[Letter to Grandmaster Elizabetha d'Auvergne]

[Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi]

[A letter is delivered by a specific Balladeer to the Krak des Roses. The vellum pages are addressed to the Grandmaster.]


Grandmaster Elizabetha d'Auvergne,

I indulge in hubris in writing to you, and hope you shall forgive the rambling quill of one of your servants, for I labor under the pursuit of a haunting specter and set pen to page in haste. Yet what words burn within me, seeking escape, and I do not know if I shall ever have occasion to write as this again. I shall hazard faux pas and appearing foolish to write of truth.

Before me now is the Giant's Crossroads, south from the High Road, where reposed are the bleach'd bones of so many that have been lost amid the sands. Behind me is a great work of the ancient Caliphate, a sobering reminder of ages long past, when the world was hale and healthy. How it used to be!

Now, in our Age of Ash, we are tested and tried by the slow, creeping death that seems foretold for all the wholesome things of the world. The Wyld, Fierce Kula, fights this end with every measure of Her strength, surely, but the Wheel grapples with the Wyrm and Pra'raj both! Who are given strength with the fall of the Ringwalls and the abdication or silence of the King. Woe upon us for the state of our world: It is we mortals, not the divines, that must answer the final test.

A Quest with remedy wrought of burnished brass; O storied Knight! A traveler I met where I sit now met one who saw it. One of your own Cinquefoil Knights, ten long years ago, during the Ringfall. He saw it shining in the skies, no drinking-vessel, but a shield of brass, embossed with roses and vines. A warrior's shield, from which flowed water and foliage, to make anew the wastes of Bel-Ishun. Would that I knew his name.

But it is a reminder: The Chalice is yet unrealized, the Pilgrim is yet unknown, and what form it may take! Who shall embody the Chalice with worthy spirit such as may grasp its magnitude! A rebirth is coming, when the Quest is ended. And though I mourn the old world I shall rise with all the Cinquefoil to sound the herald's trumpet and greet the new.

For I have looked up to you through all my time in the Well. My heart yet rings with that clarion call, framed as epitaph:

"We the quick remember to ye the dead, all the red blood that beats in our hearts."

It shall never be equalled in verse, for what it inspired in me upon my arrival. It moved my hardened soul to tears and broke that cynicism that for a decade had festered and kept me from my purpose. For when I read them, I knew, in some measure of my heart, that I should be sworn to this Cinquefoil Quest. To that weary refugee, it was echo of her struggles to reach this place, a memorial to her boon companions lost to perils many, and a singular call to purpose. A reminder that those who are gone have given us singular moment.

Should it not be so for all of us?

For while red blood yet beats within a Cinquefoil heart, the Quest goes on. And though I am cast out from the sanctuary of my Sisterhood, my word to you was true; in allegory, and verse, and rhyme, and sermon, I have meant every word. Your finest Balladeer said to me that you spoke to her of honor as truth made action. The expression of the soul through deed.

I pray that I may embody that now, for as I said at the outset, I labor under a curse. I fear for my own life and all who would come close to me. I am hunter and hunted; my foe shall slay me or I shall destroy It. A curious rite of errantry for one who set aside her hauberk of mail for Sibylline robes!

Yet I am a disciple of Kula, who is shepherd of Life, and She wields a spear to defend Her Garden and Her charge! And, perhaps, a shield of brass as well.

Though I cannot bear the robes, I shall ever hold to my Cinquefoil Oath,

For we are Chalice-bound,

Amelie Terrois


P.S. Attached is a work of verse. I wrote it of my experience coming to the Well. I hope it brings you some measure of peace amid all the struggles you must surely know.

[Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi]

Of Elizabetha

Acolyte Amelie of the Sisterhood of the Sibylline Vine

In the Style of the Kulamet
Maribeh 9, IY 7787

Ye brightly gleaming soul;
That wanders without aim;
You're cast to distant shoals;
And witness world aflame.

O hearken ye to sounding trumpet bright;
It shines for all to witness, clarion, calling in the night!
That voice is high upon the rising scree;
Aloft 'tis held by those persistent, calling now for thee.

The Well you found at last;
Though home is fairly won;
Unto the desert vast;
The Quest is not yet done.

They carried it from far-flung tower grand;
But all those ancient lands are lost and felled at dark command.
So now they've sought, that valor is not broke;
Where all the knightly flower lost uplifts the Rose-borne cloak.

The Krak des Roses stands;
A rock amid the sea;
Of we it now demands;
To hasten us to see.

The gleaming blade is drawn before the tree;
Now Cinquefoil stars, agleaming there, upon yon tapestry.
Her eyes alight, her sword aloft, said she:
"Of purpose yet our storied Name, upon my guarantee."

And Rose we all with her;
To follow then the Quest;
That we may be what were;
And meet the highest test.

[Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi]

Grandmaster Elizabetha d'Auvergne,

I pen this in the common room of the Krak des Roses. My ten day vigil of afield is complete, this work of errantry concluded in fire and blood, and success for the sacrifices of those Cinquefoil that rallied with me to meet the Enemy.

We have faced a terrible threat, a low prince of some accursed Court, and we have  imprisoned It within a lake of fire. And all the sacrifices dear shall be remembered upon the Martyr's brows, for the wounds we suffered, the horrors we faced, and for the lives we lost. I name them: Pirouette Manners of the College of the Balladeers; and Lojir Trajaros of the Astronomers. For all the strife that has riven our accord at times let it ring out that Apothar, Balestriere, and Balladeers accompanied me into a horror such as I have never before witnessed. I lead them into this, and though they were free of mind,  I take responsibility for their injuries.

When I was cast out from the Priory I took up Cinquefoil errantry. I sought the Pilgrim, sought the Chalice, taught travelers of the Quest, and of our history.  Perhaps this was hubris, but an oath given must be answered, and answered with all one's heart. My word was given both to the Cinquefoil Quest and to the Sisters of the Sibylline Vine. Even cast out from the latter I could not abandon the former.

But I am in a difficult position. For all I have experienced, all I have seen, I do not believe I shall effectively or safely be able to conduct those aspects of the Mysteries of Faith that are central to the Sibylline. For when I close my eyes I am yet haunted by the horrors that I have witnessed. I shall put no word of the Rites to paper, nor shall I ever betray the confidences of the Vine, but as I am it may be beyond me to divine a path to the Chalice. I should prove useless,  or worse, a danger to those that dwell in harmony in the Priory.

Were I an Acolyte, uninitiated to the Mysteries, this would pose less concern. For when I departed the Krak des Roses a large part of me thought that I should never return. Not for lack of desire, or even choice, but because a Djinn is an implacable Enemy. Wrought of malice, untiring, and filled with cunning hatred. That this Foe is overcome is a miracle wrought of Fierce Kula, the Wyld, and all those who stood with me upon Hudifah's Caldera.

But I was a Sister. Initiated to Mysteries that should bind me if I am not released from my charge.

I humbly ask your dispensation:

• To absolve my oath to the Sisters of the Sibylline Vine, except to vouchsafe the secrets of their order;
• To receive my oath in errantry to the Order of the Cinquefoil Rose, and;
• To receive my oath to the College of the Balladeers as one of your Balladeers.

For my past cannot be my future, as the Sisters I cannot serve effectively. For of my errantry,  garbed in meager threadbare robes, I walked the sands under no banner but that of the Cinquefoil Quest. And for my future, in the Balladeers I shall strive to realize the promise of the Chalice by seeking the Pilgrim.

I shall answer any charge, task, or reply that you deign to send to me.

Amelie Terrois



[A poem accompanies the letter.]

Upon the youth of Ashen Age;
The welling Foe would soon engage;
To spread the evils that in lore;
Were borne by Enemy of yore;
A fool, unknowing, sought the Foe;
Lamenting them their worldly woe;
That bitter oaths shall now portend;
The danger that shall wreak an end;

If she will not swift go anon.


Then, a Trial of Solitude, as it was said to her:

Unto desert's great expanse;
That Bel-Ish

[Bearic]

Amelie Terrois,

We are past the age of reverence without purpose. We remember our tenures and efforts against the calamities of baseless Lords and Ladies and move forward. Our quest has a finite purpose. The Chalice our cause; the Cinquefoil Rose our banner. The Sisterhood of the Sibylline Vine and the Company of the Banda Rossa understand this, and work in Accord towards this.

Your plight has not gone unnoticed. Many of us suffered the wrath and upheaval granted by the Ringfall and the events leading up to it. We had to make difficult choices and risk life, limb and perhaps our very spirits for survival. This too was an effort undertook not by guilt, but necessity.

I am pained by the loss of Pirouette Manners, and mournful that even Lojir Trajaros of the Astronomers should suffer such a fate. They need to be remembered. To this, I shall grant you your desires on the stipulation that written memorial is recorded for Pirouette Manners, and Lojir Trajaros. I do not restrict this task to you alone, but encourage you to speak well with those of our Cinquefoil Rose, and those of the Astronomers that knew them.

We shall erect libraries of Chevaliers, Libraries of Versifiers, and Libraries of Industry to ensure that no great deed is forgotten.

~ Elizabetha d'Auvergne

[Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi]

Grandmaster,

You answered me, your servant, in an hour of dire need. I cannot put into words what it meant.

Know that I have spoken with the Seers and that I have returned to the Priory. My time in errantry was given to the Cinquefoil honorably, under no banner or cloak but that which I bear within myself, but I am garbed once again in the robes of service to the Sibylline Sisterhood.

For this was always, and always shall be, my place. Yet though I must now demur from the boon I ask of you, I have completed the task, and include it for your review. Know that Balladeers Lynneth and Alejandro, in addition to Apothar Estellise, aided considerably in the completion of those sections that are a remembrance to the dead. Know that Shae Winterbloom also contributed, in her fashion.

I pray I do not disappoint for this decision. I remain,

In Service,

Acolyte Amelie Terrois



[Attached is a complete copy of the first edition of "Of Errantry Upon the Sands".]

In Errantry Upon the Sands

Acolyte Amelie of the Sisterhood of the Sibylline Vine

In the Style of the Kulamet
Tabbah 21, IY 7787


Of the Beginning:

Upon the youth of Ashen Age;
The welling Foe would soon engage;
To spread the evils that in lore;
Were borne by Enemy of yore;
A fool, unknowing, sought the Foe;
Lamenting them their worldly woe;
That bitter oaths shall now portend;
The danger that shall wreak an end;

If she will not swift go anon.

   ---

First, a Trial of Solitude, as it was said to her:

Unto desert's great expanse;
That Bel-Ishun in style grand;
Shall meet your every weary glance;
And shelter thee amid the sand;
But mark your work in Well is done;
And heed now every weary breath;
For though these lands are not undone;
Alone you ply them, unto death.

To this, an Answer in Endurance, as she resolved:

Attend you now, O weeping wretch, who raves;
Of weary eyes to see the Foe that craves;
To damn you for the goodly act you did;
And from your home, forever to forbid;
But what then is become of ye, that marked ten years in wastes complete;
The wellspring is not gone from thee, so hunt the Foe, O fleet of feet!

O weary Wanderer, seek thereby;
To answer yet Fierce Kula's cry.

   ---

Second, a Trial of Fear, as she witnessed:

The Foe is mighty, soon you learned;
Your salient blows to touch its form;
From ashen sands its Flesh upturned;
And bounded, meat in horrid swarm;
Its seething boils came upon;
Thy coterie of conjur'd might;
You dashed them then, to woe forgone;
But knew in heart It won the fight.

To this, an Answer in Errantry, as she proclaimed:

You run through groves on secret ways unknown;
An easy thing--just let him die, alone;
But what then is become of ye that spoke of lofty derring-do;
Shall you abandon graven oath, give in to all the fear in you?
No! Heed the sounding trumpet, then, and take up vigil set for thee;
And up the spear of wood and steel, that Cinquefoil errant shall you be.

O would-be Errant, seek thereout;
And clear of purpose, call blaze out.

   ---

Third, a Trial in Cunning, as she sought advantage over the Foe:

You called them, myriad souls to write;
And bid them cast their fears aside;
No force or guile bound their fight;
Shall see the Foeman's aim denied;
But tenuous your plan to set;
A trap for vicious Djinni bold;
Disaster knocks, a lurking threat;
Upon the island there foretold.

To this, an Answer in Duty, as they marched upon It:

They've answered you, O Errant soul, from walks of Life and Wellspring, all;
That put their trust and faith in you to see them through without a Fall;
And where are you now, O cynic firm, who kept from them for ten long years;
Thy countenance is lifted up and now you face down all your fears;
For Cinquefoil purpose shall not end while souls shall bear aloft the quest;
So take the field against the Foe, to Pilgrim's path and Chalice's test.

Then off to far-flung island grim;
And summit's crest in flaming hymn.

   ---

Fourth, a Trial in Truth, as they bore witness:

By conjur'd work and sword and steel;
The Enemy you there in engaged;
And Wyld answered Djinn with zeal;
Upon caldera's edge encaged;
That ruined Foe was trapped in urn;
But raged the Djinn with grasping mirth;
And dragged you down to nightmare's churn;
To be alone in blood and earth.


And from this, an End, in remembrance:

What bitter sting imprisoned Foe;
Shall seek to keep you there below;
The place cannot be here described;
That but your death, not there proscribed;
Thy company of heroes true;
Afeared would not abandon you;
And answered all that peril great;
They wrote for It a bitter fate;

Thy courage saw the Thing undone.




For the dead: Pirouette Manners.

By Balladeers Lynneth and Alejandro Benjazar

    Enchantress Nonpareil
    Runaway Noble
    Guardian of the Pilgrim's Plaza

Possessed of an endless kindness. Your allure and charm undeniable by all who knew you. Your heart brave and pure and bold.

Behold besides the pilgrim's gaze;
On humble stone and bench reclined;
A friend therein endured her days;
In both her word and deed too kind.

Beneath her blatant beauty laid;
The love to set a heart at rest;
And guile which never feared to wade;
Against the darkest kind of test.

My life was shared with friend so dear;
Alas, to end here such delight:
Herself she risked to Jinni sear;
Below a thousand years of blight.

Alone I hold her hidden smile;
And late the hour into dawn;
When whispered secrets we'd compile;
For knowledge shared is never gone.

For the dead: Lojir Trajaros.

By Acolyte Amelie Terrois

    Mirror-walker
    Mastercraft
    And seeker of that shrouded Lore

Let none forget that you stood to your convictions.

The scholar's work is never done;
For Izdu bids us all to strive;
And Sabotage the dangers spun;
By Enemy he would deprive.

For They were known to him by choice;
Command of their accursed names;
And through this he would raise his voice;
To ward all from their bitter games.

Now here the challenge set to him:
Undying prison that would be;
The answer, those who life and limb;
Take to imprision Foe with ye.

And with this masterpiece of craft;
Writ by his sorcery's command:
That enemy's disdainful laugh;
He ended by his choice to stand.