12 Straight & Wise

District of the Ten

North Quarter

Island of Our Lady

Republic of Arbonhale

His Right Honorable Lord Hoel,

Ministry of His Majesty’s Separate Matters;

His Right Honorable Lord Aronyear,

Ministry of Undeviated Souls;

Honorable Resident Minister Wase Longpen,

Parasandra, Aman-Hadar, Kimjudeya

Tris-TAN-yoo-wey.

That’s it. That’s how you say her name: Tristanué.

She is the first daughter of Prince Cenodorn Yale and Taris Blackthorn and the younger twin sister to Prince Tristan II, now one of the Kings of Cavarel.

Indeed, some power, some secret grace, slows the days in favor of this strange house. The matriarch of the House of Yale is the enchanting Ryvern (silent n), who, despite being Tristanué’s grandmother, appears no more than thirty years of age. Cherished by His Majesty, our best Ministers, and the Eastern nobility for her warm soul, charity, and fondness for our Commonwealth, Lady Ryvern Yale deserves the broad affection she receives.

Further, it is not a mistake to say that if one did not know the proper kinship between Ryvern and her granddaughter Tristanué, one could not be shamed for thinking them sisters. However, such longevity and youth greatly complicate things: not all grandmothers are so beautiful. Immortality, or should I say primortality, is very confusing to those social formalities to which so many have grown accustomed.

As for Ryvern, she is of the black race of the south; an ebony folk called the Dnnimago. The Sablers, who inherited the tongue and terms of the unconquered Vyn Vanir, regard the great island of their origin as Sanulagré. The lesser provinces of their archipelago have their names, respective tribes, and slightly varying customs, but all swore fidelity to their kings: the Yaleen.

You may have already deduced the Yales claim descent from those ancient island kings. The Dnnimago have waited for millennia for the return of their rulers, and the arrival of the Yales from Royos (wherever that is) may presage a royal reunion between the Commonwealth’s best allies and this old island folk. It is worth mentioning that the Yales refer to themselves as Khytherians, former tenants of Khyther, a “wising-island” that moves through the Sea of Pleats. They take no offense at the more popular term for their race: Dnnimago.

Since the sailing days of the sea-prowling Rothbards, there have been fables of Sanulagré: a lush jungle isle of sapphire-blue reefs, savannas, and mountains where great horned apes and jaguars live and run. There, these dark people enjoy their paradise. It is where coffee, ebony, mocha, carob, and cedar are the hues, and the fair flesh of elves and our pale northern skin are unknown. The reports of Sanulagré, both ancient and modern, paint a pastoral image of topless spear-wielding maidens, mighty kings decked in the dotted skins of great cats, proud tribes, and fiercer ways that would sound strange to northern ears. Still, these Yales give no impression of such brute manners but better ones. Among the Yales, I often feel this Royos of which they speak may be less a place than a time, for though I never feel they speak down to me, I do often feel they are speaking back to me as if I have not kept pace with some secret of which they alone have custody. And though they can speak Khytherian, they prefer Royosian, which has few living speakers, aside from their family — something I will address later.

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As for Tristanué, her features rest at the best intersection of her southern ancestry and that enigmatic race from whom the Loring King claims descent. Her eyes are large, her lips plush, her nose straight and narrow as the Roy of Royos (whoever they are, wherever that is) are said to possess.

Unlike most of her cousins and aunts who have amber or gold-flecked eyes, Tristanué’s eyes are bright blue, which I am told is rare among her race. Often, I have looked into them and seen the full strength of whatever mood was driving her at the moment. I have seen joy in abundance and hope many times, but also sadness, grief, and more than once, fear. And anger — lots of that.

Please forgive me if I have luxuriated in describing the beauty of this young and resourceful ally. Being a man of rougher ways, I am rarely invited to comment on pretty things. With such a woman before the senses, would that I had been born a poet.

Now to the formidable side of this matter.

In my service to the Ministry of His Majesty’s Separate Matters — here, in secret, let me call it by its more deadly name: The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare and Strange Auspices — I have learned much about the dangerous man who claims Ryvern Yale as his wife:

The Loring King.

Prince of Wands.

Cenodaxorn, if we dare to say it.

Such a man out-dangers even the lost Prince-Ghast, that throne-stealing fiend of old. It is believed the ancient power of the Loring King flows in the veins of his sons and daughters and their sons and daughters after them, including Tristanué. However, I have seen no evidence in her of that ancient craft, the terrible gift of the Saxor: the Loring Hex.

Here I must question whether my employment and that of Hax, to defend Tristanué from any kind of harm or class of peril, should not be reinforced with a thousand men. Though I am confident in my skills, the Land of the Pillars is a dangerous realm. Should I fail and Hax fall, what will prevent the Loring King’s revenge on those who killed his granddaughter or those who assigned so small a guardianship for her? Should the Loring King be brought to wrath, I fear the world itself would tremble for it.

This is worth considering.

The hour has grown late here, and the bells are ringing. Hax and I must return to the lady’s company. I conclude this letter with this final notice: we are traveling to a small Sabler mountain fort on the east side of the Transom at Tiltashan.

We will rendezvous with the garrison that guards the Devil’s Backbone and enfold them into our dispossession of the Tharn of Widows from those Warlocks hiding there.

In this matter, I remain―

Your faithful servant,

Baloroy

{Entinua: Would that Lady Skythorn traveled with us! Pray for our success!}