Excerpt from a letter from Gérard Townway to Sindar, postmarked 14 Rain's Hand, 4e 67:

… And so I must confess that Praxis Erratuim's review has gotten under my skin in a way that rarely bothers me when coming from my critics. It isn't that he thought Peakstar was poorly written: that I find unsurprising and don't particularly care about. But his insinuation that I had more or less created the character of Peakstar out of whole cloth, and that the whole historical setting was just an elaborate framing device 'devoid of any meaningful historiography'—well, yes, that did in fact frustrate me!

All of this reeks of elitism. Scholars like him often dismiss oral tradition as a meaningful source in it's own right, or views it with an eye of skepticism. The Nine forbid that a folk tale hasn't been carved up like a turkey in some musty wing of the Imperial Library. Because I tell you, every serious history book that goes to publication is riddled through with a great deal of conjecture, poorly hidden behind dry writing and a palisade of citations. And conversely, any resonant novel cannot be written without the author understanding universal truths that apply to both fiction and history.

At least, that's what I can publicly say. But we know more, don't we? That's there's power in language, a kind of interdependence between the word and the quill. Any author can attest to that. When in a proper flow, the writer isn't even aware of what they're writing, or so I have come to believe. The words seize them. They demand to be written. They existed with or without him: he is just a vessel to realize them. Where do they come from, you think? Why do they exist?

So, on Peakstar and Peakstar, Erratuim is in some manner factual with his accusation, but only in a way that hardly matters. I filled in the blanks where I had to, but I didn't conjure anything myself. All is Truth.

Excerpt from the initial profile of Gérard Townway compiled by the Penitus Oculatus, 1 Mid Year, 4e 70:

… He seems to have few political opinions for an author of historical fiction, and fewer actions that could be tied to supporting anti-Imperial causes. You would be forgiven for wondering why he would be brought in for questioning and interrogation in the first place, given that we've done nothing similar for most authors, including proven dissidents and agitators.

There are ultimately two reasons that Gérard Townway was marked by the Blades as a person of interest.

The first is his ability to successfully obtain interviews with a broad selection of important figures from across the Empire, and beyond. We can confirm he has privately spoken to Queen Mother Barenziah of Morrowind, Annaïg Hoïnart , Master Aryon of the Telvanni, Nulfaga of Daggerfall, and apparently was the last caller to a very aged Gortwog gro-Nagorm. Furthermore, his diaries claim to have excerpts from interviews with (and this is very unconfirmed) Divayth Fyr, "the last living dwarf", General Teoh Rengan of Akavir, Thules the Gibbering and "the vengeful and resentful shade of our beloved slain Chancellor Oacto [sic]". He apparently received a 40th birthday greeting from Vuhon of Umbriel.

As for the second, Townway's work has popularly been called "historical fantasy", which in the public's eye is a mixture of real-world figures and events with fancy and fiction. In actuality, this "fiction" can be further subdivided into events that seem to be conjecture alongside those that were true but not public knowledge. For example, Townway identified Julius Primus in The Worm King's Heir, a figure that the Penitus Oculatus had not discussed outside of official channels. How Townway learned these sorts of things is anyone's guess. It could be contacts within the Imperial intelligence community. It could be leveraged from the aforementioned interviews. It is easy to spin cheap theories, but the fact of the matter is we do not know, and the leaks have never been severe enough to warrant detaining him.

As for the conjecture, Townway claims he is not a fiction writer at heart, and has some basis for every work he has created. Given some of the clearly fictional elements of his work, that seems to be face-saving. That said, there is one oddity to point out: in a very early piece of fiction, Townway connected Count Corvus Umbranox to the mythical Gray Fox, which at the time was seen as some sort of political commentary. We know now it was, in fact, factual. Townway beat us to the truth entirely here, and I do wonder if there are other fanciful or surreal elements to his corpus that have more grounding in reality than even the Elder Council realize...

Excerpt from Jean Valadroit's Obituary of Gérard Townway, published in Western Tamriel Monthly, Frostfall 4e 75:

… Indeed, [Townway's] passing is the end of not just of a literary dynasty, but of the very style of that literature altogether. Townway's focus had always been focused on the ever receding past. He specialized the Third Era, and specifically those individuals who lived after the Imperial Simulacrum yet before the Oblivion Crisis, who lived in that tense and unsustainable peace. His casts ranged from kings to sorcerers to fishmongers, all of whom lived sweeping dramas that would not be out of place in an opera. This genre of writing had become quite popular in the 50s, when it seemed that Townway would be one of many storytellers plying his trade in a sweeping and nostalgic tales of the end of an epoch.

As most authors became increasingly focused on the contemporary struggles emerging in the Summerset Isles, interest in the late Third Era waned and writing grew more grounded in realism and narrower in scope. Townway, however, either did not notice the change in his literary peers, or did not care. In comparing his final published work, The Sea of Ghosts, to his contemporaries' alternatives, is is surprising to see just how lurid and fantastical his stories read in comparison. Perhaps Townway was not one to understand the degree to which his own writing had changed, claiming that he was still engaging in history at the tail end of his career.

Judging by his sales figures, the public did not give him the benefit of the doubt on that assertion. The world had changed, and passed him by. While there may be another world where Townway's work aligned with the spirit of the age, it was not the one he wrote in.

Spymaster -

The rumors are true. All of us—myself, Agent G. and Agent X.-are trying to make sense of the last week and the implications of it's fallout.

I take full responsibility for these events.

From what I can tell, the triggering point was my decision to change assignments with Agent G. and have her handle the analysis for Chapter Eight, Crabkill. I believed would better align with the taskforce's individual strengths. I had stressed the importance of being punctual and sticking to our deadlines. But they slipped, and that led to the manuscript document getting checked out for longer than we had reserved it for. A strongbox with the manuscript for Chapter Twelve, Oscillation, was delivered along with Appendices F, S, and Y (Lines 120:450) on 13 Frost Fall.

Agent G. recounts that agents, appearing to represent the Penitus Oculatus, arrived at her flat at roughly 18:30 on 14 Frost Fall. This would not be the first time the organization would intrude on Blades operations, however, it was the first time any of us on the team had seen a deployment from their order in person. They proffered official documents, a proper cipher, and were allowed to enter her dwellings.

As soon as the door was closed and locked, she was overpowered and presumably struck in the head, losing consciousness.

After Agent G. failed to check in the morning of 15 Frost Fall, I arrived at her flat to find it locked and that no one was responding to knocks. We broke in the window and began investigating.

Agent G. was unconscious in her bedroom, and would later be diagnosed with mild head trauma. A healer from the Temple of Mara was able to bring her back to consciousness, and she recounted the events above. She had no idea what happened to the men who had assailed her. After assessing the damages, we found the only items missing were the manuscript of Chapter Eight, the strongbox containing Chapter Twelve, and an unsecured folio of correspondence primarily to you, myself, Councilman Athram, and the publisher of the Glenpoint Review of Poetry.

There are many questions and few answers. We don't know who these "agents" were. We don't know what happened with the documents. We don't know why they viewed this important enough to give up a functional cipher for it. Or how they acquired the cipher for that matter. And, I'm afraid, we don't know if they used any sort of magic on Agent G. when she had lost consciousness.

I will not rest until we know more.

In the interim, we can't provide a full analysis. Included are some supplementary materials that I found unusual and worth additional review. Perhaps in a week or so I can provide more commentary on them, but for now, we focus on the attack. The story can wait. Or it must wait, at any rate. When we learn more, you will be the first to know.

I remain your servant,

L. Cosades, 16Frost Fall, 4e 83.