Armand’s First Letter. Amelia’s First Letter.

28 January 1019
17 Rue Thomas, Toulouse

My dearest cousin Armand,

Two months ago you asked about your M. Sabot, the current Comte de L—. I responded immediately with our news (if a discussion regarding a long dead people can be called news) about the Iturians and their autocratoria, and having had no time to look into it of course had nothing to say as yet.

Since then Maximilian and I have made his inquiries at the Cumbrian Embassy, as you requested—to wit, we have dined with the Ambassador on several occasions, as we would have done in any event—and Max has a little diligent nosing about of his own. In order to convey what he has learned, I fear must relate a little history of a more recent stripe.

It all has to do with the manner in which the Provençese have chosen to govern themselves these past decades, and the erratic twists and turns that have resulted from it.

It began with their revolution, as you are well aware, and the beginning of their Troubles. The King and his Companions were given to the axe, along with many of the Peers of Provençe—including, as you know, your M. Sabot’s father. The rebels then created what they called the Republique de Provençe, citing our Cumbrian Parliament as the inspiration for their bloody deeds.

I will pass over this wicked temerity in silence, for soon enough the rebel leaders arrived at their just ends when a soldier, a lowly lieutenant, rose to be the commander of all the armies of Province and established himself as dictator over what he called Le Maréchalate de Provençe. You know as well I what happened to him.

In his wake there followed a great deal of nervous wrangling and discussion, numerous attempts by his followers to establish themselves as his successors, and no few barricades in Toulouse and no little blood shed in the fields of Provençe.

Oddly none of the fighting took place anywhere in the vicinity of L’École du Sorciers, not after the destruction of Le Maréchal‘s last fleet; but I digress.

In time there arose the Deuxième Republique de Provençe, under which we now live. It is an unpleasant name, so reminiscent of the carnage of the Troubles, but this seems to trouble no one; and indeed it seems that no one is eager to repeat the earlier regime’s excesses. The Parlement of Provençe is no kind of revolutionary body; rather, it is a kind of stew to which all manner of cooks are attempting to add their own particular ingredients and spices in hopes of commanding the flavor of the dish when it is, at last, brought to table.

I apologize for descending into such a fraught metaphor, but that is how it was explained to me by our Ambassador; and he had it from the Provençese Foreign Minister.

Some of the cooks presently attempting to spoil the Provençese broth belong to what I shall call the Royalist faction. The Royalists began as a shadowy group with few public figures; today they are thundering their trumpets for the restoration of the monarchy in the name of “the stability of Provençe”; and given the chaos currently on display in the Parlement one can quite see their point. His Cumbrian Majesty’s government is watching them with great interest and a modicum of support—though it would be a fine thing, the Ambassador told us, if the Royalists could agree on a single heir to the throne.

Here, as everywhere in Provençese politics these days, there are factions within factions within factions; I am glad that it is no task of mine to keep them all straight.

And now, at last, I come to the point of interest, hoping that I have not wearied my beloved cousin beyond endurance. The leaders of the Royalist faction are all understood to belong to noble families; many of them would be heirs to peerages if peerages were recognized by the Provençese government; but though there is increasing support for them from a measure of the common folk, none of the Royalists have had the presumption to resume their former titles and styles and family names, at least in public. Rather, they all continue to use the names they adopted in order to survive the Troubles. But true names are increasingly bruited about; and it happens that the name of the Comte de L— has been heard on a number of lips. Indeed, it would seem that he has been in Toulouse at times in the past year, though no one known to the Embassy staff has admitted to speaking with him.

I do not know whether your M. Sabot is a Royalist in fact; the gossip might simply represent wishful thinking on the part of one Royalist party or another. But he is certainly known to them, and he has certainly been here.

This has gone on long enough; in my next I hope to have more to say about our studies!

Your diligent cousin,

Amelia

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