Armand’s First Letter. Amelia’s First Letter.
15 January 1023, Cumbrian Embassy, Toulouse
My dearest cousin Armand,
The festive season is over, the streets are gray and muddy, and I feel gray and dull. It has been months since I have had any opportunity to pursue my research into the bounds and extent of the Iturian ley lines or to trace the heritage of the Iturians in the historical texts. My knowledge of Old Cumbrian is rapidly dissipating. I have been able to pursue neither the Fleuve de Johannes nor Cumbrian wizardry nor any other topic of interest, for I have been dancing attendance on Princess Beatrice.
I do genuinely like the Princess, though there is still a constraint between us; and more than a constraint: at times I catch her glancing at me side-long with a puzzled look on her face, as though she cannot quite make me out. I would have to be blind not to see it. I would like to ask her about it, but in the whirl of preparations for the Royal Wedding we have had little time for tête-à-têtes. Either we are surrounded by maids and couturiers, or by royal functionaries, or by the ladies of the Provençese court. We have no confidantes among any of them.
Though I am not much in the Princess’s confidence either, I suppose.
But I should not subject you to my dullness.
If I have no time for great endeavors, others are more favorably placed. I hear regularly from Dr. Tillotson and M. Lavigne, who have continued their work with the Iturian Relay. I have not seen their latest spell in action, but it seems that can keep the spell properly balanced by carefully weighing the persons or goods to be transported and sending a corresponding weight of ballast in the opposite direction.
It is a useful thought, I suppose, though I do not know how it would work over long distances. I suppose the persons or goods would be weighed at the destination and then an equivalent weight of ballast would be returned? But it would seem to require a great deal of coordination between officials at each end to make it work.
Surely Aunt Jane has written you about your step-father’s successes with floating carriages? Lord Doncaster has purchased one, and since then they have become all the crack in Yorke, as my brother would say, so that Grandmaster Netherington-Coates’ name is on every lip that matters.
As yet we have seen none of the new carriages here in Toulouse. The Guilde du Thaumaturgie has forbidden their import or sale, as they are preparing to build similar carriages here in Provençe. The Princess has been promised one of the first, and I gather the guild is hoping to supply a number of them for use during the Royal Wedding. I am sure your step-father is not best pleased, but all your mother has written is that he finds the Provençese guild to be “a snooty pack of wolves.”
And now I must go prepare for yet another ball, where I will smile at Provençese ladies and gentlemen—another snooty pack of wolves—and wish that it were possible to import a muddy Cumbrian duck pond in which to cast them.
Your exquisitely bored cousin,
Amelia
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Photo by Thomas Bonometti on Unsplash
Zymurgia House 