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The Twenty-Fifth of Ivaris, Sixteen Seventy-Four, Orum District, Opris
My Dearest Mother,

I write to you today in sorrow and woe. With a heavy heart I must tell you that your prediction has come to pass, my beloved has gone to the sea. I curse your name Mother. As your spoke the words of prophecy: He will never return to you, to your bridal bed. He informed me last night that the prince sets sail for Striecial this morning. For the first time I curse your spirit-touched vision, the same vision that saved us from the flood of Sixteen Sixty-Two. I would that the Shining Lord burn out your eyes and cut out your sorcerous tongue.

Oh, Mother. The sea shall open and swallow my beloved. Damn the Pagri and a double curse on their thrice-damned pantheon! Had they a civil bone in their collective bodies they would have let the vile spirits sleep as the Lord of Light ordained. Rumors have spread that the Children of The Leviathan hunt and stalk the waters. Mother, please tell me your vision was false. I cannot let my heart die.

Galliel is still having problems feeding, I swear it’s as if he has needles for teeth yet I know he has yet to cut a tooth. I fear the nanny milk isn’t enough for him, he cries constantly and wakes Arlen on the hour. Arlen was sweet last night. He tried to comfort me when he’d noticed that I was crying. Some days I feel so awful that it isn’t his arms I long to comfort me in our bed. There are days where I regret marrying him but, a clocksmith makes no small amount of money. As you told me time and again when Father was arraigning the marriage. He cares for Galliel, Yerana, and I quite well. The children have seen a physician each time I have been sick. Yet there are days where I long for my solider. I yearn for his touch Mother. Can I damn our prince? Would that be treason? May I damn the scion of our king?

Yerana is now old enough to go to chapel, seven years old and tall enough to dance on the oak table where we take meals. Arlen and I have discussed sending her to the Sister’s of Pity and Piety, he believes it will teach her some manners and etiquette. I just worry about confusion and indiscretion, she is just a young girl after all. I do not want her consorting with whores at such a young age. I know the Sisters will try to keep her away from the Children of Venus, but children are curious creatures. She will just find her way to them, I just know it.

I would rather she stay here with me; After all little hands are quick and nimble, they work the loom so well. With Galliel at my hip or ankle I cannot work the loom for more than a passing minute and she produces twice the cloth I did before Galliel. If she must go to an order I would have it as the Mourners of Ara. They are much preferable, even with their month of mourning. They are usually a cloistered order and would be much safer, they would teach her much of our history. She need not take vows for that order. I would not have her make a vow before she knows the repercussions. The Mourners of Ara take in many children and teach them all kinds of things, from numbers and figures to letters and letter writing. Arlen can afford it, I need only to convince him of the orders merit.

Mother, I must apologize for my words. I spoke in anger and it is not how I truly feel. As always I have spoken in haste and unbecoming of your daughter. Please forgive my hysteria. I must thank you for the tin whistle you sent for Yerana, I had not known a more irritating noise than Galliel’s shrieking until I gave it to her. No doubt I had a similar one when I was of her age.

I am sending along a present for father; Arlen finished it a fortnight ago, an hour after I’d sent off my last letter. A pocket watch, he said that it should not need to be serviced for three or so years as long as it is wound daily. You will find Father’s gift wrapped in Galtheran cotton, I though you might enjoy some embroidered handkerchiefs. Send my love to father and the other wives,

Your Daughter,


The Mourners of Ara — Are a semi religious sect that will be heard about in subsequent posts.

Galther —  Is a nation with one of its prime exports being cotton.