Letters to a Friend

[Lyrewyn]

To my paradoxial light of Day,

It has certainly been an eventful tenday, though I miss you no less than when we first parted.
If only life were so kind to bring us the Merchant's Friend's blessing for merely existing with
each other. How I long for the old amusements we made down familiar cobbled roads. For
now, I suppose with my heartache strings I must play the part of the angler.

You'll be glad to know that the two to one our dear May spoke so fondly of is still in town,
and that we've had a lovely time together. In fact, they have invited me to lunch this coming
fourth-day and as much distaste I have for the outdoors yet, they assure me nothing but fun
and games.

I suppose I failed to mention this gudgeon I'd recently had the pleasure to talk to. A real rascal,
but oh so very hoodwinked. Is it through his generosity that I do not have to play the autem
mort. I will not lie to you and say he does not have the hang gallow's look, but don't all knights
of the blade look as such? If Our Smiling Lady continues to be friendly I think I can turn him
into a respectable Captain Sharp.

Don't worry, I'm not about to lay about and cry that this is all too hard. It's been far too long
now to think of me still as a natty mot! If things stop working out bene, I'll just bing it. I'm
sorry for whining so much, you know me. I'm never content. If there's a problem, I'll just hush
up.

Keep off of any three legged stools,

[Lyrewyn]

To a great Day,

Today I am wide awake. It's just been one of those days when things all fall into place.
That gudgeon I told you about? Ah, he knows not his value. Perhaps living here for so long
has blinded him to the ebb and flow of the river, but he cannot feel the currents as I do. He
cannot see the way that I must guide him. It works out for me; the price I pay for his
cooperation costs nothing but a thought.

My current employers are far too hands on when it comes to their business, however. They
continue looking over my shoulder as I try to connect with their clients, and this tension is
just bad for business. It is no small wonder why one chooses to call himself 'Lucky,' for
indeed the Smiling Lady must be glad of something for their company to remain afloat for this
long. I shall have a chat with them, that discretion may be preserved and their patrons may
feel at ease.

Our friend and I have been practicing our usual hobby of painting when I've had a
breakthrough. You know his mastery of light and dark, and why I asked if he could come with
me? Well, I think I've got it. I know instinctively how to create contrast. Honor has it that I
be called Made Mort now.

Say it for goodness sake,

[Lyrewyn]

Several papers long . . .

To my lovely Day,

I apologize if my letters have become infrequent. Well, I suppose it is not a matter of if, it is a matter of has.
If I try to begin to describe everything I'd been doing lately, I suppose I would be writing to you a book. I bet
you'd like that, wouldn't you? Spend all day deciphering my words, ignoring the business of your trade for the
search of my little meanings.

I suppose there were two events I'd let slip in mind. Grandmother has moved north recently. I don't know if
she might have told you, but she'd let me know in advance she was on the way, along with a few friends. We
caught up in the little town up North called Nashkel . . . I think you would have quite liked the place. It's not-
hing like Crimmor or Athkatla, where man rules wherever the eye can go. It is nestled in its little valley below
the towering Cloud Peaks, build atop a river whose source comes from the endless snows above. It was indeed
very picturesque, and I could easily see a peddler on the streets capture the likeness of it on canvas to be
auctioned off for say, five, ten silver. If I find one, I'll be sure to send it to you. I think it would look best over-
looking our dining room.

We spoke little if intimately, you know how conversation tends to go. I shall spare you the inanities, but
I did tell her and her friends of my recent projects lately, then a theoretical fantasy but it is something I
shall write about later. We parted on high spirits, and since then I spent quite a lot of time travelling the
coast, getting in touch with the notables of the Baldur's Gate regions. A lot of my time was spent working
as a courier, exchanging information or delicate items in an effort to build relationships and coin.

It was always kind of a little adventure for me. A little ‘quest.’ At some point I’ve even had to go trapezing aro-
und a sweaty tropical island off the coast some little fishing village in search of vague fauna. We are both fam-
iliar with apothecaries enough to know the value of degiik and maruera leaves, bilberries and such, which quickly
made me a friend down harbourside. Yes don’t laugh, of course I would make a friend on the harbour –
dockside trading is where I began. It is only natural I would have an affinity with the residents there, no matter
the city. It is hard not to fit in because everyone must go there. It is the heart of civilization, after all.

Who I thought to be my Captain Sharp has outgrew the role and became my Crow instead. He is . . . complicated
to explain, Day, so in this I must leave you in the dark. Just know he is very perceptive, and very well connected.

This brings me to the second thing I have failed to write to you about. I had been dallying with a priest of the
Broken God, you may have met him before. Ameris Santraeger. He comes from decent stock, Tethyrian if you
are into that sort, and can trace lineage back a lot further than you or I can. I only mention you may have met him
because he claims to have spent time as a novice priest in Athkatla. Perhaps not though. We really never did go
slumming, have we? Although I suppose you were there first, so who am I to judge where your boots left their
tread?

I did say I’d write about my recent project didn’t I? Very well, if you’d recall to the days after our little war against
the North. I think we broke out the 1320 Haeltower then. We’d just got clacked about the survivors, and do
you remember the accounts given by Commander Vaelequez’s men? Well, I had met the man responsible, and
let me tell you, the Captain is more than an adequate fencer in wordplay as well.

He spoke of an opportunity, one ripe for the taking but did not trust me well enough to satiate me. It was only
later through AS did I learn what he intended, and indeed, I attached myself to it like a shadow. We are to build
an inn north of Baldur’s Gate. The Captain eventually backed off the idea leaving it to just the priest and I, and
without the Whistler’s wealth we were stuck for a while in fantasy.

AS liked to bring me on his little adventures, his ‘duties’ as he’d like to say. The poor priest would probably
jump hoops for anyone in a skirt, I am sorry to say. Or, not sorry, since the man has power. And you know me,
Day. Power is attractive, though in this case it is mine to wield. It amused me that I was able to talk to him about
this completely unabashed, completely unhidden though of course I had kept out any unrelated details. Don’t frown,
you know I am more careful than that. He grows even more fascinated by me, and I can wield him without resorting
to anything more than occasional conversation and cheap compliments.

I wonder if he’s aware not everyone needs to be saved?

Anyway, we are very close to making this project a reality, and the best part is, I am in direct control of it. I con-
trol the financing, I control the negotiations. The relics we’d uncovered in our little ‘duties’ had auctioned off well,
and though we are still short a few lions, we have enough coin to make coin. I think grandmother would be very plea-
sed to hear the news. I’m sure she has more than a few recommendations for people to man the place, once it’s
running.

It’s getting dark, and you wouldn’t believe how often it rains up here. I promise I’ll write you more.

Yours,

[Lyrewyn]

The Helm and Cloak Inn
29th Mirtul, 1350


A debtor, Day? You ass.

Don't send anymore I beg you, I've only just started to build a reputation here and I can't be seen coddling every single refugee you send my way. Although with all the holy priests and paladins that seem to gravitate towards me (truth be told a little worrying), they'd likely encourage the behavior and continue to build up the foundations of my pedestal. I should likely make plan to curb that habit - flattering as it is, I would rather not come crashing down.

I've my own office within the Merchant's League recently. Elad's a pleasant enough man, tidy, precise. Incredibly small though - were he proportioned correctly I'd have mistook him for a gnome. Still the contract was generous enough. An office, furnished and prestocked with legal ledgers amounted to a monthly fee of five hundred gold. True, I am mostly paying for prestige and I can see you rolling your eyes once more to berate me for more implicit deals. You're just going to have to accept the fact that there is value in imprecision. And I am perfectly capable of hearing things left unsaid.

Sweet paid a visit a couple of days ago. Brought me fresh elven bread, as well as gift and news from grandmother. Assured her I had heard the plight in the Green Fields and had several solutions to their problems. I did manage to get our trade there reestablished but I will get into that later. Right now I want to get into the news grandmother had for me. She told me of a travelling troupe lately - forgot what it was called but the symbol is easy enough to remember. A nail driven through a coin. Regardless they'd put on a comedy she'd spoken quite highly of - a travelling group of shieldbearers escorting a waif of a harpist North. I shall not spoil their destination for it is simply something you must see for yourself. You must write to me your impression.

Speaking of impressions, it seems that while my name is being lauded by the goodly circles (Really? Can you imagine? Me? I'm a merchant!) it appears I've done little to raise my stock amongst the guilds. Not a single one has taken interest in the opportunity I present. The chance to solidify Baldurian relations with the City of Splendors and the Western Heartlands . . . one might incur my origins have a part to play in the shutout. Two years must have not been enough to mend old hurts . . . not completely at least. Not enough to where I could just give the chance to curry favor with the sheer weight of my name.

Well, business must go on. Consider the project on hiatus until my name is the chosen balm upon Baldurian lips. There are other ways to build my stock - perhaps I was too ambitious the first time.

In my attempt to scale back, I'd met a Cormyrian recently who goes by the name of Marigold Winters. I know little about her, except that she is one of the holy persons that I seem to be getting fairly well acquainted with. With the affinity my new friends have for turning everything into a charity, my best guess is they are looking for someone to knock some financial sense into their brains. Why else would they continue to seek my company? Recently I'd make an effort to loosen a Tyrrian's mind just a smidge. He seemed tempted, but ultimately stuck to his ways. Not sure if it's worth the effort to find their leverages.

I've sidetracked you for long enough I suppose, and I apologize. Except you know I am not even sorry, for you and I are both aware you enjoy my teasing. Regardless, I'd like to direct your thoughts back to the matter along the Uldoon Trail. My compatrions and I (The two furies mentioned earlier, and friends) have unravelled a little mystery it seemed, for this was less a raid, and more an act of vengeance. Most of the names we'd learned have already met their ends or had vanished from Faerûn altogether except for one - a suspicious thing. Marigold had challenged the man in a duel for honour and won - he was to explain the reason his name was carved amongst the remains of the town but to no one's surprise, he seems to have made himself scarce. Don't bother asking me his name, it is likely not even real. A word, nickname used sarcastically, like Tiny Tim. A joke.

Anyway, as I've implied we've reclaimed the town for civilization, and reestablished ties with treasured friends. Dharva was absolutely ecstatic knowing we would come through for her and her people, and whatever falling out we had before is now nothing but a faded memory. I've drawn up an inventory to help get them back to their feet. Marigold had promised to help them regain their fiscal balance. As little as I understand their logic, I cannot help but feel compelled to call these Church-mandated fighters blessed. Aren't we lucky the Radiant Heart bases itself in our country?

I suppose I will take care of your friend, see if he can't at the very least work under my name. A woman about town could certainly use a bodyguard, especially if one's office is located in the official Port District. A fascinating place, really. It has all the modern touches, and I swear to you it is definitely bigger on the inside than out. A convenient trick, for buildings to have. It gives you plenty more inventory space.

[Lyrewyn]

The Helm and Cloak Inn
28th of Kythorn, 1350

I think I've finally settled on a format to write to you.

It is certainly an experience, being a businesswoman my age. They do not say it, but their
eyes give it away. What is wrong with her, they ask themselves. Is she taken? No, but from
experience it is sometimes preferable to make them think I am, for why would they respect
my choice? No, if I were the property of some make-believe man, they often stop pursuit.
After all, men respect the rights of other men.

I do not claim this defense often however, for some of you people do indeed interest me.
What? Don't you read my words with that expression. I seem to recall several incidents of
your wandering gaze during our times together. Like whenever we passed by Maerlee's
Window? I've only ever pretended to claim her pastries were my private joy, you know. It
was always my treat to watch you feast your eyes. My own browsing has often left me un-
satisfied with the available product. As you would imagine with most people, there is little
room in their heads for brilliance. These men would never become great, with no desire or
ability to rise above their station and claim their worth. I can hardly fault them. If everyone
were exceptional, then the word would lose its meaning.

Still, they pursue. With little to show other than the typical masculine bravado. Perhaps it is
part narcissism on my part, but do they truly think they can curry my favor with nothing but
stories of a life unfair? Everyone suffers through injustice. I do not care about the man whose
sole characteristic is being an unyielding stone against it. The man who can change and adapt,
to put on new faces in response to different challenges, the man with intelligence. Show me
one who has that, and maybe one day you'll have a rival.

Forgive me, I suppose my writing has taken a rambling tone. As always, I look forward to your
reply. How do you sit with the prospect of having a stake in a bank?

[Lyrewyn]

Baldur's Gate
Second of Eleasis, 1350

Day,

A few days ago I'd accepted membership amongst a collection of string-enthusiasts, and I've accepted the title of Harper. We're a fairly expansive group; you might still hear few of our company striving to make music amongst the other musicians within the Promenade. It is certainly an exciting time for me, though the business of running a business seems to occupy most of my thoughts and actions. It is amusing how success in politics and success in business often require the same steps. One builds friendships and connections, talk trivialities, and listen closely to what is being said. The ones who fail are always the impatient; the ones who try to force others to their own opinion or engineer false scandals. Making opportunities rarely ever works, whereas watching for them almost always does. Don't smirk, I paid attention sometimes.

My position as a harper exposes me to entirely new sets of opportunities just waiting to be picked up. People who daren't speak within the presence of a cardinal-coated woman radiating power tell tales of shipmates drunken dares to good ol' Audrey, the girl with story to match. Audrey learns the reason a shipment of Calishìte dresses failed to make their way to a contact in Waterdeep, and the cardinal woman learns of a captain who can't be trusted to keep his crew in line. He is a bad investment.

I've moved away from renting rooms for months at a time and decided to settle in on the first floor of a boarding house. It may not be luxurious, but I'd become nostalgic lately for having a place I could call my own. Granted, with two or three families living above and to the sides of me. Still, the privacy is welcome, and I am glad to not need to talk with a keeper everytime I wish to be myself. You'd best ask Mother where I live now, I'd prefer not having to write these things down. One never knows whose eyes might pry.

I've moved, also in part to influence my appearance. I can't remain a visitor if I intend to take an active role in Baldur's Gate economics (And if circumstances play out correctly, Northern Amn as well). I need a home to call my own, I'll likely need an office beyond renting time with the Merchant's League. The first had already been taken care of as I've already surmised, the second, Lady Marigold of the Order of Lions had comissioned one built within Pathfinder Hall. She had already sent orders for Amnian décor. I begun to hire more hands to help me with expanding my business. One, presumeably competent and perhaps a candidate to meet with the Family. We'll see if she's worth keeping, depending on how she handles her contract. The other, a farm girl who can neither read nor write her numbers. I can already feel your brow raising. The business can be taught. The road knowledge she possesses can't. I've paired her with the competent one, in the hopes that mutual interest with a hint of competition brings out the fire within them.

There is a game here lately the children have been playing. It took me back to when you first met me. They whisper a story down the line, the truth becoming more and more absurd and distorted as it travels. The children can barely contain their giggling towards the end. I feel the whole world could be described in such a way. A long chain of men and women speaking what they believe as clearly as they can, and the truth leaking out like they're trying to hold water in their fists. Even without lies, without deceit, this is the best we can manage. A crust of misunderstandings. All of history is made this way. There is no such thing as truth. It takes great evil to be certain of it.

[Lyrewyn]

Baldur's Gate
23rd of Ches, 1351

Dearest Day,

It's been a long time.

I'm not the same woman who left Athkatla over a year and a half ago. I'm sure you're not the same man I remember. You told me we are never the same person we were yesterday, and while I'm sure you've found a whole new group of of little orphans to raise and cause their own troublemakings, I hope you reserve a fond place in your heart for a former student.

Pv oaspip nodrx lh lgy pfv bebabtse twjipv rob iaelazba pfxeinm bl xtdwfz myeixmfy, sgu om zzy oax ohkkl, kvct tw yobm gnsg ds mjxtxy gzvzagx tis elq sksr ux piwnjyk. U hkdr g dntfuutzq opnrx xhi hbf Dlmdye Gnaxmsm uz gancqqkj, ter C xtpx nyb dawlkwio hlk yyc qu fhk fyufvz mi unod. B nwfm wif yyc xkwi kvy speeoxa suj rfiltppr, beb vl lav Tuntpk wkvgy lh uc vvdmzeca, gnwr nwfm os ut dpeumzy miv. T aulv vbz ltcy np thuoda zgcbeu vvxfxixo bhdozcot cicuoagy vniwhh xc xeqiy jwtcwhhd mz Bktqaj'l Xonf, ysd wsty O dbjhyo es orkhl Yaeycofexqs vqxk Vxe Aiusid. Ip buk Karrix Eluefmf csgk hi ez fgssvryk, mysh zzy iivt ugnx kc nslrelkbr sq evhnfc, ezd iwh caec vuwp xa ckzee lavwl sptxy. Sn ntqhes ymdi pabmf zg mim qiz men'd gba, lavb C xtpx dy eugl mys Vbwhgr'c Onzw Mywywpw Sustq nsl rzqbjw poxm ntv fryy tfvq trm Fnswfk Nitihec iek fhkvcor fgt mwevkxj kbp aehe yce Jmvyof tevqeda.

Lum kvox usef cyzekumcm. C oza ooxbeud mys Vbwhgr'c Onzw Mywywpw Sustq. O ztms vfpr xeklvty bk godniespcyrq yff nip tmsd kbahev cz nzrfhc, iaj larbet es gs, gpnzwovf wfwp fho Nnsaep omttkzen bb Hwkvuite me alwhz lh tcgf nvmsrqam vhnb. Xp jsg trqaq lazg ct lr mcd ws nglkwfjec? U dyv'g zzbey mp. Mideqwfz ztj ofxlce boma tgmywhh, lrp wsty xwfrwh b ysfhsvt zgpe gcuemzg sv gnw fzrxmp sr nyeukjx lbnjw fatr whx Ftkwio'd gauxkvrk yzbumwc dewwik lav qimwiotsdr ylbtym va imcr wgnwk'j omtpw mnn orz lh tcgnpvoixo. Okjxxcmu tw m sdmcvagx gnpyi, zodpvty fffy. Byh koe evrd gfh bbgi zeol bl am fbwf jsg hkdr Hseuil't Refe. Dpnz al nvuu T ey opnrxagx hbf Qeyivg.

V iggkfim elq Trqrbwl Xicmo, ezd S kbtlkfz nip rqwoag Igiiwni Mezk kty zzx nos ipvq ix buk fhihb. Ilzq yyce ygniqyt nlqcu evzz avf cg jsg meag - O sf hicup tdoel bl lazg. Mpzr, U ixbrtv mf xijy xte otvzw hw Pumoydikv fuubvhs, byh U ckv cal mys Milhaw Dpvknxj wh qzwutswa zg fryy usi Ooevpod hw Tivc sgr zccvwmj. Hbf Eluefmf Mmbcr hfph zefme qfhn hbfj'zq boma igkiijuph; fhkb'f ngp ns'pf lpiaia bvwkrhye, sehe gm aul? Ulh hph M mm nwak lkpwhh es eevt lum he hbjd. Mr trm Sgebcm qbyxe ty jhe Ttcros'd Kmto neue fv, hbfj aulv vrkv mf duz xc brskr.

• O fh cchhpv iicp gu tx vlcmph. Ehklbc Lazsz cfwunoaf ok fp pottrqsc - Q jode ecn cp pqfd whz gy kvy mzsb.

• Bktqaj'l Xonf tw yy dmexamffs - J hezt dpr vjbmwffrie trig igfv kcus xte pipz. A td hi cp qmdo Kyusddomupv af Liyjmk'j Uuup.

• Cau Nil, sq wvol thiqt pweswk Xicmoqmsdme, gjx kvy pypk oxm V caec ofmza fo cbrv xhfh co xc febzvzgkp. Miv'ci fho warq hes qiz qmy nmyonxi hbf Qeyivg'f xwicm. Uojsze otfk yxkg lfeydnol, cowvv ps qtioe, lg zgae.

I look forward to hearing from you again. It's been far too long.