Chapter Text
DRAFT FOR COMMENT
There has been much excitement among scholars occasioned by news of the latest discovery at Tharnakos, which raised hopes of insights as valuable as those provided by the earlier findings (see for example “On the Finding of the ‘Pheris’ fragment in the library at Tharnakos” cited below).
This latest fragment comprises only a few pages: an introduction to one of the missing Books of Pheris, wrapped as a scroll around a short extract from the author's journal, and a personal letter. It was discovered in a pile of scrolls largely consisting of accounts and other estate documents of the house of Erondites. Perhaps these other documents may in the end prove more valuable, for alas there are no new insights to be had here.
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The Book of Pheris, Volume III
Introduction
Though I was born to the house of Susa, I am Erondites. My mother named me Pheris, after her father, and my inheritance was the infirmity which sometimes afflicted men of the Erondites family.
My mother was the daughter of Baron Erondites, the most powerful of the Attolian barons, many of whom resented the young queen who unexpectedly seized power by violence. Caught up in Erondites’ web of plots, my mother had been lucky to escape prison, or worse. Her brothers were less fortunate; one exiled, one dead during the war.
My brother and I were likewise trapped. When the king forced the baron to declare a new heir, to be brought up in the palace as a loyal subject of Attolia, my grandfather chose his daughter’s crippled child. He had me boxed up and sent to the palace on the back of a wagon to spite the king.
I was convinced the king would have me killed. I pretended imbecility and at least I was better treated than in my father’s house. But the baron’s reach extended to the palace: he persuaded my brother to bully me into betraying Attolia. My brother was exiled, though he was just a child. I was fortunate to escape death, and I thank the gods for it.
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The journal of Pheris Erondites
It appears the author was still keeping a personal journal as an adult, presumably partly as a basis for his histories, although the later Books are written in more formal style: perhaps Volume III was where this change occurred.
I put down the pen and stretched my fingers. I had forgotten how hard it is to write a concise introduction that makes reasonable sense and still covers the essentials. As it was I saw I had omitted to mention my father. A younger son of Baron Susa, he was wounded fighting the Mede and eventually died from infection[1]. Probably no-one would really care about his fate; my mother was the dominant force in that household. I wondered what Susa thought: he and I get along well enough at meetings of the greater patronoi or when we cross paths at committees or social events, but I would not consider us friends.
I suppose you could say the king’s project was a success, in the end. I grew up in the palace as his youngest attendant. My infirmity was helped by proper treatment, and I grew stronger with better feeding; I was able to follow the king to the wars, though I was too young and foolish to understand what that might mean.
I inherited most of the old baron’s land when he was killed; my uncle Dite, who received the rest, prefers to remain in Ferria most of the time, so I often find myself looking after his interests too. Certainly I am a loyal subject of Attolia, and I do my best to support the queen’s ambitions for her country.
But I have chosen my own path. Whatever the king may have intended, because of my infirmity I was never going to be a leader of the barons even if I had wanted it, and I am not interested in their bickering unless it seems likely to become a serious problem. Even then I avoid interfering directly, although I will advise the queen’s secretary of the archives if it seems necessary. I never wanted to become a minister or adviser: I had enough of politics.
The Little Peninsula is at peace, and it’s a time for our country to rebuild and prosper. The rising generation hardly remember a time before Attolia’s rule. The greater patronoi remain protective of their rights in the government, and I would not disagree with that, but there has been surprisingly little opposition to the queen’s measures, even the introduction of new rights for okloi. The queen maintains that my greatest service to her was my marriage to an okloi girl, sister of one of her okloi pages. Personally I am unsure that the example of the frog baron really did a great deal to popularise patronoi/okloi relationships.[2]
At least the Erondites name is no longer a byword for treachery. I can concentrate on running the barony and looking after my family and my people.
The new temple is finally complete, though of course it has been in use for a while. I generally prefer to visit one of the smaller, quieter temples, but it is a most impressive building.[3] I made an offering to the great goddess there: I have much to be grateful for.
[1] Unfortunately we are still not given the man's name.
[2] Some (somewhat vague) evidence of post-war social changes in Attolia.
[3] Unhelpfully, the journal is undated.