Afrodelic
Loremaster
[!] In the quiet evening, a few individuals run across Al-Khadir and Al-Jabrid with stacks of parchment in hand. They slowly begin to disseminate these papers to each house. Even offering them to the jundi that have taken the night shift. After delivering these parchments throughout, a couple would offer the letters to couriers so they might bring them to the other nations of Eden. [!]
The times of uncertainty have long arrived. But few true words have been offered to the masses. This was how Esebius felt on this rather lonesome evening, as he stood within his home while his students ran across Anjyarr. The older lunn quietly sat at his busy table which was scrawled with various drafts of the letter that was to be sent out. He would pour himself out warm tea from the pot that rested beside many notes and jars of ink. The gentle wind of the cool desert night offered its simple refrain to ease the tension that bound the lunn. And with it, Esebius took his warm porcelain cup in hand and sipped its bitter contents to ease him. The lunn raised the letter once more so he could read its contents for the nth time now. For certainty was bound in the words he offered the nation. It was only a question of who the nation would hear in these uncertain times.
First, to reintroduce myself to so many of you, I am Esebius of Al-Khadir. I am a scholar who has interests in the Azari religions of the Glade and the rich history of the Azari’lunn in the deserts of Anjyarr. My work has spanned many collections, from minor essays to treatises. But as of late, I have been an intellectual advisor to Sultana Nahida Umaira Nobara. I write to you all to unveil a tale left all too silent as of late. A tale lost to the desires for power, for security. I offer a tale that will unravel the falsities that have bound us. I write to you, dear Anjyarri, dear Azari'lunn, for you have long known this to be true. I only offer one certainty now in these uncertain times.
It was nearly two decades ago that I made a name for myself in Anjyarr. It was under the reign of Sultan Sig’Vyl Al’Buthara that I offered my service as an intellectual advisor. For my training had quite certainly explained to me the failings of Anjyarr in even that time. And, with the false hope of this other time, I thought that change was possible through the whims of the failed system that continued to govern. We were cornered then. The Azari’cill so certain in the tension they dealt our way. The Hadrians, who were then a kingdom in name, offered only an unstable friendship. The Azari’cerr as distant to us as the time of the Spires. We were in a fraught position internationally, I remember this dearly. I remember when we sat in the manor that once defined Al-Amon, our gaunt faces caught by the damned position of Anjyarr. For we were at the ends of the world, yet even here they hunted the Azari’lunn.
Though I cannot sit on this distant past thinking it offers some answer. I offer this introduction with one simple fact: the needs of a people were not met then, nor are they met today. Today, my dear kin, I speak from the humble position of an indentured servant. Some might ask, “what do you mean, good Esebius? An indentured servant? As in, your labor is coerced by the Sultana?” And I answer simply, yes. My service to the Sultana, as many of you have come to know her, was forced upon me. I was made her servant without choice. As she pressured me into the position under threat. Specifically after I spoke to my stance on serving Anjyarr at the time. My interests, as they still are now, do not concern the wants of the select few that sit in council and decide the course of lives. No, my interests rest in the people themselves. The Azari’lunn that have been discarded, not merely by history herself, but by the world that we have been brought into. As even the other Azari have lost themselves to the false narratives of the empowered. This was where my work as a scholar so often took me and continues to take me. This interested place that unravels the narratives of yesterday to better understand how we arrived at today and where we might go from there.
But this was not the cause for my service. No. The cause for my service was so that the Sultana could keep me under her watch. So that her High Council could pretend to hear the silent advice of an old lunn. I was of no matter politically, if we are to not mince words. And dear people, I do not want to mince words with you any longer. I was forced into a lie, and this lie depended on my love for you. And if my work from the last nearly three centuries was for nothing, then I suppose I would have told the truth so much sooner. So that I could be put to death and you lot could continue to live under the ruse of the Sultana’s and her false High Council’s dominion. A people that would bind my dear kin to their will! But I could not go, I would not go. For I know, as our ancestors who traveled these deserts so long ago knew, tomorrow was not set by those enwrapped in the false airs that power offers. Even if, as my master once said, "it is the moment that time is set by those with power that fate is born." But to bear witness to fate, that damns you. To let it calcify and define the winds of time. And to do nothing for too long. That damns you. My people, I cannot allow the damnation that has wrought our lives to continue. Even if death is my sentence, I call onto you, for I know all too well that this fate cannot and will not be set any longer. I know it all too well.
So why then write, dear Esebius? Why call onto the people expecting anything beyond disdain for the crown that has failed? What more is there?
Dear people, I write because tomorrow is not set. The winds of time have spoken and fate no longer binds us. The greater will has borne forth an array of paths, of possibilities. But the struggle forward requires an awareness unknown to those that hold power now, yet intentionally obscured to those who have not been offered much. An awareness that only lunn who have worked with the hallowed halls can muster a true call for. But I must it in your name, dear people, so that you might be heard once more.
I write for the cause of the Azari’lunn! I write for my people! I write for a tomorrow! I write for the to bring down the failed system of the Sultanate! In all this writing, I know one thing is certain, these words will offer no easy peace. But I offer you a chance to witness what new possibilities are open. I offer you the words that have rested hidden in my heart for too long now due to fear of losing you all. For this Sultanate will not last any longer, that I know to be true, but it is not through those with power that the fall will come. Nay, it is through a people tired of being bound! A people who yearn for a tomorrow in which they might be heard! A people prepared to see difference emerge within the wants of time herself!
I offer the quiet words of an old lunn now, knowing that they carry with them something different at heart. But it will not be me alone that can bear this new reality into the world. It shall be us that stand to challenge the hegemony that has confined us. To break from our yokes as I plan to break from mine.
As I wrote not too long ago to the quiet friends that have aided me in this new cause: I wander now with my thoughts, but return to the resolute fact. Anjyarr has failed. And the people have long known this fact. It shall become a matter of narrative now. For what story shall be written? By what people? And for what ends? I have joined the great cause. I am no kingmaker. I am no queenmaker. I am no peoplemaker. I stand simply for the cause of a people lost to the wills of time. I stand to ensure that the lunn can speak once more in a word that can be heard. Not just the few. Not just the enfranchised. But a state where even a child can feel themselves to be more than just a thing. A state where all lunn can exist as people, respected, cared for, and able to learn from this world without disdain being directed at them. If not Eden, then at least Anjyarr. Is that not enough?
The narrative shall be written again, that I know true. Whether it shall be recanted is another matter. But the lunn shall not succumb to the same will generation after generation merely in new cloth. Nay, there will come a time when decisive action will be certain. A moment when history shall speak in a different tenor. That day is soon.
The times of uncertainty have long arrived. But few true words have been offered to the masses. This was how Esebius felt on this rather lonesome evening, as he stood within his home while his students ran across Anjyarr. The older lunn quietly sat at his busy table which was scrawled with various drafts of the letter that was to be sent out. He would pour himself out warm tea from the pot that rested beside many notes and jars of ink. The gentle wind of the cool desert night offered its simple refrain to ease the tension that bound the lunn. And with it, Esebius took his warm porcelain cup in hand and sipped its bitter contents to ease him. The lunn raised the letter once more so he could read its contents for the nth time now. For certainty was bound in the words he offered the nation. It was only a question of who the nation would hear in these uncertain times.
Unbound from Fate
First, to reintroduce myself to so many of you, I am Esebius of Al-Khadir. I am a scholar who has interests in the Azari religions of the Glade and the rich history of the Azari’lunn in the deserts of Anjyarr. My work has spanned many collections, from minor essays to treatises. But as of late, I have been an intellectual advisor to Sultana Nahida Umaira Nobara. I write to you all to unveil a tale left all too silent as of late. A tale lost to the desires for power, for security. I offer a tale that will unravel the falsities that have bound us. I write to you, dear Anjyarri, dear Azari'lunn, for you have long known this to be true. I only offer one certainty now in these uncertain times.
It was nearly two decades ago that I made a name for myself in Anjyarr. It was under the reign of Sultan Sig’Vyl Al’Buthara that I offered my service as an intellectual advisor. For my training had quite certainly explained to me the failings of Anjyarr in even that time. And, with the false hope of this other time, I thought that change was possible through the whims of the failed system that continued to govern. We were cornered then. The Azari’cill so certain in the tension they dealt our way. The Hadrians, who were then a kingdom in name, offered only an unstable friendship. The Azari’cerr as distant to us as the time of the Spires. We were in a fraught position internationally, I remember this dearly. I remember when we sat in the manor that once defined Al-Amon, our gaunt faces caught by the damned position of Anjyarr. For we were at the ends of the world, yet even here they hunted the Azari’lunn.
Though I cannot sit on this distant past thinking it offers some answer. I offer this introduction with one simple fact: the needs of a people were not met then, nor are they met today. Today, my dear kin, I speak from the humble position of an indentured servant. Some might ask, “what do you mean, good Esebius? An indentured servant? As in, your labor is coerced by the Sultana?” And I answer simply, yes. My service to the Sultana, as many of you have come to know her, was forced upon me. I was made her servant without choice. As she pressured me into the position under threat. Specifically after I spoke to my stance on serving Anjyarr at the time. My interests, as they still are now, do not concern the wants of the select few that sit in council and decide the course of lives. No, my interests rest in the people themselves. The Azari’lunn that have been discarded, not merely by history herself, but by the world that we have been brought into. As even the other Azari have lost themselves to the false narratives of the empowered. This was where my work as a scholar so often took me and continues to take me. This interested place that unravels the narratives of yesterday to better understand how we arrived at today and where we might go from there.
But this was not the cause for my service. No. The cause for my service was so that the Sultana could keep me under her watch. So that her High Council could pretend to hear the silent advice of an old lunn. I was of no matter politically, if we are to not mince words. And dear people, I do not want to mince words with you any longer. I was forced into a lie, and this lie depended on my love for you. And if my work from the last nearly three centuries was for nothing, then I suppose I would have told the truth so much sooner. So that I could be put to death and you lot could continue to live under the ruse of the Sultana’s and her false High Council’s dominion. A people that would bind my dear kin to their will! But I could not go, I would not go. For I know, as our ancestors who traveled these deserts so long ago knew, tomorrow was not set by those enwrapped in the false airs that power offers. Even if, as my master once said, "it is the moment that time is set by those with power that fate is born." But to bear witness to fate, that damns you. To let it calcify and define the winds of time. And to do nothing for too long. That damns you. My people, I cannot allow the damnation that has wrought our lives to continue. Even if death is my sentence, I call onto you, for I know all too well that this fate cannot and will not be set any longer. I know it all too well.
So why then write, dear Esebius? Why call onto the people expecting anything beyond disdain for the crown that has failed? What more is there?
Dear people, I write because tomorrow is not set. The winds of time have spoken and fate no longer binds us. The greater will has borne forth an array of paths, of possibilities. But the struggle forward requires an awareness unknown to those that hold power now, yet intentionally obscured to those who have not been offered much. An awareness that only lunn who have worked with the hallowed halls can muster a true call for. But I must it in your name, dear people, so that you might be heard once more.
I write for the cause of the Azari’lunn! I write for my people! I write for a tomorrow! I write for the to bring down the failed system of the Sultanate! In all this writing, I know one thing is certain, these words will offer no easy peace. But I offer you a chance to witness what new possibilities are open. I offer you the words that have rested hidden in my heart for too long now due to fear of losing you all. For this Sultanate will not last any longer, that I know to be true, but it is not through those with power that the fall will come. Nay, it is through a people tired of being bound! A people who yearn for a tomorrow in which they might be heard! A people prepared to see difference emerge within the wants of time herself!
I offer the quiet words of an old lunn now, knowing that they carry with them something different at heart. But it will not be me alone that can bear this new reality into the world. It shall be us that stand to challenge the hegemony that has confined us. To break from our yokes as I plan to break from mine.
As I wrote not too long ago to the quiet friends that have aided me in this new cause: I wander now with my thoughts, but return to the resolute fact. Anjyarr has failed. And the people have long known this fact. It shall become a matter of narrative now. For what story shall be written? By what people? And for what ends? I have joined the great cause. I am no kingmaker. I am no queenmaker. I am no peoplemaker. I stand simply for the cause of a people lost to the wills of time. I stand to ensure that the lunn can speak once more in a word that can be heard. Not just the few. Not just the enfranchised. But a state where even a child can feel themselves to be more than just a thing. A state where all lunn can exist as people, respected, cared for, and able to learn from this world without disdain being directed at them. If not Eden, then at least Anjyarr. Is that not enough?
The narrative shall be written again, that I know true. Whether it shall be recanted is another matter. But the lunn shall not succumb to the same will generation after generation merely in new cloth. Nay, there will come a time when decisive action will be certain. A moment when history shall speak in a different tenor. That day is soon.
