Everything was happening in an instant, a complete sensory overload that was short-circuiting his ability to rationalize what was actually happening. The explosion had not only sent shrapnel and bits of the plane flying through the fuselage like flechettes, it had also sucked several people out into the sky, doomed to a gruesome death from on high. Tania was barely strapped in to the seat beside her, clutching at a gaping wound in her throat from the explosion. The blood was coursing down her hand, hot and thick; a look of abject terror was permanently etched into her sullen eyes.
"Get your masks on! Now!"
The shrieking hellscape of the empty night sky was interspersed with fierce flames, licking at the shattered engines and fuselage. Papers and other debris were bei whipped in the violent surge of the depressurizing aircraft, becoming aerial projectiles almost as dangerous as the hunks of metal flying apart at the rivets. Yasel pawed at the back of the seat in the row ahead of him, unable to see that it had been ripped from the plane and was hurtling of its own accord down into the mountains below. People were screaming, some in pain and all in fear: it had all happened so fast, so very fast. There was a sharp, stabbing sensation pricking his heart – the anguish over realizing that he was about to die, and that there was nothing to do but wait for the end. Soon, the plane would impact the ground, and darkness would overcome him.
Any residual ability of the plane to continue gliding was now lost, and the remnants of the craft pitched forward at a steep angle. The screaming passengers had now gone silent, replaced by the sound of one of the engines exploding in a fiery hiss almost as violent as the initial explosion. There was a rough jolt, and then a bone-breaking crunch as something hard and firm impacted the bottom of the fuselage. But the momentum didn’t stop; they were still moving forward at a violent rate of speed. Sparks were flying from the collision of metal with rock; several people ahead of him were burning in the fires, their frantic pleas strangely muted in the cacophony of noise. The air was suddenly sucked out of his lungs, and Yasel could feel his body lift up and away from the floor as his row was torn up and tossed like it was made of papier-mâché.
"Everyone! Hold on! We're about to-"
The last thing he felt was the sensation of ribs giving way under the stress of a violent impact with a bulkhead before the world spun away in a macabre moment of madness...
"Get your masks on! Now!"
The shrieking hellscape of the empty night sky was interspersed with fierce flames, licking at the shattered engines and fuselage. Papers and other debris were bei whipped in the violent surge of the depressurizing aircraft, becoming aerial projectiles almost as dangerous as the hunks of metal flying apart at the rivets. Yasel pawed at the back of the seat in the row ahead of him, unable to see that it had been ripped from the plane and was hurtling of its own accord down into the mountains below. People were screaming, some in pain and all in fear: it had all happened so fast, so very fast. There was a sharp, stabbing sensation pricking his heart – the anguish over realizing that he was about to die, and that there was nothing to do but wait for the end. Soon, the plane would impact the ground, and darkness would overcome him.
Any residual ability of the plane to continue gliding was now lost, and the remnants of the craft pitched forward at a steep angle. The screaming passengers had now gone silent, replaced by the sound of one of the engines exploding in a fiery hiss almost as violent as the initial explosion. There was a rough jolt, and then a bone-breaking crunch as something hard and firm impacted the bottom of the fuselage. But the momentum didn’t stop; they were still moving forward at a violent rate of speed. Sparks were flying from the collision of metal with rock; several people ahead of him were burning in the fires, their frantic pleas strangely muted in the cacophony of noise. The air was suddenly sucked out of his lungs, and Yasel could feel his body lift up and away from the floor as his row was torn up and tossed like it was made of papier-mâché.
"Everyone! Hold on! We're about to-"
The last thing he felt was the sensation of ribs giving way under the stress of a violent impact with a bulkhead before the world spun away in a macabre moment of madness...
Two Months Earlier...
SYDRA ACADEMY, RAEDA SATHALIS✣SUNDAY, 1ST SEPTEMBER, 2019✣9:20 AM CYT
“And so, the ancients were more concerned with keeping the intricate framework of their tribes intact than they were exerting influence over rival units far removed from their borders…”
Dr. Tania Velarne raised the control to press the button for the next slide in her right hand, sneaking a peek back at her oh-so-engrossed and enraptured students, who looked as though they were being slowly drained of their collective energies. The large lecture hall was not accommodating in the summer months, having been built shortly after the construction of the wheel; no central air and no windows meant that the tin-roofed auditorium was something of a furnace. Unfortunately, the curriculum required her graduate students to learn this material, and it was the only lecture hall big enough with space for the projector.
She unbuttoned the top of her blouse, carefully wiping a bead of sweat from her brow with her free hand as the next slide loaded. “This privilege was called the Niveil, and it only extended to those tribes who shared no prior history with one another. This privilege did not extend to blood rivals, who tended to be closer to the tribe’s lands and thus… what?”
The class collectively answered: “Competed for resources!”
“See, you lot are good for something after all,” she smirked, drawing a curt laugh from her class. “The nature of ancient Cynerethic warfare was shrouded in complexities that would make modern society look like child’s play, but the sociocultural justifications were always an extension of natural evolutionary processes at work. When you need food, you go to war. If you feel bad about having to go to war, you cook up a justification that brings honor and nobility to a dishonorable profession. But the decision making at the tribal level will always fall back to resources, time and time again.”
“In this way,” Tania continued, “we have a fundamental insight into pre-Concordant Cynerethic society: the pragmatic justifications valued by our late ancestors was couched in rich symbolism and mythology. They were indebted to the cause of rationalizing a sometimes-irrational world, which produces the necessary paradigm for superstition to infect both rational and religious thought. If you do bad things to protect your people, you will ultimately find a way to couch your bad actions in a justification that makes your bad actors turn into good actors.”
The vibration of her watch’s digital alarm broke her concentration. She shot a glance down at the timepiece, scowling under her breath – she’d ran out of time again. “Alright, we’re going to have to pick this up on Tuesday. Remember, we’re having a group review session on the commons Wednesday evening from 6 to 9 PM, and then the summer midterms on Thursday. They count for a third of your final grade, so be prepared to work everyone!”
The professor turned towards her computer, reaching to unplug the laptop from the projector cable. Every lecture was the same: she’d start packing out her gear while the students rustled around, doing their best to get out of the roasting oven of a lecture hall as quickly as possible. Then she’d book it over to her office to get her evening lectures prepared for taking a meeting with her colleagues over the seasonal intensives. Today was going to be particularly tight, since she had some private tutor sessions scheduled with ‘benefactors’ – students who had political connections that precluded the possibility of failing them. Some of them were at least honorable enough to admit their shortcomings; most were spoiled brats that rubbed their privilege in the faculty’s face. It was a hazard of the job, unfortunately.
As the sound of the departing students ebbed, the sound of louder footsteps behind her drew her attention. Tania turned, and was nearly taken aback by the pair of men walking towards her. She wasn’t familiar with the bigger of the two: a distinguished, dark-skinned man wearing the uniform of the Erannul, the state police service. But she was absolutely familiar with the dignified cohort beside him: elegantly dressed and dignified, bearing the mark of the Aunura on his lapel. She watched the news, and knew of the Queen and her Court; she recognized Shiye Tuthan, the Head of Clan Osseniar and the chief Counsel – Hathar – to Selania’s court. It was almost too bizarre to even process, someone so famous suddenly there in the room with her, without pomp or ceremony.
Tania quickly remembered formal protocol, bowing deeply at the waist. “Honor and glory, Hathar Tuthan, Officer!”
“Wisdom to you and yours,” the Hathar replied briskly, raising his right hand in acknowledgement of her salute. “You are Dr. Tania Velarne, are you not? One of the registrars thought you might be lecturing in the auditorium.”
“Yes, Hathar Tuthan!”
The constable shot a look at the Counsel, then added his own question: “The same Dr. Velarne that chaired the Conference on the Preservation of Historical Shrines last year in Jolhi?”
"Yes sir, Officer," she answered carefully, almost nervous to make eye contact. "I was invited by the city elders to host the conference; they appreciated my willingness to rebut against magnates from Laeleath trying to develop virgin lands for new farming cooperatives around the city perimeter."
The two men shot a quick glance at one another; Tuthan then nodded affirmatively. "Ms. Velarne, as I'm sure you're no doubt aware, I represent the Court of Her Eminence the Aunura. Would you be surprised to know that Lady Selania has taken an interest in your academic career, and wishes to reward your faithful service to this institution with Concordant honors?"
"That's... That can't be right, that's impossible," Tania stammered, flummoxed beyond all reasonable measure. "What could I possibly offer Her Eminence that isn't already present in the nobility of her Court?"
"Your service in a very important undertaking," the officer acknowledged.
Tuthan spoke up now: "Ah, where are my manners; Ms. Velarne, this is Mez Rege Rol Riya, the Deputy Chief of Special Operations for the Bataan Garrison. He's been so kind as to assist me with security for a special project that has garnered much interest in the corridors of power in Laeleath. A project that your name has come up for on multiple occasions."
"I'm... I am greatly honored, and would gladly serve at the pleasure of Her Eminence," Tania blurted out, her heart almost ready to come flying out of her chest. "Please excuse me, I'm just overwhelmed by this..."
The Erannul officer, Riya stepped out from his position slightly behind Tuthan, revealing for the first time a small black binder in the crux of his right arm. Made of leather and sealed with gold foil around the edges, the faint glint of the overhead light in the auditorium shined off the metallic fray. His gloved hand quickly produced two separate sheets of heavy paper, each baring the royal signet of the Aunura. He kept one sheet close to his chest, then carefully handed the second over to the Hathar, who studied it carefully for a moment before extending it out to Tania. To her surprise, the paper was actually the back paneling for a thin photo holder: the other side revealed a black-and-white photocopy of an old daguerreotype, most certainly from the earliest age of the technology. The lack of fine detail made the picture no less exquisite in her eyes.
Tania frowned, straining to make out the small object of the daguerreotype's focus: a spherical instrument of some sort. Behind it was some ancient tome, its title illegible from the photocopy. "If I may, what am I looking at, Hathar Tuthan?"
"That is what we want you to find out," Shiye responded glibly. "This is a daguerreotype of an long-lost ancient text, thought to be an early tome from one of the establishing tribes of the Concordance. Our clerics have reason to believe that this book, if it still exists, would contain invaluable information on the formation of our theocracy."
The professor's eyes grew wide. "Wait, you refer to the Ancient Book of Wisdom, the Colestis Hilt, correct? The book was purported to be lost ages ago; most of my colleagues aren't even convinced it ever existed in the first place. They considered it folklore, or else a highly-exaggerated account of a much-less impressive book..."
The ramifications of the daguerreotype were not lost on her. "Are you saying the Colestis Hilt might actually exist?"
"It's one possibility," Shiye replied, leaning on his years of academic studies. "The existence of the tome was the subject of intense debate; clerics hid the daguerreotype, fearing that unscrupulous academics might try to pilfer it. It was all conjecture anyway, since the man who made the image died shortly after producing it, keeping the location of the book a secret."
Velarne studied the image again, puzzling over the object in the foreground. "What is this sphere, then?"
Tuthan exchanged a wary glance with Rol, who now spoke up: "This is the problem: we don't know. None of the clerics seem to know what it is, except that their existence piqued the interest of the Draeuz of Velrias. And when the High Priest is interested in something, the Aunura is interested in it, too."
The Hathar concluded: "We don't know what these spheres are, but we think we might know the location of one. Are you familiar with the Caemden Ruins, near the border region with Caenara?"
"Yes... Yes, I am," Tania replied. "It's in the Cailor Mountains, if I'm not mistaken: it's a largely-untapped site, too remote and virtually inaccessible without some serious transport. My department chair was actually on one of the first aerial surveys of the site back when it was first-discovered in the 1980s."
"That sphere? A hunter lost in the Cailor Mountains purported seeing something like it near an ancient shrine that he took refuge in," Shiye exclaimed. "The markings he described? They're almost an exact match for the markings on the sphere in the original daguerreotype. We can't be sure, but the hope is that if we manage to find the sphere..."
"-Then you find the Colestis Hilt too," Tania completed the train of thought aloud. "Unbelievable, to think that after all these years, random luck could provide such providence. You think the book may be at the Caemden Ruins?"
"It's worth a shot," Riya replied. "And that's where you'd come in."
Tuthan added: "You possess certain skills that make you a very valuable commodity in the research expedition we're putting together. You're knowledgeable on ancient Cynerethic history, have done field surveys before, and most importantly of all: you're multilingual, fluent in three languages and capable of conversing in three others. You're the perfect translator for the team."
The professor recoiled slightly, confused. "I'm sorry, the team?"
With that, Rol Riya took the first piece of paper and extended it towards her. "You won't be going in alone."
The paper was an official communiqué from the foreign ministry in Laeleath, stamped and sealed with the Aunura's personal signet. Tania scanned the letterhead intensely, her mind racing with competing thoughts of excitement, shock, and sheer credulousness. "An international expedition? We're inviting in outsiders?"
Tuthan nodded in the affirmative. "Lady Selania requests it. You will be our official translator on the expedition, and will accompany Mez Rege Riya and a cleric of the Anaryssian Church to the ruins."
Tania was stunned. Nothing like this had ever occurred before: it was unprecedented in the annals of scholastic history in Cynereth, to invite outside scholars to join an archaeological expedition inside the borders. What's more, the team she was apparently going to translate for would be undertaking an archaeological survey of the ruins of one of the ancient shrines, sites considered so holy and sacrosanct by the Anaryssians that outsiders were once punished with death and dismemberment for even looking upon the shrines. That the expedition was going to be opened to foreigners was a shocking revelation, and one that she was struggling to process fully. Why would the Aunura want outsiders exploring the ruins of such a sacred Cynerethic site? And what did their presence mean for the significance of the sphere, and whatever symbolism it may represent?"
Dr. Tania Velarne raised the control to press the button for the next slide in her right hand, sneaking a peek back at her oh-so-engrossed and enraptured students, who looked as though they were being slowly drained of their collective energies. The large lecture hall was not accommodating in the summer months, having been built shortly after the construction of the wheel; no central air and no windows meant that the tin-roofed auditorium was something of a furnace. Unfortunately, the curriculum required her graduate students to learn this material, and it was the only lecture hall big enough with space for the projector.
She unbuttoned the top of her blouse, carefully wiping a bead of sweat from her brow with her free hand as the next slide loaded. “This privilege was called the Niveil, and it only extended to those tribes who shared no prior history with one another. This privilege did not extend to blood rivals, who tended to be closer to the tribe’s lands and thus… what?”
The class collectively answered: “Competed for resources!”
“See, you lot are good for something after all,” she smirked, drawing a curt laugh from her class. “The nature of ancient Cynerethic warfare was shrouded in complexities that would make modern society look like child’s play, but the sociocultural justifications were always an extension of natural evolutionary processes at work. When you need food, you go to war. If you feel bad about having to go to war, you cook up a justification that brings honor and nobility to a dishonorable profession. But the decision making at the tribal level will always fall back to resources, time and time again.”
“In this way,” Tania continued, “we have a fundamental insight into pre-Concordant Cynerethic society: the pragmatic justifications valued by our late ancestors was couched in rich symbolism and mythology. They were indebted to the cause of rationalizing a sometimes-irrational world, which produces the necessary paradigm for superstition to infect both rational and religious thought. If you do bad things to protect your people, you will ultimately find a way to couch your bad actions in a justification that makes your bad actors turn into good actors.”
The vibration of her watch’s digital alarm broke her concentration. She shot a glance down at the timepiece, scowling under her breath – she’d ran out of time again. “Alright, we’re going to have to pick this up on Tuesday. Remember, we’re having a group review session on the commons Wednesday evening from 6 to 9 PM, and then the summer midterms on Thursday. They count for a third of your final grade, so be prepared to work everyone!”
The professor turned towards her computer, reaching to unplug the laptop from the projector cable. Every lecture was the same: she’d start packing out her gear while the students rustled around, doing their best to get out of the roasting oven of a lecture hall as quickly as possible. Then she’d book it over to her office to get her evening lectures prepared for taking a meeting with her colleagues over the seasonal intensives. Today was going to be particularly tight, since she had some private tutor sessions scheduled with ‘benefactors’ – students who had political connections that precluded the possibility of failing them. Some of them were at least honorable enough to admit their shortcomings; most were spoiled brats that rubbed their privilege in the faculty’s face. It was a hazard of the job, unfortunately.
As the sound of the departing students ebbed, the sound of louder footsteps behind her drew her attention. Tania turned, and was nearly taken aback by the pair of men walking towards her. She wasn’t familiar with the bigger of the two: a distinguished, dark-skinned man wearing the uniform of the Erannul, the state police service. But she was absolutely familiar with the dignified cohort beside him: elegantly dressed and dignified, bearing the mark of the Aunura on his lapel. She watched the news, and knew of the Queen and her Court; she recognized Shiye Tuthan, the Head of Clan Osseniar and the chief Counsel – Hathar – to Selania’s court. It was almost too bizarre to even process, someone so famous suddenly there in the room with her, without pomp or ceremony.
Tania quickly remembered formal protocol, bowing deeply at the waist. “Honor and glory, Hathar Tuthan, Officer!”
“Wisdom to you and yours,” the Hathar replied briskly, raising his right hand in acknowledgement of her salute. “You are Dr. Tania Velarne, are you not? One of the registrars thought you might be lecturing in the auditorium.”
“Yes, Hathar Tuthan!”
The constable shot a look at the Counsel, then added his own question: “The same Dr. Velarne that chaired the Conference on the Preservation of Historical Shrines last year in Jolhi?”
"Yes sir, Officer," she answered carefully, almost nervous to make eye contact. "I was invited by the city elders to host the conference; they appreciated my willingness to rebut against magnates from Laeleath trying to develop virgin lands for new farming cooperatives around the city perimeter."
The two men shot a quick glance at one another; Tuthan then nodded affirmatively. "Ms. Velarne, as I'm sure you're no doubt aware, I represent the Court of Her Eminence the Aunura. Would you be surprised to know that Lady Selania has taken an interest in your academic career, and wishes to reward your faithful service to this institution with Concordant honors?"
"That's... That can't be right, that's impossible," Tania stammered, flummoxed beyond all reasonable measure. "What could I possibly offer Her Eminence that isn't already present in the nobility of her Court?"
"Your service in a very important undertaking," the officer acknowledged.
Tuthan spoke up now: "Ah, where are my manners; Ms. Velarne, this is Mez Rege Rol Riya, the Deputy Chief of Special Operations for the Bataan Garrison. He's been so kind as to assist me with security for a special project that has garnered much interest in the corridors of power in Laeleath. A project that your name has come up for on multiple occasions."
"I'm... I am greatly honored, and would gladly serve at the pleasure of Her Eminence," Tania blurted out, her heart almost ready to come flying out of her chest. "Please excuse me, I'm just overwhelmed by this..."
The Erannul officer, Riya stepped out from his position slightly behind Tuthan, revealing for the first time a small black binder in the crux of his right arm. Made of leather and sealed with gold foil around the edges, the faint glint of the overhead light in the auditorium shined off the metallic fray. His gloved hand quickly produced two separate sheets of heavy paper, each baring the royal signet of the Aunura. He kept one sheet close to his chest, then carefully handed the second over to the Hathar, who studied it carefully for a moment before extending it out to Tania. To her surprise, the paper was actually the back paneling for a thin photo holder: the other side revealed a black-and-white photocopy of an old daguerreotype, most certainly from the earliest age of the technology. The lack of fine detail made the picture no less exquisite in her eyes.
Tania frowned, straining to make out the small object of the daguerreotype's focus: a spherical instrument of some sort. Behind it was some ancient tome, its title illegible from the photocopy. "If I may, what am I looking at, Hathar Tuthan?"
"That is what we want you to find out," Shiye responded glibly. "This is a daguerreotype of an long-lost ancient text, thought to be an early tome from one of the establishing tribes of the Concordance. Our clerics have reason to believe that this book, if it still exists, would contain invaluable information on the formation of our theocracy."
The professor's eyes grew wide. "Wait, you refer to the Ancient Book of Wisdom, the Colestis Hilt, correct? The book was purported to be lost ages ago; most of my colleagues aren't even convinced it ever existed in the first place. They considered it folklore, or else a highly-exaggerated account of a much-less impressive book..."
The ramifications of the daguerreotype were not lost on her. "Are you saying the Colestis Hilt might actually exist?"
"It's one possibility," Shiye replied, leaning on his years of academic studies. "The existence of the tome was the subject of intense debate; clerics hid the daguerreotype, fearing that unscrupulous academics might try to pilfer it. It was all conjecture anyway, since the man who made the image died shortly after producing it, keeping the location of the book a secret."
Velarne studied the image again, puzzling over the object in the foreground. "What is this sphere, then?"
Tuthan exchanged a wary glance with Rol, who now spoke up: "This is the problem: we don't know. None of the clerics seem to know what it is, except that their existence piqued the interest of the Draeuz of Velrias. And when the High Priest is interested in something, the Aunura is interested in it, too."
The Hathar concluded: "We don't know what these spheres are, but we think we might know the location of one. Are you familiar with the Caemden Ruins, near the border region with Caenara?"
"Yes... Yes, I am," Tania replied. "It's in the Cailor Mountains, if I'm not mistaken: it's a largely-untapped site, too remote and virtually inaccessible without some serious transport. My department chair was actually on one of the first aerial surveys of the site back when it was first-discovered in the 1980s."
"That sphere? A hunter lost in the Cailor Mountains purported seeing something like it near an ancient shrine that he took refuge in," Shiye exclaimed. "The markings he described? They're almost an exact match for the markings on the sphere in the original daguerreotype. We can't be sure, but the hope is that if we manage to find the sphere..."
"-Then you find the Colestis Hilt too," Tania completed the train of thought aloud. "Unbelievable, to think that after all these years, random luck could provide such providence. You think the book may be at the Caemden Ruins?"
"It's worth a shot," Riya replied. "And that's where you'd come in."
Tuthan added: "You possess certain skills that make you a very valuable commodity in the research expedition we're putting together. You're knowledgeable on ancient Cynerethic history, have done field surveys before, and most importantly of all: you're multilingual, fluent in three languages and capable of conversing in three others. You're the perfect translator for the team."
The professor recoiled slightly, confused. "I'm sorry, the team?"
With that, Rol Riya took the first piece of paper and extended it towards her. "You won't be going in alone."
The paper was an official communiqué from the foreign ministry in Laeleath, stamped and sealed with the Aunura's personal signet. Tania scanned the letterhead intensely, her mind racing with competing thoughts of excitement, shock, and sheer credulousness. "An international expedition? We're inviting in outsiders?"
Tuthan nodded in the affirmative. "Lady Selania requests it. You will be our official translator on the expedition, and will accompany Mez Rege Riya and a cleric of the Anaryssian Church to the ruins."
Tania was stunned. Nothing like this had ever occurred before: it was unprecedented in the annals of scholastic history in Cynereth, to invite outside scholars to join an archaeological expedition inside the borders. What's more, the team she was apparently going to translate for would be undertaking an archaeological survey of the ruins of one of the ancient shrines, sites considered so holy and sacrosanct by the Anaryssians that outsiders were once punished with death and dismemberment for even looking upon the shrines. That the expedition was going to be opened to foreigners was a shocking revelation, and one that she was struggling to process fully. Why would the Aunura want outsiders exploring the ruins of such a sacred Cynerethic site? And what did their presence mean for the significance of the sphere, and whatever symbolism it may represent?"
TO THE ESTEEMED REPRESENTATIVES of the INTERNATIONAL COMMUNITY OF ACADEMICS AND SCHOLARS...
CASTLE VALSIA, LAELEATH, PAAZ DU CYNERETHES✣SATURDAY, 31ST AUGUST, 2019✣8:45 PM CYT
HONORED GUESTS OF THE CONCORDANCE:
My name is Isuza Kees, Misa to the Aunura of the Concordance of Cynereth. As Abettor to the Sovereign, I act on this evening as a member of the Aunura's Imperial Court at Castle Valsia, and do hereby ordain this letter to represent the Aunura's Foreign Ministry. As such, this missive, and the accompanying Signet of the Concordance shall serve as my formal credentials to speak on behalf of Her Eminence Selania III Selenn and the great and powerful Concordance which Lady Rukka has blessed in perpetuity.
The Concordance has established a hitherto-unprecedented scholastic mission to the rugged Cailor Mountains in Western Cynereth. This expedition strives to unite archaeologists, historians, and independent researchers from around Northern Belisaria and the larger community of nations internationally in the academic pursuit of knowledge. Independent government researchers have concluded that the ruins of an ancient pre-Anaryssian shrine known as Caemden could hold significant archaeological importance to understanding the early-medieval period of Belisarian history. It is the opinion of Laeleath that this archaeological site should be open to researchers from the international community, that they might share in the wealth of knowledge our expedition purports to discover, and to assist in the survey of these ruins.
Through the benevolence of Her Eminence the Aunura, researchers from credentialed academic institutions will be permitted full diplomatic privileges, and given priority accommodation as protected guests and temporary residents in the Concordance. This extension of good faith is made under the auspices of Laeleath's desire to extend warm diplomatic relations with its neighbors, and extend the vision of Cynereth as a proud and contributing member of the international academic community openly to peoples abroad. The personal seal of the Aunura shall guarantee the unfettered access to the research site in Western Cynereth.
Acting as Official Agent for the Foreign Ministry of the Aunura at this time, I hereby deem any and all replies to this missive to represent the formal acknowledgement of the corresponding Foreign Ministries of the independent community of states that this invitation has been made in good faith, and all assurances made herein are personally guaranteed by the Sovereign of the Concordance. Accommodations for those who shall accept the invitation to participate in this historic research expedition shall be handled by this office, and I will make said office available for future queries regarding the observation of protocol as it pertains to formally accepting this invitation, and arriving on OCTOBER 31ST, 2019 for the official invocation ceremony to mark the expedition's commencement. We look forward to corresponding with participant-scholars in the near-future.
The Concordance has established a hitherto-unprecedented scholastic mission to the rugged Cailor Mountains in Western Cynereth. This expedition strives to unite archaeologists, historians, and independent researchers from around Northern Belisaria and the larger community of nations internationally in the academic pursuit of knowledge. Independent government researchers have concluded that the ruins of an ancient pre-Anaryssian shrine known as Caemden could hold significant archaeological importance to understanding the early-medieval period of Belisarian history. It is the opinion of Laeleath that this archaeological site should be open to researchers from the international community, that they might share in the wealth of knowledge our expedition purports to discover, and to assist in the survey of these ruins.
Through the benevolence of Her Eminence the Aunura, researchers from credentialed academic institutions will be permitted full diplomatic privileges, and given priority accommodation as protected guests and temporary residents in the Concordance. This extension of good faith is made under the auspices of Laeleath's desire to extend warm diplomatic relations with its neighbors, and extend the vision of Cynereth as a proud and contributing member of the international academic community openly to peoples abroad. The personal seal of the Aunura shall guarantee the unfettered access to the research site in Western Cynereth.
Acting as Official Agent for the Foreign Ministry of the Aunura at this time, I hereby deem any and all replies to this missive to represent the formal acknowledgement of the corresponding Foreign Ministries of the independent community of states that this invitation has been made in good faith, and all assurances made herein are personally guaranteed by the Sovereign of the Concordance. Accommodations for those who shall accept the invitation to participate in this historic research expedition shall be handled by this office, and I will make said office available for future queries regarding the observation of protocol as it pertains to formally accepting this invitation, and arriving on OCTOBER 31ST, 2019 for the official invocation ceremony to mark the expedition's commencement. We look forward to corresponding with participant-scholars in the near-future.
I ABIDE AS THE SERVANT OF THE COURT, THE MISA TO THE AUNURA OF THE CONCORDANCE.
YOUR MOST HUMBLE SERVANT,
Isuza Kees, in the stead of the Aunura
Isuza Kees, in the stead of the Aunura
I M P O R T A N TL I N K S. . .
