A Congress of Crows

Barely a month into her retirement, Airtam receives an eloquently written missive from an unsigned author, though through the tone and content she rightly assumes it can only have come from one place, Sighnai Oifrei herself. While hardly put at ease by the communication, Airtam was no fool and saw an opportunity that had never before been presented, a chance to sit down one on one with the face of the infamous Burnt Crows and discuss terms for a less turbulent future. Below is a copy of the letter received at her home, found upon the nightstand by her bed and placed there by an unseen individual while she slept.

I was born too late to witness the majesty of my home. The verdant perfection of a place set aside by divine providence otherworldly blessings is but a smoky image upon countless bits of canvas painted by my kin so desperate for what was and yet too frightened to reach for it. What were the blue skies of old, those boundless, azure reaches that housed the dreams and imaginations of millions? To hear the gentle wash of crystalline waters upon shining beaches, and to have your heart and spirit filled with the songs of unblemished eons, to hear the words of my ancestors fall from the lips of my people in careless abandon spilling out across all. To know the soft ground beneath your feet is your own and to want for nothing. Oh, sublime fantasy. Oh gentle phantom. Would that my father’s tales of that place be more than the breath of a whisper at my shoulder, for the reality of that haven resides only in the fading memories of the old and etched upon the brows of the countless dead that knew it.
My home is a black place, filled with the seething, twisting abominations that stole it from us. It is a tomb with no roof and yet, the sun has not graced the soil there in centuries. Rolling storms of vile darkness batter the glory of yesterday into dust with every passing day and even our young are born with the scars that weigh heavy upon their parents' hearts carved into their flesh.

We, the damned. We, the cursed. We, the forgotten. We, the dispersed.

My father often told me of a small grove just beyond the treeline, not far from the home he was raised in. A home that was built by his ancestors and had been in the family since the time when the divisive bargain was struck that sent our cousins off to wander and granted us the gifts you humans coveted so greedily that you would rather destroy it all than to admit we possessed something you could not. And destroy it you nearly did, and of all the empires and kingdoms that unfurled the fabric of reality to appease the vanity of human arrogance that day, only you remain still seated in your shining palace and prospering. The elves have gone mad, and the dwarves pay their due daily, excluding the cowards that took to the skies, but you, well…One little war and you managed to spread yourselves across the world like a gangrenous wound that is slowly rotting, intent upon killing the host. The Empire remains at its roots and the rest thrive, each in their own way. You may be divided, but you still have not tasted the honeyed barbs of true suffering. You humans, with your short lives and shorter memories. It has always been about control for you, so terrified of all that you cannot understand, so you subjugate and bring the world to heel. While your armies no longer march their dung covered boots across the faces of the citizens of Cairne, your deep pockets and economic control has just as viciously beat the rest into submission.

But not us. My home is a black place, filled with innumerable numbers of your dead now. As I wander those halls and my senses fill with the stench of their decay as they are all forgotten, left to become the dust from whence they spawned, I find my hate for you mingled with pity. The leaders that caused my strife are all long dead, and the gods have abandoned us all. As a Seanachaisian, my outlook and perspective is like a color you have never seen or a musical note your ears have never heard. My senses are elevated and I am aware of the suffering around me. Every broken heart and every lonely tear is like a barely audible whisper in a crowded room for you, but for me, each a cracking dam and the torrential flood that follows. It is the symphony of calamitous devastation that smears the spirit across the wall and leaves a tattered husk in its wake. For every joy, it is the first cresting sunrise ever seen, golden light washing over distant mountains to the sounds of a thousand choirs singing in exaltation. Every child born and every life lost, I feel them come and go, glimpsing the grey waste of what comes before and after with each juxtaposition. I cannot even begin to fathom what a drab and silent life you humans must lead. It is no wonder you lack empathy to the point of becoming the monsters that you are. Then there is you. My eye has been upon you for some time, and I have seen you, not just in form and figure, but in deed and purpose. While your heart is a pale imitation of the world I know, it does seem to beat and fill with the sanguine essence of compassion and be motivated by a purpose larger than yourself. A wonder for your kind indeed, but one, if possible, that should be cultivated and nurtured. I have no misgivings about my position as an opponent to an Empire that covers nearly half the world. While I can carve away at the surface, and do what I may to tarnish its name and assure my people and what was done to them is never forgotten, I am threatening a whale with a sewing needle. The change I desire, true change, can only come from within. I am loath to do this, but justice cannot rage blindly on without an end goal and purpose. It is to this end that I extend to you a laurel of truce in hopes that we might meet, and discuss the potential for change as well as a plan for the future. Your future. If you agree to this, wear a red and gold lapel pin and take a walk through the commercial district on the morrow. One of my birds will find you and bring you to me. You have my word, you will be unharmed provided you come alone and tell no one. I believe you to be smart enough to understand the alternative should you decide to betray this opportunity.

Purpose

Airtam, faced with the opportunity to be the first Becht in history to be granted a diplomatic opportunity to sit down with Sighnai Oifrei of the Burnt Crows and discuss terms of peace, took the chance and placed her safety into their hands, hoping for a potential resolution to the troubles between the Empire and the Crows.

Document Structure

Publication Status

This is one of the lesser known documents and among the many that were recovered by the Bechtlarite Intelligence Bureau and vetted in the proceedings that followed. While no attempts have been made to slow the information contained in this work from being spread, oddly this particular publication has a tendency to be stolen or disappear often.

Historical Details

Public Reaction

This particular publication has been met with a great deal of controversy, many claiming it was planted by the Crows as an attempt to seed information that painted them in a positive light in an attempt to lower the guard of the Becht security forces and to defame Airtam as less than loyal to the Empire in her final years, having secret meetings with terrorists and dissidents.

Read the Document

A Congress of Crows

15th of Frigus, 160 PR
I awoke this morning to find a letter, laid upon my nightstand. The realization that someone had snuck into my home and been so close to me without my knowledge sent chills down my spine. I nearly tumbled from the bed as I started upright and searched the entire estate. There was nothing missing or broken, no sign of anyone entering or leaving, and the help assured me that they had neither seen nor heard anyone as well. I realized at this point I was still clutching the letter and must have looked like a mad woman, waving it about as I stormed through the house demanding people tell me if they heard anything during the night. They’ll likely attribute it to my age, one of the benefits of living this long I suppose. I can pass off most indiscretions in this way. The letter contained no header or signature, but I knew almost right away who had penned it. Sighnai Oifrei. The realization did little to alleviate my concerns. As I read the letter, which displayed Sighnai's contempt for humanity, I realized on a more subtle and important level that it was an attempt to reach out, an offering of truce between our people and the chance to potentially deescalate the tensions and violence that have plagued us, at least so I hoped.

The letter instructed me to wear a gold and red lapel pin and walk through the commercial district of Armuun on the following day. It warned of grim consequences should I tell anyone or not come alone. I am faced with a difficult decision, to take a chance on this unprecedented opportunity or risk it being a ruse to lure me out of safety and into the hands of the Crows for political gain.
I have considered going to the Sovereign for guidance, but in the end, I have decided that the only logical thing to do is to make the attempt. This chance for peace is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and if it is indeed a trap, at least I alone will be at risk. I’m bringing my damn pistol either way. The letter said nothing about coming armed, and if I am to be preyed upon by these Crows, my capture will come at the price of at least one of their lives.
As I contemplate my next move, my mind races with thoughts of the possibilities that could arise from a successful truce. Peaceful coexistence between our people, an end to the needless violence and destruction, and perhaps even a new era of cooperation and collaboration, but I must remain cautious and aware of the risks. Long have I questioned the motives of my own Empire in regards to the Seanachaisian people. Obviously, the history we have is one of the most despicable and perhaps unforgivable atrocities the world has ever seen, and even then more and more hurt and harm was piled onto it. As a scholar I cannot deny it, and as a human being, I cannot fully fault Sighnai in her core principles either. She shows a remarkable wisdom in this new pursuit though, and if I am to understand properly, she is well over a hundred years old. One does not live so long without growth and experience playing into the mental acuity she must hold.
I will go alone, as instructed, and with the lapel pin securely fastened to my clothing. I will walk with confidence and determination, but also with an eye out for any potential danger. This could be the start of something great, or it could be the end of me. But I must take this chance for peace, for the sake of my people and the future of our world.

16th of Frigus, 160 PR
As I pen these words, my heart is heavy with uncertainty, yet I am resolute in my decision to accept the invitation laid before me by Sighnai Oifrei. The red and gold lapel pin she requested now graces my lapel, and I am prepared to make my way to the commercial district as directed.

I write here now as a means by which I might gather my thoughts. I cannot help but reflect on the nature of our conflict with the Burnt Crows, and while I abhor the senseless violence and destruction wrought upon my people, I cannot deny the injustices that have been inflicted upon the Seanachaisians. Deep within me, I have always felt a sense of guilt that the Bechtlarite Empire has not done enough to right the wrongs inflicted upon them. Perhaps this could be the opportunity we need to open up dialogue and pave the way for a peaceful resolution. Looking past the atrocities committed by the Burnt Crows, I cannot help but admire Sighnai's unwavering determination and her core principles. She fights for her people, just as I fight for mine. Our motivations may be at odds, but we share a common thread of unwavering dedication to our respective causes. She came up from nothing, orphaned and alone and has built her own global empire and has become both feared and respected throughout the Becht territories and regions beyond as well. I can only hope the woman in person is far less the bloodthirsty deviant that she is painted as, and more the dedicated freedom fighter I hope her to be.
In these anxiety ridden moments before my departure, my mind wanders to thoughts of Ioelena, who saved my life so long ago. Our time together in the Gaul Do Shah wastes was brief, but the connection we shared was unlike anything I have ever experienced. Even now, after all these years, my heart refuses to let go of her memory. I cannot help but regret never returning to find her, and now, in my old age, the realization that I will never be able to do so fills me with a deep sadness. I have made the mistake of letting “wish I could” become “wish I had”, and no matter the excuses I try to find to wipe away my fault in the matter, the truth is that is all they are, excuses. I should have run to her when I was able, and now my leg would likely break before I made it a fraction of the way into her homeland.
But even as I grapple with these emotions, I at least retain my unwavering pride for the Becht people and their ingenuity and determination to make Cairne a better place. Despite the sins of our forefathers, they have worked tirelessly to repair the damage done and push the boundaries of what is possible. It is my duty to them that compels me to take this risk and pursue the possibility of peace.
If I do not return, let this journal serve as a testament to my commitment to this cause and the love I hold for the people of the Bechtlarite Empire.

16th of Frigus, 160 PR
I have returned from the meeting, and I must admit, I am a whirlwind of emotions, thrilled and scared, both at the same time, with a million thoughts racing through my mind. I am astonished by the sheer complexity of her masterful orchestration of vague plans within plans, each with exquisite detail and carefully crafted with the precision of a watchmaker. It is a conspiracy that has deep roots, spanning decades and generations. The mere thought of it chills me to my very core knowing that the scope and breadth of this endeavor is so large that one cannot see it and understand with only a piecemeal view of it, for without the overarching full picture, it remains invisible.

Despite the gravity of the situation, I cannot deny that the factors that led to my involvement are too valuable to ignore. I accepted my role in this grand scheme, even though it made me feel uneasy. It is an act of impulse perhaps that, in hindsight, I still cannot believe I committed to, but what is done is done, and I must move forward with conviction, for there is no middle ground any longer, not knowing what I now know. The things I have seen and been made a party too are both inspiring and terrifying, but there is progress being made, and justice will soon be brought to bear upon those deserving of its heavy hand. Hearts that were once broken will have a chance to mend, and nothing else could be more important than this. I feel a sense of fulfillment, knowing that my fight is nearly over, but there is still much to be done, and things and powers at work here that, even having been shown the truth, still struggle to fully comprehend.
I cannot disclose any more details about this grand conspiracy at this time. I do not dare pen down the finer details even here for fear I may jeopardize everything I hold dear, both as an individual and a citizen of the Empire, but I feel compelled to record my thoughts and feelings for posterity. The future is uncertain, but I am committed to doing what is right, even if it means making difficult decisions that will have far-reaching consequences, and for the sake of the one person whom above all I cherish.
As I sit here, writing this journal entry, I am humbled by the weight of my actions and the impact they will have on the world, but I am also determined to see it through to the end, no matter the cost. For the sake of justice and the betterment of Cairne, I will not falter.

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Type

Leaked Original

Medium

Vellum / Skin

Authoring Date

15th and 16th of Frigus, 160 PR

Location

The Bone Cask

Authors

• Airtam Morenthall