---
-IS 504-
Sasarai-
A little bird told me that his father managed to sire another round of eggs. I of course congratulated Dominguez III to his face, but I wanted to offer the same congratulations to the father and, of course, the presumably happy godfather. That would be you. Congratulations. By the time this letter reaches you, they may have hatched already, so you'll have to tell me how many of them survived, and whether they're as capable as their father and grandfather at bridging gaps.
Father and grandfather...do you realize how old we are?
Do you think any of those birds would mind coming here once they leave the nest? I'd like to train a few. It would be useful to have some messengers that can go where dragons can't. I'm sure you understand that. Of course, I'll completely understand if you think it'll compromise your own network, but I can promise I'll never use anything you give me against you. Just like with these letters.
And yes, it is getting cold up here, but it's less cold than it was the winter you were here. Chaco left before I got your letter. I don't think he'll be back in the spring. Wingers age at twice the rate humans do, did you know that? So even if he's still alive I don't think he'll be able to make the flight, even with help. I might go out and visit him instead, actually. I owe him that. And it's been a long time since I've gone out to Two River.
Lucky you, with the reasonable weather in the city this time of year. The leaves haven't even started falling there, right? Keep well!
-Futch
-
Commander Schvarzeleber,
If all has gone according to plan, there are two Nasal birds bearing this missive to you. One of them you know as Dominguez III. The younger will be yours to name and train, after a few more flights with her elder brother. We think you will rather enjoy her personality.
Do give Our best to Chaco, if you go to Two River for his last days. He has lived a good life, and We recall his tales and songs rendered during Our stay in Goya. We sincerely wish that fickle Time had not seen fit to set him as Our enemy until so late in the game.
If it provides him any comfort, do tell him that We occasionally recall his songs and find Ourself humming them at inopportune moments, at court and services. Why, as little as a month ago We were awaiting an audience with Our Divine Father, and found Ourself alone in the antechamber. Before We knew it We were whistling, and We realized the similarity between the plainchant melody We began with and the tavern-ballad we ended with a little too late. Our Divine Father's secretary was quite perplexed on his return. We, however, were amused, and could not stop smiling in the presence of Our Divine Father.
We fear We shall never be able to hear "O Bastion of Stasis" without superimposing the refrain of "What Came of Poor Dear Millie?". We shall have to be especially careful when singing that hymn. I do not presume Our Divine Father will be so titillated as We.
Perhaps when you wrote the letter, the leaves had not yet fallen, but when I send this come morning it seems there shall be blankets in Our courtyard and gardens for the burrowing leeches. The seasons are stronger than Our Divine Father would have them, this year and the year preceding. We feel somehow to blame, and guilty that we are desirous of the advent of Winter.
We pray for your health and that of your charges, and that you take a liking to the young Nasal.
-Sasarai I
-
Sasarai-
You have a weird sense of humor. Why do I get such a clear picture of you mixing up the lyrics and your cheeks going red? If I remember correctly, you go the same color when you're embarrassed that you do when you're put to bed with the shovel. Or maybe you were always just embarrassed to be drunk. Also, you'll forgive me for rubbing salt in old wounds, but you're a lightweight. You and Chaco both, but at least he has the excuse of having hollow bones.
Thank you, thank the Dominguezes, and of course thank the bird herself. All went according to plan, and I'm calling her Slate. She calls me "boss." I think we'll get along fine. After one more trip back to you, I'll send her on her first outside errand. I'll keep it easy and send her to the Valley. I know he's not the type to show his face around your neck of the woods much anymore, but have you touched base with Klaus lately? You'd know if the Windamier estate had suddenly grown legs and skulked away in the night, I'm sure.
I just want to get in touch with as many people as I can before they all up and leave. Too late, I know, but I've been really nostalgic since Humphrey. You don't blame me, I'm sure, but most of your old friends are either immortal like us or already dead. Except for Salome, that is, but we're both already in touch with him. I hear he has a son, now. Well, three years ago. About time, I say.
Sometimes I wish I had the time and inclination to have a kid. I know how thoroughly bad an idea it is--just look what happened to Wyatt--and I don't think the Dragon Knights could handle another one of me, but still. We've talked about this before, I know, but I'm pretty sure we were drunk.
The desire just won't up and die already. I hear, though, that the longer you live, the more likely you are to shoot headless arrows. It's true for Dragons, once they hit a millennium or so. I wonder what the cap is for humans.
Not that it matters. The girls who warm my bed don't get pregnant if they don't want to. It's something they figured out a long time ago and I don't for the life of me want to pay the price for figuring out how they do it.
I finally found the words for how I feel. Took me long enough. Wine isn't wine until you uncork it. It's just a bottle of stuff that supposedly gets better, stronger, worth more the less you bother it. Well, at least red wine does that. But all the time it spends getting better is time spent not doing what it's supposed to be doing, that is, getting drunk. So I'm getting better equipped to handle death the longer I live, but that's at the expense of creating life. And dying, because people are supposed to die.
Someone in your line of work probably said it better. I think I'm in the same hole as your religion. No offense meant.
Slate will probably mock me to you when she delivers this. She's making fun of me now for being so unhappy, says I'll get wrinkles. I really like this bird.
Take care of yourself.
-Futch
-
Commander Schvarzeleber,
We are not a lightweight. We maintain that you merely provide stronger alcohol than We are used to in quantities suitable for small villages.
To persist in the talk dwelling on wine both corked and un-, you are right in that someone in Our "line of work" has expressed similar sentiments to yours on the matter of fatherhood. It is a popular belief among those in Our most sagacious circle that natural children are not the only ones on whom we may bestow a love that is familial, hence why we call each other Brother, our disciples Sons and Daughters, and We refer to Our Divine Father accordingly. Ideally, the clergy compensates for its genetic impotence with potent respect and nurturing. Or at least, that is how We feel, and Our view is biased.
We know, though, that the above does not answer your question. We understand that in order to prevent the advent of dysphoria, men such as you and We must refrain from progenating any attachment that could be severed so violently, be it through the bonds of marriage or fatherhood. And no doubt our continued agerasia would make Our role of parent come into question as the children grew. We are already experiencing this with Our disciples of old. Already rumors of Our apotheosis have begun to circulate, even among those with whom we have behaved most commonly. Because We do not age, Our pupils are ill at ease with their own advancement and are disheartened. Perhaps this is why Our Divine Father has secluded himself. Perhaps We should take to a mask, as Our Brother did, but is not the mark of youth upon Our skin deception enough?
Do ask this of the ladies whose company you keep, if there are any among them who have been with you for long enough. Does it strike them odd, that as their breasts sag and cheeks dimple, the only mark of the passage of time that manifests on their liege is the length of his hair? Does it not unsettle them, as it once unsettled you, that your visage is all but frozen?
Inspired by your predicament, We have asked similar of one of Our dear friends, the erstwhile mortal lover of a True Rune Bearer. Though their time together was limited, surely she had given thought to their future together. We shall convey her answer to you if she does not do so herself. She has always had a gift for shedding light on dark matters as these.
Perhaps it is not so much that you desire to be a father, Futch, but that you desire to see tangible, sentient proof of your own existence. We know that We shared this desire for some time. We no longer do. Our Brother's revelation certainly contributed to the passulation of that hope. For what good is there in creating a living being if only to have it destroy you and your legacy?
The Windamier estate is where it has ever been. I am sure Lord Klaus will be glad to hear from you.
We pray for your health and the easing of your mind.
Fondly,
Sasarai I
-
Sasarai-
No, your Eminence, you're a lightweight. That's what it's called when two glasses of wine make you giggle like a girl.
After giving a list of all those words that confused me to my new Second, I caught your drift. I've got one or two ladies that I'd be comfortable asking that question to--with a much more common tone of voice, to be sure, but I can ask it. One of them you might remember, Len. She took the teaching to heart, that she and her sisters are allowed to see me the way no one else does, and that to them I'm not a god.
...Did I ever fully explain that to you? I mean, while I was drunk. I wouldn't have told you when I was sober. I mean, I know you know that the ladies exist--I apologize for that night--and what kind of ladies they are, but I wouldn't have told you why they exist.
So you have books and prayers and other things to keep you distracted from what little apparent sexual desire you possess. And, if my Second translated "apotheosis" correctly, people are treating you like a god. You've been here. They do the same kind of thing to me sometimes. Well more than sometimes. Because even if I'm not a god, it's just as bad for them if I'm not happy.
But guys in my position aren't always made happy by books and prayers and half-crazed pet vampires. Some of us like sex. Most of us, actually. You're missing out, but you knew that already. So after figuring out that when the Captain wasn't getting any, the dragons were sad, a bunch of women decided to take it upon themselves to make sure the Captain always had someone to go to. And they worked the kinks out of the system over the course of a few centuries, until we have what we now have. It's a position of honor, but the whole alliance is a little under-the-table, since some of the girls are also in training to be Knights. And if the Captain doesn't go for girls, well, that's also how Millia met Arkady.
When you were here, or when Chaco comes over, I don't call on them much. I didn't need to (except for that one night, and again, sorry for embarrassing you) when you were here because, well, I wasn't lonely. And I didn't feel old until Chaco joined us, which is why I called on the girls that night.
Absolutely none of this is going into my letter to Klaus, you know. I can only imagine the look on his face. No offense to the man, but he takes "prude" as a compliment. Or, well, he did back when we were kids.
I'll be writing him from Two River. I was right, Chaco's not going to make it. A boy from his Brace arrived with a letter this morning. He's going to jump when the others fly, on the first day of Spring.
Can you come with me? More to the point, do you want to? I know it's short notice, but in case you can't tell, I miss you.
Take care.
-Futch
-
Commander Schvarzeleber,
It is Our hope that this letter awaits you in Winghorde. We are sorry to say that We are unable to make it.
We were confused as to what you meant when you wrote that Chaco was planning to 'jump when the others flew', but Dominguez III's offhanded remark about leaving the sky prompted Us to ask. We were unaware of the customs of birds and their elderly.
Dominguez III explained it to Us that a moored bird is a murdered bird. Among the lesser birds, those who do not fly are merely left behind, but among those such as the Nasal those who retain their minds but not their wings choose to defy their fate at the next migration. When the rest of their flocks take skyward from the precipice or tree, the elderly or crippled Nasal alights with them, and falls to his death, as a last word to Fate that it cannot break his nature. In Our mind's eye We connected this with the Wingers, and the meaning of your words was clear. Chaco will deny that he cannot fly and break his body on the river trying. We have now seen it, and Our Rune saw it as well.
We were reminded of Our Brother. As we took this letter in Our courtyard, Our grief and Our Rune ruined that garden. The birch We sat beneath wintered and died. The barely greened grass under Our feet dried and curled and went golden. The early flowers withered, the bushes cracked, even the fennel We were growing underground shriveled. At the mere passing reminder of Our Brother, we prevented Spring from ever reaching this garden.
We cannot go to Two River and watch Chaco die, even as honorably as he has chosen to go. We are sorry, and wish Chaco Our best.
And as for you, We envy your confidence, and are likewise sorry that We cannot be there as your rock, as fragile--lightweight, even--a rock as We have proven to be. We urge you to be stronger than We.
We pray for your safe return to Goya. We miss you as well.
Fondly,
Sasarai I
-
Sasarai-
If a moored bird is a murdered bird, what is a childless man?
-Futch
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Commander Schvarzeleber,
Similarly murdered.
But Futch, just because you are not a father does not mean you are childless. You are the father of two nations and would do well to remember that. Your people are your children. The dragons are your children. Your great works are your children. If you are concerned with contributing to the future, be assured that you have. Was President Lepant's legacy Toran or Lord Sheena? If Thomas of Budehuc never has a natural son, will his story be lost? If We are never to become a father beyond Our title, have We somehow failed?
Who is General Mintz's legacy, Futch? You, or the brood of ingrates in Gregminster?
Fondly,
Sasarai I
-
Sasarai,
Three letters were waiting for me when I got back to Goya from Two River. Yours was one of them, but it's the last I'm answering.
I answered Klaus' reply to my letter first. It was good to hear from him--why didn't you tell me he'd started going to services again? Or did that happen between his getting my letter and you sending yours? Anyway, that reminded me that I could contact some of the others I met in the Palace with you. I know you try to avoid Cole, but I can't for the life of me get you drunk enough to tell me why you do, so I'll ask Klaus. And Klaus is in touch with a few others from the Unification war, so maybe I'll track them down. Look for him at services next time!
And the second letter...I can't write her name down because you didn't either. But good god, Sasarai, sometimes your grasp of the world scares me. How long have you known where she is? And you risked revealing that just for getting my inane little hangup placated? You're too good to me, friend. I think you know that, though. In fact, I think you take some kind of pleasure in being better to me than I am to you, otherwise you wouldn't keep doing it. I mean, you stable my escort, hang out in my fortress for a month, keep things personal and not political between us, get me back in contact with old friends and now this. I'll never be able to make it up to you and you know it.
Thank you.
Between her words on the matter and yours, I've come to a more stable grip on the matter. She said that being in love with a True Rune Bearer made her feel 'small' at first, aware of how little a role she really played in the world. But she loved him deeply despite all the wrongs he did her, and he at least allowed himself to care for her before the end of their active relationship.
She said that she still has his ring, but doesn't wear it. And she said that they don't have a child, even though she does. This confused me for a while, but I know it's not my place to ask what she means by it. I can't bear to think of her suffering the same way her mother did, so I won't.
I won't repeat everything she wrote to me, because she said she sent pretty much the same message to you. But again, between her and you I'm feeling a good deal better about the whole situation.
And then there's your letter. I'm sorry I insulted you. I'm sorry I killed your garden. And I'm sorry I couldn't come up the extra few hundred miles to visit you after things were done in Winghorde. I should have.
Spring's already halfway over down here, but it's going to be a cool summer at this rate, my Second tells me. Which reminds me--how are things with yours?
Take care of yourself, Sasarai. And the plants.
-Futch
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Commander Schvarzeleber,
You need not apologize. By doing so, it is you who are too good to Us. And We maintain that we behave with only the affection and consideration you deserve, to the best of Our rather limited ability in conveying the respect We owe you.
We are glad that our lady-friend's words have calmed you somewhat, though We admit it leaves Us at a loss for what to write in return. Out of concern for her safety We believe We shall not address the matter further.
To elaborate on the matter of concerns of one's safety, Our Second continues to be animated and well despite the efforts of your illicit hirelings. By all reports he and his wife are enjoying their tour of the Grasslands, despite the time constraints placed on them. Sir Latjke expressed a particular lypthomania about having to be rushed out of Le Buque before he got to ride a mantor himself this time. He shall bring that up if your men ever catch him, We are certain of it.
We are going to great lengths to rest after that episode with Our Rune in the garden, and have not been attending the elaborate functions, which is perhaps why we have not seen Lord Windamier. We will, of course, look for him when We return to the courtly life. We are glad that your correspondence with him has been favorable and that he is in good health. His annals have proven quite helpful to Harmonian campaigns in recent years, and his contribution to the Silverberg school of thought is marked. Or perhaps we should say the Bastion school of Silverberg thought, as Lord Windamier ascribes most to the teachings of Lord Shu (who, if you did not know, has purchased that aptonym, Bastion, as of a decade or more ago). Lord Shu is undoubtedly among the names provided to you by Lord Windamier of potential future targets to whom you may direct dear Slate. For some reason beyond Our ken, however, we surmise that the relationship you once maintained with Lord Shu was, if not antagonistic as the one We shared with you, tenuous at the very least. We do not imagine he looked kindly on youths as you were during the period of your acquaintance.
The advent of summer looms rather heavily on the horizon; it shall be humid and dense here, with frequent rains. While this will surely prove good for Our gardens, it displeases Our Divine Father. Our Divine Father intends to rectify this shift in the weather, which is unbecoming of Our Valley, or so saith He. If We may presume to say as much, We could use the rain.
We pray for your continued prosperity and the well-being of those you hold dear.
Fondly,
Sasarai I
---
-IS 505-
Sasarai-
Sorry to have taken so long. Your pet vampire's wife nearly killed my 'hirelings'. I had to deal with that. The talking sword was reportedly really teed off. But don't worry, they're alive, well, and still sending me biweekly progress reports. I can't believe it's taken this long. Neither can they. But that's what we both get for keeping things under the table, right? Something surprises you, you stand up too quickly, you wind up with a headache.
Speaking of headaches, I do honestly hope you're feeling better. Have you ever thought that your country's weather might be connected to your Rune, like the garden was? I mean, I don't think yours is more powerful than your sleepy dad's, but even that might have something to do with his Rune channeling your general malaise into something gradual as opposed to catastrophic. That's how the Circle Rune works, right? Takes the sudden and flattens it out as it happens?
I've been doing research. Can you tell?
I got another letter from Klaus about a week ago. He said he still hadn't seen you twittering around the church lately--my word, not his, don't take it out on him, but you have to admit that you used to twitter when you were happy--but that could be due to the perpetual rainmaking you're involved in. I'm glad to hear from Klaus that more children are entering the clergy lately. At least from his point of view. He says there are even a few who have been in it so long they're getting titles before facial hair. Like you did.
When I was staying with you in the Valley, you probably guessed how struck I was by the vibrancy of the church system. I mean, I know the custom well enough, that aristocrats send their non-inheriting sons into the clergy (dragging them by their ears, more often than not) in order to keep the leg up the family has. But your clergy is also your army--well, at least the command staff and elite fighters of your army. So not only families but individuals can benefit from being a part of it. And, of course, it's the only real way to circumvent your caste system (which continues to make very little sense to me, by the way).
So Klaus just seems pleased about the whole deal. I mean, he'd be second-class to you if he wasn't already aristocracy from his country. And when he hears about little dark-haired kids rising to prominent positions in your culture, it's...affirming. It makes people like us feel welcome in your world, and Klaus and I agree. Lord knows your country could use the fresh voice. I hope the new kid is one. Reminds me of the old days, McDohl and Riou and all, except that the only Harmonians who rallied behind those banners were...well, they kind if fell out of the first class, if they were ever there to begin with.
Maybe when all this stuff in the Grasslands is over and done with, I'll be able to visit you again. I'd like that. I left before it got to be wintry by you, and if you're still depressed there's bound to be a snowstorm or two. I'd like to see what snow looks like in the Valley, around the buildings and on the statues. Childish of me, I know, but I imagine the kids get some killer mock-battles going in your streets when it snows. You remember the snow-fight we championed for the trainees when you were staying here? Thanks to you, people actually played on the Harmonian side for once...it's the kid that pretended to be your Aide de Camp that replaced my old Second, you know. Sheridan. He's almost twenty years old now. Still has a good head on his shoulders and throws a mean snowball.
But snow fights in the city must be really different. Instead of building new forts, you get to use the terrain for real, hide behind statues and fountains, and the kids probably run into "civilians" all the time. In the streets, the kids probably have spies and secret passages and teams. It's a different game than Army versus Army. And I know the boys and girls in your Temple have snow fights, but those are closer to ours in Goya, I'm sure. Have you ever seen how the kids in your country that aren't parochial play?
I'm getting this really weird picture of us conducting another snow-war. The Dragon Knights invade Crystal Valley, both sides armed with nothing but snowballs. And maybe the guy who will replace Nash after my old friends and their talking sword kill him will be my "lieutenant". But I'll let you win the snowball fight, of course. It's better for morale that way.
Also, If I ever start talking about the weather to you again, kill me. We're supposed to be more interesting than that.
Keep well!
-Futch
-
Commander Schvarzeleber,
You will not succeed in killing Our Second Sir Latjke. To run with your apparent metaphor, such an act would require an avalanche. You are too good a man to stir the stones in such a damaging fashion. Do please desist.
Think of our friendship. Think of Our country. Remember your predecessor. We do not wish you to find Us weak.
But We do agree that you should grace Us with your company again, perhaps next winter. We will then accept your challenge to a snow campaign. And we will not require your leniency in letting us win. We shall have, as you call it, the home-court advantage.
Fondly,
Sasarai I
-
Sasarai-
This is an official apology. It's also an unofficial slap on the back and commendation for being so goddamned devious. Wish I'd thought of it. Wish even more that I'd seen it coming, of course, but that's neither here nor there.
So Hugo wasn't killed in the Grasslands. The legend of the Flame Champion lives on. There's no body. The people think he's still alive. And Nash, suspicious bastard that he is, probably still knows more than he let on even under duress, and has gotten really hard to kill these last few years.
If I believe Viktor's account of the whole thing, the battle raged uncontested from twilight until Flik's Lightning Rune finally gave out and the sun was shining through the stormclouds. If I believe Flik's account of it, the whole thing was over in half an hour, but those Sindarin ruins'll never be the same again. And the sword...well, it's been keeping quiet for once. I think it's in shock. Vik says it pretty much gave Nash permission to exist. I'd say Vik was just sore about not being able to kill the bastard, but a True Rune's a True Rune and who knows better than you and I that those things have their own reasons for what they do?
What's Nash told you?
I apologized to Vik and Flik as well. Flik especially. He's almost eighty years old now--not even Maximillian was that old when he and Sancho were helping us out. So I told Flik, "Honorable beyond belief, Valorous across ages, damned perplexing in how long you've been fighting, True Blue Frightening Lightning Flik of the five thousand and three Liberation Armies most of them consisting solely of Vik and the Sword, I am thoroughly sorry that your last grand adventure was a wild goose chase." And he said, "What 'last grand adventure'?"
I think Vik finally got to him.
But just because we know where Hugo isn't doesn't mean we won't stop trying to find where he is. We'll let the people keep their legend and let you keep your pet vampire. But I've already gone to Plan B. I've kept Vik and the sword occupied long enough. I can always call him back in a century.
Besides, I will be damned if Flik doesn't get in a better adventure than mine before he dies. It's the least I can do.
-Futch
-
Commander Schvarzeleber,
Your apology is noted and accepted. As your friend, we wish you the best of luck in your quest of information. As your adversary, We can assure you that your luck is more necessary than your apology.
We acknowledge the new contacts you have made among Our people, and the influence exerted by those individuals. We continue to be confident that even your allies of old will prove insufficiently shrewd and ill-equipped to serve you. We also doubt, with staunch reason and precedent, your gall to use your friends for political gain in such a backhanded fashion. We believe you too honorable to take the required measures of indecency and stealth in order to unearth Chief Hugo's mystery.
We pray for your continued prosperity and the well-being of those you hold dear.
Fondly,
Sasarai I
-
Sasarai-
It is Our opinion that you are full of shit, you dirty bastard. We of course knew it all along, but the revelation of the boy-Deacon Orosi as Bearer of the True Fire Rune has done nothing to dispel Our prior notions. "Not at leisure to disclose what little knowledge We possess of his state and whereabouts" my sanctimonious ass.
We pray you rot in Hell when you finally do die.
-Futch
-
Futch,
You know my ambitions, you know my position, and, as you said, you knew all along that I was up to something and were only waiting for me to tell you. I declined to inform you in writing because of the compromising tendency for written words to worm their way behind the eyes of persons other than the intended. You were always to learn of Chief Hugo's demise when the rest of the world outside his close circle learned of it, which was, in my hopes, never. If the cat was to ever be let out of the bag the situation would have to be suitably dire for the world to learn of it and not act against me or my Divine Father.
Deacon Orosi is a child such as I and my Brother were, and to have revealed his nature to even you before he could support his own state without killing us all would have sure proven catastrophic. You also undoubtedly understand my desire for utmost trepidation in regard to him not turning down my Brother's path when all this is through. Toward that surpassingly favorable end I have done my best to instruct the boy in the complete process inherent of his own fabrication so that he does not fall prey to the lunatic passion to rebel against it.
Yes, I have qualms about it. I have qualms about the entire situation. I thought I would never be compelled to have a hand in creating another purposeless soul like mine. I prayed that no one would have the chance to suffer my Brother's agony. But liken it to how old we are and how old we appear, Futch; just because we are the future does not mean we can see it.
Be angry with me, I deserve it, and mock my formalities all you want. But please understand that all the choices that led to this point, including and especially my secrecy, were thought through and deemed for the greatest possible good. I did not kill Chief Hugo with any malice in my heart. I did not build Orosi around Chief Hugo's rune with a smile on my lips. But better that Rune in Harmonia where I can see it than on the loose in the Grasslands in the arms of a warrior reputed for drawing on the sheer rage in his soul.
I now know more about that which created me than I ever cared to know, and I pity Orosi for having to understand and undertake this hollow existence from birth. I see through my Brother's eyes more now than ever before, and my Rune is not helping me at all by showing me the future my Brother saw. Have you seen it, Futch? The grey world? I am twice as old now as my Brother was when he went mad to these visions and spelled his own death rather than accept them. I can only imagine how powerful they were to a youth of thirty, if at sixty they keep me awake at night, wrapping my own arms in blankets to prevent myself from cutting the Rune out of my hand. Perhaps I am less mad than he. Or perhaps I have only time on my side. Or worse still, I am responsible for creating that barren place. All I am certain of is that I would enact my Divine Father's will and sacrifice the scant sum of love I feel for myself in favor of His plan.
So now you know what has been going on under your nose and between these lines. You made me angry enough at my own formality to dispense with it for purposes of this letter. Was that your intention?
I pray you find it in your heart to forgive me, because I know I will not forgive myself if you do not. Regardless of whether you absolve me, I also pray for your good health and that of your charges.
With hope,
Sasarai I
-
Sasarai-
It is still Our opinion that you are full of shit, but We love you for it. It'll take some time, but since I have a lot of that I'm sure I'll end up forgiving you. Eventually. For now I think I'll just call it an uneasy truce.
I mean, I understand why you did what you did, but for God's sake, Sasarai, that was Hugo. You switched sides in a war for him! And then you barely wait ten years before picking up right where you left off, like the thing with Luc never happened. And in the end, Hugo barely lived past thirty. How did you kill him, Sasarai? How long did you drag it out? Can you just pry a new bearer out of the closet like a pair of boots or does it take nine months to build a shell like you?
...Okay, I'm being angry. But you said you deserved it. That last bit might have gone over the stripe, but I'm not erasing it just so you can get an idea of some of the things I'm starting to think about you after all this.
I'm not so hurt by the not telling me. It's political. It's smart. I'm not even as hurt as I thought I would be by your admitting that Hugo's dead. I mean, you declared a legitimate war of property against him and his people, and you won it, and you took the property as the spoils, and taking it involved killing someone we cared about. What I'm hurt by is that despite all we've been talking about and how much we're both starting to hate this whole immortality and responsibility thing, you helped make another one like you for that express purpose. There's now another child in this world who will live without respect for his own mortality. You don't. You don't think of your body as yours. Luc didn't either. Orosi won't. And what's worse is that he'll never be able to believe that he was created out of love.
Maybe that sort of thing works for Men of God like you. Maybe part of the reason you don't crave the kind of love that I craved--yeah, note the past tense--is that you weren't created with it in mind. And with you watching him, Orosi will likely turn out like you, and won't try to pull what Luc pulled...but then, children have this annoying tendency to rebel against their parents. And sometimes, like with Sharon, both the parent and the kid die a little for it. Scratch that--they die a lot for it.
I'm sure I'll be able to forgive you by the next letter. That means you have to write back if you actually care what I think.
-Futch
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-IS 506-
Futch,
I care what you think of me. I really do. And I thank you for even considering forgiving me. I apologize for angering you. However, I see no means by which to undo what I have done, and so will endeavor only to not repeat this slight.
But I am moved to wonder; why did you not send aid to Chief Hugo, if you were so concerned? Your own letters make clear your knowledge of the conflict and your loyalties with regard to the competitors. Surely I cannot be the only reason for your nonintervention. Indeed, in every conflict yours and mine have shared, I have spent more time as your target than your ally. Why not that fight? Your part in a victory in the Grasslands might well have bolstered your position with those allies. I know that Goya is historically isolationist, save in times of great need, but you've disrupted many a precedent in your life.
A truth for a truth, friend. Indulge me in that question, and I shall shed light on any of yours, within reason.
I pray that I remain in your heart, and for the health and well-being of your charges.
With cautious fondness,
Sasarai I
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Sasarai-
Truth for truth? That's the game you're playing now? I drop the bag of potch, you send the hostage walking? What do you take me for?
I'll tell you anyway. You're in no way bound to tell me anything after.
She didn't give up for the reasons you think she gave up. Or, well, she may have, but she certainly didn't give up just because she couldn't handle the grief. It went something like this--
Arkady and Sharon got killed on the seas trying to deal with the granddaddy of all Leviathans. That you know. Kooluk paid us to deal with that and we dealt with that. That you know too. And we defeated the bastard. Milia gets the news and sinks into a depression. That you at least guessed.
But the Dragon Rune works just like yours. The same way you wither trees when you think about Luc too much, whoever's got this Rune has to be stable or the dragons get weak, or worse, tank it. Milia heard the report and Thrash just keeled over underneath her. Dragons all over the place just up and left us, faded into their world or got sick, and the weakest ones died. We lost use of ten percent of our Knights in a day because the dragons couldn't take it.
So her sacrifice was nobler than you thought it was. She knew that she'd made a mistake and that her sadness would weaken the forces if she kept it up. The answer was, of course, to get happy, but the death of her husband and her child wasn't something she could fool herself into thinking was okay. So she gave me the rune. And she died...well, when Thrash fell, she fell with him, and he crushed a few of her ribs. We could have saved her, she could even have fought again after a few months of healing, but she gave up instead. When you have an entire race of beings relying on your sanity to exist, and you use this race as your principle combat force, you kind of want to stay sane. And as it was, I got left with patching things up. We lost half of our power by the end--about a fifth died, and everyone was weak.
That's why I couldn't help Hugo. You would have found out that we were weak and come after us next. Now that we're strong enough to stand against you, you won't, but you would have then, I know you. And one of my friends would probably have gone the way of old Joe--hell, maybe it would have been Edge, if he'd been here, he's idealistic and crazy enough to die for me--and then you would have done what you did to Hugo to me. Or I would have killed you. I don't want to think about it. I think you understand.
Believe me, I'm beating the crap out of myself for not helping now. I could have done something, sent someone, if I was smarter about it and trusted you less.
If you still feel obligated, turns out I do have a question.
How did you kill him? For the love of God, tell me, so that I stop getting ideas.
-Futch
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Futch,
Is it truly your desire to know how we killed Chief Hugo?
I only ask because I am sure that I would rather remain ignorant of such details, were I in your position. It seems to me folly, really, to ask a man of ritual as myself to divulge the itinerary of a systematic and deliberate ending-of-life, how many steps and of what kind, how many hours, as if I was a surgeon. Do you not sense the perversity inherent of such an interrogation?
If you so inquire, I mean to reiterate the act in immaculate detail, if only to instill in you the feelings of inevitability and despair that haunted me throughout the ordeal. For it was an ordeal, Futch, and not for the victim alone. In fact, I will venture that Chief Hugo was in the best position of all involved, as he was the least aware of the proceedings and by far the least active.
I will tell you only if you give the word, and I will spare you nothing. Do understand that your sentiments hereafter are on your head alone.
We pray for your continued prosperity and the well-being of those you hold dear.
Fondly,
Sasarai I
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Sasarai-
I can take it.
-Futch
-
Futch,
Well then.
We took him alive. After Sergeant Jordi's last stand at the fore of Great Hollow, we pursued Chief Hugo and those that remained with him through the subterranean route connecting the Hollow to the Vale of the Ducks. It became a matter of intercepting him, which We did with the aid of Sir Latjke. He and his succeeded in cutting off Chief Hugo's passage to the Vale of the Ducks, and with Our unit closing in from the west Chief Hugo could only move into the Ruins where, as you'll recall, the bearer of True Water met his demise at the hands of Our Brother. The irony was not lost on Sir Latjke, who informed me of this afterward, when our units reconvened.
Chief Hugo was never the type to surrender. He knew full well what Our proximity to him entailed; that his Second was dead, his lands were Ours, and his life lay either in the hands of the enemy, of himself, or of the True Fire Rune. We knew this, and we knew the risk, and so approached him Ourself, alone but for Sir Latjke in the shadows. And after a few words--words, mind you, not blows--Chief Hugo chose to surrender to neither Us nor the Rune.
We were more powerful than he, even in his rage. We bested him, though We were not alone. We were not speaking falsely when we said, years ago, that he gave Us trouble, and in the end We required the intervention of Sir Latjke. For all We know, Chief Hugo is not aware that he lost to Us, nor that the duel was cut short.
We returned to Crystal Valley with Chief Hugo unconscious the whole while. Along the way, Sir Latjke began his part of this ordeal in earnest, and gradually drained Chief Hugo's blood. I believe he keeps it in crystal carafes and bottles. He has taken to doing that with his more relevant conquests.
The procedure is something akin to systematic rationing. Imagine that you feed your horse a bale of hay a day, and that a bale constitutes five thousand straws. Imagine the next day, giving your horse four thousand ninety nine straws, and four thousand ninety eight the next, and so forth. In the end, the beast's stomachs will not remember portions much larger than a handful. By the time we arrived in Our Valley little more than a pint flowed through Chief Hugo's heart, and he was still technically alive.
Once safely ensconced in Our palace, Sir Latjke could go about his task with deeper regard for the outcome. You see, the objective was to goad True Fire into selecting another bearer upon learning that its master was dead. Of course, since the True Fire Rune has a precedent of, as you so creatively put it, "eating the clouds like cupcakes" when its bearer is threatened, We were forced to drag the death out over the course of what amounted to thirty-eight days, nine hours, and fifty minutes.
During this time, using organic materials from the body of Cardinal Dios Eizal, who Chief Hugo himself had wounded, We enacted the cloning ritual and built the child Orosi. Hence, your accusation that he was not created with love is offensive. This process alone We will not detail to you, as it is sacred. Sir Latjke killed Hugo, and, blessedly, the Rune was docile. We, with the gracious aid of Sir Latjke's wife, guided the True Fire Rune to select Orosi as its new master, and it accepted.
We surreptitiously sent Chief Hugo's effects to his mother in Gregminster, and asked what she would have done with the body. As per her request, We sent the corpse to the Vale of the Ducks. We do not know what they did with it, nor why they have not revealed his death to the populace. We suspect that they would rather create the legend you learned of than incite a riot. We believe this is wise. After all, something similar was done with Chief Hugo's predecessor Taiji, was it not?
We hope that this suffices.
Fondly,
Sasarai I
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Sasarai-
I don't think I'm speaking to you for the next decade or so.
-Futch
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