Letter to Sephidra Niridhe

[Blue41]

Sephidra,

It was recently brought to my attention by a confidant of mine that you may hold some misconceptions of me. You believe me to be 'a paid puppet of Sol Auk', and it is for this reason you have withheld crucial information that may lead to the Legate's conviction. You're mistaken about me, and it's for this reason that I urge you to come forward to the Fourth Legion garrison and testify to the content of the meeting between you and Auk that final week of campaigning, shortly before you resigned from the race.  I strongly encouraged Naelin in the League of Purple's headquarters that you reveal the details of that meeting, and when she refused, I assumed that you were also complicit in some way-- that an arrangement had been struck. If that's not the case, seek me out.

A grave crime was committed, but no matter how many witnesses, how many theories can be called forward, none of that will matter a whit if the victim refuses to acknowledge its occurrence.  We can't change the past but we can change the future. No foreign city-state can be allowed to interfere so boldly in the elections of Ephia's Well. You can break your silence and ensure that. I'll take care of the rest.

Sgt. R. Colmes

[Mia]

[A is brought to the Barracks of the Fourth legion and left at the desk.] 

Although the life of an Elf is long and ponderous, An Elven hunter partakes in the same world humans live in. When a deer appears during the hunt there is a short moment when our times align. There can be no hesitation, for when the moment passes, no matter how many arrows you shoot, they will never hit your prey.

During the hunt, an Elf must feel the breath of the wind and the hum of the forest. Should they lose their focus, lose the dry sharpness of their soul, were their concentration to waver; If they cannot feel the lifeforce next to them, or worse, mistake a fellow hunter for prey: They will fail their one and only shot.

But we learn from every failed hunt, and if human patience allows it, the fogs of the future may reveal yet another chance. When the bear's lair is no longer protected by a host of jackals. Perhaps then eyes will be unclouded, each step will be deft, and an elf may manoeuvre to the ageless tune of the hunt.