Yardie (prime)/Afternoon Tea
“I hoped to offer this Spring Blossom tea to Aihan and Fehala,” Yardie said wistfully, inhaling the soothing blend of honeysuckle, tamed by the dulcet crisp of pear. Resting his right elbow on the rustic widowwood desk, Yardie twirled his silvery lor quill with his left hand, yearning for the simpler times of years past, when only self-deprecating embarrassment had mortified him. Now, in every sense of the word, Lorminstra’s presence loomed, and with the weight of his sins, he imagined her judgment, cold and unforgiving, piling on. Fear shook his spine, not because of his eventual death, but because of the harm inflicted upon anyone else by his crimes.
Long ago, he ran from it all. Now, he slowly turned, ready to meet it head-on. Yardie began writing, his tongue jutting out the side of his mouth as his left hand scribbled ferociously in Dark Elven.
To Madame Emperia Aurayne Faendryl:
You’ll forgive the hasty nature of this missive, but I find myself with few allies to amass. As you have suspected for quite some time, I have not been forthright with you. The nature of my past affairs remains veiled to protect myself and others I hold dear. However, I am hopeful that, with your aristocratic lineage, you or your father may provide some assistance with the plight that awaits me, as well as the ant colony of conspirators that burrows deep in the underbelly of New Ta’Faendryl. This missive is one written out of desperation, and despite my letters to Xociral, to the Tristar, and, most recently, to Blade Viselda of the investigating Palestra near Lake Eonak, my cries have fallen on deaf ears. In short, forgive the blunt nature of my next words, but there’s simply nowhere else to turn.
It is assumed that the Basilica and, perhaps, several parts of New Ta’Faendryl’s governance have fallen under the shadow of conspirators. While I can only speculate that Enomna's treachery with Henshor near Ta’Illistim was yet another search for a powerful artifact, orchestrated by the Dusk Coven, I can say with confidence that many have attempted to conspire against the Patriarch in a shift of power over past transgressions. Some are of aristocratic background, such as yourself; others are of more nefarious upbringings. The one I am most familiar with idolizes and emulates the childhood stories of the Senary, the urban legend of the rumored house willing to usurp power from the status quo. While the Senary as a House does not exist, the banner under which they operate is held aloft by many, including the one I am familiar with: the Umbral Syndicate.
Years ago, I escaped them. That cost me the life of my mother. Now, they have re-emerged while the world turns an eye to the more pressing matters such as the Dusk Coven. Their presence has exacted a heavy toll. My brothers, Iskandr Tamarack and Draelor, are suspected to be dead. The Coven has claimed responsibility for their demise. The same can be said for Legionnaire Agathilea Rassine, whom they have tried to frame for her disappearance as my doing. They also attempted to take the life of Medijine, an orphan that I have taken under my custody. I have had her placed under the care of someone whom I trust. Sadly, I fear the assaults on the people I love will continue until they acquire what they desire, which is either my surrender, my silence, my incarceration, or my demise.
The de facto leader of their sect has sought out the aid of the Ta’Mori as well as Madame Khobra of the so-called Ta’Maelshyve. While I do not know the status of the latter, I do know that one of the Ta’Mori, Madame Mystiq, had…rescinded their offer. I suspect there will be pushback, and it will not be long before the floodgates open.
Madame Emperia, I once told you that there were great risks with my association. I can say, with comfort, that your return to your father in New Ta’Faendryl, in his safety, should protect you from any more dangers. While I cannot guarantee against further solicitation, you will be one fewer person who has paid the price because of me. I do need your assistance, should you be able to provide it. If not, let this letter serve you as some sort of receipt regarding the vast corruption back home.
I have always said I have lived a life on borrowed time. I fear that time is winding down. My only hope is that some good will come out of this, through the end of the Umbral Syndicate, and perhaps, ambitiously, the end of the corruption.
I hope you are well and that you live the life you deserve.
I remain,
Yardie
Instinctively, he turned to the dark blue-gray vaslavilen rug, scattered with white splotches, its furry surface a mirror to the crashing waves from the beachside outside his home. But Vaerno wasn’t there. Solitude had become his friend. With a sigh, he placed the missive in a leathery, kraken-shaped envelope, sealed it, and slipped toward the post office.