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Dear Mirielle,

I hope this letter finds you well and that your weeks past have been invigorating and kind. Truly, it pains me to be reaching out to you now, bearing such troubles as these shall no doubt be.

It has come to my attention that a Recluta Kweezkweez has in their possession some manner of bottle that I am told by dear Sisters and Astronomers, alike, bears the hall mark of Brookery. Whether this is the case or not, surely by now you have heard all the silliness and tumult that ensues for their passing.

Beware that those who have been exposed to it have lost all coherent reason and faculties, with no benefit as far as I have gleaned. The only good fortune of this is that the Janissary so far have not yet acted grossly on their knowing he has it. I suspect it shall only be a matter of time before they do.

I leave this knowledge in your capable hands. I am certain that you do not want this headache thrust upon you with no forewarning, no more than we would in the College. Should you require anything of me, do not hesitate to reach out.

Aeronwy Caddick,
Balladeer of the Lost Hearth

Student Maewyn Audara,

A relief to be certain. A delivery of community work tools and water aid have been made to the Stockade and, in addition to this, a total of 22,000 dinari have been given in donation over the month since this project began.

Upon your return, I would like you to take charge of the other students and the recluta and acolytes eager to prove themselves in making regular checks on the grounds and ensuring all is well.

Forthcoming in the next few days, we of the Rose shall be looking to expand our relief efforts to the Quarry, where there are allegations of the exploitation of the poor and working class. There should soon be announcements to that effect. Thus, in addition to your work to bridge those downtrodden seeking opportunity with the guilds of Ephia's Well, you will soon also be directed to inspire the people towards work in the Quarry grounds -- once we have secured agreement to the improvements of conditions therein.

Prepare yourself for diligent but determined work. Transforming this ruin to a sanctuary and garden will not be easy. Yet we shall see it done.

Aeronwy Caddick,
Balladeer of the Lost Hearth

[A short note is passed on.]

Student Maewyn Audara,

I have not received a response in a timely manner. Am I to assume you have changed your mind?

Aeronwy Caddick,
Balladeer of the Lost Hearth

Student Maewyn Audara,

You have requested to become my student. It's time to get to work.

I have enclosed a letter from Acolyte Calliope Faith. Go forth to the Souk and prepare a written summary of the costs for these items, including the crates for their transport and the labour for their delivery.

You have a budget of 8,000 dinari. Show me how you would balance it.

Aeronwy Caddick,
Balladeer of the Lost Hearth


[Enclosed: correspondence.]

C/O the Offices of Legates Vellyn Lhyrian & Lujayn al-Farisyya

Dear Legate,

I write this at the behest of Legate Vellyn, who, on this day past, approached me to speak of rightly cause. We discussed the plight of the weak and the weary, those lost and downtrodden who have been too long neglected.

I understand you have arrangements to see refugees turned towards Arslan. To send them back across the ashen oblivion they once traversed upon a dream of a better life. And though this pains me to see, this sundering of the dream on which Ephia's Well was refounded, that Cinquefoil Promise, that here, where the blessed water rises, we may build a sanctuary for all; we may make a future where our children and our children's children may laugh and play in fields of plenty; we may inspire in their hearts that grace even as the world around us withers to ash, I understand well that this is a political arrangement born of the times.

And so Legate Vellyn asked of me to make a written proposition. Here it is.

There has been no greater champion of the meek and the weary than our Grandmaster Elizabetha d'Auvergne's rosy banner. Long have we campaigned for justice and shelter fair.

Look upon our works of hospitality, industry, and vigilance. We have demonstrated that with a meagre budget of 25,000 dinari, raised in hand, we were able to pitch the Stockade, and provide shelter and alms to so many weary souls. This work, though, has not ended.

No.

It is only the beginning.

And so I beseech you, the Legatesure, to bestow upon us writ and right, resources and reclamation, and your support in expanding these works. Sheltering 10,000 weary souls and more, who will arrive year after year as the ash grows and threatens to swallow this world, will be a task without end. Not only must we grant them shelter, but we must also grant them succour. We will need to provision them with food and dignified employment so that their hearts may swell with pride as their bellies do with grain. Only through this act of nobility shall the culture of Ephia's Well grow from this generation onto the next.

Make no mistake. It will take time to build greater infrastructure, be it irrigation and farmland to feed these growing masses, shoppes and guild halls where they may trade, or schools and galleries where culture may thrive. This investment will not bear fruit in this election cycle. It will not be seen through this month, this year, or this generation.

But we have already begun the work. We, through labour, have pitched and worked that Stockade as a demonstration of our steadfast devotion to this cause.

So I ask of you, Legates. Grant to the Rose a title in your law that conveys the authority to see this task through so that we may not be so easily countermanded by the ever-shifting politics of your would-be successors. Grant the Rose a dearth of funding that we may put towards the next steps in this most important of tasks.

It will not be wasted. We have already shown our commitment to the future. Now is the time to act and change the lives of countless people in our home, from now until that day when we render Paradise anew.

Aeronwy Caddick,
Balladeer of the Lost Hearth

An Epitaph

Here she rests, Katya Belyaeva.
Balladeer, Inspiration, Friend.

She bore the blade with solemn grace,
Speaking of duty's bitter weight;
Yet steel could never still the heart,
That beat beneath its tempered fate.

Now let the sword lie silent, sheathed—
The burden set aside at last;
Remember her not as the blade,
But as the woman who surpassed.

The crypto-Orentids are real...

P.S.

Thanks, big sis! You're the best!

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She was always there...

Whether it was saving Ephia's Well from the Wyrm...

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Witnessing sights unseen...

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Witnessing pledges...

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Helping her friends through the greatest trials...

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Or remaining dignified as people played their first (and only) game of Efoodle... Musky? Really?

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She gave excellent advice...

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And was iconic to the Rose...

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Representative of her order to nearly every new student over the years...

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And a steadfast ambassador for her people...

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She rescued the first people who fled from Arslan's capture...

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Helped provide shelter to those lost and poor fleeing Il Modo...

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She was even there to welcome those who would be turned away at any other corner of the Ash Desert...

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And still had time to lift the spirits of those at home...

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Even if...

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She sometimes got a bit mischievous...

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She was our heart...

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And guide...

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...

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Plus, she was always on call to help with a kitchen emergency...

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And she helped us say goodbye to so many friends before...

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So it's time to say goodbye.

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Thank you for playing such an amazing character.

Katya, you may rest now...

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More than just a blade.

Student Katya Belyaeva,

I had hoped to have this conversation in person, yet the hours of our duties and the tumult of the College has meant such is not possible.

Heed these words well then, for I acknowledge and even respect your independence to date.

When I first made you my student, I gave to you a task. Learn well of the virtues amongst our near, our dear, and our enemies alike. I confess to some small disappointment that since that time, you have not come to me once to learn of the virtues and traditions of my people. Further, I was disappointed with the doubts and distrust for our rose you expressed in an attempt to-- I assume-- appease Domergue. We are never to shirk nor softly double speak. We speak truth to power.

And yet I am forced to assume it was with good reason, as oft I sheltered you from the intrigues of our halls so that you may continue your work.

The time for further learning has ended. You will present your studies to me in this upcoming week. By now, you should have learned well the virtues of Prudence, Justice, Courage, Temperance, Faith, Hope, and Charity, and how these have shaped our diasporas and will shape the world to come.

I sorely hope you have not put aside the mission I so-charged you upon for idle board work and games. For we, the Balladeers, must act without oversight and direction, towards the ends offered to us by our Grandmaster years apart. Your presentation should reflect these many months of assignment.

On another note, I expect good news regarding your conversation with Casia. It has been your opportunity to lead and inspire her into good service.

We will meet soon. I pray you do not disappoint me again.

Aeronwy Caddick,
Balladeer of the Lost Hearth

[An open letter is posted to the Grandmaster Elizabetha d'Auvergne, with copies made conspicuously available for Lyrists Beauregard, Didereaux, Pommerst, **Domergue**, and Ser Arkaeos.]

[Inside the Grandmaster's copy are two sheets. The first reads...]

I have confronted your Lyrist Aubrey Domergue with the contents of this letter, in the interests of forthrightness and attempts at concord. She has assented to its posting should I believe it is necessary, our positions irreconcilable.

[The second sheet is presented more widely.]

Grandmaster Elizabetha d'Auvergne,

When last I lost heart, your Alois bid that I should have written a letter. Loathe as I am to put pen to paper to make plain what happens in our halls, here I am, as bidden. I write this beside my noble companion Llywarch, the griffon I have today, for the first time, managed to inspire to roost and rest upon the battlements of our Krak des Roses. And what a sight she is. She gives me the heart to see this through with patience.

When you asked me to don this cloak again, it was on a promise. That treachery in our halls would be ended. And so I pledged to strive to unite our banner again. And so I have quietly worked.

Never before has the Rose been so united. We have moved beyond petty brawls, argumentation, and murder with your Red Band. We have learned from and led the Sisterhood both on our quest, roamed from the centre of the world to the edge of it-- to the most profane hells and beyond in our works to make the world good again. Our Rose banner hangs over the Warmaster's seat, entrusted by the Sultan, and the Legatesure has favoured our works to keep the lost and weary sweet and sanctuary. I have worked tirelessly, as you have asked.

But all is not well beneath our banner. Your Lyrist Aubrey Domergue once explained to me her view on our storied arcades: that this is a stage, that she must carefully manage the influence of each Balladeer and cut them off at the knees when they rise too high to steal her spotlight.

Such a craven point of view has always turned my stomach, for ours is not the role of prima donna. Ours is the greatest of all causes.

Life itself.

I once let myself become disheartened by Aubrey's schemes. I removed my cloak in disgust as those who would see men exiled or executed but for the circumstances of their birth filled our halls, a betrayal of the Cinquefoil promise. But you were right. We must be above such actors. We must strive to change the world forever in our passing.

So, never again.

I have travailed, seeing sights unseen from dread Qa'im to Banafsi, Il-Modo to the world's edge, and Assuru to the burning hells themselves.

At that time, since my return, I offered an olive branch to those I disagreed with. In Aurelio, where once we bickered, I have found a stalwart and trusted companion. Our manifold diversities have come together into a greater whole. Likewise, in Asherias, I have found a woman I can lean on who supports us when we stumble, tireless and steadfast.

But all is not well. But days ago, your Lyrist Aubrey Domergue called council students and Balladeers. To these students, she commanded their distrust of Aurelio and our dear Sisterhood of the Sibylline Vine.

All sorts of gross accusations were bandied about. Accusations of Aurelio inventing rites and the Sisters taking advantage of students in a coarse attempt to manipulate the Rose towards maleficent ends.

Your Lyrist seemed grossly unaware that I, independent of Aurelio and the Sisterhood, have long wandered the world, glimpsed sights unseen, and have more than enough experience to recognise the mythical importance of our quest. To strive and build a better world for our children and our children's children to come.

She commanded me to distrust. And for the student's benefit, I did not raise my voice. I have seen the tumult and agony such arguments, taking place publicly, have caused.

But I say no.

I say no, and I am disgraced that students marched to their deaths with the last command from their Lyrist being treachery in our ranks. I will not allow it to come to pass again.

And so, I hereby challenge Aubrey Domergue. I challenge her to walk beside me and see the realms unseen. To lay aside her myopic personal agendas and desires for Legatesure and advancement. To learn to lead our rosy cohort and not merely punch down upon them as suits her political agendas. Because for months now, she has been breaking us apart.

And, if she cannot do that, I shall lead the Balladeers in her stead. Because we have no more time for idle dreaming. We have no more time for negligence or excuses.

We have a world to save.

Aeronwy Caddick,
Your Balladeer of the Lost Hearth

Well done.

Ye Strong, Ye Kind

So rest now Grenth, 'eneath that burning sky.
Thoust gentle strength shall ne'er die.
For in these halls whence heroes tread,
Thy kindness lives on in thy stead.

With wisdom's voice and steady hand,
Thou built up hearts, thou lead the band.
Through war and flame, through peace and strife,
Thou raised the axe in noble life.

And thou led thy band so darkly oathed,
On doomed quest 'gainst them so-loathed.
Wouldst they break? Not now, not then,
A rightly cadre of the bravest men.

Go on, onto this next journey, mine son!
This garden o' life, thoust walked, thoust won.
A leader bold, yet gentle too;
A guide for many, steadfast and true.

Go on, my son, to that sacred shore.
Destiny awaits; thoust leads e'er more.
And when we meet 'ere the Edutu's dark,
We'll share one last tale, that song, that spark...

[The letter is received and read with an overfull cup of wine.]