Confessions

[Random_White_Guy]

A small tome kept privately secured away on a pleasant Baz'eelan vineyard, dispatches from the frontier settlement of Ephia's Well sent for his private library nestled deep within the Epicrasis.

Upon the Frontier I am confronted by Sin. These are my confessions.

Confession: Jealousy

To the Inspector Daoud, I offer confession. It brought me no joy to hear the terseness in your voice. I pray I had such moral fortitude, such aspirations of idealism. Alas. Within the Great Ash Desert we dwell within the world of the Real. To storm off claiming I work with traitor, when the Legal preceding you love so well, your aspiration for Perfect Law, the Evidence you have amassed, the efforts undertaken have resulted in no due criminal proceedings. A Traitor is only Traitor when he is proven by court, else he is merely nuisance.

I confess to the sin of jealousy. To engage in private business, to engage in the hobby of investigation, to engage in the hobby of machine work, to engage in such passions of Izdu. I am jealous of his time in Ephia sitting to the fringe. I am thrust into service to the Temple, to the Purple League, I have not had time to eschew political matters, to never sit holding Title, to seek to join the "Esteemed" Fourth Legion as the son of Al-Mazz endeavors. What a pleasing life it would be to not have to sit across from savage barbarian who has eluded all capture, who has eluded the Legion, who has eluded the most prideful Inspector.

A joy it would be to engage the world on my own terms, rather than the terms I am confronted with. None have captured this man. None have brought charges. None have rendered judgement. Until such a time he is an entity that must be treated with.

As penance for my jealousy I will reflect on Salhin, who was from B'aara herself given the disc. His personal life eschewed for the most arduous of tasks. It is petty, and it is childish, to feel so burdened by the petty minutia of Ephias Well, this backwater hamlet, when he had the burdens of the entire disc placed upon his shoulders. I must be better. B'aara demands it. I cannot be jealous of the Inspector's cozy life and bemoan my struggles, when compared to Salhin I live a life of plushest luxury.

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Confession: Sloth

To the Former Legate Qari Alriyh, I offer confession. It brought me no joy to watch the light fade from your eyes as the realization of my words set in. To before the Deputy Chief Scribe of the Sublime Garden take you so to task. To find so effortlessly the verbal dagger hoisted by the Deputy Chief Scribe that you sought her vote to mend fences. That she wished to settle this by a matter of charitable nature. The gleam in your eye as you reached for your Coinpurse. You who have toiled as Merchant so, you who have raised such Alchemic Tower, you who have worked tirelessly against the machinations of the Astronomers of Q'tolip, the Legate Domnhall, to preserve Baz'eel's splendor. To have given so much of yourself to the League of Gold.

I confess to the sin of Sloth. To choose the battles on your term. To choose the foes of your choosing. To sit on laurels of the past with expectations. To proclaim so highly of Baz'eel while engaging akin Hamdan in the act of throwing about Dinar amongst the peasants of the Gold League who could not even afford proper Toga. For acting Titans among the Indigent.

I have been slothful in not breaking your spirits sooner. Reminding you that there is more to Charity than Dinar, that there is more to Civil Service than thwarting your rivals, that there is more to Status than title. May the smirk of the Deputy Chief Scribe remain indelible as indelible as her ink. May you appreciate the mercy that this was done with an audience of one, not dozens, not hundreds. That none watched as you sat, gawping, letting the words sink in like a Refugee from Kulkund trying to perform High Trigonometric Function. Nor the absolute gleam in the Deputy Chief Scribe's eyes as her smirk tugged upwards at your humbling.

As penance for my Sloth I will reflect on Kaliah, who was eleven times called to Act. Her long hours of waking in the day answering the call. It is prideful to mire myself in the matters of the Temple while attending the Refugee, while seeking to aid their city. Forgetting that it is those of Baz'eel I must, I have to, remain first and foremost the teacher of. In this, of this, as penance it shall be redoubled efforts to the truly favored of B'aara. For to save this city, I must first start with those who would be surest ally.

I cannot be slothful with B'aara's favored children. To spare the Wroth is to spoil the child.

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