Ozyletter02
Mithra,
It has been too long since we last spoke, far too long. The conflict in the north echoes even here, and we hear stories of Solars who survived the ambush being executed. I do not want to believe such tales, but our friends no longer respond to correspondences. I do not fear the worst, but I think, perhaps, we might have underestimated the earth-blooded; they are weak but many. Crinis Proleg says we should leave this hidden place and come to our brothers' aid, but all she does is talk, and most of us try to ignore her. We are thinkers. What good would we be in battle? Certainly, we are more valuable here. We will defend our temporary home and hope for the best. There is always hope. Always.
Worse news, my love, Master Bax has gone to the Sun's Court. We found him in the baths, the glint gone from his eyes. He was an ancient man, fifteen times my own not insubstantial age, and he will be missed not only by we, his friends, but by the world. Who else will sculpt Essence flows of such grace and power? Being his apprentice, I will be looked to, and I have learned his craft but not his genius. I fear I will fail. I have been practicing, though, molding rock beneath the chateau. I fashioned a tomb for Master Bax. It is a low and ugly thing, but it will suffice until we can return him to the capital and give him the funeral he deserves.
Our food stores, which we consumed with such relish at first, are almost half gone now, and some of us have taken to eating conjured food one meal of the day. The taste is the same, but too much of it makes one weak. Aure Orchester used to go hunting and bring back fresh game, but now, the lands around our home are almost stripped bare - not by us, dear, we are not that fat - but by the demon laborers Master Bax used and then bound to this place. We expected they would wither and die, but instead, Aure says they are multiplying. I pray he is mistaken.
On a brighter note, our discussions and debates are truly things of beauty, and the modified Reality Engine continues to keep us nicely concealed from the rest of Creation. With the Guardian watching the outside world and the servants catering to our needs, we are given time to exercise our minds. We talk about the world, the future, and many new and wonderful theories about Essence. These are truly gifted people - and brilliant. I feel that, when we do return, we will be toasted in the parlors and salons of the capital as true thinkers. We may even shape policy after this war is over.
I await your response, my love.
Yours,
Ozymandius
