This lavender-scented letter, though in places smudged as if the hand holding the pen was constantly jostled, was written in longhand and folded with great care.
To the hand of my lady Gwenneth Ledigne this letter be delivered.
Well-beloved wife, I salute you, with the kiss of submission upon the hem of your dress. I tender, too, mine apologies for this unusual form of communication -- but though it be but a half-sun since last I held your hand, that is time enough for me to miss its warmth; and, while waiting through the tedium of airship transfers, I find myself with opportunity not only to think of my love and longing for you, but to recall a time when I could only hope to express those sentiments between the lines of a letter or the stems of a bouquet, enclosed with trembling hands and delivered to you in equal hope and fear that you might perceive the truth of them. Enfolded in paper, pangs of bashfulness and desire so great I feared I could not bear them -- yet as consuming as my feelings were then, they are dwarfed by the magnitude of my feelings today. Such are my thoughts when now I pick up my pen; if I once wrote to you full of secret tenderness and passion, surely I can write to you still, with even sweeter tenderness and warmer passion.
Besides my love and devotion to you, my ruminations this voyage have lingered on the conversation I had with Miss Sasamu Samu during her visit to the capital a few suns past. She came with my chief rival for your affections (if I may beg your pardon for referring to him so,) the mammet she calls Zero. She educated me on the topic of mammet intelligence, laying before me both her suspicions that Zero might be evolving to some level of consciousness and the concerns that she and the Bellworks engineers have about the possibility, namely that if a mammet should develop to a Spoken level of understanding, it would no longer be ethical to continue using it for the unending, sometimes dangerous labor for which it was designed. In the course of our discussion, though, we considered if it is not the duty of the mammeteer to, instead of preventing it from becoming intelligent, encourage and shepherd it carefully, guiding its development and protecting it from abuse by the unscrupulous, as a parent raises and educates a child. For all we know the minerals that are refined to create a mammet’s heart -- a process that is apparently poorly understood even by those goldsmiths who specialize in the field -- were given their mysterious properties by the gods, and mayhap it has ever been the Builder’s intention that His disciples extract it from the earth and install it in bodies that can move, perceive, and learn. Though that be only speculation, if it approaches the truth, then Miss Sasamu must be prepared, as young Zero approaches closer and closer to Spoken cognition, to be its prudent and compassionate mother.
Meanwhile, in the course of arranging an introduction between her and the family of a certain friend of mine, I happened across a rumor that certain indiscreet carryings-on of said friend are soon like to bear the fruit they always do, an inevitability we all should have expected and would have, had the two of them been of a less advanced age. I cannot write much more on the subject till I have verified the truth of the rumors, and would rather tell you in person besides; for now I shall only confess the ambiguity of my feelings, for while I am heartily disappointed in my friend for persisting so long in indecency, and plan to admonish him to make his conduct honorable as soon as possible -- I feel, too, a pang of fellow-feeling, joy at their autumn blessing mixed with a greater part of fear for that blessing's future, born to the same sort of heritage that you and I know is not easily accepted by our society -- and then I am aggravated again and wonder how much thought my friend has given his children born and unborn, how his actions will reflect on them and shape the rest of their lives.
It seems a great number of us must bear such responsibilities in the coming moons.
I have not yet written to our landlord
Helenne tells me the last furnishings she ordered for the new rooms downstairs have arrived; all the quarters need now are the maids to live in them. Some time in the next fortnight we ought to dine together with Helenne and make our choice of house-maid from the candidates; as for the nurse, my friend Father Michandel has offered the services of one of House Pepin's most experienced, if after we both speak with her she meets with our approval. I defer, as always, to my mistress's preference, as her happiness and ease of heart is dearer to me than mine own.
To those ends I beg you also to inform me if you would like me to bring back aught at all for you while on one of my errands in the south. I had thought to come home bearing a bouquet of fresh-fallen leaves, all a-flame with the scarlet and gold of the season, but if my recollection is correct, Language and Sentiment ascribes to those the meaning of "sorrow and melancholy" -- emotions that I fear I barely remember.
No more from me at this time but a thousand worshipful kisses and the prayer that Halone shall allow me to serve you, midons, in bliss and adoration for all the rest of my suns.
Written between Ishgard and Gridania on this, the fifteenth sun of the Fifth Astral Moon of the eleventh year of the Seventh Umbral Era.
To Lord Integris Shadowstar, resident at —, this letter be delivered.
Dear friend, I greet you well, desiring to hear of your welfare and that of your children and all your house. I pray the heat of the summer proved balm to your bones and that the change of seasons comes on gently so that you may return to the south at your own leisure. It is a consolation, at least, that the colors of the Shroud erupt so beautifully this time of year; it is my hope that my lady and I will be able to travel together to witness them, and if so I hope we shall be able to pay you our respects, though as the moon progresses it may become more difficult for her to do so. But I can assure you that all is as expected and we are, as far as can be known, in perfect health, praise be to Halone -- and meet it may be, after all, that I soon have the opportunity to speak with mine old friend in private.
It has passed that one of mine acquaintance, an engineer in the service of the Dufresne Bellworks to which my wife belongs, paid visit to our fair city and was struck with a curiosity about the business of the Athenaeum Astrologicum, their art and the applications of astrology and astromancy. As no family of mine acquaintance is as advanced in those fields as yours, I thought immediately to recommend your house's name to her; therefore, if it is amenable to you or mayhap to Lord Sirus, whom I understand to be advancing his training, I commend this young woman, one Sasamu Samu, to your care. I do not believe her to be seeking any sort of long-term instruction, but if either of you might spare a moment to provide one or two short interviews on the subject, it would please me greatly.
No more from me at this time but the sincere and eternal promise to be of aid whenever and however I may, should you and yours require it in the coming moons. When yours and mine are paths that are not the same, but proceed in parallel, it is my natural wish to make yours as smooth as possible. May the Fury bless you and have you both in Her keeping.
Written at — on this the fourteenth sun of the Fifth Astral Moon of the eleventh year of the Seventh Umbral Era.
To the gentle Lady Ceridwen of the House of Shadowstar, care of Stillglade Fane in Gridania, be this letter delivered.
Dear child, I greet you well, most anxious for the latest news of your lord father's health and steadfastly praying that news will continue to be for weal. As from this letter and the previous you may gather, mine own recovery proceeds apace and I fare far better than I had any right to hope or expect, praise be to Halone, more merciful than any of us deserve.
That I have my wits and senses and the use of my limbs dexter is an immeasurable blessing, and my gratitude to Her and also to the companions and chirurgeons She sped to my side overflows. Though my weak side has improved little, I cannot much bring myself to bemoan my fate, as one strong leg and arm have proven all I need to move between my rooms, enjoy a book, and write to my dear friends, which are all the pleasures of life I require for myself. But I find my condition does not admit me the ready use of staircases, which, in addition to posing me some great difficulties as a man of Ishgard, recalls my mind to a matter that you and I ought to settle, though only if time and your lord father's health permits.
There remains some slim chance my lameness will abate in the future, but as we approach the fourth moon since my collapse, it seems to me perfectly prudent to discuss the disposal of the property that was once mine, for even if I am not quite so ill as to require confinement to some nursing-home, its size and vertical layout are no longer very suited to me. And so, while I have no means to compel you aside from the promise I extracted many moons ago, I would be heartened to learn that you had begun proceedings to transfer its ownership, as we earlier agreed.
I must of course strenuously advise you to stay at your father's side until he is strong and hale, but if an improvement in his health allows you to return briefly to Ishgard, I would very much prefer to discuss the details of this, as well as other sensitive affairs of mine, in person, but pray do not feel yourself pressed, for the Lord de Saincourant seems to have realized he shall make no progress on that front and has moved on to obstruct some different affairs.
No more at this time, but Halone have you and all yours in Her keeping. And I pray that after you have read this letter you will burn it, so my heart may be easy.
Written this 25th Sun of the Second Umbral Moon of the tenth year of the Seventh Umbral Era.
It was cold in Ishgard. It was always cold in Ishgard. At least as far as Norhi remembered. Lord Integris would tell her stories about when it wasn't so cold. And when his late wife would grow yellow daffodils in their garden. Apparently yellow had been her favorite color. Surprising, since there was not a lot of yellow-yellow in their home. There was a lot of gold though. She supposed that counted. Maybe.
Not that it stopped the cold. Nor did it stop Lord Integris from climbing up to his little observatory floor of the library tower. She followed him up and watched as he opened the viewing window. He took out a tool that reminded her a lot of a protractor. A really odd protractor that he held up to some markings on the window.
After a moment, he put the tool down and flipped open a log that was sitting on the desk there. He wrote down some numbers and nodded. "There."
Norhi scooted closer. "So… what's all this?"
Integris winked at Norhi and then pointed at the moon, visible through the window in it's crescent glory. "I was measuring the moon. Her place the sky, the stars closest to her, the width of her penumbra, and so on."
Norhi nodded slowly and then asked, "Okay. So… What do you do with all that?"
Integris picked up the log and started flipping the pages back, so Norhi could see the decades of numbers written down. "Historical recording, for future references. The moon figures into our readings of the sky for not only star charts and navigation, but also our attempts to understand aether patterns and predict what may yet come. Making these recordings every night means that when major events happen, we can look back at these numbers and compare with the various charts and readings we have. It allows us a better understanding of our world as a whole."
Norhi gently took the book into her own hands and flipped through the pages. "This is a lot of numbers. You used to measure Dalamud too."
Integris slipped his hands into his pockets and smiled grimly. "We did. And… to an extent we sort of still do."
Norhi gave Integris a confused look then. "How do you measure what's not there anymore?"
Integris pointed at the window, to a space near Menphina, but between some stars. "The pattern of the stars, that surrounded our view of Dalamud did not shift significantly, when the red moon fell. And so, we're able to see to about where we believe Dalamud would be, if it still flew today. We don't measure it for its presence anymore, but rather for its absence, as reflected by what we call the Nocturnal Sect."
Norhi hummed skeptically, leaning closer to the window and squinting at the space. "Well… alright then. So what do the stars say tonight?"
Integris looked back out the cold glass and stared at the stars for a long, silent moment. And just when Norhi thought he wouldn't answer, he took his glasses off and pulled out a kerchief to clean them. "Tonight… the stars appear to speak of change coming. The new year and Starlight holidays, I would guess. But without shifting the window to see the rest of the sky, I can't say for certain. Suffice it to say, I believe change, is better than stagnation."
Norhi tugged her coat more closely around herself. "A pity it didn't tell us it'd warm up."
"Ha! Now that would be a welcome change. For now… let's see if Rhydia's finished making the cocoa."
