Dispatches-From-Amaurot

A Mostly IC Digest by Aellae Neru

  • She/They

Our name is Aellae on Discord.

Legatus Frumentarius Erat
Shard of Igeyorhm
Mildly Majorly Burnt Out Writing Catte
Bearer of Resting Villain Face

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DISPATCH FROM AMAUROT - SCRIBENS MENSE PRO FFXIV
0732 BELLS - DIE 2 - ASTRAL MOON 5:

SUBJECT:
Regarding Envoys (CW - Violence, Firearms, Death)
POLICY: Cotidiana Submission


Envoy

"An envoy is always poised. An envoy is never one for trifling matters. An Envoy is at all times professional, courteous, calm. An envoy knows that they may be dining with a saint or a sinner. A beast or a being of cunning and kind sensibility. An envoy knows that the outward appearance often belies just which is the beast and which is the beauty. An Envoy knows to expect the unexpected." The instructors fingers curled into the wood of the lectern. "In a very real way, I am an envoy to you in this moment. One of knowledge, and it is my mission to bring the message of that knowledge to you. Should even one of you pass my course, then I will have succeeded in my duty."

The memory was a weight in the back of her skull. Her time at the War College, and here she was now. Riding in the back of a Magitek Lighter, flying high over Gyr Abanian hills. In the company of an envoy. He was poised. He was confident, he'd been nothing but courteous since she met him. She was stewing in her armour herself. He wasn't even wearing armour. The white dress uniform he was clad in bearing an imperial sash across his chest with a medal clasped to it signifying his position. Her tongue was thick in her mouth. It felt like a clumsy thing.

"We are going, because that is our Emperor's will. We will meet this rebel leader, Conrad Kemp, we will discuss the surrender of his people to our rule, and we'll hear out his wants and needs. Yes, we could sweep in and wipe them out, and in the end that may be necessary, but that day is not today." His voice was gentle, yet not patronizing. Explaining, but not demeaning. There was something in his eyes though, something that told her he already knew the inevitable end of this story. The lighter banked and made it's descent at the appointed meeting site. She reached down, her armoured fingers curling around the handle of his valise.

The ramp swung out and down. She followed the envoy at a pace behind. She saw the man they were to meet, flanked by other members of this resistance force. There wasn't even time for a word. Conrad Kemp in one smooth motion drew his pistol and burned a hole through the envoy's skull. His men dragged the pilot from the vehicle they'd rode in and began beating him in the dirt. Her eyes spun about the site looking for some line of escape. Conrad Kemp calmly approached her.

"Return to your masters, tell them the only terms acceptable are a fully free and independent Gyr Abania." An envoy is always poised. "Go. Walk. Return to Ala Mhigo, if you can."

She was the envoy now.

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