents of malice, who have torn it down at each step for anarchy is King and it is anathema to Agree. We would rather act as Iakmes' hordes do, and no doubt they respect our leadership for they so warmly invited Legate Marcus Saenus, the 'Unifier' to their home only to show us in true spirit their barbaric treachery of eons past.

The time for apathy has passed. It has written many poems, but now it repeats itself in lieu of finer things. We are better than this. It is time to stand firm, to raise our Voiceless in unison, and demand accountability from those who hold sway over our destiny as a city-state, as a Republic!

Though it will come with adversity, we must not falter nor waver. We will draw strength from the resilience of our spirit and the conviction of our hearts. We will remember, indeed, that true progress is not measured by the height of our towers, the depths of our coffers or our empty, hollow words over the bellows in retort to our political rivals who are neighbors nonetheless, and Ephians all!

As we stand on the precipice of a new dawn, I ask you walk the streets beneath the dark cloud of Sabotage, visit the Almshouses and the Waiting Wheel, look closely upon the faces of those who suffer. Some of them are refugees, and I have spoken my intent on this; but the call was for worth to be given to them where now it is imagined by our state and assumed that they shall be the answer to our woes.

Others of them, native sons and daughters of Ephia's Well, languish as you adventurers and fortunate ones barter over gilded steel for the purpose of storytelling or one's own inflated pride. Then offer a single dinar, and sleep finely for the night believing you have let a man eat for an evening. But have you taught him how to earn his own dinar? Have you taught him to swing a sword? To craft fine linen, to tailor new clothes?

To do this, we must know ourselves. We must accept the Voice in our heads that battles our own actions. Burn it out, and go forth. Ensure that Voice is your own, untainted by the whispers of deceit or the allure of power. Be vigilant in your pursuit of truth and be unwavering in your commitment to justice.

So I implore you, my fellow Ephians, to join me in this noble endeavor. Cast aside those shadows of doubt and fear, embrace the light of a brighter tomorrow. Correspond with me at the Soot Lamp, and take part in the People's Assembly, where all Voices are heard. Here, amidst the echoes of our past, the seeds of our future take root in the sands, sprouting forth as the heralds of a new era. You too can foster revolution in your heart.

Yours truly,
Dimitris Alexandros
The Logothete