Archive of Our Own

[Slid underneath a study room door, the Great Hall]

Dear Olly,

If you are reading this, then I am dead.

Well no, but to you I might as well be, for all the attention you’ve given me these past weeks. Did you know that Alaira and I are having a torrid affair? I’m assuming not, given that when we broke the news to you over dinner last night, your reply was “I hope it doesn’t rain.” 

Though I suppose I should take comfort in the fact that I’m not alone in your disregard, since you have also not paid any attention to: literally anyone else who’s tried to talk to you, nutrition, sleep, or (and this I say as a friend) hygiene.

I understand that Silver Eve is rapidly approaching and that your master (in his infinite lack of wisdom) has already told everyone that his apprentice is going to make a name for himself at the procession. I also understand the importance of making a strong impression at your debut. However, just think about what kind of impression even the brightest, most clever witch (as in: you) would make if he were to collapse mid-procession, tumble headfirst off the floatforms onto the eldroxen below, and be trampled underfoot. 

Do not say that I am being overdramatic, Olly. Just two days ago, I saw you walk into a doorframe and then apologize to it. I know the corridors in the Great Hall are dark, but nonetheless!

So if there is any heart left in you that has not been shoved aside (as I have been) to make room for more drawings, and if that heart can still be moved by the unhappiness of your dearest and most neglected friend, then please know that I shall have a plate waiting for you at dinner this evening. It will be in your usual spot across the table from me, where I can give it sad and longing looks until you (hopefully) come to take its place.

Your friend, who absolutely will stuff your pillows with seaweed if you miss another dinner,

Qifrey

P.S. Alaira and I are not having a torrid affair, by the way. If you even still care, that is.

[Written on letterhead adorned with a family crest of a rearing pegasus]

To Witch Olruggio of Ghodrey:

Allow me, the Baron of Bannon, to congratulate you on your Silver Eve procession debut. Rarely have I seen so fine a showing, particularly from such a young man! 

Thus, I have full confidence in offering you an opportunity to give all of Zozah a proper demonstration of your marvellous Glow Stones. My House’s annual Midsummer Ball brings together everyone in the Peninsula who is worth knowing. To have your Glow Stones lighting up my ballroom would be the talk of the night! 

I think we can both agree that such a degree of exposure is an invaluable currency for a young witch in the beginning stages of his career. Far more valuable than gold or silver, I’d say, which will undoubtedly flow your way once—

[Written on Great Hall letterhead]

To Lord Bannon:

Thank you for your words of encouragement, and for the offered opportunity. Unfortunately, I have already committed to many other commissions requesting the Glowstone Path, and will not be available to take on more work for the foreseeable future. As you say, I am but a young witch in the beginning stages of my career, and thus I don’t wish to overextend myself and risk disappointing my first clients. 

However, I am confident that these early commissions will help me hone my craft, so that if your interest and my availability do meet again sometime in the future, I will be a lot more experienced at producing the quality of work worthy of an event as illustrious as your annual Midsummer Ball.

Until then, I remain, humbly,

Olruggio of the Torch

[A folded fluttergram, Mistgrove]

Qifrey,

I asked you for one thing. ONE bloody thing: just give me a heads up before you go haring off to wherever. Do you know how worried Why the fuck did I have to hear from Beldaruit that you’d gone “journeying” again? You couldn’t have told me in the entire month we spent building the atelier? You couldn’t have done the bare minimum courtesy of leaving me a note before you left?

What did I d

Is it because I

I expect letters. At least one a week, as proof of life. I know you’re hunting the Brimmed Hats (you didn’t tell me, but I’m not blind, you daft idiot). I’d say “don’t be reckless” but I also know you better than that, so I’ll just say, “don’t be stupid.”

Come back to me

Your friend, though it doesn’t fucking seem like it sometimes,

Olruggio

[A folded fluttergram, the Naakiwan Downs]

Dear Olly,

Once again, here is my weekly letter to prove that I have not perished in these frigid wilds. 

The cold has finally started to let up and melt the snow, thank all the stars in the heavens. I thought I was a fair hand at warming spells, but when it’s this cold, even my best efforts could barely stave off frostbite. I wish you were h You would have done a much better job of it, I’m sure. Consider yourself vindicated for all the times you refused to let me be lazy about practicing pyreball seals. I have been experimenting with using air currents to better distribute the heat, but I don’t think it actually helped. I’ve drawn the spell here for you to review (and surely criticize).

Fortunately, the villagers have continued to let me provide my services in exchange for food and shelter. Obviously I can’t give them spells, but I have helped them clear snow from roofs and roads, thaw the river so they can fish, and keep their chimneys clear. I’ve also built them new beastwarding spires (don’t worry, I’ve heeded your warnings and taken my sword with me each time). 

I know you’re worried regardless, but I promise I am well. I haven’t engaged in reckless pursuit of the Brimmed Hats at all, as even they will pause their atrocities when the snow is waist-high. I’m afraid I don’t have a date for when I expect to return, though. 

I hope you are also well. Are you eating and sleeping properly, without me around to threaten you with seaweed-stuffed pillows? You must know that your letters are as much proof of life for me as mine are for you. 

I miss you

Take care of yourself, my dear friend.

Qifrey

[Written on letterhead adorned with a family crest of four spread wings]

To The Esteemed Witch, Olruggio Of The Torch:

This letter hails from Mistcall Castle, the Noble and Ancient Seat of the Marquisate of House Cladd. It is the Will of the Marquis to grant you the Honour of Visiting his Home, so that you may furnish His Banquet Hall with the Glowstone Path. In addition to compensation (see attached Contract), you will be permitted to Reside in Mistcall Castle for the duration of your work. Furthermore…

[A folded fluttergram, the Great Hall]

Hiehart, 

If you’re serious about wanting us to work together, I just got a commission that could use a second pair of hands. Meet me in the library at fifteen marks. 

Thank you. No obligation, though, just if you have the time to spare.

Olruggio

[A folded fluttergram, the Naakiwan Downs]

My dearest Olly,

Every time I think I have seen the greatest heights of human stupidity, someone from the Great Hall proves me wrong. Those who can, do. Those who can’t, it seems, work in the patent office. These witches never leave the Great Hall except to complete the bare minimum of their annual acts of service, then scurry back to comfortable familiarity like shivering tailvoles. Anyone who’s spent time in the real world would give their eyeteeth for a pen that draw write on anything. That way, the next time your quire is sodden and useless after you fall into a river, you’re not forced to trudge shivering along the the riverbank, breaking pen nibs on bark or rocks until you can draw a Rainflinger neatly enough to do some good.

(I am, unfortunately, speaking from personal experience.)

You know, now that I think about it, the patent rejection might actually be a good thing. Those witches certainly don’t deserve to benefit from your brilliance. And it’s not like anyone else could replicate the spellwork you used, to make their own version. Even I could barely make heads or tails of it, and I grew up alongside you. I don’t think you know how singularly brilliant you are, Olly. In fact, I

Though even the most brilliant mind can only do its best when it’s housed in a healthy and hale body. Which is my not-so-subtle reminder for you to take care of your health. Sinocia says your last check-up results showed you were borderline anemic. I know I don’t have the right to Kalhn’s market is a longer distance from our atelier than the dining hall was when we were in Deepwater Castle, but the exercise you’d get from flying would probably also be good for you.

As to your question of how much longer I will be travelling, I suspect a little while longer yet. I feel that I am getting closer to my goal, and the momentum spurs me onward, even as my heart remains, ever and always, with

Your friend,

Qifrey

[A folded fluttergram, the Golden Plains]

Dear Qifrey,

First of all, since when are you and Sinocia on “conspiring against me” terms? And why were you even in the Medical Spire? Were you injured? Details now, Qifrey, or I’ll go ask her myself, and we both know she likes me more than you.

And I’m not anemic. I just got caught up in work. You don’t need to worry about me. Or rather, you don’t need to worry about me in letters when you can just come back to the atelier and nag me in person. You were the one who wanted me to You paid for half of the construction, you might as well use it. It’s too big for one person anyway. I miss

I miss y

I miss you. There, I’ve said it. 

I’m not the only one, either. Every time I go to Deepwater Castle Beldaruit summons me to the Argentgard to complain about his “neglectful former apprentice who won’t even send a fluttergram to his old, languishing teacher.” 

We’re coming up on Silver Eve again. I don’t have an invention to show at the procession this year (see? I take breaks), so we can actually enjoy the festivities. It’ll be like old times, except now we’d actually have the money to buy snacks and drinks and whatever little baubles catch our eye. We can go dancing If the crowds get too stifling, we can go back to our atelier and watch the Passage Stars. The weatherseers are saying that this should be the most spectacular showing we’ll have for a hundred years. I’ve got a bottle of aged Silvernectar I’ve been saving that would be a waste to drink alone.

Or if you’d rather stay, we could go dancing, and I won’t touch a drop.

So, it’s settled then. You’re coming to Silver Eve, no excuses. You should bring that sword of yours too. Now that I have my Searneedle Wand, I think I can put in the spells that we’ve been discussing. I’ve done some small-scale tests on our kitchen knives (don’t worry, I bought new ones) and the results are promising.

I’ll see you soon. Look after yourself.

Yours,

Olruggio

[An unsent fluttergram]

Dear Olly,

I’m so sorry, but I

[An unsent fluttergram]

Dear Olly,

I miss you too, more than you know and certainly more than I can say.

And I know you won’t believe me but I swear on my life that I’m doing this for both of our sakes

[An unsent fluttergram]

Dear Olly, 

I promise you there’s nothing more I want than to

[A folded fluttergram, the Naakiwan Downs]

Dear Olly, 

Please let me apologize for such a belated reply to your latest fluttergram. There’s been windstorms here in the Golden Plains, and they must have knocked your fluttergram off course, because I didn’t receive it until just today. Reading it made me realize how utterly I’ve lost track of time. By the time you receive my reply, Silver Eve will already be upon us, and you will already know that I am not in attendance. I’m right in the middle of pursuing a hard-won and very promising lead on the whereabouts of the Brimmed Hats, and to end it now would mean wasting weeks of effort. 

I know my response is a disappointing one. I’m very sorry. If it’s any solace, I feel the pain of our separation every bit as much as you, if not more. I miss you so much, Our Silver Eves as apprentices are among my most treasured memories, I can only beg your forgiveness, and promise that next year, I’ll keep a sharper eye on the days. 

I hope with all sincerity that you still enjoy the celebrations. I’m sure you’ll have your pick of people who’d want to celebrate with you! And perhaps, if there’s a night when the sky is kind and cloudless here, I’ll also be able to catch a glimpse of the Passage Stars and know that I’m at least sharing the same patch of sky with

I really am sorry, Olly. 

Yours,

Qifrey

[A folded fluttergram, the Golden Plains]

You’re a shit liar

Fine.

Do what you want.

-O

[A folded fluttergram, the Naakiwan Downs]

Olruggio,

It’s Sinocia. Can you come to the Spire? Qifrey’s here and he’s in a bad way. He’s dangerously feverish, but it’s making him delirious and he won’t let us touch him. He keeps calling for you. If you can’t come then at least set up a handheld windowway and talk to him. Maybe hearing your voice will get him calm.

[Written by simulgram pen]

To Baroness Lilibelle of House Roan,

My sincerest apologies, but a family emergency necessitates me to postpone the delivery of your order until tomorrow. Compensation will be provided for the delay. I am grateful for your understanding.

Olruggio of the Torch

[Left by a hospital bedside table, the Medical Spire]

Qifrey,

Sinocia told me what happened. Or rather, she told me what the witch who’d found you and brought you in told her, because you were unconscious and half-dead. 

I honestly don’t know what makes me angrier, that you neglected yourself into getting pneumonia, or that you didn’t think I’d care. Yes, Sinocia told me that too, how you called for me but didn’t think I’d come. 

If this is because of Silver Eve, then I’m truly sorry. I reacted badly in the moment, and then was too stubborn to reach out afterward. That was my fault. But how could you, after all these years, believe that that meant I didn’t care? You know how I feel about you, how I’ve always felt about you. It doesn’t matter that you don’t I promised that I’d never ask for more than you were ready to give, and I stand by it. I just want you to let me help when you’re in need.

Or, if even that proves too much, then maybe you’ll let yourself help me. I have a new prototype that needs testing. I don’t have a name for them yet, but they’re two rings that each have half a spell. When you put both halves together, the spell activates. Use them and tell me if they work as well as when a spell is drawn intact. Both the rings and compensation for your services as product tester are in the bag next to this letter. Don’t even try to refuse payment. I’ve seen your purse. 

I’ve also added some spells to your sword. Possibly I overdid things a little. By which I mean if anyone (especially from the KM) asks about your sword, I was never involved. Anyway, let me know if something unexpected happens, and I’ll fix it.

Look after yourself. Properly this time, please.

Your friend, always,

Olruggio

[A folded fluttergram, the Naakiwan Downs]

Dear Olly,

I hope you are well. You looked so sad when I said

I’m so sorry I

Sinocia shouted at me when I left. She said I’m being awful to you. She’s right

Hopefully you still wish to get letters from me continue our weekly correspondence? For what it’s worth, I always look forward to your letters. They bring me great comfort. I know mine don’t do the same for you, but I

I want to thank you for the additions you’ve made to my sword, which I’ve named “Raincleaver,” though perhaps “Watermaster” might be more accurate for the sheer power it commands over the element. Do you even know how much you’ve done for me I’m confident that even if I were to fall into the sea, this sword would let me part the waves and walk along the seabed to shore. The spellwork is impeccable. I assume this is due to your Searneedle Wand? Truly the patent office clerks must have been drunk on Mistweed when they rejected your application for it. 

Speaking of your Searneedle Wand, I have tested the linked rings you gave me. They work to perfection, with not the slightest decrease in efficacy compared to a spell drawn intact. Honestly, I think they’re brilliant. Such a clever idea, to have a ready-made drying spell that you don’t have to finish drawing, and that can work under any conditions. Did you make it because of me? For me? This contraption will save lives, Olly. I am certain of it.

If you have read to this point, then perhaps you are not so angry with me that you’ve thrown this letter into the fire. Let me take this chance then, to apologize, and beg for forgiveness that I know I do not deserve, but I know in my heart you will grant anyway. You are far too good to me, Olly, and too good by far to everyone else.

Did you know that in Mistgrove, the people believe in rebirth after death? Specifically, that your actions in this lifetime determine what form you'll take in the next. If that is true, then I'm sure that you will be reborn as a lotuslamp flower, admired and revered by all. As for me, perhaps I will be a humble bellfrog, one fortunate enough to rest upon your broad, umbrella-like leaves. I think I would like that.

I hope you will continue to take care of your health; you looked terribly tired when I last saw you. In exchange, I promise to not neglect my own. I’ve already acquired some rocklodge ginger, as well as a selection of herbs whose medicinal properties I definitely know nothing about.

Your friend, who holds you dearer than words can say,

Qifrey

[Written by simulgram pen]

To Lady Ermigremia,

As always, it is a pleasure to hear from you, and once again please allow me to extend my condolences for your loss. 

I am glad to know that the conservatory continues to perform to your expectations. Thank you most kindly for the fruit. Good work may be its own reward, but fresh dewberries in the middle of winter are definitely a privilege.

In response to your most recent commission request, while I am grateful for another opportunity to work with you, I don’t quite feel that I am the right Witch for this job. Intimacy enhancing contraptions are hardly my area of expertise, and I would hate to disappoint one of my best clients. 

If you would like a recommendation for another Witch to contact, or if there is another task that I can help you with, please do not hesitate to make your request. Until then, I remain, as always,

Your humble servant,

Olruggio

[Written by simulgram pen]

My Dear Olruggio,

I’m very pleased you enjoyed the dewberries. This crop is a bit small I’m afraid, as I am but a rank amateur compared to my dearly departed Lord. Still, the fact that I can grow fruit at all during this time of year is a testament to your skills. There’s nothing that lifts the dark trudge of winter more readily than fresh fruit. I wager that the next time you return to my castle, the commoners will be toasting your name more often than mine!

Which is why I believe that you are the right Witch—the only Witch I would trust with such a task. Another Witch might be more experienced, but they surely would have not have your same care. So I must ask you again to accept my request, not as Lady of House Gilbert, but as a lonely woman still unused to a cold, empty bed.

I look forward to your reply, with hope and expectation,

Gremia Gilbert

P.S. My niece Matitia asked after you again. She’s become such a lovely young woman, accomplished and with an excellent disposition. At her request, I’ve included a portrait with this letter, so you can see for yourself.

[Written on letterhead adorned with the family crest of a blooming millflower]

To Witch Olruggio of the Torch,

I was referred to the care of your expertise by… I suppose one could say a mutual acquaintance of a mutual acquaintance. For you see, I have a sister who is the Lady’s Maid in the employ of a Lady whom I believe has the great fortune to be a client of yours. I hope you will understand if I do not disclose the Lady’s name, and that I may similarly trust in your discretion as I make my request.

I find myself greatly desirous of a particular contraption that has garnered great praise from my sister’s Lady. This praise has made its way to my ears, and—if you will forgive a moment of vulgarity, Sir Witch—depths of my being that have long gone unsatisfied. I assure you, Sir, that money is no object…

[Written on letterhead]

To Olruggio of the Torch,

I write on behalf of the Viscountess of Peine, regarding the commissioning of a contraption of greatest importance and equally great discretion. For you see…

[Written on letterhead]

To Sir Of the Torch,

I understand that you are the inventor of the marvelous contraption known as the Glowstone Path. I wish to commission your services to pave my castle’s servants corridors with such a marvel. Please inform me of your earliest availability.

Unrelatedly, I have heard rumour that you also create contraptions of a more intimate nature. I believe these rumoured contraptions have thus far been intended for Ladies, but I do wonder if perhaps you have other designs as well…

[Written on perfumed, personally monogrammed letter paper]

To My Dear Olruggio, Master Of The Torch,

I am delighted that you enjoyed my little gift. No need to fret about the expense; as you know, my darling and generous husband made his fortune in textiles, so he was able to procure this garment for us at cost. 

It is lovely, is it not? My husband gifted me a gown of the same material to wear on our wedding night. Since then, it has always been my favourite thing to wear to bed—on nights when I wear anything at all, of course. In fact, I am wearing it right now, as I pen this letter. Dare I assume you are doing the same as you read it? It pleases me to imagine the gentle caress of silk over your skin, the shimmering indigo bringing out the depthless blue of your eyes. 

I hope it brings you as many nights of pleasure as mine has brought me. Neither my husband nor I had the chance to inspect the workmanship on the garment before we sent it off to you, so you must inform me if anything proves unsatisfactory. In fact, we would be delighted to host you again at our manor, together or separately, for as long as time will permit. 

We do hope you will accept our invitation. Until then, I remain,

Yours in anticipation,

Lady Rianrila Graeme

[A folded fluttergram, the Naakiwan Downs]

Dear Olly,

Obviously she wants to sleep with you. The only surprise here is that her husband wants the same. Did I not tell you that you shouldn’t have accepted her “gift of gratitude,” that it would just encourage her ardour? Am I not, as in so many things, always right?

You’d better not agree to You’re not going to

There are some who would consider such an offer flattering, you know. Apparently the Keepers of House Graeme are notoriously beautiful and very generous. If they were your patrons, you’d hardly need to keep slumming it in a tiny atelier in the middle of nowh

As for me, I’ve been well, though I confess that these short (cold) days and long (even colder) nights make me long for the more forgiving climate of the Naakiwan Downs. But don’t worry, I’m far from destitute this time in large part because I’m in Kerzaz. You remember Kerzaz, I hope, because they definitely remember you, as evidenced by the statue of you in their town square. No, I am not joking. It’s quite handsome; I’ve included a drawing for your persual. Apparently, they hang flower garlands off your neck and arms during the Spring Festival.

Anyway, I told them that I was your friend, and they took that to mean I could pay for my room and board by regaling them with stories about your illustrious past in the Great Hall. Don’t worry, I only told them the good ones, where you were brilliant and dashing and kind, and not any of the ones where you got so drunk you fell face-first into a fountain. I’m also keeping a tally of expenses so I can slip the innkeeper a fair sum upon my departure, of course.

I intend to keep heading north for a little while longer, so I’ll be away for yet a bit longer, still. I miss you every day. I should have written this in every letter, too. One day, I

Your friend,

Qifrey

[An unsent fluttergram]

Dear Olly,

Its a good thing Im not sending this one becaues my hands are shaking so badly I cant 

Today I wnet—

Yesterday, I went to the Forest of Thristas. I know I shouldn’t have, but… I’m out of leads. There’s been nothing, not even a whisper, and I can’t come back to you empty-handed, Olly, I can’t. Not after all this time, not when my continued existence comes at the cost of your memories. The Forest of Thristas was the only place I hadn’t gone.

Olly, it was awful. I knew it would be, so I didn’t eat anything beforehand. Not that it helped; I still vomited, and because my stomach was empty, it just heaved and heaved until my whole middle felt like a hollow pit. But I kept going, toward the heart of the forest. That’s where the truth lies, right? In the heart? 

I don’t know how long I walked. I don’t want to remember what it felt like, to be back. Because that is what it felt like: being back. I think the forest knew me, Olly. I think it wanted to keep me.

It didn’t succeed, obviously. But not because of anything I did. I just tripped, and fell into a puddle. It wasn’t deep, but the moment the water hit my face, got into my eye, got into my mouth, I

Your warming rings were what saved me. I hope one day, I get to tell you that. You’re always saving me. Sometimes I wish you’d stop. Surely I’ve cost you enough by now. Surely you’ve already outspent whatever I’m worth.

What if I just stay gone? I lost my best chance to do that when we were children. You were so warm, Olly, and I was so cold and so weak. I can do better this time. I can let you go. 

This is the best way for both of us. I’ll never have to worry about the silverwood growing again. You’ll never have to lose your memories again, except in the natural ways that come with time. Even the most vibrant painting will fade if left in the sun. Let me fade in your memory, Olruggio, and be hap

[A folded fluttergram, the Naakiwan Downs]

Dear Olly,

I think I’m finally done with travelling. I want to come home. If you still want m Don’t worry, I’m not so rude as to be coming home empty-handed. I have, in my possession, two bottles of Ghodrey’s finest honeymead. You told me once that the north makes the best honeymead, because it needs long, cold winters. I didn’t sample a drop while I was in the north, so I can share my first drink of northern honeymead with you.

There’s something I want to ask you, as well. I’m going to take the Fifth Test, after which I intend to take on apprentices. I’d rather not have to return to the Great Hall for this, but in order to remain in my atelier, I’ll need a Watchful Eye.

I know you’re terribly busy, and I know I’m dropping this on you without warning. But you’re always telling me to ask. So, this is me, asking. 

You don’t have to make up your mind immediately. It’ll be a least a week before I can even approach a proctor, to say nothing of how many times it could potentially take me to pass. Please think about my request. Our atelier is your home too.

Whatever you decide, I remain, always,

Your friend,

Qifrey

[Written by simulgram pen]

To Lord Ottavio, Baron of Stormcliffe:

I am writing in response to your latest commission request, which I unfortunately will not be able to fulfill at this time. I have recently taken on the role of the Watchful Eye of a Witch atelier, which means I will be overseeing children in my immediate vicinity. As such, I have decided to cease production of the Artiphallus and all other contraptions of that nature.

I remain grateful for your patronage of my work, and would be happy to bring your request to the attention of one of my trusted colleagues whose work would be of comparable quality to my own. Please let me know if that is something you would like me to do.

As always, I remain,

Your humble servant,

Olruggio of the Torch

[A folded fluttergram, the Naakiwan Downs]

Qifrey,

Of course I’m not saying you shouldn’t take on the Arklaum girl. I don’t believe in those accusations either. Even if they are true, then it was clearly because of all the pressure her awful family put her under. “Magical debut,” what a load of eldroxen shit. The girl was nine!

What I am saying is that you need to be careful. She’s going to want to prove herself. You, I imagine, are also going to want to prove yourself. Neither are bad things, but as the Master, you’re going to have to rein in the both of you. You’d best be ready for that.

Anyway, I’m almost finished here. I’ll swing by Kalhn on my way home, get a nice welcome gift for the girl. Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like me to pick up while I’m there.

Olruggio

[A folded fluttergram, the Great Hall]

Dear Olly,

Thank you for your update regarding Hollohon’s trial. Beldaruit already told me that he’d voted for him to be stripped of his Fifth Test certification, but I didn’t know that Wise Vinanna was also on side. I must say I’m not surprised Engendale voted against; I’ve never liked that man, ever since we were children. 

Richeh will be disappointed that her brother doesn’t wish to join her at our atelier, but I think it’s good for him to stay with Beldaruit. The old man has his faults, but he’s a gentle hand with hurt, fragile creatures. I should know. Speaking of Richeh, she’s settling in nicely. I worried that she’d be lonely, since Agott isn’t the friendliest to newcomers. Fortunately, Tetia is more than friendly enough, so I’ve roomed those two together. They’re in my study for now, but once you get home we can work on expanding the apprentice quarters. 

Travel safely, my dear friend.

Qifrey

[A folded fluttergram, the Naakiwan Downs]

Qifrey,

Who’s Tetia?

-O

[A folded fluttergram, the Naakiwan Downs]

Qifrey,

I need your help. Remember Baron Alaris’s sister, Lady Nadiia? Turns out she’s even more determined this time. I told her I’ve got a lover at home, but I don’t think she believed me. So I need you to pretend to be my lover and send me a fluttergram. Nothing fancy, just a short ‘I miss you’ will suffice. If you can time things so that it arrives during dinner (which starts at the twentieth mark), I’d appreciate it. 

And yes, you were right. Go ahead, say it.

-O

[A folded fluttergram, the Highland Pastures]

Dear Olly,

I told you so. 

Leave it to me.

-Q

[A folded fluttergram, the Naakiwan Downs]

Qifrey,

Well, I can never show my face in this house again, that’s for certain. Good thing I’m almost finished. Also, if I ever see the words “turgid” and “torch” in close proximity even once more before the final fall of stars that heralds the ending of the universe, it would be too bloody soon. 

Why on earth did you insinuate that you were pregnant?

-O

[A folded fluttergram, the Highland Pastures]

Dear Olly,

I simply thought that a woman who’d continue pursuing a man even after being told that he’s attached might need a stronger deterrent than just a letter from the lover. 

Was I right?

-Q

[A folded fluttergram, the Naakiwan Downs]

Dear Qifrey,

Yes.

Thank you.

-O

[A folded fluttergram, the Naakiwan Downs]

Olruggio,

Sorry it’s taken me this long to get back to you. I’ve looked into the medical request you made when you were last here. To be honest, there’s very little information I can offer. The organ in question is highly complex, and without knowing specifics, I can’t even begin to provide answers. 

Having said that, Ermile and I both think that this particular condition is degenerative; most of them seem to be, especially when the patient is already starting from a position of disadvantage. This would align with the degradation of colour you’ve also noticed.

I won’t say anymore here. The next time you come by (and you know you can visit us even if you’re not sporting a burn or five, right?), we can talk in person.

Take care,

Sinocia

P.S. When we last talked, you said you’d ask him directly. What did he say?

[A folded fluttergram, the Medical Spire]

Sinocia,

I’ve read your fluttergram five times and I still have no idea what request I’m supposed to have made. Do you have a free moment today? I want to talk to you.

Thanks,

Olruggio

[Written by simulgram pen]

To Olruggio of the Torch,

Please consider this missive official confirmation that you did successfully enter the Tower of Tomes on the following date: 499 ADP, Seventh Month, Seventh Day. 

Please also note that the Librarian’s Code prohibits the disclosure of a Witch’s reason for visiting the Tower. 

May your pursuit of knowledge be fruitful,

Head Librarian A. Arklaum

[A folded fluttergram, the Great Hall]

Olruggio,

Of course I didn’t know he was a silverwood host. Whatever you may think of me, I have only ever wanted Qifrey to be safe and happy. As for why he told Coco, your guess is as good as mine. But I cannot believe that he did so willingly, if he didn’t tell even you about his affliction.

Your timing could not be worse. Tell me nothing more, so that I may give an honest response should I be questioned later. As for the other Wises, Lagrah might still be reasoned with, but Vinanna I can at best distract for a little while. 

I do not think I need to tell you what will befall you—all of you, including the children—if you should fail. Nor will I tell you to not be reckless; I know very well I am decades too late for that. So I shall only say: Good luck.

Star’s wisdom and Maiden’s blessing go with you, where I cannot.

Beldaruit

[A folded fluttergram, the Dragonpass Isles]

Renelayne,

Port Waddaph, three nights hence, first mark. Will await signal.

Fold paper along dotted line to incinerate. Careful of your hands.

Thank you.

-O

[Written by Readspeak spell and simulgram pen]

Bell rue it,

If my apprentices wish to leave my atelier and find another master of course I will happily facilitate their departure. Until then anyone who tries to take my apprentices by force will be removed by force.

Love you can’t threaten a wise.

Why not? He had no grounds to revoke my fifth test certification and he knows it. The arc lawns abandon their daughter for years but the moment she gains some renown they want her back? 

Key free.

Schedule a new fifth test for me, bell darue it. Give me a month.

Key free.

Fine two months. If I can pass the test again then there should be no further discussion on this matter. Send the letter.

Wait key free let me read it over first

End spell.

[Read aloud by Speakread spell]

Dear Qifrey,

There’s no need to brag, Qifrey. Some of us are single.

I jest, but truly, if you have no additional physical symptoms, and your libido is not so out of control that you’re engaging in high-risk or unsafe behaviours, you’re probably just in a period of hormonal adjustment. Of course, continue to monitor your condition, and make sure you have open and regular conversations with Olruggio. That man has worried about you enough for one lifetime.

As for your unusual sensitivity, while I admit that your capacity is unusual for a man, once again as long as there are no additional concerns, I’d advise you to just consider yourself lucky. You’re due some good luck, after everything that’s happened.

Do keep me apprised if anything changes, either through letters or by coming to the Medical Spire. I’ll keep the other doctors away, I promise. Sorry about last time. You’re something of a medical marvel, and they got a little too excited.

All the best,

Sinocia

[Written by simulgram pen]

My Dear Olruggio,

Of course you are welcome to bring your husband along while you’re completing your commission. Bring his students too, while you’re at it. It’ll do my old heart glad to have children running around in the castle again, however temporarily. Do any of your girls ride? I have some wonderfully gentle ponies in my stable. 

On a personal note, I am overjoyed to hear of your marriage. I admit, I had a shock when Nadiia told me that you’d got someone pregnant out of wedlock! I didn’t believe it, of course—Nadiia can be dramatic—but I’m glad that such rumours can now be put to rest.

With affection,

Gremia Gilbert

[Tucked under a ribbon tied around the neck of a brushbug, the Naakiwan Downs]

To Olruggio of the Torch, Famed Inventor and Beloved Watchful Eye

I hope this letter finds you well, and in a position to look kindly upon my tragic state. You see, I am writing to inquire as to the whereabouts of my husband, whom I have not seen in what feels like a lifetime. 

Perhaps you know of him. He’s extremely handsome, with eyes as deep a blue as the sea, hair like a starless night, and a beard that he claims ages him but I rather think makes him look alluringly rakish. He’s quite fond of Silvernectar Wine, Pointbread, and even fonder of me—or so I’d been led to believe. But honeyed words cannot warm a body left cold, or fill an empty bed. And memories make for meagre sustenance when one is accustomed to far more substantial bounties.

I have faith that he yet lives. The food and drink that I lay out to prolong his existence are regularly consumed (with all dishware washed and put away, thank you dear). And I know he has visited the baths at least once because there is no foul odour emanating from his workshop. So if you happen to encounter this man on your travels, kind Olruggio, do beseech him to remember the loving husband and four darling apprentices awaiting his return. Our hearth is never so warm without his laughter, and our dinners never quite so filling.

Tell him, that tonight I shall lay out a plate for him at our dining table, in the hope that our collective desire for his presence shall finally be enough to return him to our side. Tell him also, that I cannot be held responsible for what the girls will do should he not join us for dinner this evening.

Until then, I remain, woefully bereft in heart and body,

Qifrey

[Sent back with the same brushbug]

Qifrey,

I’m on my way, you menace.

Love,

Olly