Letter 18

The following series of letters detail the aftermath of their journey to Arcadia, and their arduous return trip. While they still had much land to cross in order to return home, their journey did seem to be much more hopeful now that they had retrieved what they required. Tacitus writes of the rites they gave to whom they lost, the alternate routes they had to take home now that the ocean was still off-limits, meetings and partings of friends, and finally, what they had gone on this grand journey for: to slay the unslayable. This is also, cutely and funnily enough, the very first of Julia’s writings within Tacitus’ letters. Though it is brief, in my opinion, it is very well-deserved.

- E. Celestina

Typically, I begin my writings with logistics, though Julia insisted that I mention this event. I am embarrassed of it, but I will recount it for her sake. Otherwise, she may simply just invoke Augusta and compel me to write it through authority. Therefore,

We woke up a little before dawn on the 16th, with Sine already untying her boat. After we packed our provisions and tent and pushed off with her, Julia showed her Kataklusmos, and Sine had immediately recognized our Pedagogue had moved from the stone, which is now simply just a precious gemstone in my bag, to the weapon itself. She also told us that the spear itself looked as if it had a special property. When I tried to push further, however, she refused to elaborate and merely rowed. I remember turning around, then, and viewing Arcadia one more time. It was ruinous, but it was home for thousands. I pray that the spear in Julia’s hand, and the spear that is Briseis’ legacy, will now be the weapon that keeps our home safe.

As I wrote the last sentences, Julia looked over my shoulder and told me I was delaying the real story. She is absolutely correct.

A few hours into Sine’s rowing, right around when she took her scheduled and brief break, I remember Julia resting asleep on my shoulder then, and asked Sine if she cared if Julia and I were to speak about something private in front of her. Her answer was an unbothered shrug and shaking of her head, and so I gently woke Julia up then. She was a little annoyed, but only slightly, as I recall talking about the beautiful weather around us. It was the month that Spring had started, but the chilliness of winter should still have been present in the water, yet like before, when we touched it, it was as warm as summer. Julia then asked me, as I was bending down to touch the water, why I truly had woken her up.

“Well, yesterday was so eventful, that there was no time for us to truly acknowledge or celebrate it, but you turned eighteen yesterday, correct?”

I saw Julia’s eyes widen, and it turned out that it had crossed her mind just as much as it did for me. She laughed, then, because her birthday, all things considered, was small compared to the journey we had just traversed. Even I, born on the 30th of Order, never made my birthday a public acknowledgement, though it did not help that that day was wrought with the stress of the voyage. She jokingly asked if I had prepared anything for her birthday, and I, jokingly, revealed Anaxagoras’ ruby, which had a cut and size so brilliant that it must have been worth several fortunes. She rolled her eyes and told me I was a cheapskate for stealing from our Pedagogue. So, I conceded, and told her her real gift will come if she closes her eyes. So she did. And the gift was

Taci is too shy to write it himself. The fool kissed me. I couldn’t let him outdo me, so I kissed back harder.

20 MoB 422

I write this in a forest clearing we had decided to spend the night in, deeper within the Red Forest. We returned to land yesterday, the afternoon of the 19th, to the crew’s joyous celebrations as Julia raised her spear even before Sine had made it to the shore of the Red Forest. As soon as we arrived, we were practically mobbed by our crew, who carried us back to the campsite with laughter and tears, the latter belonging mostly to Cassian. Augusta gave the order then that tonight would be the final night, and that after she discussed logistics of where to go next with the officers, we would have the night be one of celebration before we make our way in the coming morning. While much of our crew went out to hunt some wild game to cook for the rest of us, and the officers began organization, I saw Julia return to Sine, who looked to already be preparing to leave without a word. Since she had helped us for a week straight, I felt it right that I saw her off, too.

When we made it to her fishing boat, I asked, though I already knew her answer, if she were to stay the night and celebrate with us. A shake of her head confirmed it, though her words were reassuring. “This is your victory.”

Julia then asked why she had bothered to help us at all. Sine’s answer, which only came after moments of pondering, and, from what I can recall, her normally flawlessly neutral face actually growing a little uncomfortable, only served to confuse us further. “I am only a traveler. I reject all that I once was. I do not want that fate for others. Julia, remember your birth name. It is more powerful than anything else you have. That spear, included.”

Sine(1) rowed away afterward, but I know that, despite being far, she gave us one more glance.

Later, Cassian and I hunted like before, and spent a good hour and a mile hunting down a deer, which I managed to strike my arrow in its flank. Though before we could recover it, a bear approached it, seeming wild and hungry. It had no idea what it was dealing with, then, as Cassian and I charged at it, and wounded it enough with our spears that it retreated in fear. We collapsed, tired from the chase and the fight, and laughed like old times before taking our catch back to camp. I told our crew that Cassian had been the one to truly chase away the bear, if only so that Athina could reward him for his bravery.

As our soldiers cooked their meals, Augusta called the remaining officers just outside her tent to discuss logistics. Sine had also given us a detailed map of eastern Britannia, and Julia presented it to us, admitting that seafaring was still impossible. Sine was an exception to Siraea, and with her protection no longer, the seas would not be kind to us even if we somehow could set sail again. It was not hopeless, however, for Julia had noted a manageable path through the Dragonshards, if we marched only two weeks down the Red Forest, then westward up the mountains. Since winter had left, the weather upon the Dragonshards was more manageable, and attacks from Wyverns were rarer. We still had a single barrel of tar that had miraculously washed ashore as well, making our defenses stalwart enough to continue. It was not as if we had many other options, regardless.

After we crossed the Dragonshards, we would return to Colchester, which was a perfect place to not only rest and recover, but to honor our dead amongst their cathedrals and before Cailleach. We would send a single messenger ahead to tell Exeter of our coming return, then one week afterward set off straight to the Capital, with hopefully, little further delay. The only real obstacles, looking at our pathway, are the mountains we are only a few short weeks from scaling. To those who read this, wish us godspeed.

1. This mysterious traveler has since been sporadically spotted and seen all the way to modern times, though she is incredibly difficult to actually meet and interact with. She has notably taken the name “Sine Nomine” as her own, and appears to not have aged physically since Tacitus’ account.

9 MoE 422

One week ago, we had reached the river that Augusta had pointed out on the map, and turned westward, toward the Dragonshards. The change was gradual and happened over days, but I increasingly realized we had to layer up our clothing as the weather shifted from the protective autumn of the Red Forest to the sustained winter of the Dragonshards. No matter what time of year it was, they were a mountain range permanently capped in ice and snow, and we learned of this firsthand as we gradually began our ascent. Food was not scarce, as we found many mountain goats along the way, and had collected fruits from the Red Forest that our Warlocks had dried for long-term travel. The main issue of ours on our journey upwards were the Wyverns and Wyrms that flew overhead, though Augusta learned that they would leave us alone as long as we left goat cadavers at our previous campsites, for the Dragonkin, the predators they are, valued easy prey over prey that may retaliate. Those that did not fall for that strategy, we chased away with tarfire or cut down personally, for at this point in our journey, we had plenty of experience neutralizing dragons of that scale.

We arrived at the cradle of the Dragonshards one day ago: the elevated valley within the mountain range, and I found myself completely beholden to its sight when I climbed over the edge and looked forward with Julia. The lake Dozmary, which I only read of in books, was lightly blue and flowing, unbecoming of the wintry weather around us. The waters originated from the most breathtaking view: the glacial mountain, called Albion’s Ridge, which stood far above any other mountainpeak, a mountain upon mountains, yet it was made not of rock, but pure ice that glistened blue. I had learned in our Pedagogue’s class that the people of the village harvested ice, called Everfreeze from Albion’s Ridge, as it had the property of remaining remarkably cold and never melted, regardless of weather or circumstance. At lake Dozmary’s shores was the aforementioned village, also called Dozmary, and where we hoped they would offer us hospitality. Though the Principate annexed most of Britannia’s lands, the farther from the capital we were, the less dependent they were upon us economically. Being a village at the top of a mountain range, difficult to reach, we widely believed that they held little loyalty, if any.

Yet when we marched down the hill and we introduced ourselves, they welcomed our crew with open arms. We were given hot stews, warmer, properly knitted clothes instead of our improvised wears, and all members of their community offered beds for the night. I had asked the chief of the village, and he told us that, being so far away from typical civilization, treating travelers was one of their few joys. Augusta divided us amongst the houses, and we celebrated that night with their northern brews and Wyvern stews. Thus was the first night that I had eaten dragon. And thus, was the first time that I questioned just how durable and hardy these people were, to turn predator into prey. If I had to be sincere, it is too stringy for me, yet Julia ate a serving or two. Perhaps three.

This morning, while chopping logs for the residents simply to give thanks to them, I saw that Julia had made her way to the shores of the lake. Cassian took my axe and told me to follow her, to create a “romantic scene”, but I shrugged him off with a scoff, though admittedly I did intend exactly as he teased. When I touched upon the waters, they were cool, but not overwhelmingly so, like I thought winter waters would be, and when I brought a handful to my mouth, it was refreshingly cold, crisp and pure. Julia was dozens of paces ahead of me then, and only knee-deep, and I realized then that this vast lake was not deep by any means. When I caught up with her, she was standing before an ashwooden scipio, with a gemstone akin to our Pedagogue’s but larger and more sharply cut. We both knew upon viewing it was Chastiefol, Caliburn’s counterpart, but it puzzled me then why a weapon of Chaos was sitting amongst the heart of Order. Julia told me it was her forefather, Augustin’s decision: after he had defeated the wielders of both Caliburn and Chastiefol, he had Caliburn sent to a remote village, and Chastiefol sent to the Dragonshards. His reasoning was simple: “to neutralize grandeur, force it among normalcy. To shackle the fires of Chaos, place it within the cold of Order.”

Both weapons possessed the properties of Dragonkin. A wielder of Caliburn would be considered a child of Order, and Wyverns would not attack them unless provoked, and thus was the same for Chastiefol: wielders of Chaos were, generally, not attacked by Chaos. Julia reached out then, and grabbed its shaft, and attempted to pull it from the rocks below, but it budged not even a little. She laughed, and I asked her why she was. “What lies ahead cannot be solved by so-called divinity. The spear I carry was made by humans, and I find it more fitting that we overcome the gods with humans.”

I splashed her with water as she walked away, and told her that she had begun speaking in aphorisms again. She laughed and splashed back, and we increasingly fought until I had to carry her out of the water, both of us soaked. The hearty chuckles of Cassian and our crew upon our return was unbearable for me, but Julia’s smile, then, gave me unmistakable contentment.

Later this evening, only perhaps an hour or so before I am writing these words, I had been reminded of something we had encountered on our way to face Gomorrah, three years ago. Dozmary held Chastiefol, and seeing that scipio had reminded me of the sword in the stone that Julia hadn’t expanded upon. Casually, I asked her what had happened with Caliburn during that time. She laughed, told me she had almost forgotten about that day, but then admitted that yes, just like the scipio, she failed to lift the sword, but both then and now she cared not for if she did. I then also remembered that she told me she talked to one of the villagers there, and asked if he had said anything important.

“We spoke of ordinary things. The sky, the wheat fields, the lives of the villagers, nothing much else in particular. But now that you’re making me think about it, the way he spoke didn’t sound like the rest of the villagers. And that village was small, we had known most of their faces then, but I didn’t see him any time before or afterward. He also did ask at one point if I thought that the sword before me would ever become important again. I told him I didn’t care.”

And when I asked if she still did not care now, she merely shrugged and moved on with other conversation.

7 MoM 422

Our arrival to Colchester on the first day of Motherhood was wrought with relief amongst us, for we hadn’t been amongst a proper city since our time in Edinburgh. The pontifexes were surprised to see us once more, same as some of the residents of the city. While Augusta permitted the crew to go to whatever Mass they thought best for themselves, we went to their bureaucracy and requested messengers be sent to Exeter, on the double. We had eaten into much of our time, and the agreed-upon deadline of the 1st of Chaos was approaching, so we sent a rider ahead that could travel twice as fast as we could. We also gained access to horses once more, a godsend for our feet, which Augusta acknowledged and allowed us a week-long stay here again, though rest was only one of the reasons.

On the first night of our return, Augusta requested the pontifex of a smaller chapel to hold a private service for only our crew, to honor the lives of the men and women that gave themselves to get us here. Though our return was mostly met with high spirits, this was the one time we were allowed to loosen with tears, and after the ceremonies within the chapel was over, Augusta lit a tall pyre at the edges of the city, surrounded by any helmets we could recover. She then took out the list of their names, and listed them all out before the fire and incense, among them being Thomas Cochrane, and Marcus Gnaeus Juno. After the names were said, and as the night grew darker, our somberness turned to celebrations of life, and we drank and socialized once more, though Julia was more content with just leaning on me then and watching her crew party for her. I was as well. When the fire was finally put out and our men returned to their hostels, exhausted but spirits lifted from grief, Julia, Cassian, Athina and I poured a full bottle of ale each for Marcus to drink with Tetia in Elysium. Cassian joked that their celebrations in the other world would be far more lively with how much we had given to them, and it was the final time on our journey that he publicly cried for him.

The day after, while coming to a morning Mass at the House of Our Mother, we overheard that the Mass would feature the baptism of Life for a newborn Princess of Londinium. I was curious, then, which Princess had birthed a child, and I realized that I recognized many of the officials in attendance. The cathedral, which was the largest in all of Colchester, was filled almost to the brim, and the pontifex was forced to cut off further guests just after I had entered with Julia. When the ceremonies began, I saw, much to my surprise, Theophanu at the front with her husband Himmel, holding a baby swaddled in bright white, and I found myself smiling as the pontifex poured the blessed waters of Cailleach upon the child’s forehead. After the Mass was over, I of course greeted her, and as she saw me, she carefully set her child in Himmel’s hand before coming to bow to us, and told me she was deeply worried about us and our journey, and that she was here by coincidence: she had given birth only weeks ago, and it was tradition for royal heirs to be blessed in Colchester’s cathedrals. She introduced herself to Julia then, and to my relief, the two had gotten along in conversation. I then asked Himmel the name of their child. A baby girl by the name of Elizabeth. I took Elizabeth’s hand with my finger then, noting the strength of her grip, and promised her that she would live a life of peace.

We had supper with them later that afternoon, where Julia naturally brought up the status of Exeter, and whether Theophanu had heard any news. According to her word, they were holding strong since we had departed, and the ground they gave up and the numbers they had lost would have been much worse if Trajan and Hadrian weren’t so competent. Hadrian consolidated when they needed to, and led the defensive fronts, while Trajan, it seemed, pushed forward when there were opportunities and led from the front—though she joked that he, at least by hearsay, did not literally go in the front like Julia always did. Theophanu told us that their return would bring Exetia great joy and relief, and that upon her return, she could see that there might be a chance of victory in this losing war. It was then that I whispered to Julia whether we should tell of the truth of Arcadia, since Theophanu may have the power to spread the truth in Londinium. When the Princess asked what we were deliberating about, Julia blurted: “Arcadia’s story is fake! We know it!” It was so ridiculous, I almost spat out my ale then. But we elaborated, and told her of the truth, and Julia even presented the spear as evidence. Theophanu told us that it would be difficult to overturn stories so foundational that they were childhood tales for children, but that, to her part, she would do her best to publish the truth in Londinium. We parted afterward, for she and her family had to return quickly for the child’s safety, but not before she kissed Julia’s hand and wished her godspeed.

We remained for a few days longer, and had further learned of the semi-recent status of Exeter and the war from locals and travelers that had been going eastward, mostly due to the conflict with the Hellands. The consensus was thus: the Hellands had advanced, and Hadrian and Trajan’s forces held firm as best they could, but ground was being lost against Fafnir’s monstrous hordes. Between a hundred or hundred-fifty miles of land, though we could not find an exact number, remained between the Hellands and Exeter’s gates, and this was from travelers who had last seen the Capital months ago. We were worried, but Augusta told us to not hurry, for not only did we send word ahead, but this would be the last opportunity we had to fully rest, and she demanded we take advantage of it before we commit ourselves to full war once again. Last night, after our supper, I found her in her hostel worried more than any one of us, worried for her mother, for Andromeda, and the soldiers she had left home. I reassured her as best as I could, and told her to follow her own advice, and at least remain here for one more day. She turned to me then, and whispered, with a face that I couldn’t refuse, that if she were to stay, then I should stay with her. I could not turn away from my Princeps’ order.

The next morning, we met with Cochrane’s crew for a final lunch in one of Colchester’s mess halls, for their time with us was finished. With their own men properly given funeral rites, they now felt content splitting with us, and returning northward to Edinburgh, though not before wishing us luck. That afternoon we saw the ten crewmen off, and thus remained thirty-three Exetians to return home. As I write this, I am upon my horse, and will soon close my notebook as I ride at Augusta’s side. We will prove our Pedagogue correct, that gods can truly bleed. We will carry on Briseis’ legacy, and let our people know that history cannot override the voices of normalcy. And, for myself, I will see the answer that our Princeps has been searching for: what her office means to her, and how she will answer the thousands that have pushed her here. Me, included. Julia, as I watch your back as you ride ahead of me now, know that I will record your answer until my last breath.