Aurelio d'Lyon

[Hierophant]

The Lion of the Lost Hearth, Aurelio! Aurelio!

I have sent specters to tender my hopes and dreams to you, for the protest of a snow-haired woman you call Aubrey Domergue.

Niranye, myself and you I beseech; we wear the gilded Gold and yet we are not rich. Our souls, though, are rich indeed. Rich of life and vigor for our Ephia's Well, our beloved city.

My friend, your banner calls to me and yet I find my path obstructed by the whims and machinations of a bitter and petty Masque worn by the visage of one who deigns my actions mindless, and yet had been mulled over many times before, the papers stained black with Maniakes' deep roast. If only I had all the Caliphal Green in the world, I would be that much closer to my fingers stained too, and this ink to pen steadfast ere long!

She, who had turned her back to the Cinquefoil Rose with a Legate's seat closer to her heart than the Dakhwar; she, who thinks it shall be her alone who finds it, and not she among sisters, she among brothers. I would be your brother, d'Lyon, as I would be your student. Perhaps already, if poor Niranye not burdened by the idea, that she would be second-guessed by the catspaw and have need to brooch and unbrooch my Rose cloak from my swollen shoulder.

Tell me what I must do, a quest noble and true, to earn your trust and your respect. For I will not seek it from Aubrey Domergue, who has made it her eveningtide's amusement to belittle all and spew disunity, discourse among ideals born and true; nay, I cannot and shall not, for a deep shame already stains ash on my tongue and eye from the very thought.

Yours truly,
Leo Tzimiskes