Personal note, from the Ephemera of the Praetor

Archivist's Note:
The Praetor has been characterized in uncharitable accounts as hoarding paper as dragons hoard gold, but any historian will affirm that it would be easier to draft a coherent chronicle if in fact, that were true. The Ephemera collection attempts to assemble some semblance of chronological order to the wild and fragmented array of letters that have come down to us.
These letters are offered here, in translation if necessary, and bound in one set of volumes for the convenience of the student of history, and in respect for the fragility of many of the originals. Scholars with proper clearance from the High Council may apply to view up to 200 items from the originals: only twenty such requests will be considered in any Quatrain, irrespective of the date attributed to the items requested. Any excess applications on grounds of suspicion of censorship will result in an automatic and binding hold on the scholar's access credentials for one full year.

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From: Equites Amrunrosse

To: Ariahdnia

Security: N/A

I will be honoring the life of Xilinar not long after Cheva returns, unless she is in the brig.

Your presence would please me, when I have it.

Your friend, Folodu

Journal of Acting Praetor Amrunrosse

Archivist's note:
This volume overlaps many of the events in the so-called Apocryphal Journals, but it is presented here as it's own work as it was discovered in the recent remodelling of the Gorowyn offices. The octavo journal is bound in blue dyed leather, and it had been lost in a gap between the decorative redwood panel and the blackrock maple wall sheathing, presumably since the latter Age of the New Combine.

It is advised that the student of history take her offered chronology and editorial commentary with a hearty grain of salt. In all the records we have of her hand, public and private, there is every evidence of a profound sense of her own centrality to events. Like most of the bardic-trained, it does seem she was drawn into many of the pivotal events of her time, and this must have only confirmed to her that she was therefore a driver of them.

Contemporary records confirm that during the time covered by this log - which seems to have functioned as a kind of pocket memorandum book, outlining events for later reflection in memoirs - Amrunrosse did in fact seize the Praetorship, and lead the final assaults on the D'Vinnian territories in the campaign to recover the kidnapped Legate. By this time, he had been missing for several seasons, despite all efforts to track his captors, the Amicae seem to have consistently arrived after the hostages had been moved.

Despite her position of authority, Amrunrosse still did not set down dates on her observations, but the frustrated historian will be perhaps least frustrated by this fragment of her testimony, as the dates of these actions can readily be cross-referenced in the campaign reports and Council minutes.

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-1-

A trying night.
What have I done? Dear gods, Ari will kill me, and it is because of that damn Yorrik and Valacor. Vithing pissing contest over Ari.

Yorrik is consumed with his infallibility, and thinks Ari possessed of some madness. Valacor decided to visit during her examination, and scared Yorrik senseless. Yorrik, of course, called in the military.

Dear gods, but Ari saw reason and Valacor did not - he refused to stand down, escalating the situation. Because he attacked the House, I tried to have all three detained. Valacor refused, and what is to be done? He will destroy us all before he surrenders, and I will not risk the House.

I have Ari and Yorrik detained, and have placed restrictions on returning her position once it is proven that the words Valacor spoke were false. This, I hope, will give me time to run the campaign against Marconis' orc alliance and retrieve Sytan.

Damnit all, but why does Ari seek to believe that he left of his own will? Damnit damnit damnit.


- 2 -

A trying week. Valacor has decided to take his leave, and Yorrik had to be pressed in to service because he is our only healer. I cannot get Ari to promise not to kill me, so I cannot release her bonds. I will have to take the risk of it anyways - it would be just...

Finding I have support among the military -and- civilian branches. I am leading by paranoid dictatorship. This is backwards. This is not Vigiles. Will have to run campaign against myself. Planning to attack one of the House as a last resort. If reason will not win, what else can be done?

Beginning collecting the crimes I am committing. I want there to be no question how deeply my actions go. Might need to draft an arrest warrant.

- 3 -

We go after the orcs.

Released Ari. She didn't kill me, though I almost wish she had. If there is anything to be bitter about at this entire situation, it is losing her friendship. I have mishandled this from the beginning. I was so sure this would be cut and dry, and it would have been understandable, but the course was chosen rashly.

I wish Valacor would have backed down. I grow to hate his name, now. I have I time to cobble together a plan to stop him, so that justice might happen.

Asked Fafnier to kill Ari during the raid. She needs time to rest and lose her memories. She is having trouble with so many now. I don't think he understands.

Valacor is still at large. I can't move against him. Damnit, we need Ari.

- 4 -

Retrieved Sytan. Many losses.

Countermanded order to kill Ari. She is recovering and coping with memories.

Can't get the council on the same landmass together, much less the same room to reinstate Ariahdnia. Considering breaking the injunctions I laid out to do it anyways.

Too many are supporting me verbally in my tyranny. It is time to move.

- 5 -

[editor's note: update from ingame book]

A plain, red-spined book - Apocryphal Journals: Folodu Amrunrosse

Archivist's note:
It is clear from contemporary records that Amrunrosse was fastidious about keeping her journals on her person or otherwise well secured, yet in the recent reorganization of the archive we have found loose signatures tucked among unrelated treatises on the applied arts of entropy as relates to the keeping of vegetable gardens in various climates.
Each is no more than eight pages of vellum, stitched with waxed linen thread and apparently in good condition, aside from having been at some point separated from the rest of its volume. The handwriting appears to be consistent from one entry to the next, though there are huge swaths of the work still missing.
What remains has been bound together in a probable chronology, and wrapper leaves were added around each original signature to hold such notation as is possible. The entries are undated in the original hand, but as many of the incidents are cross-referenced in the public archives, so a loose chronology may be posited.

---

This entry is less focussed than most, and seems to be trying to fill in random, potentially political events between this entry, and the blithe survey which seems to have been written some time before it. 

It is unclear whether this stowaway incident was in fact the same as mentioned previously, as it seems the younger Amrunrosse developed a habit of escaping her guardians and tutors.

It is advised that the student of history take her offered chronology and editorial commentary with a hearty grain of salt. In all the records we have of her hand, public and private, there is every evidence of a profound sense of her own centrality to events. Like most of the bardic-trained, it does seem she was drawn into many of the pivotal events of her time, and this must have only confirmed to her that she was therefore a driver of them.

---

There has been much in the last little bit. Life is either slow, or overburdened. It always amazes me to see it shift between the two.

As a start to all of it, Cheva was playing in the harbor, and decided to play on a ship in the harbor. When the ship was ready to sail, this boundary did not hold up and she decided to be a stowaway. As soon as I found out, I was on the nearest ship I could find. She, of course, was on a simple supply run down the coast and back. I ended up shipwrecked with a bunch of pilgrims on a snowpack glacier. “Playing in the harbor” does not mean the ships in the harbor, and certainly not taking said ships in the harbor.

Luck was on my side, that I had opted to have my normal kit with me. I must say - my travel companions were less than helpless, and many of which needed rescued from the various dangers of the ice. Must keep in mind - do not work for free even once. If nothing else, take the money and sneak it back into their belongings later. Once you do one thing...

Later in the evening, I was able to find out from a Fier' in the Amicae that Cheva was returned. That was very relieving - it is more than unfortunate that he ran afoul of Marconis in a mission onto the tundra himself. We don’t know a thing about where they may have gone, so for now there is not much we can do but search.

On a completely unrelated note, a few evenings ago I spent learning some about Tier tastes. I will gladly wear a collar for her again. I cannot explain, exactly, why it was so desirable, but to have someone wish to own you! And to serve! This has been my only positive interaction with masters and slaves, and I really enjoyed myself thoroughly. I do not think Ari has taken such a keen outlook on it - but as I told her, I will test her and show her and me if she is the monster she fears.

Our little magus, Randie, seems to be having some trouble. He has lost some old friends and it has hit him hard. However, he also seems to have inherited a dragon’s horde... very odd. I feel for him, though. A lot on his shoulders, and so far as I can tell, there isn’t anything for him to actually do any longer. He gets to make up his own fate, when he never used to. He will get to feeling better.

Varric has come back from the dead, it would seem. I saw him last performing or guarding at the Lotus the other night. He apologized about falling off the face of Norrath, and that it was not anything planned. Very odd, still, that one.

The same night in the Lotus, I caught up with Vaka again. After arresting some girl for attacking some newly turned vampire, I wanted to know about a thing the girl said - she is a part of a group who “doesn’t exist”. Must be a very young operative, to even admit that. It could spell trouble, and it could be someone a little soft in the head. Either way, it is good to know potential challenges.

I still miss Xil, from time to time. And missing him reminds me of Fafnier. I hope Sytan can resurrect him soon. It has been far too long since I have heard his voice and enjoyed his company.

A crumbling, stained letter

Archivist's Note:

This private letter is an exceptionally rare survival from the period, and it was discovered in a volume of mythic wondertales during the recent reorganization of the archive. It has long been suspected that the anonymous, handwritten manuscripts of wondertales were once part of the private collection of the Praetor, but the attribution pages have been lost in one of the re-bindings, as the signatures were never well-sewn to begin with. 
There are no provenance records for the series of manuscripts, which themselves are only of minimal interest, written as they are to make history more palatable to the uneducated. Nonetheless, the presence of the following letter - which appears to be genuine - seems to support the idea that those manuscripts may have been the property of the Praetor, and suggests they may be worth re-examining for further historical importance.
A transcript of the letter follows below, translated from the levua, as the original document must remain protected from light and handling. It has aged badly as a result of some acid contamination in its past, and the transcription is as faithful to the original text as possible. Every effort has been made to preserve the agitation and passion of the author, which is so clearly visible in the hand.

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Dearest Ariahdnia,

I write this letter with no real direction.

These last few months have been more difficult then I would like to admit. When you asked me to help you forget - I knew I was going to regret it. There has been so little in the past that I would have wanted you to remember that made it to that book of yours, and I'm afraid to know what has passed that never did.

I'll admit when we first met, your charge would have been just: you were nothing more then food. Now - I wouldn't think of you as anything less then a friend and lover.

I admit I have held you further away then most, there are [unintelligible] things I've done that I'm not proud of - - some to those you may know [an inkblot, possibly an omission] some to you. In time I may share all of it with you - but at my own pace. The last time you died - - - I watched everything I had worked to earn with you die with it.

 How much of us you have recorded is beyond me. Honestly - - I may never know. I only know that you trust me less than y[unintelligible: likely, "you"] out[unintelligible: possible "outwardly" but may be untranslated ekete'uan] show, despite our past - - and - again-! -I will strive to change that.

I no longer wish to remain a trusted friend and ally. I wish more than midnight visits and deceptive respects[sic: clearly an allusion, but the context is now lost]. Our last night together was one of many passionate and cherished nights together for me - and I can only hope you feel the same way when I say that I hope there will be many - many more to follow.

Always watching, Always waiting.
~Valacor Valinos