Letter to Cosine Mevura

[Blue41]

[A letter delivered by courier, a rambling thing marred with ink blotches and metaphorical venom in equal measure]

Eugene Molotch. That's how it started.

Wait, no, that's inaccurate. The problem started with compromise. Compromise is death, I've said in my sermons, and I was right about that one, right to the root. But I'm as mortal as anyone else, not immune to making a compromise, and I could drive myself mad trying to walk down every branch, evaluating every choice, trying to work out where the error could have been avoided...it was a compromise. Perhaps you're familiar with them yourself. After all, you work alongside Meteor Mae everyday, and she's responsible for blighting the Disc with blood plague. You should cast her out.

Like I should have cast Molotch out. But...

I didn't.

I didn't. I convinced myself that if I didn't allow him to do what he does best in my presence, then that would somehow make it alright. He is-- or was-- a necromancer, but being picky in the Creep is the difference between starving and living to your next meal. I should have starved. Would've been better. But we allowed the worm inside. Hospitality, aye? Bed and breakfast and all the things a guest is allowed by their host. We let him in until we didn't.

Imizael, he named as his killer, and she never denied it. I didn't witness the act, didn't do the deed (should have, would have, could have. Another branch into infinity, pointless to pursue.) I didn't ask after it until the deathless motherless bastard starting speaking through Freddie like water through a sieve, and made his conditions known. A curse on us-- all of us. A life half-lived, destiny denied, dreams blighted, never a moment of peace, always that heartbeat in our ears...or Imizael could die, and all of it would end. His curse. His foul presence, in the corner of your eye...

The group was...shaken. In my mind, it was an easy choice. I knew Imizael as much as she was willing to let me, and Molotch was a loathsome, foul creature. No contest. I would bear the curse, for good or ill, for as long as I had left. Keep them close. They were my people, I was theirs. That's how it was supposed to be.

I'm too stubborn for my own good. Another branch...

Only Freddie was vulnerable. Was never sure why. More susceptible by the nature of his blood magicks to the curse, or Molotch might have hated him more than the rest of us, but he made an attempt on her life. Imizael's. No death, not then. Sorted things out. Peace, uneasy peace.

And then, Lucia...



There is a blessing, or a curse, known to those who proscribe to the Wheel. It is a curse of living undeath, that slows the heart, hollows the flesh, cools the blood. Lucia was cursed in such a way because she drank something she shouldn't have. To fend off the boots and the Banda and always another foe. It hadn't had this effect before, but it did now. And there was nothing I could do to reverse it, not without killing her. And she was my people, and I was hers. So we went deeper. Asked for aid-- and we were told that the only way out was through, that there was no cure. Lucia was still Lucia. But she was also no longer alive. A thing of undeath.

And here was another branch, because Imizael asked me if I had lost sight of my goals. Did my obligation to speak for these people-- Craven, Orentid, poorfolk, madmen, all of them-- end when there seemed no easy solution in sight? No. I believed it then and I believe it now, because Lucia is no longer that ghoulish thing. No. But Imizael had a difference of opinion.

One week to find a cure. Only the miserable wretch had her own change of heart, because we didn't get much further than the gutters before she decided that our paths needed to diverge. Violently. I should have died. Freddie did die, struck down by her hand. But I didn't, and Lucia arrived and

She died. By our hand. Molotch couldn't be happier, of course. Ascended to whatever comes after in a golden beam of light, gone from this world forever. While those of us who were left behind sunk deeper into the muck and mire and shit of compromise--

And it's my fault. And your fault. And this world, this Well's fault.

Listen, listen-- remember this, aye? Read this closely. A wiser man than I told me that fear is what pretends to protect us from loss. And when the end beckons, when we move past the threshold of fear, what remains before us? What final truth, what last transformation before that culmination, that passion? I don't know yet, but I know I fear nothing anymore. I am ready for what comes next.

There's more to the story, of course. Long as I'm still breathing, there will always be more. But I get the feeling that you're not interested in that. You wanted to hear about Imizael, and so I've told you. Her curse is that of betrayal, and it is one that has been lifted. She killed Freddie, killed Molotch, and did her very best to kill me. She failed-- but I am not the victor. I have failed as well. And the only reason I don't open my wrists is because

I mentioned being stubborn. Dying now would make all this death and blood meaningless. I have lived my life in service to Kula, and now She turns Her eye from me, and still I say that there must be some meaning in it.

Jerrod Felch

[Stranger]

Imizael Volkov. Dispelled by a priest. Clawed by a ghoul. Battered by a blunt instrument. Executed by a spear. Powerful curse cast upon her not long before her death, but the curse had faded or was otherwise left incomplete by the time of her autopsy.

Other details, best left unwritten.

You have my condolences about the disfavor of the Wyld. I might recommend that you make a plea to the Wroth to adopt you as his own; his morbid sense of justice might suit your priorities better.

It's taken some doing, but we've gradually learned more about the red potion that Lucia was ruining herself with. Our first encounter with it, before we knew what it was, came about from unknown actors distributing it among the hapless refugees invited in by Ricario's folly. A few scores of them had taken shelter in a vacant property. Most of them were dead by the time the Janissaries opened the doors; the few that yet lived, dying, kept muttering again and again about a "drink" we found half-empty in their hands. Hand-dug tunnels had broken open the tiled floors and burrowed straight down, crude passages choked wall-to-wall with mindless undead monsters that used to be men, women, and children.

We have since had ample time to study specimens of the "Dretch Drink." As you've no doubt inferred already, it builds up cumulatively in the imbiber's system like the Sibylline Drink does, but the corruption is much more blatant and far more profane. Every dose rots away more of your humanity until nothing remains but a broken slave, bound forever after to whatever necromancer is behind this.

We're not sure if we can reverse the process. We are willing to try if Lucia has some regrets about her decaying organs, but it would come at no small risk to the patient.

We don't know where it's coming from. None of the guttersnipes found in possession of the Dretch Drink have been able to speak coherently on the matter. The Sibylline Priory, the House of Baharu, and the Dread Rock are obvious suspects, each unambiguously capable of brewing this blight in forceful quantity, but there's no solid evidence pointing in any of these directions. For all we truly know, it could be the madness of an obscure renegade.

Whatever your poor life choices, I doubt that you approve of how this filth has preyed upon the downtrodden.

Apothar Mevura

[Blue41]

Mevura,

Faith saved Lucia-- and it saved me as well. Faith can reverse the effects of this slow descent into Ghuul, but there is a limit to even the mercy of the Gods. She is whole.

As for the who-- the Hundred Princes are whom you seek. I imagine they approached the refugees much as they approached her within the Creep; veiled, offering some relief from the troubles of the Well, dinar, whatever the case may be. Those who imbibe are left with a desperate thirst for more once the change begins. The skin grows pallid and clammy. The heart stops beating, the chest stops rising with each breath. Healing water in any quantity becomes abhorrent to the afflicted.

Accept my words as truth or with skepticism; it makes no difference to me. Life over death, always. Those who would hasten the death of the world will find no acceptance from me, and those slavers have earned their endings twice over.

JF

[Stranger]

Thousands of shadow djinn are currently tormenting citizens above and below. Most of them are invisible to your senses, hidden beyond even your sharpest efforts. But there are many that intentionally appear, sometimes as mirrors, sometimes as gnomes, sometimes as other things; their capacity to mimic shapes is beyond any easy description in writing.

You may have recently noticed that strange things have been happening in the Creep.

We are not sure what, exactly, you may be experiencing. But our instruments have detected surges of corruption following after Azaghal into your neighborhood. This is not a coincidence. This will get exponentially worse as time goes on. It will not get better until all sources of corruption in the region have been removed.

There are three primary vectors active in the region of Ephia's Well right now, and the world will not begin to heal until they are removed. In case you are somehow unaware, they are as follows:

Azaghal.

Vico.

That fucking pipe.

Apothar Cosine Mevura

[Blue41]

Removed.

Let me be clear on something. I've earned the right to a bit of frank and free speech, considering I shared a not insignificant amount of truth in my first letter to you. So let's dive into exactly what you mean by the word above.

Do you mean you wish Azaghal expelled from the Creep, this last desperate refuge, this little garden of Kula's beneath your feet that is a refuge for all of those without any other options--because of the decision of a corrupted court? For if it was not corrupt, then surely Azaghal should never have been allowed to leave it in the first place, considering the danger he presents.

Do you wish Azaghal delivered to your Mount for study, autopsy or some other purpose that involves learning from the corpse of another refugee-- so that you can tell yourself you'll prevent this from happening next time?

Do you wish Azaghal dead?

I don't write all this just to bust your balls, however. If any of or all of these are a course you're recommending, I'd like to know why Vico isn't being given the same treatment, the same pressure being applied to the Legates, the government. Because unless I see some evidence of that, this letter just feels like a way to finish the job your Magistrate failed to do. The Accords squashing out another unfortunate bastard that happened to get in their way for whatever reason.

But if it's not...well. You do your part, and I'll do mine.

JF

[Stranger]

We have been on Vico's case for weeks, to little avail, because of judicial corruption and treachery.

Azaghal is only alive right now because of that same misrule.

I am not your master. I am not the law. There will be no forthcoming retribution if you ignore our warnings. If there are to be any consequences for inaction, I expect that they will come from the demons you have invited into your parlor. As before. As again.

Do you mean you wish Azaghal expelled from the Creep...?

Of the possible solutions in front of you, this seems like the cleanest and easiest; throwing the cancers out to be someone else's, anyone else's problem.

Somehow, I suspect that you find the idea wholly unappealing.

Do you wish Azaghal delivered to your Mount...?

There would be no point in doing this.

He has already been found guilty of his crimes at trial, and further examinations would be superfluous. He cannot somehow be made "double guilty" or "triple guilty." The verdict is already in place.

It is the sentence that is problematic. Despite finding Azaghal guilty of brooking (because the overwhelming evidence allowed no other conclusion), Magistrate Qari Alriyh decided to uphold the dwarf's citizenship, releasing him on unrestrictive parole. He has been given one month to pay off his fine of 30,000 dinars and publicly scapegoat one of his employees.

As for why that little freak might have done something like this, I invite you to read one of his "anonymous" publications. You may find it a great insight into his mind. Attached below.

It defies all reason that Legate Gausim al-Marain would appoint a festering parasite like this as his Magistrate.

...for study, autopsy or some other purpose that involves learning from the corpse of another refugee...

Autopsies are not performed on living people. They are done on cadavers, for the purpose of investigating and answering medicolegal questions.

Studying the cadaver of a brooker is academically productive, but is much, much less important than defeating them.

Azaghal is not a cadaver. He is alive.

Do you wish Azaghal dead?

I am legally required to advise you against killing Azaghal. That would be murder.

He is a Voiced citizen of Ephia's Well.

... the same pressure being applied to the Legates, the government ...

The Legates of Ephia's Well have heard my advice and my opinions on these topics, much as you have. The only thing different about the "pressure" I am exerting on different leaders from different communities is that I speak to the Legates in person. Obviously, this difference exists because the last three (four?) times I personally entered the Creep, I had a challenging interaction with Big Nafan.

Ultimately, the Astronomers are only advisors in these matters.

The leaders we reach out to must decide for themselves what is best and just to do for their home.

Apothar Cosine Mevura

[Stranger]

P.S.

Qari is a hack. His book is full of inaccuracies and inconsistencies.

What small details are halfway factual seem to have been drawn from the situation briefs I gave during his aborted tenure as Legate, rife with shallow misunderstandings and idiosyncratic assumptions.

[Blue41]

It's strange. To see the Astronomers admit to their own powerlessness to mount any sort of meaningful offensive towards the threats they denounce so thoroughly, to learn of how Gausim's vaunted institutions that he places such faith have failed the people they are meant to serve (again)...I expected to feel more vindicated. Instead, it depresses me. Thousands of shadow djinn are tormenting blameless citizens of the Well, you claimed. Can you also claim that you have done everything possible to solve the problem? If working inside the narrow limits of the Well's laws and statutes have failed you, failed these victims, then do you feel no urge, no drive, to press beyond it?

As a man bound by no legal requirements, I strongly advise you to murder Vico Rasca, if he is indeed the source of these djinn disturbances. There are a great many other reasons he is deserving of death besides, but again, you're not interested in that. Even if you are not a powerful wizard of means, you are surely surrounded by those who are. You didn't send this letter to offer your counsel; this letter was sent to provoke a specific course of action. Now it's my turn.

If the law fails to protect those it was meant to serve, what point is there to its existence? What point is there to binding yourself to it? How many more misrules will we all have to suffer through, when everyone knows what needs to be done but some asshole on the Stele wants to milk another asshole for thirty thousand dinar?

Where do you draw the line, Cosine Mevura? When is enough enough?

JF

[Stranger]

The body of Izdu is the body of law.

Order and civilization matter.

There is no justice in destroying a city because of the moral failings of those who lead it. The get of chaos is sorrow, death, and misery, the unraveling of powerful institutions that our people need to protect them from the apocalypse.

Evil men should not hold positions of authority in our society. They should not be allowed to abuse their authority to protect other evil men. They should not be allowed to harm the innocent for selfish gain. This is an uncontroversial truth. That truth does not justify, will never justify, the doing of further evils. Given the profane company you have chosen to keep of late, I expect that you disagree with me. But men like you rarely see the forest for the trees.

The Astronomers have done much to thwart darkness, acting within the boundaries of the law, participating within the labyrinthine systems of society. We will continue to do so, whether you see the value in that or not.

Apothar Cosine Mevura