The Letter

Alinash Brightblaze decided to take the letter back to the room that he and Harrier had rented at Light’s Hope Chapel in the Eastern Plaguelands before opening it. He had hoped to find Harrier there, but other elf had woke and left while Alinash was out. While people of all races were allowed here, they did raise some eyebrows by fraternizing with each other. Alinash had not bothered to disguise himself here. While there were a lot of humans at the chapel, this wasn’t Stormwind. Sin’dorei were allowed here just as much as any other elf or race. Alinash had even seen a tauren on his way to check the mail this morning. Still, he and Harrier decided it would be best if no one had a reason to remember them, thus they didn’t spend much time together outside of the room.

Alinash sat on his bed and began to open the letter. The mage had promised to send further instructions, and the letter had arrived right on time, only a day after their arrival here. Alinash unfolded the letter, and read it, frowning in confusion as he read.

Greetings Sirs, Sorry I am late. I hope you’re well, and the kids did not trip you. I just went out to the well for water as my glass was empty. Research should prove the shows greatly tire out the performers. They will first need water, a book, and rest. I was thinking of the last show I performed, located near the town in the Plaguelands, not Scholomance, but it’s near there. The biggest thing is the fact good evidence has been found of another show soon. The shows stopped their existence there for problems of rat infestation. Perhaps a trap would help! Partially, I think the translated show was a copy, and doomed anyway. As a performer, many well meaning people suggest I go back. I would, but I don’t like rats. Father says that he would not also. I don’t enjoy the suggestions and the name calling.  That’s not, of course, to say the story isn’t a book waiting to happen. In many cases, it’s common to write what is happening in your time. Biographies, histories, tales and essays are quite magic to read in a study. Young men look interesting when they’re into reading about the linear histories of nations. Magic to the ladies! Perhaps, I’ll write one. You do think that can work, right? I find a pen and an envelope to write. Elf be damned! Now, there is an idea to be a writer. Help me bring to you my work, and translate it to another. The words in the title will be first before the rest can start going.

Other things, like the current gossip, are second written in a book, as always it is. An author is called a word magician time and time again. To write is to cast words upon pages. It’s really something to last forever and be known. The only best location is home. It was there I read Silvermoon Stars Showing their Butt. A good book, it entertained me. What is your favorite? It’s unclear to me. What if you only like it when I perform? Is that so? But still, I wish writing there was easier but, I really think that would be best for either of us. You like my shows. Not to boast, but I have loved performing on this. I write a book, and maybe you, or others, won’t enjoy if I do. Damn it to shadows now! Has anyone said? I’ve been searching and greatly moved by these emotions too. I’ve come too far to give up. I continue performing. I want to keep going. Know this is true. It’s easy to lose new ideas when changing location like that, but I will carry on. Don’t stop me. I expect you will, but a gnome and a human cannot be together, and will never carry a candle in the night. Only if an elf performs the show would it work out. Be careful! Many are very difficult. You are welcome to try. Sugar in candy helps sometimes. Silver and gold help. Moon them, if needed. Perhaps not, but if you try, maybe you could convince them, even befriend them, and then a new relationship blooms. Blood oaths from an elf are not trustworthy at midnight. Only noon. The best place is chapel. This letter is too long now. I’ll help myself.

– Lark

Alinash frowned and folded the letter back up. He put it in his pocket and headed out to find Harrier. It had to be a code. Maybe together, they could figure it out.

Lark

“Lark, would you mind taking these books back downstairs for me?”

Mikael Larkens suppressed a frown. He was pretty sure Fen’s only reason for becoming a mage was one of pure laziness. Why walk somewhere, when it was easy to teleport? Of course, he could have just teleported the books in the same manner, but asking someone else to do it was easier than casting a spell.

“Sure, I was about to go down anyway.”

“Thanks Lark.”

He picked up the books and started his way down the spiraling staircase to the lower part of the mage tower. He’d been called Lark since he started going to school. There were three Mikaels in his first year as a young lad. The teacher had started out by calling all three by their full names, but within a month, she was calling them only by their last names. The fellow students shortened it even more to Lark, and it stuck. He didn’t mind, as long as no one assumed he could sing.

He reached the ground floor of the tower, and left the books on the table to be sorted and put away. He had been coming to study every day for the past few months, but was unable to find the books he needed to progress in his studies. He was starting to think he’d have to turn to other sources. He’d already started looking into it, though finding people willing to go off the beaten path to look for books was proving difficult. He had started dressing down and going to questionable bars looking for the right people, but hadn’t found anyone yet.

He’d keep looking. He had to until he found the information he needed.