Written By Ravana
Oct. 20, 2023, 3:21 p.m.(1/16/1021 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
The king tells puns that'd make a bloodthirsty shark quiver in defeat, not a bad skill for someone whose head is literally weighed down with a babe's weight in gold. A quick wit, eclectic interests, and an air of mystery are all very good traits in a Sovereign, so his offer of patronage was accepted gladly and I look forward to using it as an excuse to escape the consequences of my actions.
Written By Esme
Jan. 5, 2022, 11:58 p.m.(11/17/1016 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
I saw the King today. I mean, I didn't really talk to him. I didn't hug him. I just sort of saw him.
This is notable for me. I know, I know, everyone has had dinner and is his best friend, but I am not and I am SO excited to have seen him. In person.
This is notable for me. I know, I know, everyone has had dinner and is his best friend, but I am not and I am SO excited to have seen him. In person.
Written By Victus
Jan. 9, 2021, 5:53 p.m.(9/21/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
Where the fuck does he get that many cats? Who's breeding cats in the Palace? Where are the individuals responsible for creating a menagerie of felines in the goddamn Crownlands?
They're going to decimate the seagulls.
They're going to decimate the seagulls.
Written By Emberly
Oct. 3, 2020, 10:13 a.m.(2/19/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
I am so very pleased that I was able to raise so much funds for the Orphans within the lowers.
Also got to meet the King! woah let me tell you he is as regal as they say! And apparently he likes poetry.
Also got to meet the King! woah let me tell you he is as regal as they say! And apparently he likes poetry.
Written By Elisha
Nov. 3, 2019, 11:12 p.m.(2/19/1012 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
We become nameless when making love;
signatures scrawled in the tattoo
of dirt in the folds of your elbow
and the wrinkles of crow's feet around your eyes.
Your voice roughens as you tell me,
A woman like you will put her heart into her lover's hand
like the imprint of a shadow of a leaf on the forest floor.
Weightless? I ask.
Holding your body, you say, is like returning to the village
under papery skies
and gathering, along the road, a basketful of berries
that later my father will simmer into jam.
From the beginning, you wrote fables on my skin
in dirt and wrinkles,
and signed your name with the shadows of leaves.
signatures scrawled in the tattoo
of dirt in the folds of your elbow
and the wrinkles of crow's feet around your eyes.
Your voice roughens as you tell me,
A woman like you will put her heart into her lover's hand
like the imprint of a shadow of a leaf on the forest floor.
Weightless? I ask.
Holding your body, you say, is like returning to the village
under papery skies
and gathering, along the road, a basketful of berries
that later my father will simmer into jam.
From the beginning, you wrote fables on my skin
in dirt and wrinkles,
and signed your name with the shadows of leaves.
Written By Elisha
Sept. 14, 2019, 2:03 a.m.(11/1/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
Thus does the young apprentice always hurry toward his lover.
Is the apprentice truly urged by love for his man, and not by love of himself? Isn't he looking for a certainty of existing that only this loose-limbed dew-skinned youth can give him? Our apprentice hurries, falls in love, uncertain of himself, happy, desperate, and for him his man is the person who definitely exists, of which only he can give the proof. But his lover, too, either exists or does not. There he is, narrow-waisted before the apprentice, also trembling, also uncertain. How is it that the apprentice does not understand that?
What does it matter, which of the two is strong and which is weak? They are equals. However, this the apprentice does not know, because he does not wish to know. What he yearns for is the touch of a man who exists, a man who is definite. Thus does he always hurry toward his lover.
Is the apprentice truly urged by love for his man, and not by love of himself? Isn't he looking for a certainty of existing that only this loose-limbed dew-skinned youth can give him? Our apprentice hurries, falls in love, uncertain of himself, happy, desperate, and for him his man is the person who definitely exists, of which only he can give the proof. But his lover, too, either exists or does not. There he is, narrow-waisted before the apprentice, also trembling, also uncertain. How is it that the apprentice does not understand that?
What does it matter, which of the two is strong and which is weak? They are equals. However, this the apprentice does not know, because he does not wish to know. What he yearns for is the touch of a man who exists, a man who is definite. Thus does he always hurry toward his lover.
Written By Elisha
June 18, 2019, 6:46 p.m.(4/22/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
Sent off to inspect remote provinces, King Alaric's envoys and teind-collectors duly return to Arx'daja and to the gardens of magnolias in whose shade the king strolled, listening to their long reports. The ambassadors are Blancspine, Oathcene, Eustarrea, Dustmarch, Winterborn; the king is he who is a foreigner to his subjects, and only through foreign eyes and ears can the empire manifest its existence to Alaric.
In languages incomprehensible to the King, the envoys relate information heard in languages incomprehensible to them: from this opaque stridor emerge the military disposition of foreign lands, the hidden names of officials dismissed and decapitated, the dimensions of the canals that the narrow rivers fed in times of drought.
"On the day that I learn all the languages," the King asks the dreamer, "shall I at last truly possess my empire?"
The dreamer answers with a bowl of black sand.
King Alaric is displeased: "The other ambassadors warn me of famines, extortions, conspiracies, they inform me of forgotten turquoise mines, the price of marten furs, suggestions for supplying demonscale blades. And you? You return from lands equally distant and only tell me the thoughts of a woman who sits on her doorstep at evening to enjoy the cool air. What is the use, then, of all your traveling?"
"It is evening," Aion says. "We are seated on the steps of your palace and there is a slight cool breeze."
(I smoked the black sand and this is what I heard: "How many groups of twelve were there? Eight, ten--a dozen dozen? She thought she should count. The numbers might matter one day. The teind of teinds was led, each one with their hands tied behind them, past the marketplace of the abandoned village, and there, each with their hands tied behind them, they were decapitated and—glory be to the Fourteenth!—their headless bodies tipped into a ditch. She thought she should estimate the size of the ditch. The dimensions might matter one day. ‘I will measure tomorrow,’ she said, ‘when it is too late.’")
In languages incomprehensible to the King, the envoys relate information heard in languages incomprehensible to them: from this opaque stridor emerge the military disposition of foreign lands, the hidden names of officials dismissed and decapitated, the dimensions of the canals that the narrow rivers fed in times of drought.
"On the day that I learn all the languages," the King asks the dreamer, "shall I at last truly possess my empire?"
The dreamer answers with a bowl of black sand.
King Alaric is displeased: "The other ambassadors warn me of famines, extortions, conspiracies, they inform me of forgotten turquoise mines, the price of marten furs, suggestions for supplying demonscale blades. And you? You return from lands equally distant and only tell me the thoughts of a woman who sits on her doorstep at evening to enjoy the cool air. What is the use, then, of all your traveling?"
"It is evening," Aion says. "We are seated on the steps of your palace and there is a slight cool breeze."
(I smoked the black sand and this is what I heard: "How many groups of twelve were there? Eight, ten--a dozen dozen? She thought she should count. The numbers might matter one day. The teind of teinds was led, each one with their hands tied behind them, past the marketplace of the abandoned village, and there, each with their hands tied behind them, they were decapitated and—glory be to the Fourteenth!—their headless bodies tipped into a ditch. She thought she should estimate the size of the ditch. The dimensions might matter one day. ‘I will measure tomorrow,’ she said, ‘when it is too late.’")
Written By Miranda
June 16, 2019, 3:18 p.m.(4/18/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
When I first came to Arx, I had only managed to work myself into a knighthood. I was green with inexperience and truly eager to prove myself. I felt Arx provided such a wonderful opportunity for myself. I thought I knew who I was when I came here.
Then, as I settled in, I realized that everything I thought would happen, wasn't happening. I began to doubt myself and who I was. I wondered if staying home in Gemecitta would have been wiser.
I spent a lot of time in taverns and pubs, pondering my lot. I spent a lot of time asking for others to give me work to do.
And then, one day, the King came into the Black Fox and asked me to join him. Me.
He spoke of the War of Stolen Names with me and I found myself at a loss. I knew so little. I could hardly form questions and sentences. For his Majesty's patience and understanding, I'm forever grateful. He never made me feel as if I were less, but rather that I was important to Arx and needed.
What he gave me that day was a direction. A purpose. I found myself spending days and days in the Society of Explorer's Hall, reading the information in the reports and texts in their library. I found myself asking questions, striving to learn. I had something to do with myself.
I no longer looked to others to provide me with work.
I could not say exactly what our King said to me. Not word for word. I feel he gave me more than I could adequately state or even verbalize.
Since then, the paths I take are varied, but all lead to service to our beloved Compact. I have opportunities come to me and some I seek out. I can bring honor to my House and to the Compact. I love Arx for the opportunities here and I adore our King who helped me, totally by accident, find my way again.
I write this because someone I care about very much is lost and I told him this story hoping he might find some hope for himself. Hope and direction.
I share it with Arvum because I think, maybe, he's not the only one out there struggling and it might bring them hope.
Our paths are there before us, but sometimes, we need a nudge to see them.
Perhaps this nudge is for you.
Then, as I settled in, I realized that everything I thought would happen, wasn't happening. I began to doubt myself and who I was. I wondered if staying home in Gemecitta would have been wiser.
I spent a lot of time in taverns and pubs, pondering my lot. I spent a lot of time asking for others to give me work to do.
And then, one day, the King came into the Black Fox and asked me to join him. Me.
He spoke of the War of Stolen Names with me and I found myself at a loss. I knew so little. I could hardly form questions and sentences. For his Majesty's patience and understanding, I'm forever grateful. He never made me feel as if I were less, but rather that I was important to Arx and needed.
What he gave me that day was a direction. A purpose. I found myself spending days and days in the Society of Explorer's Hall, reading the information in the reports and texts in their library. I found myself asking questions, striving to learn. I had something to do with myself.
I no longer looked to others to provide me with work.
I could not say exactly what our King said to me. Not word for word. I feel he gave me more than I could adequately state or even verbalize.
Since then, the paths I take are varied, but all lead to service to our beloved Compact. I have opportunities come to me and some I seek out. I can bring honor to my House and to the Compact. I love Arx for the opportunities here and I adore our King who helped me, totally by accident, find my way again.
I write this because someone I care about very much is lost and I told him this story hoping he might find some hope for himself. Hope and direction.
I share it with Arvum because I think, maybe, he's not the only one out there struggling and it might bring them hope.
Our paths are there before us, but sometimes, we need a nudge to see them.
Perhaps this nudge is for you.
Written By Jaenelle
June 6, 2019, 6:34 p.m.(3/26/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
"Roses are red, violets are blue, Alaric's the best, it's unquestionably true."
No, of course his Majesty did not write this, and of course I am not saving this for posterity to showcase that he is not as good of a writer as he believes he is.
I would never.
No, of course his Majesty did not write this, and of course I am not saving this for posterity to showcase that he is not as good of a writer as he believes he is.
I would never.
Written By Elisha
June 6, 2019, 1:31 a.m.(3/25/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
You traveled past heroic statues and through a metallic doorway to reach the City of Chains.
Skal'daja is a city of thirteen concentric canals, each canal divided by thirteen locks and united by water that simmers with one hundred and seventy unpronounceable names, the first of which prohibits explanation. So I will instead list the wares that are profitably sold in Skal'daja: agate, stygian, chrysoprase; I will praise the flesh of the pheasants cooked over ratleaf fires; I will sing of the slender youths who invite you to chase them in the tide.
In Skal'daja, we work as cutters of chrysoprase, we sear our flesh over ratleaf fires; we believe we are enjoying the freedoms of the city when we are only its slave. I walked among the hyacinth hedges, sure I would discover slender youths bathing, but at the bottom of the tide, crabs were biting the eyes of slaves, stones tied around their necks, their hair green with seaweed.
In Skal'daja you exchanged a seven-weight of agate for certainty; you return to Arx knowing what is crafted by the heroic statues in this metallic forge.
If shackles do not bite at your throat, you are one of the slave-masters.
(In a shakier hand: "Choice is a lie the powerful tell to justify power. Oaths and honor bind more unforgivingly than writs, because a false choice is another chain. I offer myself to you for a writ. To you, and you, and you. I would burn every white journal, beginning with my own, and leave only the black. Black words, black ash, black sands, black plague. Black eyes has my Mistress, and she gazes at me lovingly.")
Skal'daja is a city of thirteen concentric canals, each canal divided by thirteen locks and united by water that simmers with one hundred and seventy unpronounceable names, the first of which prohibits explanation. So I will instead list the wares that are profitably sold in Skal'daja: agate, stygian, chrysoprase; I will praise the flesh of the pheasants cooked over ratleaf fires; I will sing of the slender youths who invite you to chase them in the tide.
In Skal'daja, we work as cutters of chrysoprase, we sear our flesh over ratleaf fires; we believe we are enjoying the freedoms of the city when we are only its slave. I walked among the hyacinth hedges, sure I would discover slender youths bathing, but at the bottom of the tide, crabs were biting the eyes of slaves, stones tied around their necks, their hair green with seaweed.
In Skal'daja you exchanged a seven-weight of agate for certainty; you return to Arx knowing what is crafted by the heroic statues in this metallic forge.
If shackles do not bite at your throat, you are one of the slave-masters.
(In a shakier hand: "Choice is a lie the powerful tell to justify power. Oaths and honor bind more unforgivingly than writs, because a false choice is another chain. I offer myself to you for a writ. To you, and you, and you. I would burn every white journal, beginning with my own, and leave only the black. Black words, black ash, black sands, black plague. Black eyes has my Mistress, and she gazes at me lovingly.")
Written By Mirari
May 24, 2019, 12:50 a.m.(2/27/1011 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
Our King is a man with a strong stomach. What a legendary composure he has, indeed.
Written By Maja
April 2, 2019, 2:42 p.m.(11/8/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
Also, the king -talked- to me. TO ME. Actual words!
Can life get any better than this? I fear all the days after this one will be a disappointment.
THE KING!!!
Can life get any better than this? I fear all the days after this one will be a disappointment.
THE KING!!!
Written By Maja
April 2, 2019, 1:19 p.m.(11/8/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
I GOT TO STAND NEAR THE KING TODAY.
I mean, only sort of near but it was nearer than I have ever been before. Oh gosh..
I mean, only sort of near but it was nearer than I have ever been before. Oh gosh..
Written By Monique
March 25, 2019, 2:20 p.m.(10/20/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
Tournament of Thorns, Your Majesty. Are you still thinking about it? I know I am.
Written By Jasher
March 4, 2019, 12:20 p.m.(9/6/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
Your Majesty is too kind. May your own works continue to improve, if you believe your current efforts are inadequate.
Written By Domonico
Feb. 24, 2019, 6:32 a.m.(8/17/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
I defeated his early attacks, rebuffed his attempts to end my advance via diplomatic efforts and marriage and crushed his last ditch efforts mercilessly, taking the City of Arx and capturing the King.
Despite all this my opponent was gracious in defeat. Hopefully he'll improve.
Despite all this my opponent was gracious in defeat. Hopefully he'll improve.
Written By Jennyva
Feb. 13, 2019, 5:28 a.m.(7/23/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
He is so demanding of his poetry.
One must stay on their toes if they are to please the King's tastes in prose.
One must stay on their toes if they are to please the King's tastes in prose.
Written By Tikva
Feb. 12, 2019, 11:38 a.m.(7/22/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
A rhyme of mold need not be undersold,
For once we've grown old and our story's been told,
And scratchy-voiced, scold, over the winter's cold,
our blankets warm-rolled in our bright-hearthed stronghold,
no regrets for choices bold over hoarding our gold;
just scrape it off the fold and dry bread will uphold
an adventurer's toehold on the wild paths untold.
For once we've grown old and our story's been told,
And scratchy-voiced, scold, over the winter's cold,
our blankets warm-rolled in our bright-hearthed stronghold,
no regrets for choices bold over hoarding our gold;
just scrape it off the fold and dry bread will uphold
an adventurer's toehold on the wild paths untold.
Written By Lucita
Dec. 19, 2018, 8:37 p.m.(3/14/1010 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
Very knowledgeable and reasonable, reassuring, and charming as ever, even when it is something one might not want to hear or think about. And his new beard is so becoming to him!
Written By Jaenelle
Oct. 17, 2018, 9:37 p.m.(10/18/1009 AR)
Relationship Note on Alaric
Have you seen the King's beard? His Majesty's beard is regal all on its own and holds meetings. Glorious, truly. Ask him he'll tell you.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.