[A weighty letter on fine vellum, handwritten, is left with Jacques at the College for the review of the Balladeers.]
Qdim 16, IY 7789
Balladeers of the Lost Hearth,
Knightly flower of the Cinquefoil Rose, defiant amid the ashes of a world assailed, I address you here and charge you to attend a great and terrible matter.
Know, my comrades, that upon the Isle of Hufaidh, in the Sea of Pearls, there stands a great chasm of molten rock, a caldera at the summit of a great volcano. And within the caldera lies an ancient secret, which is not for pen or boisterous word to tell.
Know, my comrades, that in 7787 my name was given to a Prince of the Court of Earth and Flesh by a Student of the Balladeers. Hounded at every step by this foe, I departed our Priory and doffed my habit so as to avoid drawing its attention to Ephia's Well. Traveling alone, after rousing myself from despair, I put faith in the the Wyld and my vows to the Quest of our Cinquefoil Rose, and determined that whether I should live or die, it would be in the pursuit of our sacred goal. I swore to our Grandmaster, Elizabetha d'Auvergne, that I would see this foe destroyed, imprisoned, or die myself free of mind and soul in the effort.
To see this done, with the aid of my Sisters, the Balladeers, and the Tower, I devised a plan to capture and seal the Prince in a "Crucible" in the caldera of Hufaidh. This took the form of a great jar of ceramic, crafted by Lojir, an alchemist and Nadiri whose studies focused upon the djinn. Then, in the final days of Maribeh, with the leadership of the noble Lynneth Llywarch, we ascended to the caldera, withstood the assault of the Prince, and sealed it within the Crucible. It was then cast into the flame to roil in torment until the coming of Paradise and the dawning of a new Age.
And yet, in its hatred, it sought to keep me, and snared my foot to pull me into its lightless depths. Fourteen souls then delved into the maw of the beast, while Cosine Mevura kept the wards from failing outside. Through courage and valiant struggle in the bowels of a foe beyond all compare, we won our freedom and escaped with our souls intact.
I will not put further word of that harrowing to paper. But know that now, the only living individuals who remain from that terrible day are Estellise Azimi and I.
Know, my comrades, that in early 7788, a group of Balladeers led by Koji forged a blade of mithril at the caldera. Unbeknownst to them, they were betrayed. A brooker named Azaghal corrupted what should have been an ordinary work of forging, cracked the Crucible, and a portion of the Prince was freed to bind itself to Koji's sword.
Know, my comrades, that in Illul 7788, the nature of the sword was discovered and the blade destroyed, along with a portion of the bound Prince that had escaped. The damaged seal upon the Crucible was repaired, inspected by we Sibylline and the Tower, and Prince was left to roil in its futile hatred.
---
Yet from your work, it has become clear that these wards are now failing. The fragment of the Prince that escaped from the Crucible, believed in large part destroyed, works even now to weaken them further.
Slowly but surely, the wards unravel. They may last long enough that our Quest shall be successful and the realization of the Chalice shall sweep from the world all of the works of this foe!
But they may fail before that time, to the ruin of that island, the damnation of many, and to the blight of the Garden of the Wyld. This cannot come to pass.
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And with this knowledge now attend: The truth that among you, some have given oaths to see the Prince destroyed where it lay captive at Hufaidh, and they must answer to their oaths.
Understand that this is a foe beyond compare. Draw no parallels to Mojem or any other thing. It is a Prince of the Court of Earth and Flesh. Its evil hearkens back to the earliest days of the world. And its hatred for wholesome life knows no bounds.
It has been preparing for the moment when someone would break its chains entirely. And your foes are not one, but two. The portion of the Prince that escaped by Azghal's cunning roams, wounded, and will seek to end its counterpart-self's torment when the moment is right. It will strike you when you least expect it, and by this subterfuge, will seek to carry the day.
Understanding this, to those of who undertake this great and terrible course, I set before you one further charge:
QuoteThat in taking up this struggle, you shall also take up my oath to our Grandmaster: That you shall see the Prince destroyed or imprisoned for ever, or that you shall die in the attempt.
If this galls you, reconsider your course. For death is a mercy in the face of capture by this foe, and should you escape, it will hound you to the very end of your days.
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If you take up this charge, these are your tasks:
First, you must seek the fragment of the Prince that was freed by the brooker Azghal. It is weakened, wounded, but it has learned an affinity to metal. It must be destroyed or imprisoned before the Prince in the Crucible at Hufiadh is assailed.
Second, you must gather those willing to stand with you, who knowing the risks will march with you against this great and terrible foe. Understand that it will tempt and lie. It will do so openly, it will do so subtly, and it will seek to turn each individual member of your company against the others.
You must trust those who venture into this place with you not to turn upon you to save themselves, for in the direst moments it will offer nothing less than this. The siren cry of "I want to live" is enough to make a pact, and these words may be your damnation at the hands of a coward, as it was nearly so for me two years ago when Delafosse gave the Prince my name.
Third, you must ascend the mount to the caldera of the volcano on Hufaidh, and there arrayed, we shall raise up the Crucible, and you shall face the Prince.
And in all of this, you must not fail, or it shall be to the ruin of this world.
Many of these works are already in motion. This is well. Weave detail into the framework of this tapestry, that it shall not unravel by the machinations of our Enemy.
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All of this I commend all of this to your confidence and your care.
And so I bid you Balladeers, pulse of our Cinquefoil Rose, wreathed in chivalry: Armed with what I have written, consider well, and write to me with your answer.
Sister Amélie
[A poem, Of Errantry Upon the Sands (Second Edition) (https://www.efupw.com/forums/index.php?topic=707826.0), is appended.]