![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
You feel it. You suffer. You stand there and you take it and you feel absolutely every blow it has to deal and don't go looking for an easy way out because there isn't one. And looking for one is a disservice to the people you hurt. You stand there and you take it, James Norrington, and line up with the rest of us. Or do you think you're better than me?
[Hold on, he is taking a moment to respond to this that isn't a noise that sounds like a dying goose.
Finally, there is a grunt.]
I have never had the privilege to think I'm better than you. You've always been the smart one.
[Which means -- you're right.]
...I cannot just stand here. The ability to accept my guilt is one thing. Not doing anything about it seems intolerable. If not punishment then improving the world for mages.
Finally, there is a grunt.]
I have never had the privilege to think I'm better than you. You've always been the smart one.
[Which means -- you're right.]
...I cannot just stand here. The ability to accept my guilt is one thing. Not doing anything about it seems intolerable. If not punishment then improving the world for mages.
Good man. Now you're on the right road. I'm proud of you.
Now come find me and kiss me because I've been trying not to cry and you're not supposed to scare a pregnant woman like this.
Now come find me and kiss me because I've been trying not to cry and you're not supposed to scare a pregnant woman like this.
If you cry, so help me woman -
[That is his Greatest Weakness and he's coming to kiss you right now.]
[That is his Greatest Weakness and he's coming to kiss you right now.]
[He finds her in her temporary office, as she figured by going to look for him, she'd prolong the search for them both. Her arms are open to him when he finds her, though an embrace is difficult with there being another person and all. But her lips find his easily.]
[Well honestly there's been a lot more between them than just a person. Still, he clutches her close and kisses those lips with faint desperation. Do not. Cry.]
[A fortnight or so after their initial discussion, some poor member of the Inquisition is pressed into service as a courier, and shows up wherever Pel is staying in Kirkwall. The courier bears a large leather document tube, which is presented to Pel with some harried ceremony.
In the tube: the draft for the large decorative medallion, as discussed and requested. There are two versions. The first provides sizing and dimension that will, when crafted, be very large indeed--similar but with the Inquisition's eye symbol in the center, and the wheat motif replaced by a wiggly motif to mimic the current sigil's design. This will hang suspended from some high vaulted ceiling. Neat notes in the margins indicate the materials to be used: it will be GOLD, and the chains used to hold it in place will be gilded so they, too, look gold.
The second set of plans is a simpler design, still with the Inquisition's eye in the center. The notes in the margin indicate that it is to be used whenever possible, in wall sconces, upon the ceiling where chandeliers might hang, in porthole shaped windows.
Enclosed too is a note in the same neat handwriting of the margin notes:]
Mʏ Lᴀᴅʏ Cᴀʟʟᴇᴅ Pᴇʟ -
Eɴᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪs ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ғɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴs ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴏғ ᴀʀᴛ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ. Wʜᴇɴ ʟᴀsᴛ ᴡᴇ sᴘᴏᴋᴇ, I ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀ sᴛᴀʀᴛʟɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴠᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴍᴀʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴇᴀsᴜʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴏғғᴇɴsᴇ.
I ᴀᴍ ʀᴇᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴜɴᴘʟᴇᴀsᴀɴᴛ sᴜʀᴘʀɪsᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴡ, ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ, ʀᴇᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴄᴜʀɪᴏsɪᴛʏ. Pʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ. Wᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀ.
Dɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ɪᴛ ɪs ᴠᴇʀʏ ɪɴ ғᴀsʜɪᴏɴ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛ ʜᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ sᴜᴄʜ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ? Aɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ I ᴀᴍ ᴘᴇʀᴘᴇᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ɪɴ ғᴀsʜɪᴏɴ. Iᴛ ɪs ᴀ ᴄᴜʀsᴇ, ᴅᴇᴀʀᴇsᴛ Pᴇʟ ᴍʏ Fʀɪᴇɴᴅ. Pʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴄᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴄᴏɴғᴜsɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʀᴄʜɪᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʀᴛɪsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ INQUISITION, ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴜᴘᴏɴ, ᴘʀᴇғᴇʀᴀʙʟʏ ɪɴ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ sᴏ ᴀs ᴛᴏ ᴀᴠᴏɪᴅ ᴄᴏɴғᴜsɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɪssᴜᴇs ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴀʀɪsᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs.
I sʜᴀʟʟ, ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴡᴀɪᴛ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ғᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʙᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛɪᴍᴇ,
Yᴏᴜʀ Fʀɪᴇɴᴅ, Vᴀʟ Dᴇ Fᴏɴᴄᴇ́
In the tube: the draft for the large decorative medallion, as discussed and requested. There are two versions. The first provides sizing and dimension that will, when crafted, be very large indeed--similar but with the Inquisition's eye symbol in the center, and the wheat motif replaced by a wiggly motif to mimic the current sigil's design. This will hang suspended from some high vaulted ceiling. Neat notes in the margins indicate the materials to be used: it will be GOLD, and the chains used to hold it in place will be gilded so they, too, look gold.
The second set of plans is a simpler design, still with the Inquisition's eye in the center. The notes in the margin indicate that it is to be used whenever possible, in wall sconces, upon the ceiling where chandeliers might hang, in porthole shaped windows.
Enclosed too is a note in the same neat handwriting of the margin notes:]
Mʏ Lᴀᴅʏ Cᴀʟʟᴇᴅ Pᴇʟ -
Eɴᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪs ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ғɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴs ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴏғ ᴀʀᴛ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ. Wʜᴇɴ ʟᴀsᴛ ᴡᴇ sᴘᴏᴋᴇ, I ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀ sᴛᴀʀᴛʟɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴠᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴍᴀʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴇᴀsᴜʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴏғғᴇɴsᴇ.
I ᴀᴍ ʀᴇᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴜɴᴘʟᴇᴀsᴀɴᴛ sᴜʀᴘʀɪsᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴡ, ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ, ʀᴇᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴄᴜʀɪᴏsɪᴛʏ. Pʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ. Wᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀ.
Dɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ɪᴛ ɪs ᴠᴇʀʏ ɪɴ ғᴀsʜɪᴏɴ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛ ʜᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ sᴜᴄʜ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ? Aɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ I ᴀᴍ ᴘᴇʀᴘᴇᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ɪɴ ғᴀsʜɪᴏɴ. Iᴛ ɪs ᴀ ᴄᴜʀsᴇ, ᴅᴇᴀʀᴇsᴛ Pᴇʟ ᴍʏ Fʀɪᴇɴᴅ. Pʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴄᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴄᴏɴғᴜsɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʀᴄʜɪᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʀᴛɪsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ INQUISITION, ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴜᴘᴏɴ, ᴘʀᴇғᴇʀᴀʙʟʏ ɪɴ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ sᴏ ᴀs ᴛᴏ ᴀᴠᴏɪᴅ ᴄᴏɴғᴜsɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɪssᴜᴇs ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴀʀɪsᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs.
I sʜᴀʟʟ, ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴡᴀɪᴛ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ғᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʙᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛɪᴍᴇ,
Yᴏᴜʀ Fʀɪᴇɴᴅ, Vᴀʟ Dᴇ Fᴏɴᴄᴇ́
[Returned with the original messenger on a separate piece of paper.]
Dear Val,
You are an ass.
Your Forgiving (and Fashionable) Friend Pel
(Please note that there is no comma after the word Friend, indicating that you have more than one, as I do)
Dear Val,
You are an ass.
Your Forgiving (and Fashionable) Friend Pel
(Please note that there is no comma after the word Friend, indicating that you have more than one, as I do)
Edited 2017-05-17 22:20 (UTC)
[Some hours later, the same (now slightly less harried, he has been well tipped) messenger arrives with a reply.]
Mʏ Lᴀᴅʏ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ Pᴇʟ -
Iɴ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴛᴀᴛᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴇxᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ɪs ᴀs ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡs:
Yᴏᴜ: Yᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀɴ Ass
Mᴇ: YOUR ᴀss
Iᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʟᴇss ɪɴ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴅɪᴀʟᴏɢᴜᴇ. Yᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʟᴀᴄʀɪᴛʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴇsᴘᴏɴᴅᴇᴅ. Aɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ I ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴇʀʟʏ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ's, ғᴏʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴛᴛᴇʟ. (I ɢʀᴀᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴇxᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs sᴛᴀᴛᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ ʀᴀᴄᴇs.) I ᴍᴇᴀɴ ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ sᴜғғᴇʀ ᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴡ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ғᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇɴᴇss ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀs ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ.
A ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴏғ sᴘᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ʀᴇɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ COMAS ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ. Wʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴇʀʀᴏʀ! ʙᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴛᴇʀʀᴏʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ sᴜʀᴘʀɪsᴇ ᴍᴇ. I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴄᴀɴ ʀᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀsᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀs ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ sᴇɴsᴇʟᴇss. Iᴛ ɪs ᴍʏ ᴡɪᴛ. Aɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄᴜʀsᴇ.
I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇɢᴜɴ ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴇʀᴇᴍᴏɴʏ ᴏғ ᴜɴᴠᴇɪʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴀᴍᴏɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜᴘᴇʀɪᴏʀ ᴏғғɪᴄᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀɪᴛɪᴇs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ Iɴǫᴜɪsɪᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ғᴀɴᴛᴀsᴛɪᴄ ʀᴇᴠᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ. Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴄʀᴀғᴛsᴍᴀɴ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀᴘᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴄᴇʀᴇᴍᴏɴʏ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴛɪғᴀᴄᴛ ɪᴛsᴇʟғ? I ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴠɪᴅᴇ ᴀɴ ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴀs ᴛᴏ ɪᴛs ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.
Aʟsᴏ: ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴄᴀᴋᴇs? I ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴄʜᴇᴅᴜʟᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴛᴀsᴛɪɴɢ. I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪsᴄᴇʀɴɪɴɢ ᴘᴀʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ I sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴠɪᴅᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴀsᴛ ᴀs I ᴀᴍ sᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀɪɴᴇʀ ғᴀʀᴇ. Bᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs ᴡᴇ sʜᴀʟʟ ғɪɴᴅ ᴀɴ ᴀᴠᴇʀᴀɢᴇ.
I ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ, ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇɴ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀᴠᴇʀᴀɢᴇ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ,
Vᴀʟ ᴛʜᴇ Fᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇɴ
Mʏ Lᴀᴅʏ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ Pᴇʟ -
Iɴ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴛᴀᴛᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴇxᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ɪs ᴀs ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡs:
Yᴏᴜ: Yᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀɴ Ass
Mᴇ: YOUR ᴀss
Iᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʟᴇss ɪɴ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴅɪᴀʟᴏɢᴜᴇ. Yᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʟᴀᴄʀɪᴛʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴇsᴘᴏɴᴅᴇᴅ. Aɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ I ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴇʀʟʏ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ's, ғᴏʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴛᴛᴇʟ. (I ɢʀᴀᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴇxᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs sᴛᴀᴛᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ ʀᴀᴄᴇs.) I ᴍᴇᴀɴ ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ sᴜғғᴇʀ ᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴡ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ғᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇɴᴇss ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀs ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ.
A ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴏғ sᴘᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ʀᴇɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ COMAS ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ. Wʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴇʀʀᴏʀ! ʙᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴛᴇʀʀᴏʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ sᴜʀᴘʀɪsᴇ ᴍᴇ. I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴄᴀɴ ʀᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇʀsᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀs ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ sᴇɴsᴇʟᴇss. Iᴛ ɪs ᴍʏ ᴡɪᴛ. Aɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄᴜʀsᴇ.
I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇɢᴜɴ ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴇʀᴇᴍᴏɴʏ ᴏғ ᴜɴᴠᴇɪʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴀᴍᴏɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜᴘᴇʀɪᴏʀ ᴏғғɪᴄᴇʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀɪᴛɪᴇs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ Iɴǫᴜɪsɪᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ғᴀɴᴛᴀsᴛɪᴄ ʀᴇᴠᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ. Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴄʀᴀғᴛsᴍᴀɴ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀᴘᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴄᴇʀᴇᴍᴏɴʏ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴛɪғᴀᴄᴛ ɪᴛsᴇʟғ? I ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴠɪᴅᴇ ᴀɴ ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴀs ᴛᴏ ɪᴛs ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.
Aʟsᴏ: ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴄᴀᴋᴇs? I ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴄʜᴇᴅᴜʟᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴛᴀsᴛɪɴɢ. I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪsᴄᴇʀɴɪɴɢ ᴘᴀʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ I sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴠɪᴅᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴀsᴛ ᴀs I ᴀᴍ sᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴀɪɴᴇʀ ғᴀʀᴇ. Bᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs ᴡᴇ sʜᴀʟʟ ғɪɴᴅ ᴀɴ ᴀᴠᴇʀᴀɢᴇ.
I ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ, ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇɴ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀᴠᴇʀᴀɢᴇ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ,
Vᴀʟ ᴛʜᴇ Fᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇɴ
[Delivered with a package.]
My More than Average Friend Val,
Enclosed is a copy of my book, a cultural ethnography on the Dalish. It barely sells, so I might as well give it away.
Now I must ask you, what is the purpose of throwing a complicated and no doubt expensive fête for a completely mundane event? For my own enlightenment. Although I have no objections to tasting cake under any circumstances. However, I cannot help but balk at drawing so much attention to an expensive and enchanted work, for fear of it being stolen and melted down to sell. Perhaps we can forgo the ceremony and still have cake?
While you worked on your design, I secured several bids from local craftsmen and chose who I believed to be the best among them--not the cheapest, but the best, who had a decent price because she genuinely wanted the job. I also cast the spell on the refined metal in the weeks before delivering it to her, so once she is finished with it, it is done indeed. The protection will be worked thoroughly into the finished piece.
As for your letter, I have graciously crossed out the word "graciously" and that improved the sentiment a great deal. In fact, it was a great deal more charming with the crossed-out word than it would have been with the word omitted altogether.
Dareth Shiral,
Lady-called-Pel
My More than Average Friend Val,
Enclosed is a copy of my book, a cultural ethnography on the Dalish. It barely sells, so I might as well give it away.
Now I must ask you, what is the purpose of throwing a complicated and no doubt expensive fête for a completely mundane event? For my own enlightenment. Although I have no objections to tasting cake under any circumstances. However, I cannot help but balk at drawing so much attention to an expensive and enchanted work, for fear of it being stolen and melted down to sell. Perhaps we can forgo the ceremony and still have cake?
While you worked on your design, I secured several bids from local craftsmen and chose who I believed to be the best among them--not the cheapest, but the best, who had a decent price because she genuinely wanted the job. I also cast the spell on the refined metal in the weeks before delivering it to her, so once she is finished with it, it is done indeed. The protection will be worked thoroughly into the finished piece.
As for your letter, I have graciously crossed out the word "graciously" and that improved the sentiment a great deal. In fact, it was a great deal more charming with the crossed-out word than it would have been with the word omitted altogether.
Dareth Shiral,
Lady-called-Pel
Tᴏ ᴛʜᴇ Lᴀᴅʏ Cᴀʟʟᴇᴅ Pᴇʟ, ᴀ Fʀɪᴇɴᴅ,
Aʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇɢᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴜʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ, ʏᴇs, ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪs ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀs ᴀ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ. I ᴍᴜsᴛ ʀᴇsᴏʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴅᴇɢʀᴇᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴀɴᴄʏ ɪɴ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴄᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ. Oɴᴄᴇ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏsᴇʟꜰ, I ᴡɪʟʟ sʜᴀʀᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍʏ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴇxᴄᴇʟʟᴇɴᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ, Fʀᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ. Iꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴜʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ ᴛʜᴇɴ I ᴀᴍ ᴠᴇʀʏ sᴏʀʀʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ. Sʜᴇ ɪs ᴅᴇᴇᴘʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀsᴜɪᴛ ᴏꜰ sᴛᴜᴅʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ꜰɪᴇʟᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ (ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ Dᴀʟɪsʜ sᴏʀᴛ, ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴠᴇʀʏ ɴᴇᴡ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ ʜᴀᴅ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ sᴜᴄʜ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜɪs ᴠᴇʀʏ ʏᴇᴀʀ).
Aɴᴅ I ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏɴᴏʀ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ. Hᴏᴡ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴄᴏᴘɪᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ? Yᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀ ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴏʏɪɴɢ ʜᴀʟꜰ ᴏꜰ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴs. Oɴᴇ ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴍᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴇʟʟs ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ sᴄᴀʀᴄɪᴛʏ. A ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴀᴅᴠɪᴄᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴏɴᴇ ᴄʟᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ.
I ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏ sɪɴɢʟᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀɴ ᴇssᴀʏ ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ Uɴɪᴠᴇʀsɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴀɴᴜsᴄʀɪᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ʜᴀʟʟᴀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I sᴜʙᴍɪᴛᴛᴇᴅ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ sʜᴏʀᴛ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴀɢᴏ. I ᴘʀᴇsᴜᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ʙᴇᴀsᴛs ᴀs I ᴀɴᴅ sᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴇʟʟᴏᴡ ᴇʟᴠᴇs ᴀʀᴇ. Iᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀsɪᴀʟ ɪɴ Oʀʟᴀɪs ᴜᴘᴏɴ ɪᴛs ᴡɪᴅᴇʀ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ!
Aɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss: ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜʀᴏᴡɪɴɢ sᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴅɪsᴘʟᴀʏ ɪs ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ sᴘᴇᴄᴛᴀᴄʟᴇ. Iꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ sᴘᴇᴄᴛᴀᴄʟᴇ, I ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴜɴᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀssɪsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ I ᴀᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ. I ꜰᴇᴀʀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ sᴛᴏʟᴇɴ ɢᴏᴏᴅs ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ɪɴsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ꜰᴏʀ sᴜʀᴇʟʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ sᴇᴡɪɴɢ ɪɴ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴍ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄs ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪs ᴀʀᴛɪꜰᴀᴄᴛ. Tʜɪs ɪs ᴏɴᴇ ᴀʀᴇᴀ ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ᴍᴜsᴛ sᴜʀᴇʟʏ ʙᴇ ᴜsᴇꜰᴜʟ, ʏᴇs? Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪsᴇ. I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴄᴜʀsᴇᴅ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ᴛʀᴜᴇ.
Bᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴀᴋᴇ.
I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴀᴠᴏʀ ᴛᴏ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴍʏsᴇʟꜰ ᴛᴏ ᴛʀᴜsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴊᴜᴅɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ ᴄʀᴀꜰᴛsᴍᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ sᴜᴘᴘʀᴇss ᴍʏ ᴡɪsʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴄᴏɴsᴜʟᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴ sᴏ sᴇɴsɪᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ sᴇʀɪᴏᴜs ᴀ ᴅᴇᴄɪsɪᴏɴ. I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɴᴇꜰɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʙᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ sᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴄʀᴀꜰᴛsᴍᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪssɪᴏɴɪɴɢ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴡᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴜᴘᴏɴ. I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʟsᴏ sᴏᴏᴛʜᴇ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪssɪᴏɴɪɴɢ ʜᴀs ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏᴍᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ɪs ᴍʏ ꜰᴏɴᴅᴇsᴛ ᴡɪsʜ, ᴀs ᴀ sᴄʜᴏʟᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ Uɴɪᴠᴇʀsɪᴛʏ.
I ᴀᴍ ʟᴇss ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴs ᴏɴ ɢʀᴀᴄɪᴏᴜsɴᴇss ʙᴜᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴅᴇꜰᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅsʜɪᴘ. I ᴀᴍ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʟᴇss ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʟᴏsɪɴɢ ɢʀᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀssᴜᴍᴇ ɪᴛ ɪs ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴀʀᴍᴇɴᴛ. Nᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ I ɴᴏʀ ᴍʏ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅs ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ Fʀᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴀɴᴅ I ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ɪᴍᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ. I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡɪᴛʜʜᴏʟᴅ ᴛʀᴀᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ sɪɢɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs ᴏꜰ Oʀʟᴀɪs ꜰᴏʀ I ᴀᴍ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴜɴɪᴍᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ꜰʟᴀᴜɴᴛ ᴛʀᴀᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴs ᴡʜᴇɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀʟsᴏ ʙᴇ ʀᴇǫᴜɪʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sɪɢɴ ᴍʏ ꜰᴜʟʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇ, ᴡʜɪᴄʜ I ᴏɴʟʏ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴇɴ I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ sᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇʀ ᴀ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ᴄʀᴀᴍᴘᴇᴅ ʜᴀɴᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ I sʜᴀʟʟ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪs,
Yᴏᴜʀ Fʀɪᴇɴᴅ Aʟʟ Tʜɪs Wʜɪʟᴇ, Vᴀʟ ᴅᴇ Fᴏɴᴄᴇ́
Aʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇɢᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴜʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ ᴀɴᴅ, ʏᴇs, ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪs ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀs ᴀ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ. I ᴍᴜsᴛ ʀᴇsᴏʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴅᴇɢʀᴇᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴀɴᴄʏ ɪɴ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴄᴀᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ. Oɴᴄᴇ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏsᴇʟꜰ, I ᴡɪʟʟ sʜᴀʀᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍʏ ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴇxᴄᴇʟʟᴇɴᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ, Fʀᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ. Iꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴜʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ ᴛʜᴇɴ I ᴀᴍ ᴠᴇʀʏ sᴏʀʀʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ. Sʜᴇ ɪs ᴅᴇᴇᴘʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀsᴜɪᴛ ᴏꜰ sᴛᴜᴅʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ꜰɪᴇʟᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ (ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ Dᴀʟɪsʜ sᴏʀᴛ, ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴠᴇʀʏ ɴᴇᴡ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ ʜᴀᴅ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ sᴜᴄʜ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜɪs ᴠᴇʀʏ ʏᴇᴀʀ).
Aɴᴅ I ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏɴᴏʀ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ. Hᴏᴡ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴄᴏᴘɪᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ? Yᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀ ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴏʏɪɴɢ ʜᴀʟꜰ ᴏꜰ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴs. Oɴᴇ ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴍᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴇʟʟs ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ sᴄᴀʀᴄɪᴛʏ. A ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴀᴅᴠɪᴄᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴏɴᴇ ᴄʟᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ.
I ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏ sɪɴɢʟᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀɴ ᴇssᴀʏ ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ Uɴɪᴠᴇʀsɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴀɴᴜsᴄʀɪᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ʜᴀʟʟᴀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I sᴜʙᴍɪᴛᴛᴇᴅ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ sʜᴏʀᴛ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴀɢᴏ. I ᴘʀᴇsᴜᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ʙᴇᴀsᴛs ᴀs I ᴀɴᴅ sᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴇʟʟᴏᴡ ᴇʟᴠᴇs ᴀʀᴇ. Iᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏᴠᴇʀsɪᴀʟ ɪɴ Oʀʟᴀɪs ᴜᴘᴏɴ ɪᴛs ᴡɪᴅᴇʀ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ!
Aɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss: ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜʀᴏᴡɪɴɢ sᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴅɪsᴘʟᴀʏ ɪs ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ sᴘᴇᴄᴛᴀᴄʟᴇ. Iꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ sᴘᴇᴄᴛᴀᴄʟᴇ, I ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴜɴᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀssɪsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ I ᴀᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ. I ꜰᴇᴀʀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀ sᴛᴏʟᴇɴ ɢᴏᴏᴅs ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ɪɴsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ꜰᴏʀ sᴜʀᴇʟʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ sᴇᴡɪɴɢ ɪɴ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴍ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄs ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪs ᴀʀᴛɪꜰᴀᴄᴛ. Tʜɪs ɪs ᴏɴᴇ ᴀʀᴇᴀ ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ᴍᴜsᴛ sᴜʀᴇʟʏ ʙᴇ ᴜsᴇꜰᴜʟ, ʏᴇs? Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪsᴇ. I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴄᴜʀsᴇᴅ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ᴛʀᴜᴇ.
Bᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴀᴋᴇ.
I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴀᴠᴏʀ ᴛᴏ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴍʏsᴇʟꜰ ᴛᴏ ᴛʀᴜsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴊᴜᴅɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ ᴄʀᴀꜰᴛsᴍᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ sᴜᴘᴘʀᴇss ᴍʏ ᴡɪsʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴄᴏɴsᴜʟᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴ sᴏ sᴇɴsɪᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ sᴇʀɪᴏᴜs ᴀ ᴅᴇᴄɪsɪᴏɴ. I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɴᴇꜰɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʙᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ sᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴄʀᴀꜰᴛsᴍᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪssɪᴏɴɪɴɢ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴡᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴜᴘᴏɴ. I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʟsᴏ sᴏᴏᴛʜᴇ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪssɪᴏɴɪɴɢ ʜᴀs ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏᴍᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ɪs ᴍʏ ꜰᴏɴᴅᴇsᴛ ᴡɪsʜ, ᴀs ᴀ sᴄʜᴏʟᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ Uɴɪᴠᴇʀsɪᴛʏ.
I ᴀᴍ ʟᴇss ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴs ᴏɴ ɢʀᴀᴄɪᴏᴜsɴᴇss ʙᴜᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴅᴇꜰᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅsʜɪᴘ. I ᴀᴍ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʟᴇss ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʟᴏsɪɴɢ ɢʀᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀssᴜᴍᴇ ɪᴛ ɪs ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴀʀᴍᴇɴᴛ. Nᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ I ɴᴏʀ ᴍʏ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅs ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ Fʀᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴀɴᴅ I ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ɪᴍᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ. I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡɪᴛʜʜᴏʟᴅ ᴛʀᴀᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ sɪɢɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs ᴏꜰ Oʀʟᴀɪs ꜰᴏʀ I ᴀᴍ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴜɴɪᴍᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ꜰʟᴀᴜɴᴛ ᴛʀᴀᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴs ᴡʜᴇɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀʟsᴏ ʙᴇ ʀᴇǫᴜɪʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sɪɢɴ ᴍʏ ꜰᴜʟʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇ, ᴡʜɪᴄʜ I ᴏɴʟʏ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴇɴ I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ sᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇʀ ᴀ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴏꜰ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ᴄʀᴀᴍᴘᴇᴅ ʜᴀɴᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ I sʜᴀʟʟ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪs,
Yᴏᴜʀ Fʀɪᴇɴᴅ Aʟʟ Tʜɪs Wʜɪʟᴇ, Vᴀʟ ᴅᴇ Fᴏɴᴄᴇ́
[Pel has to read this letter a few times. Then she reads the ones before it and finds she is perplexed. This man uses hyperbole so often it almost sounds sincere. Like she is actually his dear friend and he is actually excited to correspond with her. Like something about her has excited him. And she does not think it is because of her, but because of Val. Val is a veritable fountain of enthusiasm. He is smug, of course, but the cracks appear in the paragraphs where he feels he is snubbed. Is he oversensitive about minor injuries to his pride? Yes. But he also cares what Pel thinks of him, or he would not bother. That alone is a vulnerability--a vulnerability he has put to paper. A vulnerability he has revealed to the one who makes him vulnerable. And she has the feeling that's just how he is. He is a fountain of many sensibilities. He must believe she is very cold indeed. Should she be more emotional in her letters? She is not insincere, but she is prone to understatement. Should she try to match him?
She does not know the answer. But she writes a letter.]
My dear friend Val de Foncé,
I have made up my mind to absolutely trust you to turn out whatever spectacle is appropriate for the occasion, and I will learn by watching. Only tell me what I ought to wear, for I have acquired an array of clothing for occasions formal and informal. Nothing so fine as I saw in the Winter Palace (I was disguised as a servant, though my true function was as an agent of the Nightingale and the story of that night may have reached you already), but one gown is very suitable for daytime in the streets of Val Royeaux, as ensured by the kind Araceli Bonaventura. I would prefer as little likelihood as possible of being mistaken for a servant, although such things inevitably happen.
Speaking of Val Royeaux, I can't sufficiently express what it means to me that you are enjoying my book. I tried to deliver copies to bookshops in Val Royeaux, but I was laughed out of each one. The trouble is not only that it was originally published with my clan name (something not present in current copies), but that the subject of the Dalish, if it is not written disparagingly, is ordinarily a good way to get a book banned. Thus far this has been avoided with my book, as there is no Divine to do so, and the remaining Grand Clerics cannot agree on the color of an orange. My little book has, fortunately, escaped their notice.
My book also contains a whole chapter on the halla and their significance to the Dalish, and are mentioned throughout so that they may be read of in the context of clan life and the wider picture. I hope you find its information useful, and that your Freddie enjoys the book as well. She sounds like a delight, and if she has questions, I am at her disposal.
I am sorry I did not consult you with regards to the bids, but I am confident you will not be disappointed. The Dalish are excellent craftsmen, and I know quality when I see it. However, next time we work together (Commander Cullen has expressed interest in creating more such artifacts for use in other Inquisition keeps), I will be sure to consult you. It is your right, for this is your project as much as it is mine.
'Dareth shiral' is our customary farewell. You will no doubt notice that 'shiral' is also a part of 'Halamshiral,' which means 'end-of-journey.' 'Dareth shiral' means 'safe journey.' It is, upon reflection, indicative of what a goodbye means for an itinerant folk like the Dalish. Perhaps in our current situation it is more appropriate of me to say 'Mythal enansal,' or 'Mythal's blessing." If you would prefer a different god, I can accommodate.
Mythal Enansal,
Lady-called-Pel
She does not know the answer. But she writes a letter.]
My dear friend Val de Foncé,
I have made up my mind to absolutely trust you to turn out whatever spectacle is appropriate for the occasion, and I will learn by watching. Only tell me what I ought to wear, for I have acquired an array of clothing for occasions formal and informal. Nothing so fine as I saw in the Winter Palace (I was disguised as a servant, though my true function was as an agent of the Nightingale and the story of that night may have reached you already), but one gown is very suitable for daytime in the streets of Val Royeaux, as ensured by the kind Araceli Bonaventura. I would prefer as little likelihood as possible of being mistaken for a servant, although such things inevitably happen.
Speaking of Val Royeaux, I can't sufficiently express what it means to me that you are enjoying my book. I tried to deliver copies to bookshops in Val Royeaux, but I was laughed out of each one. The trouble is not only that it was originally published with my clan name (something not present in current copies), but that the subject of the Dalish, if it is not written disparagingly, is ordinarily a good way to get a book banned. Thus far this has been avoided with my book, as there is no Divine to do so, and the remaining Grand Clerics cannot agree on the color of an orange. My little book has, fortunately, escaped their notice.
My book also contains a whole chapter on the halla and their significance to the Dalish, and are mentioned throughout so that they may be read of in the context of clan life and the wider picture. I hope you find its information useful, and that your Freddie enjoys the book as well. She sounds like a delight, and if she has questions, I am at her disposal.
I am sorry I did not consult you with regards to the bids, but I am confident you will not be disappointed. The Dalish are excellent craftsmen, and I know quality when I see it. However, next time we work together (Commander Cullen has expressed interest in creating more such artifacts for use in other Inquisition keeps), I will be sure to consult you. It is your right, for this is your project as much as it is mine.
'Dareth shiral' is our customary farewell. You will no doubt notice that 'shiral' is also a part of 'Halamshiral,' which means 'end-of-journey.' 'Dareth shiral' means 'safe journey.' It is, upon reflection, indicative of what a goodbye means for an itinerant folk like the Dalish. Perhaps in our current situation it is more appropriate of me to say 'Mythal enansal,' or 'Mythal's blessing." If you would prefer a different god, I can accommodate.
Mythal Enansal,
Lady-called-Pel
Dᴇᴀʀ Lᴀᴅʏ-ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ-Pᴇʟ,
Yᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴅᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏɴᴏʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪsɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ Wɪɴᴛᴇʀ Pᴀʟᴀᴄᴇ! I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ʙᴀʟʟs ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇᴀsᴛs ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴍʏsᴇʟꜰ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏꜰᴛᴇɴ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴇxᴄᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢʟʏ ʙᴏʀɪɴɢ, ᴇsᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ ᴀs ᴏꜰ ʟᴀᴛᴇ. (Wᴇʟʟ: ɴᴏᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟᴀᴛᴇ. I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ Oʀʟᴀɪs ɪɴ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴡ.) Tʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴇxᴘʟᴏɪᴛ ᴏʀ ᴍɪsᴄʜɪᴇꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ʜᴀʟʟs ɪs ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛʜʀɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ I ᴍᴜsᴛ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ sᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟs ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴡɴ.
Iᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ: ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇxᴛ ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴇᴀsᴜʀᴇᴍᴇɴᴛs, ᴀɴᴅ I sʜᴀʟʟ sᴜᴘᴘʟʏ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴅʀᴇssᴍᴀᴋᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴄɪᴛʏ. Yᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴛʀᴜsᴛ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀsᴛᴇ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀssᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɪs ᴇxᴄᴇʟʟᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ. I sᴜᴘᴘᴏsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ sᴛɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ sᴇʀᴠᴀɴᴛ--ᴜɴꜰᴏʀᴛᴜɴᴀᴛᴇ ʜᴇʀɪᴛᴀɢᴇ! ᴜɴꜰᴏʀᴛᴜɴᴀᴛᴇ ʙɪᴀs!--ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴇʀ ᴄᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴜᴛ ᴀ ꜰɪɢᴜʀᴇ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀsᴛ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴜsɪᴏɴ. I ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴛᴏ ᴄᴜᴛ ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜰɪɢᴜʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴜsɪᴏɴ.
Oɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ, I ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ sᴜʙᴍɪᴛ ɪᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. Fᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ sᴇᴇ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ ᴀs ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ ɪɴ Oʀʟᴀɪs ᴀs ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ! Iᴛ ɪs ᴀɴ ᴇxᴄɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ sᴄᴀɴᴅᴀʟᴏᴜs ᴛɪᴍᴇ. Lᴀᴅɪᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇᴍᴇɴ ᴏꜰ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴇsᴛᴇᴇᴍ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴜᴄʜ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴏꜰ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ MUST sᴇɪᴢᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴜɴɪᴛʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴡɴ. Sᴛʀɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɴ ɪs ʏᴇᴛ ʜᴏᴛ, ᴅᴇᴀʀ Lᴀᴅʏ Pᴇʟ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴀʟʟ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟꜰ ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ, ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀɪᴄʜʟʏ ʀᴇᴡᴀʀᴅᴇᴅ. Wʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴀsᴋ ꜰᴏʀ!
Oɴᴄᴇ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰɪɴɪsʜᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ (ᴡʜɪᴄʜ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ɴᴏᴡ) I sʜᴀʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀꜰᴜʟ ʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪɴᴄʀᴇᴀsᴇ ɪᴛs ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀɪᴛʏ. Pᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ! Fʀᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ, ᴀs ᴀ sᴄʜᴏʟᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅɪsᴄɪᴘʟɪɴᴇ, ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ ᴀs ᴡᴇʟʟ. Sʜᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ᴛʜᴀɴ I ꜰᴏʀ ɪᴛ ɪs, ᴀs I ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴀɪᴅ, ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪsᴄɪᴘʟɪɴᴇ. Sʜᴇ MUST ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄᴀʟ. Oʀ ᴇʟsᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇ?
I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʟʟᴀ ᴀɴᴅ I ᴀᴍ ᴇɴᴛʀᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ. Oɴᴄᴇ I ᴍᴇᴛ ᴀ ʜᴀʟʟᴀ, ɪɴ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴛʀᴀɴsꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ I ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴇᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴠɪɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴅᴏᴍᴇsᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀsᴛs ʜᴀs ᴅᴏɴᴇ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʜᴀᴘᴘɪᴇsᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰʀᴇᴇ. Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢʀᴇᴇ?
I ʟᴏᴏᴋ ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴsᴜʟᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏɴ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴀʀᴛɪꜰᴀᴄᴛs ᴀɴᴅ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʙᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ. I ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ, ᴛᴏᴏ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛɪᴏɴ. I ᴋɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ I ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴡ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛɪᴀ. I ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs ꜰᴀʀᴇᴡᴇʟʟ ᴛᴏ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʟᴀsᴛɪɴɢ: ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ɪᴛɪɴᴇʀᴀɴᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀs, ʙᴜᴛ ʙᴀsᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ sɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ, ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴꜰᴜʀʟᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴄʟᴜsɪᴠᴇ ʙᴀɴɴᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ Iɴǫᴜɪsɪᴛɪᴏɴ. Wᴇ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜɪs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs. Iɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴀʀᴇᴡᴇʟʟ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ sᴜʙsᴛɪᴛᴜᴛᴇ Aɴᴅʀᴀsᴛᴇ, ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ᴛʜᴇ Mᴀᴋᴇʀ Hɪᴍsᴇʟꜰ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ʙᴇɴᴇꜰɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ I ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʀɢᴜᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴄᴇssɪᴛʏ ᴀs I ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴀɪᴅ: ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜɴɪᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜɪs Iɴǫᴜɪsɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴜᴄʜ ᴜɴɪᴏɴ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛs ᴛᴏ ᴜs.
I sʜᴀʟʟ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀ ᴏꜰ Kɪʀᴋᴡᴀʟʟ, ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ sᴜᴄʜ ᴜɴɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ sᴏᴍᴇ ɢᴏᴅ ᴏʀ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ,
Vᴀʟ ᴅᴇ Fᴏɴᴄᴇ́
Yᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴅᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏɴᴏʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪsɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ Wɪɴᴛᴇʀ Pᴀʟᴀᴄᴇ! I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ʙᴀʟʟs ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇᴀsᴛs ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴍʏsᴇʟꜰ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏꜰᴛᴇɴ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴇxᴄᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢʟʏ ʙᴏʀɪɴɢ, ᴇsᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ ᴀs ᴏꜰ ʟᴀᴛᴇ. (Wᴇʟʟ: ɴᴏᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟᴀᴛᴇ. I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ Oʀʟᴀɪs ɪɴ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴡ.) Tʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴇxᴘʟᴏɪᴛ ᴏʀ ᴍɪsᴄʜɪᴇꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ʜᴀʟʟs ɪs ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛʜʀɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ I ᴍᴜsᴛ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ sᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟs ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴡɴ.
Iᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ: ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇxᴛ ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴇᴀsᴜʀᴇᴍᴇɴᴛs, ᴀɴᴅ I sʜᴀʟʟ sᴜᴘᴘʟʏ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴅʀᴇssᴍᴀᴋᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴄɪᴛʏ. Yᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴛʀᴜsᴛ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀsᴛᴇ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀssᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɪs ᴇxᴄᴇʟʟᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ. I sᴜᴘᴘᴏsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ sᴛɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ sᴇʀᴠᴀɴᴛ--ᴜɴꜰᴏʀᴛᴜɴᴀᴛᴇ ʜᴇʀɪᴛᴀɢᴇ! ᴜɴꜰᴏʀᴛᴜɴᴀᴛᴇ ʙɪᴀs!--ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴇʀ ᴄᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴜᴛ ᴀ ꜰɪɢᴜʀᴇ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀsᴛ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴜsɪᴏɴ. I ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴛᴏ ᴄᴜᴛ ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜰɪɢᴜʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴜsɪᴏɴ.
Oɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ, I ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ sᴜʙᴍɪᴛ ɪᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. Fᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ sᴇᴇ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ ᴀs ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ ɪɴ Oʀʟᴀɪs ᴀs ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ! Iᴛ ɪs ᴀɴ ᴇxᴄɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ sᴄᴀɴᴅᴀʟᴏᴜs ᴛɪᴍᴇ. Lᴀᴅɪᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇᴍᴇɴ ᴏꜰ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴇsᴛᴇᴇᴍ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴜᴄʜ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴏꜰ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ MUST sᴇɪᴢᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴜɴɪᴛʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴡɴ. Sᴛʀɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɴ ɪs ʏᴇᴛ ʜᴏᴛ, ᴅᴇᴀʀ Lᴀᴅʏ Pᴇʟ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ sʜᴀʟʟ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟꜰ ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ, ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀɪᴄʜʟʏ ʀᴇᴡᴀʀᴅᴇᴅ. Wʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴀsᴋ ꜰᴏʀ!
Oɴᴄᴇ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰɪɴɪsʜᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ (ᴡʜɪᴄʜ I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ɴᴏᴡ) I sʜᴀʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀꜰᴜʟ ʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪɴᴄʀᴇᴀsᴇ ɪᴛs ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀɪᴛʏ. Pᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ! Fʀᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ, ᴀs ᴀ sᴄʜᴏʟᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅɪsᴄɪᴘʟɪɴᴇ, ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ ᴀs ᴡᴇʟʟ. Sʜᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ᴛʜᴀɴ I ꜰᴏʀ ɪᴛ ɪs, ᴀs I ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴀɪᴅ, ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪsᴄɪᴘʟɪɴᴇ. Sʜᴇ MUST ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄᴀʟ. Oʀ ᴇʟsᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇ?
I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʟʟᴀ ᴀɴᴅ I ᴀᴍ ᴇɴᴛʀᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ. Oɴᴄᴇ I ᴍᴇᴛ ᴀ ʜᴀʟʟᴀ, ɪɴ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴛʀᴀɴsꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ I ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴇᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴠɪɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴅᴏᴍᴇsᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀsᴛs ʜᴀs ᴅᴏɴᴇ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʜᴀᴘᴘɪᴇsᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰʀᴇᴇ. Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢʀᴇᴇ?
I ʟᴏᴏᴋ ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴsᴜʟᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏɴ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴀʀᴛɪꜰᴀᴄᴛs ᴀɴᴅ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʙᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ. I ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ, ᴛᴏᴏ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛɪᴏɴ. I ᴋɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ I ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴡ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛɪᴀ. I ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs ꜰᴀʀᴇᴡᴇʟʟ ᴛᴏ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʟᴀsᴛɪɴɢ: ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ ɪᴛɪɴᴇʀᴀɴᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀs, ʙᴜᴛ ʙᴀsᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ sɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ, ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴꜰᴜʀʟᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴄʟᴜsɪᴠᴇ ʙᴀɴɴᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ Iɴǫᴜɪsɪᴛɪᴏɴ. Wᴇ ᴍᴜsᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜɪs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs. Iɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴀʀᴇᴡᴇʟʟ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ sᴜʙsᴛɪᴛᴜᴛᴇ Aɴᴅʀᴀsᴛᴇ, ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘs ᴛʜᴇ Mᴀᴋᴇʀ Hɪᴍsᴇʟꜰ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ʙᴇɴᴇꜰɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ I ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʀɢᴜᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴄᴇssɪᴛʏ ᴀs I ʜᴀᴠᴇ sᴀɪᴅ: ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜɴɪᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜɪs Iɴǫᴜɪsɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴜᴄʜ ᴜɴɪᴏɴ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛs ᴛᴏ ᴜs.
I sʜᴀʟʟ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀ ᴏꜰ Kɪʀᴋᴡᴀʟʟ, ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ sᴜᴄʜ ᴜɴɪᴏɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ sᴏᴍᴇ ɢᴏᴅ ᴏʀ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ,
Vᴀʟ ᴅᴇ Fᴏɴᴄᴇ́
My dear Val de Foncé,
We were at the Winter Palace for the peace talks. All hands were needed, so I went as a guard disguised as a servant. The mask covered my vallaslin, so I looked quite ordinary. As the talks began to crumble, we began to hear shouts from outside. The doors slammed open, and in came a whole battalion of Red Templars. I had little time to think. I cannot recall if I herded the nearest people into a separate room or if I was among the herded, but the next thing I knew, I found myself in a small room with my friend Merrill, as well as Lady Mantillon and her entourage.
Red Templars were trying to break open the door. I began to cast, barricading the door with as much ice as I could summon while Merrill used a bit of Dalish magic to strengthen the vines outside the window. We helped the Dowager out first, as some of our people were on the ground, and we were all able to escape alive. And that is my tale of the Winter Palace.
I have included my measurements, but I request that if you're going to use my money to have clothes made, at least have the dressmaker cut the pieces out only, and deliver them to me to sew together. It saves a great deal of money.
You are very kind to offer to write reviews of my book. I am sure having one good review and one bad, both written by legitimate human scholars, will lend credence to my own legitimacy. I shall strive not to read too much into your friend's criticisms, but she may make herself look quite silly if she believes she knows more about the Dalish than a Dalish. Perhaps her criticisms should focus on tone and organization rather than content, unless it is to criticize the over-inclusion or lack of inclusion of certain topics and anecdotes.
I do agree, regarding the halla kept by the Inquisition. They are not cattle. I was disappointed in the clan that sent them to us. They should have known better. Of course the halla are not forced to go where they do not want to go, but we should in return see to their needs as they see to ours, and give them wide spaces to run and fresh grass to eat.
The Dalish revere Andraste as one who helped to free the elves from Tevinter, but we do not worship her or exalt her to a near-godhood status. It would feel very strange to me to ask Andraste to bless you. So instead of asking the blessings of gods and prophets, I will simply say, Yours.
Yours,
Lady-called-Pel
P.S. Regarding the dress, I suggest avoiding pale colors, which make me look washed-out. And do avoid yellow if you can.
We were at the Winter Palace for the peace talks. All hands were needed, so I went as a guard disguised as a servant. The mask covered my vallaslin, so I looked quite ordinary. As the talks began to crumble, we began to hear shouts from outside. The doors slammed open, and in came a whole battalion of Red Templars. I had little time to think. I cannot recall if I herded the nearest people into a separate room or if I was among the herded, but the next thing I knew, I found myself in a small room with my friend Merrill, as well as Lady Mantillon and her entourage.
Red Templars were trying to break open the door. I began to cast, barricading the door with as much ice as I could summon while Merrill used a bit of Dalish magic to strengthen the vines outside the window. We helped the Dowager out first, as some of our people were on the ground, and we were all able to escape alive. And that is my tale of the Winter Palace.
I have included my measurements, but I request that if you're going to use my money to have clothes made, at least have the dressmaker cut the pieces out only, and deliver them to me to sew together. It saves a great deal of money.
You are very kind to offer to write reviews of my book. I am sure having one good review and one bad, both written by legitimate human scholars, will lend credence to my own legitimacy. I shall strive not to read too much into your friend's criticisms, but she may make herself look quite silly if she believes she knows more about the Dalish than a Dalish. Perhaps her criticisms should focus on tone and organization rather than content, unless it is to criticize the over-inclusion or lack of inclusion of certain topics and anecdotes.
I do agree, regarding the halla kept by the Inquisition. They are not cattle. I was disappointed in the clan that sent them to us. They should have known better. Of course the halla are not forced to go where they do not want to go, but we should in return see to their needs as they see to ours, and give them wide spaces to run and fresh grass to eat.
The Dalish revere Andraste as one who helped to free the elves from Tevinter, but we do not worship her or exalt her to a near-godhood status. It would feel very strange to me to ask Andraste to bless you. So instead of asking the blessings of gods and prophets, I will simply say, Yours.
Yours,
Lady-called-Pel
P.S. Regarding the dress, I suggest avoiding pale colors, which make me look washed-out. And do avoid yellow if you can.
Edited 2017-05-30 16:15 (UTC)
Madame Pel,
[ she's been hesitant to begin approaching this, knows well the hackles a templar's interest will raise. however, after speaking with morrigan, it's clear the matter cannot wait overlong. better she do this, and risk a private scare, than allow this farce to continue without public explanation. ]
This is Ser Luwenna Coupe, I serve the Inquisition in its relationship with the Chantry. My apologies for the manner of introduction; I am presently within Orlais.
[ that the matter would not wait for her return, that she's had word of it at all so far distant — she knows little of the woman, but trusts she's sharp enough to catch the implications. ]
I trust you have observed the changes within Kirkwall's memorial garden?
[ she's been hesitant to begin approaching this, knows well the hackles a templar's interest will raise. however, after speaking with morrigan, it's clear the matter cannot wait overlong. better she do this, and risk a private scare, than allow this farce to continue without public explanation. ]
This is Ser Luwenna Coupe, I serve the Inquisition in its relationship with the Chantry. My apologies for the manner of introduction; I am presently within Orlais.
[ that the matter would not wait for her return, that she's had word of it at all so far distant — she knows little of the woman, but trusts she's sharp enough to catch the implications. ]
I trust you have observed the changes within Kirkwall's memorial garden?
[Mythal'enaste.]
It is Dalish magic, yes. What questions are being raised, and why is it important to address them?
It is Dalish magic, yes. What questions are being raised, and why is it important to address them?
[ at least she didn't have to bludgeon down that particular door. they'll close ranks now, of course, ]
You understand, I am sure, why unannounced magic of such scale would trouble the people of Kirkwall. [ evidently fucking not, if she had any involvement or knowledge of this ] Particularly upon a holy site — one of yet-contentious associations.
It is within the interest of the Inquisition that we present a unified front, and a palatable explanation for both our methods and rationale. We did not come to Kirkwall to rule her.
You understand, I am sure, why unannounced magic of such scale would trouble the people of Kirkwall. [ evidently fucking not, if she had any involvement or knowledge of this ] Particularly upon a holy site — one of yet-contentious associations.
It is within the interest of the Inquisition that we present a unified front, and a palatable explanation for both our methods and rationale. We did not come to Kirkwall to rule her.
[There's a bit of a pause.]
Doing something nice is hardly tantamount to a political coup, Ser. There wasn't a garden there, now there is. Kirkwall has dealt with far more peculiar and sinister events, believe me. Its people will be fine.
Doing something nice is hardly tantamount to a political coup, Ser. There wasn't a garden there, now there is. Kirkwall has dealt with far more peculiar and sinister events, believe me. Its people will be fine.
[ maferath's balls, really. ]
Most of the South, [ she holds her voice steady, calm, ] Had little exposure to magic, until very recently. Their introductions have been often violent, frightening. They do not see a charming garden. They see that — again — forces beyond their control have reshaped their city without consent.
As you say, Kirkwall has weathered much: War in the streets, debris from the sky, scrambles for power. Her peace is hard-earned. She is slow to trust, and we break that trust every time we act as though we own her.
We are here at the Viscount's pleasure. We shall leave by it as well.
Most of the South, [ she holds her voice steady, calm, ] Had little exposure to magic, until very recently. Their introductions have been often violent, frightening. They do not see a charming garden. They see that — again — forces beyond their control have reshaped their city without consent.
As you say, Kirkwall has weathered much: War in the streets, debris from the sky, scrambles for power. Her peace is hard-earned. She is slow to trust, and we break that trust every time we act as though we own her.
We are here at the Viscount's pleasure. We shall leave by it as well.
Well. They're not going to learn to trust magic, in this new world where mages are free, without having some positive exposure. They certainly won't learn if folk like you go about ranting at mages who are doing something kind like we've done something wrong. The rest is just public relations. If people see you overreacting, they will overreact as well. The Inquisition is helping rebuild Kirkwall in other places--just tell the Viscount this is one of the areas we've restored and suddenly we've earned goodwill instead of displeasure. Or however you want to go about it.
[ 'just public relations'. somewhere in apcher, a passing lay sister catches sight of her expression, and decides to take a walk elsewhere.
'just public relations' — but more importantly, we. the questions that remain are whether she acted alone, to what extent the blood was involved. ]
Naturally, as one does not trust to the presence of human soldiers without practice. What do you feel their reception would be, to arrive at the edges of a Dalish clan? Even upon peaceful terms.
[ they both know exactly how that would go. it's a comparison she's been avoiding; that she's been that soldier, with aims less benign, escapes precisely no one in this conversation. ]
It is easy to ignore the context of our actions. But that is not a luxury which the Inquisition can afford. What is done cannot be undone;
[ save by fire, by axe. maker willing, the guards they've posted will discourage that — there'd been enough problems of it before the fucking trees. ]
It also cannot happen again. I come to you that we might put forward a narrative in which the Inquisition's mages are part of a positive future for Kirkwall. One in which they work with her people and government. One in which our eagerness to help overstepped our political courtesies.
To accomplish this, we require a story, and cooperation with it. A ritual of this size does not draw upon small energy.
'just public relations' — but more importantly, we. the questions that remain are whether she acted alone, to what extent the blood was involved. ]
Naturally, as one does not trust to the presence of human soldiers without practice. What do you feel their reception would be, to arrive at the edges of a Dalish clan? Even upon peaceful terms.
[ they both know exactly how that would go. it's a comparison she's been avoiding; that she's been that soldier, with aims less benign, escapes precisely no one in this conversation. ]
It is easy to ignore the context of our actions. But that is not a luxury which the Inquisition can afford. What is done cannot be undone;
[ save by fire, by axe. maker willing, the guards they've posted will discourage that — there'd been enough problems of it before the fucking trees. ]
It also cannot happen again. I come to you that we might put forward a narrative in which the Inquisition's mages are part of a positive future for Kirkwall. One in which they work with her people and government. One in which our eagerness to help overstepped our political courtesies.
To accomplish this, we require a story, and cooperation with it. A ritual of this size does not draw upon small energy.
[...Yeah. Yeah, she has a point. Some points. Pel's cheeks feel warm. She sighs.]
There's no need for a story. Tell the truth. There were three of us. The Inquisition's local gardener was head of the project. Velanna and I were there to help spread her magic to the edges of the garden, to revitalize the soil there.
[A beat.]
We really were trying to do something kind. It never occurred to any of us it might upset anyone. Whatever you tell them, keep that in mind. It's completely legitimate to tell them that it was three Dalish volunteers who really were that clueless.
There's no need for a story. Tell the truth. There were three of us. The Inquisition's local gardener was head of the project. Velanna and I were there to help spread her magic to the edges of the garden, to revitalize the soil there.
[A beat.]
We really were trying to do something kind. It never occurred to any of us it might upset anyone. Whatever you tell them, keep that in mind. It's completely legitimate to tell them that it was three Dalish volunteers who really were that clueless.
[ a breath pushed out, slow. the gardener. fuck. the one that looks like a dying baby deer, of course it is. ]
Thank you for your honesty. [ or what might pass for it ] It is my opinion that it would be unwise to single out the Dalish in this manner; it will better endear your people to the citizenry that you accompany more familiar faces.
[ easier to get rid of the problem if the problem all wear tattoos. that would be a disaster of its own. ]
I am willing to attach my own to the matter, provided I’ve confirmation that all three of you understand the situation and its risks.
[ will it be enough? to claim three parties, a thin veil, as the source of all that power? it will need to be. a templar’s title might legitimize the method to the broader public, but it won’t be enough to sway all those within the inquisition, all those with suspicions already aroused. (of this, and of her.) ]
If you would please describe the working, to the extent that you are able.
Thank you for your honesty. [ or what might pass for it ] It is my opinion that it would be unwise to single out the Dalish in this manner; it will better endear your people to the citizenry that you accompany more familiar faces.
[ easier to get rid of the problem if the problem all wear tattoos. that would be a disaster of its own. ]
I am willing to attach my own to the matter, provided I’ve confirmation that all three of you understand the situation and its risks.
[ will it be enough? to claim three parties, a thin veil, as the source of all that power? it will need to be. a templar’s title might legitimize the method to the broader public, but it won’t be enough to sway all those within the inquisition, all those with suspicions already aroused. (of this, and of her.) ]
If you would please describe the working, to the extent that you are able.
Page 10 of 12