[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4615690]Nokeyeor 1[/url] - [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4665587]Nokeyeor 2[/url] - [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4685536]Nokeyor 3[/url] - [url=http://divinus-ii.wikia.com/wiki/Mesathalassa]Mesathalssa Divinus Wikia page[/url] 

[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4715470]Tsoti 1[/url] • [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4725086]Tsoti 2[/url] • [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4735734]Tsoti 3[/url]

[hider=Recap and characters]
This story is set on the dusklands, land to the north of Mesathalassa, which has been shrinking since the darkened spires east of it were destroyed. Ironically, this has led the land into a small renascence of thought and culture.

In the center of this turmoil is Mavadzugji, a radical priest and son of a famous general, deeply influenced by the more advanced south while paradoxically being very fervent in his devotion to Dzanya, the culture of the people who live in the Dusklands. 

After inventing a writing system fit for the Dzanya, he journeyed south, past the dusklands, in the company of the foreign sailor Danolyo and his wife Karcelli. Meanwhile, at home, Batsami, a friend of his and self-declared Manyadjir (manager) of the priest, is working to spread his writings, in particular, the ones that people have interest in, like accounts of foreign lands and wars.
[/hider]


[hider=Summary of this post]
Denolyo, Mavadzugji, and Karcelli go deeper into the south. The priest notices Karcelli has some super natural skills, but the woman won't tell a thing about them. On his way to Denolyo's abbey, he finds a building which has an architecture similar to that of his homeland, this leads to some wacky assumptions on his part about his people once owning this place.

Arriving at the abbey, the priest makes some notes on architecture and writes a text, which he sends home in a mysterious way after talking with Karcelli and Denolyo's daughter, Trisana. 

Back at home, Batsami's marketing skills and use of decorated clay pots work well and there is a crowd after those mysterious "text" things, despite most of them not knowing how to write. Then a local leader, Mutaraka, shows up, saying he got a text sent from the south by Mavadzugji and also that he wants Batsami to give private lessons on writing to his kids and the noble who happens to be her crush, she accepts it hard.

===stats

Mavadzugji
12 initial prestige
-2 to figure out the basics of architecture
-2 to compile observations of the culture of north mesathalassa into a text
-2 for standardized text production
+10 from the post

16 prestige remains.
[/hider]

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/qoyBvwB.png[/img][/center]

TSOTI 4 (63 PR)
 
Gentle light entered the room through the window, piercing the dimly lit area like a spear, outside, a variety of birds sang in a cacophony, many voices were heard from under and to the sides of the room whilst the sound of plates and utensils clinking and tinkling started to intensify. Mavadzugji rose up from his bed rubbing his head, he had not rested well since he entered the sunlands.

On the other side of the room, Denolyo was sleeping soundly, no issue on his side. His wife had left a while ago, the priest still remembered the moment very well, they were walking down a path when suddenly a woman clad in white with blank hair of a color that was neither Dzanya white or old person white appeared, walking on a similarly pale horse. She whispered something in an unknown language and Karcelli nodded apprehensively, 'well, it seems we will need to part ways, I will meet you on the approach of the abbey' and off she went.

With a rumbling stomach, he had little option but to get dressed properly and walk down towards the main hall of the inn. Inns in Mesathalassa were typically well organized to the point of being a bit intimidating, it was also one of the few places were barter was simplified and standardized, that was amazing to Mavadzugji, who could not tell apart the worth of gold from the worth of dirt and was often on the losing end of a bargain.

The big problem was food, everything down south was so greasy and overpowering. Boar meat, Gorgon mazard meat, even the fish were extremely oily. It seemed Mesathalassans not only had no sense of grace in their music, but also in their food, they did not know how to prepare delicate dishes and instead just added more and more meat and salt to their steaks and sausages, the wine was said to be great, but it seemed that was a West Mesathalassa thing, here in the north it tasted like spicy juice. To make the whole thing enjoyable, the priest would boil cassava he bought himself and add to the meat dishes as a neutral counter-measure to the strongly flavored meat.

It was said innkeepers were the defacto leaders in some places near the central mountains, not here though, the leader here was a brutish man, beardless, like most Eveman, which was thankful, one could only imagine the filth that would get stuck in there if he had one.

Mavadzugji always disliked his land's own nobles, but he was starting to see that while they had their own failures, they also had their own merits. The Dusklands were so old, no matter what an Elysianist might tell you, that everyone was part of one clan or another, especially with the habit of larger group marriages inherited from Hain influence, this created an odd situation where everyone was noble to an extent, but few had the power and wealth to truly act on it. This had interesting ripples in their society: Etiquette, complex speaking, the constant showcase of wealth and the manutention of traditions were all manners to separate classes, actions made with the intention of being hard to act upon unless you sat on so much comfort you did not need to fight for survival every day of an epoch-week. 

Of course, this led to pettiness, but it also did make the upper class more... pretty? The priest did not know the word, but it gave them something to work towards and created work opportunities for many, including tailors and priests. Meanwhile, southern nobles were born on it and had no reason to justify their situation, they owned the place, move along or face the consequences, as such, so far, every single noble he had met was a brute of worse quality than many of the peasants, addicted to the rawest of activities and with no interest in refinement. In his mind, Mavadzugji prayed the Mesathalassan nobles he admired, such as Sheru or Runza, were more graceful than men such as the hog sitting on the largest table of the inn.

After eating his breakfast, always well incremented in the typical Dzanya style of strong early day meals but fasting during the night, he walked past the crowds of this inn made popular by good weather and nice trade locations, and moved onto the nearby village. Many houses were tents, meant to be moved later at during the year, this was curious because the system of centering temporary housing near a larger permanent building was also part of Dzanya culture, as much as he was having a cultural shock from how different the sunlands were, he also could not help but see the similarities.

This was his second day in his area, in the first day he was typically fine, but on the second, merchants would hear about how easy it was to squeeze out a bargain from the young dusklander man, so three steps out, and a young huntress girl was already upon him. "Hey! Would you like to help us by exchanging some goods for these leather prints amulet? It would really help us out, and it is all for the local temple." she almost yelled, surrounding him like a wolf intimidating a deer. "You have a pretty face... but... it could be better, for a small fee..." a sculptor said. "Quara goods from across the ocean! Sparkling stones, singing plants, eternal flowers! This is a one in a lifetime opportunity my friend." another human added, the priest was sweating, he had no interest in any of the services, but the expecting and/or intimidating eyes, froze him, as if he would be morally wrong in not at least buying something.

"Shoo! Shoo! Go away pigeons." Denolyo arrives just as the young man was reaching for his coin purse. "Come on now boy, you need to do better than this." the ex-sailor said with a sigh. "You are almost out of valuables, all spent on useless trinkets." he reprehended.

Mavadzugji sighed, feeling bad about the whole situation. At least this time Denolyo had arrived in time, on some other day the dusklander had given a palm-sized silver piece to a man pretending to be a dying beggar.

"You need to learn how to resist this sort of influence. You are too manipulable." the sailor added. "Anyway, let us get going, we are almost at the abbey."

[hr]

The topography of north mesathalassa was always somewhat broken by hills and valleys, but in the last few days the increasing heights had become a constant. This made the travel more tiring, but, according to Denolyo, this would be the last time they set up camp in the wild.

Mavadzugji typically woke up earlier than anyone, his body confused the earliest lights of the breaking down with the faint change in light that the sun at its full height brought to the Dusklands. This typically left him with plenty of time to spare, which led to him always searching for something to do. Exploration was typically out of hand, as he feared most things that one could find while wandering around the wildlands, yet, sometimes boredom and curiosity got the best of him.

He had seen a building hidden by the trees and tall grass, it was not particularly fancy but it was somewhat large, which is why it stood out among on the overgrowth in the first place. While later in his journey the priest would discover many interesting new things, what he found on that morning would shake his worldview.

A ring-like stone home, two stories tall, in the middle of a series of long-forgotten home foundations. The priest stood on that visage for a long time, not believing his eyes or that he was awake and this was not the superimposition of different memories. These sorts of buildings were typical of earlier Dzanya settlements but had gone out of use centuries ago, as populations increased and each the normal homes took the ring shame. What could something like that be doing this far here? It made no sense! There were no records of that architecture being used by sunlanders or of dzanya settlements away from the dusklands.

"Ah, there you are," Denolyo said.

Mavadzugji blinked at his sudden appearance, he wondered how the man had found him so fast considering he had walked quite a bit to arrive on this area, his answer was standing behind him, Karcelli had returned, so had the person clad in white, but now the person was clad in green and brown, the once colorless hair and clothes now made to match the color of the location. 

"Why are you here, priest?" Denolyo continued, walking to his side.

[color=9fc5e8]"This fortress... Why does it exist?"[/color]

"I would say it was made to keep the inhabitants safe and consolidate the power of a ruler." The sailor laughed.

[color=9fc5e8]"No, the architecture... are there any locals who make houses like this?"[/color]

"Not that I know off, but I have seen many ruins such as this while traveling, I think we saw one in the south as well, didn't we, love?" the sailor looked to his side.

Karcelli sighs. "Perhaps." she told, as unwilling to help the priest, or anyone, as always.

[color=9fc5e8]"In the south? Past these mountains, near the harbor kingdoms?"[/color] his mind raced at the possibilities of such a finding. What could it mean in the context of the history of his people? No, this was deeper than that, it changed the whole question, he was now asking himself what changed in the history of his people in the context of this discovery.

Any thoughts would end up delayed, however, as the clash of humidity and warmth of the early morning started to brew together into rain. It was time to finish the journey, but the priest knew this would not be the last he saw of this place.

[hr]

To the amazement of many, Batsami had picked up on read and writing fast. Of course, being familiarized with the flower language it was an easy jump to learn the written version of that, even if sometimes the connection between flowers and symbol was awfully abstract. Not so surprising, was her commandeering tone and ability to center things around her, at least not to those who knew her.

Mavadzugji's Manyadjir was already at work, even before the first parchment from the priest in the south arrived. He had an extensive personal collection of sunlander works and some of his own writings, it had been set that those would be translated first, to test ground for the future, more serious, work the group of priests wanted to do.

Batsami obviously had not read it all, she had better things to do with her life, but, she had had Tura summarize it to her, the poor priestess being forced to follow the manyadjir around telling her all she knew multiple times so the girl could get an idea of what she would be working with.

"These works have a big problem inherent to them." Said Batsami.

"Oh? Well, I would agree. In the end the scope is very limited and Mavadzugji works too much on the notion the clay tablets contain proper representations of reality when in truth..."

"No, wrong. If people cannot  read, how will they trust there is truly something interesting contained in that paper? I mean, for all you know, it could be blabbering."

"Uhm, if we are to distribute it for free... I am pretty sure we are not supposed to charge for knowledge."

Batsami gasped. "Charging for it? Oh no, absolutely not. I am impressed you can even think of such things."

Tura's eyes went wide. "What? No I did not..."

"Nevertheless, there is a point to that. Whilst we of course are charging for the writings, we cannot ignore the truth that hete paper costs us a lot of time and there is not enough ink in the world to write texts for everyone in the dusklands." she tapped her chin, smirking. "So, my great idea is to accept donations, paper and ink, for example, but also, you know, goods in general would be good."

The manyadjir then shook her head, killing that topic before any flaws could be noticed. "But that is detail, we missed the main topic, how do we make it interesting, Tura?"

"I am sure the words of a priest would be taken as proof it is a worthwhile reading."

"Ideally yes, practically, well, not everyone goes to the temple, do they?"

Tura stared at the woman for a moment and slowly nodded. Batsami echoed that gesture in response, it was thankful she had had a solution to that situation even before she presented the issue at hand.

"See, I have friends, many friends. Hirike is one of them, and her family works with pottery." she started. 

"Oh, are they not the ones who make those expensive vases?"

"Exactly! Despite having the same use as any other jar, they charge way more, and that is because there is a differential to their craft."

"The little drawings?"

"The ornaments, yes. People love the imagery, people love the color, and they love, you know, interesting things, as opposed to poor things... I mean, plain things. The same way the outer walls of our houses have ornaments to them..."

"Those are not ornaments, they are wards and glyphs, to bring fortune and peace to the families, to protect the home from wicked spirits and..."

"Yes yes, I know, it was an example." it always impressed Batsami how the priestess focused so much on what things were supposed to be, instead of how they really were. "Albeit, in a way, the ornaments of the jars are also wards that bring fortune to Hirike's family, hah."

"I do not see how."

"That is fine. Anyway, we should stop sidetracking from what I want to say, which is, I will get Hirike to do murals representing each of the works we are translating. There is interesting imagery in these things, I think, great cities, fierce battles, gods doing godly things, I trust Hirike and her family can convert these in quite luring ornaments."

Tura pondered over what the manyadjir was proposing, it indeed seemed like a sound plan even if she had trouble fully believing Batsami's commitment to the actual cause. "And how much would it cost? Even for your family, who sees controls great wealth, it seems a bit excessive. One mural is a thing, but we are talking about many."

"Oh, do not worry, I will do the talking and I will get Hirike to help us. I am sure there is room for compromise, and the cause is such a noble one, to safeguard our past and our future, how could anyone say no?" Batsami giggled.

[hr]

The abbey itself was a complex of structures built from marble, which was simply abundant in the region. It was possible to see the history of the settlement if one paid attention, an older wooden house, now repurposed as a storage room, signaling the first arrival of Denolyo on the region. From what the sailor told him, that structure was likely made in his first visit to Mesathalassa, he could clearly see the outlines of the wooden palisades he had built with his friend Yan. Then there was the first stone house, it was built outside of the walls, that was made way later than the wooden home, and it was made with purpose, it was a stepping stone to the building of the abbey and to this day it was still a workshop used to prepare the building materials to repair the building. The building proper was a series of large weird mixes of home and temple, built sparsely from one another but connected by covered walkways, the tallest of all buildings was a tall tower with what looked like a bell, larger than most Mavadzugji had seen, with a golden shine to it.

Design wise it was entirely alien to him. Admittedly, he only knew a small fraction of the styles popular in north Mesathalassa as well as the duskland's, yet even conceptually it felt different from what he knew in terms of shape, room distribution, which areas were shared and which were private, event the way it dealt with the environment, be it trapping the heat and or letting the air flow. It was no wonder, Denolyo had traveled the world and knew lands far beyond the limits of most people's imagination.

Across the travels, he had talked a lot with the sailor. Discovering much about his past, as the son of a trader who fell in love with the city of Fals on the Firewind coast, a harbor market city which was famous, and a bit infamous, for its art and stories. To the priest' surprise, Denolyo had spent almost forty years in the town, even if he did not look much like a man in his fifties, almost sixties. It was also to his knowledge that Fals had long lived past its prime and was now either gone or decadent.

Another odd detail of the story was Karcelli. The supposedly older wife of the sailor, unlike him who had a masked age, she outright looked young, a woman in her thirties. It was clear she was involved with something in the realm of the occult or the mystical, she had weird skills and was followed around by weird companions such as that person who wore clothes that made them hard to see against the foliage of the forests. The problem was that Karcelli did not cooperate with his questions, on the contrary, she seemed keen to keep him on the dark, even if she did seem to want to help others with the skills she had. One day, when asked for a reasoning of her actions, she simply answered that a gifted flame will keep a person warm, but the gift of flame making will make a person burn. This was perhaps more alien to Mavadzugji than the very architecture, to withhold information seemed to be the very opposite of what his culture and religion believed, it almost seemed mean spirited, even if he saw Karcelli as a good person.

This was not only troubling to the dusklander priest, the one who had the most trouble with Karcelli's insistence on not passing on knowledge was her and Denolyo's daugther, Trisana. The young woman had the adventurous spirit of her father, but was clearly interested in the hunting abilities of her mother. Sadly, even that was not enough to make Karcelli change her mind, leaving Trisana to figure out things by herself. The young woman had amazing skills, her aim, her balance, her endurance, it was all far beyond what most had, still, while skilfull, it was a far call from the supernatural-like skills of her mother.

Mavadzugji wanted to get to know more about the family and the abbey, however, it was clear to him that at least the first week would need to be dedicated entirely to recording his journey from the dusklands to the abbey. Along the path, he had made many notes of things he had learned, from local culture to rumors he would hear on the taverns. Furthermore, he felt like he needed to communicate with Batsami and his fellow priests, his heart was still full of insecurities towards their overall approach, even if the path was now clear to him.

[hr]

The priest was impressed at how fast he managed to compile his notes into text. His initial idea of spending a week had turned into two days and a half. The abbey's very architecture seemed to work in favor of his endeavors, there were very few interruptions, the sunlight would always be present in his room and never become overpowering, the paper was more accessible and less crumbly and the ink and quill available to him made what he had previously used look quite primitive.

Of course, after that, there was the business of sending what he wrote back home. It was a bit late to reach for Denolyo, and he also wanted to take a closer look into the abbey grounds to take notes of how it was built and the way the rooms and yards influenced the people who lived there, so the priest decided to leave these matters for the next day and instead just explore the building for the rest of the night.

Most of the walk was peaceful, as most of life in the abbey was, as it was designed to be. However, while walking over one of the gardens of the building complex, the sudden sound of something flying across the night sky took his attention. It landed on a wooden log, and upon closer inspection, it was an arrow.

"What are you doing? Get out of there before you end up a hit. Stupid foreigner." Trisana told, and the priest was startled by the sudden voice, he had not seen anyone. Looking up he saw her, wearing a dark green outfit with a black fabric covering her arms and legs, upside down on a rope that extended between the roofs of two buildings, supported and balanced by the back of her knees. With ease and grace, she spun on the rope and stood on it, walking back to the building and dropping from window to window until she was on the floor.

"It did not hit you, right? No. That is good. I guess that is enough training for today."

[color=9fc5e8]"You really do train a lot, do you not, I saw you running around when I woke up, and even now in the deep dark you are doing something else."[/color]

"I need to perfect my nightly senses. My mom can see the slightest of movements deep into the night, I want to develop something like that."

[color=9fc5e8]"I see... Shame she does not help you with these lessons."[/color]

"Eh, it cannot be helped. But there is no problem... With a lot of effort, I am sure I can rediscover such techniques."

The priest pondered over that for a moment, he wasn't sure of what she said, but he tried to be respectful. To no avail, as she noticed his doubt.

"What? You don't think so? Even if somehow mom's abilities are done by magic, surely that magic must come from somewhere..."

[color=9fc5e8]"Not so much that. More that... Well... Most of the things I invented, I did it based on the works of others. And to me, it seems clear they too based it on someone else's work. For me to make the duskland writing I need paper, which could only be invented in the dusklands because the creators lived near hete farmer, for that farmer to learn how to farm hete, he had to learn from others, from previous farmers of the plant, who in turn just started planting is based on the fact other people were cultivating other plants. If I lived back when such things did not exist, even if I had twice the motivation and intelligence I would still not be able to create it."[/color]

Trisana sighed. "Hmm... Well... most of what I learn I just emulate nature... and well, mother as well. Furthermore, there is someone else who seems to come from the same group as mother who gave me a few tips, even if I do not see her much anymore."

[color=9fc5e8]"I see."[/color]

The young woman laughed. "The person is a woman who lives in a village over... there." she pointed towards the horizon, as the abbey was high up in the mountains it was possible to even see the faint glimmer of the village's main fire source. "I sensed you wanted to know more about whoever it was."

[color=9fc5e8]"That is kind of you, albeit, I doubt I will have the time to go after a distant village in less than... ten days."[/color]

"Dad told me you are some sort of priest-scholar."

[color=9fc5e8]"That is a fitting description, I guess? I just see myself as a priest, all else is just me taking record of things that exist, writing down what they are."[/color]

"What you think they are," Trisana answered with a teasing smile. "That is cool though, must be a lot of pressure."

The priest nodded and sighed. 

"And what is it with your bag? There is far too much parchment in it."

[color=9fc5e8]"Oh? Yeah... I was searching for a way to send them up north to the Dusklands, I imagine a trader would be the one to go for. I also wrote a few copies so I can increase the chances of at least one reaching my homeland."[/color]

"Oh... Got it." she pondered then smiled. "Hey, I might have a solution to this. But you will have to promise to keep it a secret."

[hr]

Tzevami, the poet-priest, sighed as he saw the crowd in his way. He needed to be there in this instant, but from the looks of it, it would be late into the night before the crowd dispersed. Looking around, he saw a cart, and pulling it closer, he climbed it, then walked on the roof for a bit, making sure he was stepping on the support beams and not on the pure thatch, and then slid as gently as he could down, falling into the central area of the potter's family home.

"What are you doing!?" Batsami questioned, gasping as he saw him do that.

"Oh, do not worry, nothing I had not done before." the priest said with a smile.

"Probably while breaking the rules of the temple!" Tura said, her tone making it unclear if it was a joke or a true reprehension of his ways.

"Indeed. Now, is it just me or is half the region here?"

"Yes!" Tura agreed, perhaps complaining. "Batsami said she would do things to bring more people over, but I think she may have done it too much."

"Oh, do not be a baby, this is good... on the long term. On the short, we might be murdered when the stories about the Imga War are all sold."

"You are selling the parchments already?" The priest questioned, incredulous. "It is too soon! Most do not even read yet."

"It will be an incentive for them to learn already. " the Manyadjir answered.

"Maybe once we are almost out of parchments we should turn the vase to the side without the image. Since I guess its too heavy to bring inside while navigating the crowd."

"Good thinking Tura. Go do it right now."

"Me? Oh... fine."

The poet then smiled. "I have never seen you so tired before..." he said, looking at Batsami.

"Well... I had to do so much! Day after day, going around, moving clay vases around, pretending I was moving them when in truth I just wanted to spark people's interest. Going to feasts and whispering about this as if it was a hidden truth. Creating drama among the priests to add that inflammatory edge..." she sighed.

"You did great with this. Perhaps you too should pick up writing, eh? Surely the world we are trying to create will need your wits."

"Eh? If everyone becomes as savvy as me the world will devolve into chaos. One of me is more than what the world can take~" she laughed. "Speaking of more than what I can take, so... how did the meeting go? Please tell me for once you priests have come up with a sensible solution and I won't need to brute force results."

He unveiled a parchment. "Well, Mavadzugji did greatly, this time. Even if the main export of our town is arguments about religion and culture, his writing has been mostly accepted by all. Of course, there are those worried about their pet dialect not getting properly represented, but they are a minority and will eventually bow to us, of this new united dzanya people."

"Yes, yes, go preach to someone else. Do you have what I need?" It was no overstatement that they needed to work on making more people able to read the texts. Mohavumika was a cultural hub, and reading was spreading fast within it, but Batsami knew without better techniques than sending a priest to people's home they would have trouble spreading within the town, imagine across the region.

"Its right in front of you."

"You know I do not know how to read too well and..." she said, before squinting. "Ra... lli... nye?" she tilted her head. The parchment had been done in a very different manner than any other, it did not use simple black ink but a whole range of colors, flowers were pressed into the paper and the very letters had been written in a non-standard manner to resemble objects. 

"It feels... easier to read. I can almost figure it all out by myself."

"Each syllable is a flower, so I composed a poem which uses all the sounds of our language. I also did that while focusing on the most iconic objects related to the sound, I think this will help people remember the words the best. It almost works like a guessing game."

"How did you write something so big with so many conditions??"

"Skill." 

"Well... Huh. I will give you this, Tsevami. Typically you only boast, but I think this time you have done it."

"Manyadjir!" Tura entered, going to Batsami. "Mutaraka is just out here! He wants to talk with you!"

"Mutaraka?" she gasped, that was a big name, she kinda had been expecting her to be noticed, but that was fast.

She ran to the entrance and exposition area, where a bunch of priests and the whole family of potters struggled to keep up with the crowd, albeit now everyone had stopped to see the warrior looking at the images in the vases.

"Hmmm. This is... this is... Ah! It's the sunland west coast. It has that Kivico Ruby on it and down here is Tri-Harbor. Wouldn't have guessed from the way you painted the coast."

"Sorry! I did not know much, only what was written."

"Not your fault, but I am not interested in this one." he looked around.

"Oh! Look at this! This has to be... Runza! On the throne, the deer riders dead or bowing to her. Good work. They will love this back at home, I will take it." 

"One parchment?"

"The vase. Whole."

"Mutaraka!"

"Batsami!" he said, patting the woman on the head as if she was a child. "What a mess have you made, eh? Always believed in the boy, seems like he will make a name quite like his father."

"Seems so, I am his manyadjir, did you know?"

"No? He is your family's manyadjir."

"Well, yes, but, not on the literal meaning of the word, on the... uhm, conceptual way. I am keeping up with his tasks, organizing his work, helping him around."

"So you are a great manyadjir then."

Batsami smiled in response. "I try~ But, uhm, do you know how to read? And you do know all parchments in the vase are the same text, correct?"

"I do not! And I do. I want to have the boys at my home to learn both to read and also the tales of warrior of the past. Weird the boy has not written about his own dad..."

"Oh. I see."

"Ah, I also have some letters for you." he laughed.

"What?" she looked confused.

"Manner of speaking, I was going to say I have some words for you, but that sounds like a threat. A few days ago a strange small humanoid creature gave us some parchments, said to be from Mavadzugji straight from the sunlands. Why not come with me to gather them personally? Someone will need to bring the texts home anyway. Furthermore, you know how to write well, right? You could teach my boys as well as the warriors who stay near my home, such as Llapur Dyetzu and other nobles."

Batsami's eyes shone. "Oh, surely, I am a master writer myself, I will teach them personally!" she turned around and rose her hands up "Everyone, the event is over, thanks for your donations, I need to leave with haste!"

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/FrdKeVY.png[/img][/center]