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Written By Roran

Jan. 23, 2020, 1:58 p.m.(8.437230902777777/18.484930555555554/1012.6197692418981 AR)

Lady Mabelle,

You have done a great thing for you and your house. For your lands and the compact. Never, shall you be underestimated again by at least one person in this city. Now, go enjoy a walk with your dogs and this entry into this Archlectors whites.

Written By Martino

Jan. 23, 2020, 1:56 p.m.(8.437142443783069/18.479976851851852/1012.6197618703153 AR)

I win. Colin.

I. Win.

Written By Strozza

Jan. 23, 2020, 10:07 a.m.(8.425789103835978/17.844189814814815/1012.618815758653 AR)

Relationship Note on Braith

What ifs, and where whens. The curse of our times, but sometimes worth thinking on.

What mysteries might our joint studies unlock? Hopefully something to benefit the family as much as our own persons.

Written By Strozza

Jan. 23, 2020, 9:59 a.m.(8.425389798280424/17.821828703703705/1012.61878248319 AR)

Shimmer in vision
Japes derived by ones mind's eye
The truth is sweeter

Written By Selene

Jan. 23, 2020, 9:42 a.m.(8.424539930555556/17.77423611111111/1012.6187116608796 AR)

What beautiful things demand to be made in honour of so many upcoming events. The fantasies of an ocean, the tumbling of Thorns. Are there others I have missed?

Written By Lucita

Jan. 23, 2020, 8:35 a.m.(8.421211144179894/17.587824074074074/1012.618434262015 AR)

I spend time practicing a song I am supposed to sing in the Bard's Concert, fretting about whether my costume for it will be ready in time, and anxiously awaiting reports on the current construction efforts in Saikland Greens. Things could be far worse!

Written By Tanith

Jan. 23, 2020, 8:04 a.m.(8.41968005952381/17.502083333333335/1012.618306671627 AR)

Gossip and booze. That's all I'll have time to write about.

Written By Denica

Jan. 23, 2020, 7:09 a.m.(8.416924189814814/17.34775462962963/1012.6180770158179 AR)

This boat race thing has got me all fired up! It's still a few months away, but that gives me enough time to practice.

Written By Anisha

Jan. 23, 2020, 6:28 a.m.(8.414916087962963/17.235300925925927/1012.6179096739969 AR)

I have a calling as a Mirrormask and a Whisper, both of which require discretion and sworn confidences. For one, it is the honour of Whisper House, our ability to act effectively as diplomats that is at stake. For the other, it is a solemn vow to the Thirteenth. Both are severe and intense in their own right.

I don't know that I can answer Blessed Roran's inquiry in the Whites. But I have answered, as best I am able.

It is rare for me to see my thoughts put down in the Whites these days. It is, perhaps, time for me to make a choice about changing that, at least.

Written By Anisha

Jan. 23, 2020, 6:11 a.m.(8.414044312169313/17.18648148148148/1012.6178370260141 AR)

Relationship Note on Qadira

When I stepped into the Training Centre, the spar was already underway. The Bull of Solace, the mountain of a man that is Sir Jeffeth Bayweather, wearing but a pair of pants and fighting with his bare hands, against a woman who seemed half his size. She wore leathers. She carried a curved blade, like I've seen in illustrations proclaiming to be of Eurusi or Saffron Chain stylings.

She lost-

But not before standing against him longer than I thought possible. Not before scoring marks against Sir Jeffeth, multiple. Telling.

I spoke with Lady Lenne and met Fidget, which apparently follows Sir Jeffeth around, now.Watching the battle in rapt fascination. She went down, several times. Was bloodied as he was and more. But she kept coming back up for more.

Sir Jeffeth lifted her over his head and it looked like, for a moment, that he'd driven her straight through the ground and into the depths below.

She lived, and that was how we met. We took her home, so Lady Lenne might look after her.

Mirari Corsetina might still owe her a drink.

I admit a passionate admiration. It's not about whether we fall.

It's about getting up again.

Written By Lenne

Jan. 23, 2020, 2 a.m.(8.401607142857143/16.490000000000002/1012.6168005952381 AR)

Relationship Note on Roran

I've not used a White to respond to a White before. Let's hope Archlector Roran is paying for the right services, to see mine.
You ask what the biggest change in our lives was. And how it affected us.

If one had asked, anything before four months ago, I'd have said the Burning of Stormwall, during the Gyre War. Were it not for that, I doubt I'd have been nearly so passionate about being a healer, and certainly wouldn't have my life's goals, as they are. Having one's home burn around you, and choking on the smoke, while people die to evil things just beyond the walls leaves an impression.

Now? I know the real change happened when I came to Arx.
The Burning was a direction. Arx was a change. Father told me more than once that Arx would chew me up. And it has, but not as he thought.
I have been reinvented as Lenne a half dozen times. Chewed up, sometimes, but just into a different, better shape.

I didn't have friends, to speak of, in Stormwall.
Now I have a host of people I trust with my life. And who trust me with the same.

I didn't think I would ever fall in love, in Stormwall.
Now I have. Head over heels. More than once.

I didn't have a clue, in Stormwall.
I suppose I still barely have more, in the grand scheme of things, but I do feel like quite an accomplished scholar, some days. Increasingly more days, even. People who know me are better armed with knowledge, for my presence.

I didn't do worthwhile things, in Stormwall.
I dreamed. But here I actually do the things I dreamed of. Here, I have gone out on adventures. I've seen incredible things. I've faced battles. I've uncovered ancient mysteries. I've saved lives.

I didn't trust myself, or believe in myself, in Stormwall.
Given all the rest, above? For once, I begin to think that maybe Lenne is worthwhile. That maybe my reach might not exceed my grasp. I dislike arrogance. But maybe a bit of pride is something I'll allow myself.

I ever keep Lagoma's teachings, in mind. Change is inevitable. Change for the better, growth, is what we must ever strive for. Arx hasn't just changed things for me. It has changed the nature of change. It has let me grow. It has burned away some of the dross, and left something better, behind. Warm hope springs, where I coldly despaired before.

Written By Vanora

Jan. 23, 2020, 1:43 a.m.(8.400757688492064/16.442430555555557/1012.6167298073743 AR)

After all this time I find a space of quiet where I can make choices. What to focus on next, what to look for, what to learn.

I expect that this won't be a luxury I have for long, that soon again events will dictate where I must focus my attention, that I will be overwhelmed with what I must do and not quietly delighted by what I can do.

But for now, I will choose. And all of the options sound like sweet music.

Written By Rysen

Jan. 22, 2020, 11:38 p.m.(8.394560598544974/16.09539351851852/1012.6162133832121 AR)

I had been gone a while, and it warmed my heart to return and see some of my friends and family again. I encountered my cousin briefly, and her kind words brought me all the happiness one feels in returning to a place where he or she belongs. I stood for a while gazing at the now empty chambers that I had prepared for my sister when she first arrived in Arx. Wherever she is, I hope she is happy and that Lagmoa's light guides her way. My wife told me she is for a second time with child. The news filled me with joy, and I cannot wait to meet Nakoa's brother or sister.

Marquessa Arcadia, too, I had the fortune of seeing, and with her help I prepare for a journey I have long hoped to make. The time has come, and I am grateful to have the Marquessa's support. She pledged it so long ago, and so much has happened in the intervening seasons since, that I scarcely expected her to face looming danger, with so little to gain, save on behalf of her friend. Yet she shows the immeasurable value of her honor and friendship when it matters most - and I will never forget it.

By chance I also had the pleasure of the company of Lady Colette Laurent, whose charms and daring reminded me of perilous quest we'd lately undertaken with the Gold Order. I could ask for no better company with which to enjoy some tea and conversation. I found myself looking for any excuse to ask her about the prized commodity of her homeland, just to hear her pronounce, in her beautiful Oathlands accent, the word "'oney."

Poet's hearts are wild, fiery things, and must be shielded from the public, lest the raw and uncouth energy of emotion shock and bewilder them. Thus I must leave my encounter with Rukhnis unwritten, save only to say that no man has ever experienced a more joyful meeting, nor a more sorrowful parting than when I saw her in the library of the Black Hall, or when she turned her horse from the wooden gates of T____ in the west of Stormwall.

Written By Ringvald

Jan. 22, 2020, 9:11 p.m.(8.387257771164021/15.686435185185186/1012.6156048142636 AR)

It has been some time since I've written anything here, my hands had been disabled.

Firstly, in my haste for improving relations in the city I had made the mistake of nearly becoming betrothed, I didn't understand the customs here and promptly had to withdraw due to inadequacy of my post. I had made a foolish error after never having received such attentions, and gave into them far too easily. I will resume alone as I am meant to be, as not to interfere with my work.

Then I joined an expedition, we were going to a field to search for something, some relic in an old battleground. I thought it would be interesting and historically relevant, though I didn't expect to see hostile spirits and swarms of mankilling bees. I am no warrior, though I can say I'm not a coward, in an attempt to help I burned my cloak, using it to take down the bees like a flaming net, though between that and the stings my hands were and still are quite unsightly. I have opted to wear gloves from now on, nobody wants to see these hands less than I, it's for the best.

Finally, we are working on a project to enhance the possibility of growing in the Clearlake Hold, I'm unsure how it will go, so I will write of this at a later date.

~Lord Ringvald Clearlake

Written By Aureth

Jan. 22, 2020, 8:50 p.m.(8.386240906084655/15.629490740740742/1012.6155200755071 AR)

Relationship Note on Alarissa

It is so, historically, Princess Alarissa Thrax and I frequently have had occasion to disagree, on numerous subjects, but it is difficult to argue with her sense of fashion. Her most recent collection modeled on behalf of the Faith has made this plain, and I believe it worthy of note.

Written By Preston

Jan. 22, 2020, 4:48 p.m.(8.37422867063492/14.956805555555556/1012.6145190558863 AR)

There have been times when the Templars have had to say no - that we can't help on something because we are focused elsewhere. It is always sad in those occasions to then see losses come, knowing perhaps our presence might have made a difference.

The most tragic news comes though when we hear of events that occur, events where things occur or information comes out that we know we could have helped with, and we were never spoken to, our aid never sought.

But such is the way - there is still much mistrust. And it gets people killed.

Written By Preston

Jan. 22, 2020, 4:45 p.m.(8.374076140873015/14.948263888888889/1012.6145063450728 AR)

I'm just going to say this, honourable combat is the domain of Gloria. I did not think there was any doubt about this, but there you go.

Written By Torian

Jan. 22, 2020, 2:29 p.m.(8.36735656415344/14.571967592592593/1012.6139463803461 AR)

Archlector Hamish has asked who says farmers can't be trusted. For lack of names to document for him, I can simply say: Not I.

Farming is hard work, maybe harder work than I've ever done at the tannery. It's certainly less forgiving by quite a lot, and a lot less rewarding when it comes to coin. One might say it's thankless.

That's why when the wind brought me word that some were saying farmers couldn't be trusted, I wanted to make clear that wasn't the case. Farmers work hard and they don't lay down and die. When a storm comes in to their land, you had better believe they know how to resist and recover.

And they grow our food, so crossing them is foolish on two fronts. At least.

Bad for business, and bad for your larder.

Written By Jules

Jan. 22, 2020, 1:25 p.m.(8.364161706349206/14.393055555555556/1012.6136801421958 AR)

I had a good market day yesterday. Of course, the days I seem to do the best are those when I'm helping other people. This perhaps is some way the gods have of blessing people? I don't rightly know but it does certainly seem to be the case that they are my best days when I get the least from it.

Written By Appolonia

Jan. 22, 2020, 10:21 a.m.(8.355021494708994/13.881203703703704/1012.6129184578924 AR)

I have made four new friends. I wonder if I make eight more I will feel comfortable. Maybe I need to get out more, though, and make more friends. More animated ones.

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