The Arrival of Spring and A New Beginning, Pt. 2

Hello again, dear anonymous friend.
After a good nights rest, the strength of my eyes have returned, and I will resume the story of my brother's survival, who was previously pronounced dead, and his journey to Krespania:

The dinghy had been overturned by the waves, and he was left clinging to it for his life until the next day when the storm finally cleared and blue sky showed through the gray clouds.

He knew not where he was but after more hours of drifting around aimlessly in the boat he spotted land and made for it.

Once ashore he found a native of the land and learned that he had washed upon the southern shores of San Vey. The native was a regional guard, protecting the land from invaders, and knew the terrain well, therefore he guided Lennox over the rocky, treacherous mountains, across miles of land and through overgrown jungles, slashing down wild growth in the process of forging a path home.

He said that as he neared the capital city he encountered Valory D'Alvre, a San Veyan nobleman's daughter and a friend of ours from a few years back, who, because of her usual thirst for adventure was out in the wild, searching for some unknown creature.

It was an odd coincidence that they should have met, but after discovering his reasons for being there she accompanied them to the port Gansasia, where they hired a small sailboat to pass across to the continent of Asram and Agmar. The post is exceptionally slow for the reason that they are on the other side of the world, so she had not received the letter I had sent to her explaining the terrible news of his death, and was therefore mercifully spared the unnecessary mourning. I had dreaded telling her because I know how much she likes my brother, though she has not admitted her feelings publicly, I perceived it plainly enough and furthermore I believe the regards are mutual on the side of my brother. But I knew how this would effect her and was relieved greatly to find she had discovered Lennox himself before the letter.

Once they were across the channel, Lennox had chariots imported from his kingdom, Agmar, and they traveled at a swift pace to Steyloss port in Northern Agmar, where he had already sent word for his ship, The Ruler, to meet him there. There they boarded and traveled to Krespania.

His speed and determination to arrive here all proceeded from the root idea that he must be at my palace for my birthday and that thought alone is so precious to me; that he cares as much as to hastily travel across the countrysides not to miss it.

And that is the whole of it; my brother is alive and has journeyed halfway across the world in time for my birthday.

My mind is in a whirl, and I can hardly comprehend it all.

I have received a wonderful miracle beyond comparison: a chance to resolve past regrets, to speak the words that I desired to but could not any longer and to make amends for my selfish actions of before.

Not many have been given this rare opportunity, and I cherish it immensely.

Perhaps, all of the trial that I endured was for that express purpose: to teach me a lesson that would refine and better my soul, and I hope I have succeeded in the object of the lesson to improvement and not to failure.

May I welcome more lessons in the future with an open heart and not resist their values and furthermore not forget the ones I have learned in the past.

I suppose I could fill pages and pages with descriptions of my happiness and my reflections on how blessed I am, and what opportunities exist for me but I shall sum it all up in few words.

My heart feels as high as the sky, released of all it's burdens, and full of joyfulness and ecstasy to a such a high degree that I cannot contain it.

And gratitude in my heart to God is constant, forever grateful that He has allowed me to see my little brother again.

I cannot say much more to add to these above statements that will give you a better idea of my felicity so I will end with them.

Until I write again, my friend.

-Emerald de Gavrillac

Queen of Krespania

The Arrival of Spring and A New Beginning, Pt 1

Spring is swiftly approaching Krespania; I can feel it in the breeze. 

It whispers a promise of warmer weather and the delightful fresh fragrance that the flowers produce annually.

These little hints set my heart on fire with a deep yearning for the newness that the spring brings; perhaps because of all the lifelessness I have experienced the past months, both with the winter and other occasions. In those months life around me appeared to have died, to have sunk into a deep state of oblivion, where there no longer is any warmth left by the pulsing of the heart. The trees had become cool to the touch, frozen in their leafless condition and the green of the grass had faded, just as the warmth of the sun had, leaving me with a sense of coldness and unhappiness.

But now, here in this moment, my heart has found something to hold onto and to hope in again; something that livens my heart up and stirs my soul to joyfulness.

But with that I discovered something so unspeakably shocking that I must retell it as I experienced it.

It took place the day before last:

The warm rays of the sun beat upon my back as I stood out in the palace garden, relishing the comfort it produced in my soul. The feeling in itself made me give thanks and rejoice that I was alive this bright, nearly spring morning. The sun was the only thing occupying the crystal blue sky, it's light washing over the dead plants and bushes in the garden and it seemed just the heat of it warmed them from their frozen state and awakened them as it had done to me. For they appeared to have taken on a fresh look as if at once their heart had been stirred into a pulse again and life had began to flow through them.

I took in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the wonderful clean air. It was a perfect day, not to cold, and only required a thin cloak upon myself instead of my thick winter one.

“Milady, look!” Meredith, my lady-in-waiting said, by the rose garden. She was examining a bush in particular and ushered me over to it.

“What is it?” I quizzed, looking for something that might give me a clue to what she was becoming excited about.

She held a branch of the rose bush gingerly between her thumb and index finger, bringing it to my attention.

“It is budding!” Her words were filled with enthusiasm that impacted me and made me feel excited likewise.

I examined it and found her words to be the truth. A tiny bud was growing and with it my hopes of the arrival of spring.

With a joyfulness running through my veins I pressed on along the row of rose bushes, inspecting each one and finding the same rose buds preparing to bloom on each one.

I came to one in specific and paused slowly in study of it. It took me a moment to search the bush before I found one tiny bud. I smiled slowly at it in a bittersweet reverie and whispered, “Bloom well, my bush. Strive for my sake, will you not?”

This one held a special place in my heart, for it was my brother Lennox's favorite. Of all the various and diverse collection of roses I had in my garden, Lennox did not care for a single one except for the Igualian Blue Rose. It was a tropical flower I had imported from the islands of Igualian that displayed a beautiful sky blue shade when bloomed, and Lennox had instantly fell in love with the vibrant color.

I rose, and for the first time, I did not feel remorse, but a tranquil peace inside and a genuine happiness.

“Queen Emerald!” A tall man was coming forward from the palace and with long swift steps covered the far distance between the building and me.

“Hello, Lord Alessandro. How may this day find you?” I greeted him.

He was dressed in an olive green doublet with matching breeches and wore tall black boots. Tucked beneath his arm was the customary cavalier's hat that he always wore.

His slick black hair gleamed in the sun, and his eyes twinkled from his exerting walk to this place, altogether making him a dashing portrait to be sure.

Alessandro bowed and kissed my hand, looking up as he said, “Very well. And your highness? How may I find you?”

My heartbeat quickened and I relinquished my hand from his grasp, all the while practicing such composure as to assure that not anyone else could discern my feelings inside.

“I am doing fine. Nothing like a beautiful sunny day to brighten your spirits, no?”

His dark features shifted to a handsome smile and he squinted up into the sky as if this was his first acknowledgment of the weather. “Yes, indeed. A very beautiful scene, and one that your highness especially belongs in.”

I pretended not to hear his subtle complement but turned to inspect a plant with marked coyness. “What brings you here today, Lord Alessandro? Any express purpose other than to see how my garden has survived the winter?”

“Oh! Yes!” The reason had seemed to have slipped his mind until that point. “I have a surprise for you.”

A surprise? What could it possibly be? A thousand ideas bloomed in my head, but I decided to wait and see rather than follow them through.

His eyes gleamed even brighter with excitement and unmistakable mystery shined in their hazel depths.

“You will find it quite a shock, so you might need to sit down.”

I raised my eyebrow at him, dubious of his curious manner. “Alessandro, I think I am quite capable of withstanding any shock.”

“As you wish.” He said with a shrug. “But you will permit me to catch you in my arms if you fall, will you not?”

This heightened my sense of curiosity tremendously, and I searched my brain for a reason to all this mystery. What was it about?

Alessandro turned and waved at the palace and a servant, obviously stationed there for that purpose, disappeared inside.

He offered his hand, waiting for me to lay mine on top, which I did in a slow state of wonder, and then he positioned himself at my side.

We stood there watching the house and the seconds that went by felt like minutes because of the suspense I was held in.

And then a man emerged from the house and half walked-half trotted down the wide stairs of the patio and onto the vast lawn of the garden.

Once again, as I had done so many times on other occasions, my mind instantly thought, Lennox! And at once my heart leaped with joy.

Then logic took over and told me otherwise, reminding me my brother was no longer here and that it could not be him. After that realization my heart settled again, and I resumed my watch of the unknown stranger's approach.

It was hard to truly distinguish his features at the distance, but as I followed his descent from the stairs and his speedy walk to us, my mind continued to find something familiar about him; about the way he walked, his seemingly impatience to get to this location because of it. All these things felt as if they were familiar to me, and I could not shake them from my thoughts, try as I might.

Then as he came closer, my mind could distinguish his face, and what I saw shocked me behind words or belief.

My insides were a jumble of mixed communications; my eyes were telling me what I saw, and yet my brain was contradicting it with reason. Therefore I stood frozen, unsure of which to believe because it was all too confusing.

How was this possible? It could not be. I felt again as if I was a victim to my cruel imagination. It was playing it's usual games at my expense, and I could not stop it even if I tried.

But as he continued to approach me my sight overpowered my intellect despite the sea of reasons that washed around in my brain like a body of water in a storm. Could it really be my imagination? It seemed so real.

Perhaps my emotions had been too damaged that it had effected my mind also, and I was worse off than I thought.

All these conjectures raced through my mind at such a rapid pace that only a few seconds had passed in which I formed them.

But suddenly, most likely because I wanted to believe, I surrendered all reasons and yielded to the evidence before my eyes.

It was Lennox! My heart jumped with joy, daring to believe this was not a dream, as the distance between him, and I closed to about twenty feet.

He was dressed well, clean shaven as always and appeared healthy. A smile stretched across his handsome face, and I knew I could not have dreamed this up.

He was there! Actually, physically there!

At once the world started to whirl and I was conscious of Alessandro's arms around me as a safeguard for that purpose but I straightened up and remained upright with determined willpower.

“Hello sister.” Lennox said.
I bit my lip, the tears surfacing for joyous reasons, before gathering my long skirts and running to him.

In a mix of laughing and crying at the same time, we met in the middle in an embrace, and I buried my head into his shoulder, whispering, “Lennox! My dear, little brother!”

His arms hugging me had never been tighter nor my hold on him ever stronger. The embrace was full of heartfelt sorrows now carefully placated, of regrets soothingly mended and of unspeakable happiness.

My thanksgiving to God was continual in those moments we were in each others arms, my gratitude beyond measure, being able to once again see my brother face-to-face.

He drew back at arms length and looked at me. “How are doing, Em?” His tone was more serious than I had ever heard, and he looked as if he had aged in those months when he was away.

I wiped a stray tear away and mustering a wry smile, I said, “Better now that you are here. You caused me a large amount of pain.”

“I can imagine and I am sorry for having left you thinking I was dead. If there had been a way to contact you, I would have, but for a time there I thought I was going to die too.”

I noticed Alessandro and Meredith had discreetly moved out of earshot and was busy admiring plants, leaving us in privacy.

“I am only at present recovering from the horrible reality of your decease. It would be unnecessary to describe how shocked I was or how lonely I have been since then. I was the last of the de Gavrillacs and I felt it pointedly. It was almost beyond bearable but I found strength in God, and that only kept my hope alive.”

From there we walked to the orchard where he proceeded to tell me what had occurred and how he had survived the stormy seas.
But I am afraid that you will have to wait for the rest of the explanation because I have wrote on into the darkness with only candles as my light source, and my eyes are strained with tiredness.
Therefore I shall, as soon as possible, relate the whole of it to you in my next letter.

-Emerald de Gavrillac
 Queen of Krespania

Trials and Errors

It is hard to believe that it has been three and a half weeks since I received the letter concerning my brother Lennox, the emperor of Agmar's death; it seems like it has been longer.

The arrangements for his memorial service seemed to take forever, lasting for days, all the while causing me agony and pain beyond words. Though from my fellow mourner's and friends view I suppose I looked only subdued and withdrawn with an aura of sadness overshadowing me but if they knew what I felt inside it would tell a different story. I do not think any one truly knows how I feel. Nor how deep my pain and hurt lies. They give their sympathy but they cannot relate to my feelings; they cannot be experiencing the excruciating misery that pulses through me when I see the words they had written out and were awaiting my approval before engraving them upon my brother's tombstone, nor be feeling the heartache that filled me when I saw The Ruler come into port without a captain guiding it's helm.

My heart is in turmoil and my feelings in a riot but in front of them not a tear came to my eye.

Partly because of my remaining shock of the circumstances that were taking place and the other part because my feelings are better left for the secrecy and solitude of my own private chamber. Before them I severed any ties to emotions and restrained myself so extremely from thinking of anything related to my brother to prevent any outbreaks of tears or weeping in public. Even when I was alone in my own private chamber with my thoughts drifting back to days in the past and I expect the tears to flow they would not. Maybe bridling my emotions for so long had made me insensitive and locked up my heart so tightly that not a thing could bring a tear to form in my eyes. I stood in front of my vanity mirror, staring at my despondent reflection. My feelings were vivid and I felt my sadness keenly but no matter how I hurt, my eyes remained dry and refused to yield to weeping.

That was through the heart of the arrangements though. But soon afterward I was visiting the castle chapel as I do normally the same day every week and the priest must have seen my distress and detected my concealed emotions because he approached me with a comforting gentleness and inquired how I was doing.

He is a kind, elderly man, who's manner is ruled with patience, understanding and wisdom, and his heart filled with a love for serving God. He has been at the chapel for as long as I can remember and in the past he has always made time to listen to me and advise me on both matters of principles and spiritual and I had never had any trouble divulging my thoughts to him. Therefore if anyone in the kingdom could discern between my real affliction and the false facade of being tolerably well it would be him.

We had sat down in one of the pews after sending my ladies-in-waiting away so that I could speak with privacy, and I at once began to share what was on my mind to him.

He took on a quiet attentive manner as I talked and when I finished he remained silent for a minute and pondered the problem.

The priest had much to say in response to my sorrow but one in particular stood out as extremely helpful.

He cautioned me against constraining myself from tears because it was natural and necessary for proper healing and that I should not keep them bottled up as I had previously. My hurt would heal and slowly wan in the future but it would take time.

The priest then listed a few verses from the Bible that he thought would help. And since then I keep those verses close to my heart and whenever I have days when I am depressed and dispirited I read over them and receive comfort amid cloudy days when the sun does not shine.

One of them that I treasure is Psalm 94:18-19:

“If I say, “My foot slips,”
Your mercy, O Lord, will hold me up.
In the multitude of my anxieties within me,
Your comforts delight my soul.”

God's Word is a balm to my open wound, soothing and healing the most festering hurt. In verses like these I take comfort in. They remind me that God is right alongside me through all my pain and that He cares for me and will not allow anything so big that I cannot bear. Even when I felt so alone passing through these trials I know, now especially, that I was never alone. When the rain poured down and I felt like I could not remain standing any longer I know He was there beside me, holding me up.

He will keep my feet from falling and one day by His guidance I will reemerge from this dark cavern I seem to have fallen in and enter into the bright light of day.

The tears do not come as often now, and I do not attempt to restrain them any longer. But I must confess that certain times they do rush back and as a flood. Such as last week when I was calmly working my tapestry that I have regretfully neglected for a long time now. All at once I noticed the particular color I was using was the very same shade of turquoise blue that Lennox favored and the hollow pit in my heart was felt distinctively, as the tears in my eyes were also. I would not admit it to myself nor my lady-in-waiting, Meredith, who sat opposite of me on the other settee working on her own tapestry, but I insisted that my eyes were tiring from the dimness of the light that the candles were producing.

Then another time came when I was alone in the sitting room, reading and I heard someone arrive and then a deep voice talking in the entry hall. Instantly my heart leaped and the thought raced through my mind that it was my brother! I rushed to the hall only to find my longtime friend Alessandro, relinquishing his cavalier hat to the servant. I do not mean to imply that I was disappointed in his coming to visit me because I enjoyed his company tremendously and it was a much needed relief from my loneliness but you can understand my crestfallen reaction.

There are many of such episodes but I would not want to bore you with my monotonous details so I shall only state those above.

But do not worry for me friend, I am beginning to act like myself more each day and I take courage that it will not be long before I come into the light of day again and hopefully having learned a life lesson or two. But until then I am just taking everything a day at a time, not looking anxiously into the future, nor regretting past deeds, and learning more fully every day how to rely on God.

Your prayers are still much coveted, dear friend.

-Emerald de Gavrillac

Queen of Krespania

Grief and Devastation

Love.

What is love? It is not something tangible or substantial. It cannot be seen nor felt physically and you sometime wonder if it even exists. It is something hard to understand, to comprehend, and yet it encompasses all of us in different ways.
It is easy to say that you love someone but to really show it in deed and acts is another thing that most of us do not achieve.

I discovered that we are all so very wrapped up in ourselves that we selfishly do not consider others, what they might be needing or thinking, even when we claim that we love them. We only look out for ourselves at the expense of our loved ones.
So I have halted myself and contemplated this fact. Is my love I claim for my family in earnest? You tend to take advantage of their love for you and in your selfish state squelch it and step all over it in your own self-pursuits. You have the mindset that their love will always be there for you and never vanish so you naturally forget about the special fact that they love you and care for you.

That is...until their gone. Then your mind continually brings back memories of their kindness and care despite your selfishness and how you in return gave them...nothing.
These are dreary and disheartening words but they are the truth.
The reason for all my melancholy is because I have (I am ashamed to admit) experienced this. I am guilty of this wrongdoing and there is nothing now that I can do to mend the way I have acted.

I am heartbroken and saddened beyond words and this knowledge only adds to my grief.
My despair is great dwelling upon the fact that I shall never be capable of returning those years of love that I have ungratefully received and that thought alone I cannot bear.
You will not understand my full meaning I suppose, unless I tell you the cause of my sadness.

I have received a letter. The outside looks like any other insignificant letter but the story it told inside was a whole different matter.
It came from Christian Bentione, Lennox’s first mate and a loyal companion on board The Ruler, Lennox’s prized vessel.

He relayed that there was a sea battle in the Arctos ocean amidst a terrible storm.  Two enemy ships that belonged to Wilson, a long time enemy of Agmar and of anyone who opposes his power, attacked Lennox’s vessel.
They saw the two ships on the horizon and one drew closer to attack, wrote Christian. He said that a well placed cannon ball was sent into their powder keg and immediately it exploded into a million pieces.
The rain came in torrents and the waves foamed and threatened to overturn their ship with their violent rushing. Lightening cracked the sky with a brilliant light and sent a thunderous rumble that shook the timbers of the vessel. But the other ship was relentless in it’s pursuit of Lennox.
Wilson’s ship circled around behind them at a distance and seemed to wait.
Christian writes that they assumed Wilson’s ship would attack at dawn and so in attempt to not alarm them that Lennox knew of their presence they preceded to keep their lanterns lit as if nothing was amiss while secretly they let out a dingy behind them with a rope tied to the ship.
They used the rope to climb down to the dingy and watch the enemy ship without the interference of the light that The Ruler produced.
And they waited.

Their estimation was correct. At dawn, when the sun had barely risen above the eastern horizon, the enemy battleship unfurled their canvas and sped toward The Ruler with intent to sink.
The events that followed were typical of a sea battle and yet the consequences were significant.
One could not tell the difference between the thunder and the rumble of a cannon as it exploded with a deadly projectile, the first mate wrote. And the two opposing forces fired upon each other with ferocity until one of Wilson’s hit their mark. It embedded the ammunition of the cannon into the side of The Ruler, the impact against the hull of the vessel exploded the side into pieces and rocked the ship so violently that my brother, who was on the poop deck issuing orders, was thrown overboard.

Christian was on the quarterdeck at the time and saw as he was hurled overboard. The waves roared and rose several feet above Lennox’s head before dropping and enclosing him in their icy grip. It was a few seconds and then his head reappeared in the dark foamy turbulence and Christian yelled for the crew to throw him a rope.
Another wave was coming and Lennox had only enough time to grab a hold of the dingy that had been torn from it’s lodgings and pull himself into it.
The wave collapsed and before the men could arrive with the rope Lennox was forced out into the sea by the effects of it.
Christian wrote that it would have been in vain to try to throw a rope to him because he was already too far out for it to be of any use and they could not at this point go after him since the battle against Wilson's ship was still raging on despite the loss of their captain.

He was distraught and at a loss on what action to take as he watched his captain and emperor in a small boat drifting out into the fierce, open sea. The rain poured down upon him and soon a wave curled up and dissolved any view he had of him.

My heart lodged in my throat as I read this and for a moment I was frozen, feeling as if I could not breath and that the whole world had collapsed on me. How could this be?
Lennox, lost in the sea? The letter drifted from my hand onto the floor below as I dropped to the couch.
My dear, dear brother! My only brother! All since childhood everything we had done had been with each other.

 He taught me how to shoot the bow and crossbow, showed me how to use the broadsword, and influenced me with a love of adventure.
He had been the one that always brightened my mood when I was unhappy and brought cheer to my heart when he arrived back home from one of his conquests.

Lennox was the only one that understood me and when I was upset and needed to tell someone he was always there to listen.
My heart squeezes so hard that I feel I cannot go on, and my eyes flood with tears at these painful memories.
Who will listen to me now? Who will make me smile in all my distress?
I do not think I shall ever be happy again. Not when my heart is so broken. I cannot bear someone else leaving me.
First Mother and Father and now my brother. I feel so alone, so cold and yet there is a numbness where I cannot feel a thing. I cannot bear it nor accept the fact but it stares me in the face.
My prayers have been constant, asking God to help me, to strengthen me, to comfort me because without Him I know I will not last.
Without Him I know I am alone.

So my closing words are these: do not take for granted those around you. Treasure each moment you have together while they are with you because before you know it they could be gone.

-Emerald de Gavrillac
Queen of Krespania

A New Year's Eve Masquerade

The new year is already upon us being the fifth day of January and I can now say I am actually completely rested from the events that transpired on those days of the holidays. I, indeed, spoke of the planned events for Christmas day but I did not explain of the New Year party that was held at the palace of Krespania. So that is what I will write to you about and maybe interest you with the particulars of our lovely gala.

Last Monday the palace of Krespania held it's annual masquerade ball. It is one of the balls that I truly love because each person must be dressed as something or in a certain theme and must have a mask covering at least part of their face. 

My costume this year was a peacock, and I came wearing a vibrant satin blue gown that was pinned up on the right side to reveal a golden layer of material beneath and it included an elegant headdress that represented the arcing feathers that peacocks display, around the back of my head. I admit it was a slight annoyance when I tried to dance with it on but one thing you must remember is that style and fashion in the court is so important that one must grin and bear the worst discomfort for the sake of it. 

The chamber was redecorated for this gala and sported yards of deep royal purple draped across the ceiling from one end to the other with strips of gold intermingled. The chandeliers had trimmings of the same fabric hanging from the arms and decorative gold fruit were the centerpieces of the table. The ballroom had an extra festive appearance to it this year and I enjoyed it immensely.

The party did not begin until I arrived in the room and made the public appearance and then the dancing started and all festivities with it. This is the part my brother hates the most and if he can, leaves to me. It is because he does not like the attention of everyone in the room directed at him in expectation and I can sympathize with him that it is rather uncomfortable but it is to be expected of the royal party therefore it is not something we can avoid.
There were many eyes on me but confidentially only one set of eyes really mattered to me. It was the eyes of a handsome young man who belonged to a noble family of Krespania and was invited to every event that took place at the palace. His name was Alessandro de Garza and we had known each other since I became ruler of Krespania when I was eighteen.
He has dark black hair and warm, caring eyes that rather captivated my attention and proved to be distracting other times. His smile is contagious and his laugh charming. He is always considerate and I cannot think of a more gentlemanly person.
He was waiting on the sidelines for me to pass by and at the soonest available moment asked for my hand in the first dance which I reserved just for that purpose, truth be known.

We moved and swirled to the lovely symphonic melody the orchestra played and glided across the polished marble floors of the room, each of us without a care. I had this bubbly happiness that almost threatened to spill over as we danced and I cannot recall ever having such a feeling before, but it was truly blissful. I knew earlier that day this night would prove to be memorable and it was swiftly becoming more than that. All the people began to dance with their partners after we started but in my eyes it was only the two of us. All alone in the vast wide ballroom.
I suppose it is typical and unoriginal to say such a thing but if you had experienced that moment and been there as I was, you could only describe it as that.
But enough with my sentimental monotony that you must surely be growing tired of. I shall continue to explain the rest of the night.
After dancing we repaired to the feast hall and chatted about all different subjects and topics while we ate until a few minutes before midnight came upon us. Then we returned to the ballroom for punch and more dancing and as it struck twelve Alessandro and I slipped out to the garden as the first of the palace fireworks exploded and lit the sky with a bright sparkle of color before slowly diminishing into the ebony background. There he held my hands and gazed at me, with the colors of the fireworks reflecting in his eyes, and we wished each other a happy new year. There was something that made that night so special and I can almost predict it will be a good year and perhaps...I smile excitedly about this, maybe even include a wedding. Who knows?
Whatever it be I also wish you a happy new year and may you live prosperously in your kingdom or country.

-Emerald de Gavrillac
 Queen of Krespania

Preparations of a Christmas Festivity

Since this is the primary letter founding my archives I will introduce myself so that any reader in the future or present will know who I am.

My Christian name is Emerald, my surname, de Gavrillac. I am queen of Krespania and sister to Lennox de Gavrillac, emperor of Agmar, whose name every person surely is familiar with.  His conquests and victories over eastern parts of Irania are much spoken of and have secured him a large amount of world recognition and respect. And you might wonder how such a thing is possible, him being emperor of Agmar and me ruling Krespania, therefore I will straighten it out before I continue. My mother was queen of the respectable kingdom of Krespania and my father was king of Agmar. They both met and fell in love notwithstanding the added tradition of our world that such a union should be made for an opportune alliance between two kingdoms, they married. Afterward I was born and then Lennox. And when we became of age our parents bequeathed to us their kingdoms, Lennox was given Agmar which he turned into an empire and I given Krespania.  My kingdom is a smaller one compared to that of Agmar but I live in peace and receive respect and appreciation while my brother's already vast empire is continually growing and as he seeks to conquer more lands he creates more enemies that keep him on his guard because they seek to destroy him.

But I will not go into detail about my brother for that is not my intention for this letter. As you full know tonight is Christmas Eve, and with that there is much festivities and seasonal galas to organize during this time. And being ruler of my kingdom I am the select one to ready the implements to bring about those much anticipated parties.

Kings, queens, lords, ladies and every noble from all different parts of the world are invited therefore everything must be planned out and perfect to the very last detail.  I very much enjoy this season but I must confess that if you were to see me now I would be in a frenzy, rushing to and fro through the halls and corridors of the palace, issuing orders to the servants to do this or that and rather stressed out. But this is only on the eve of the big day.  Last week I was in a calm state, content that my brother was actually home for the holidays, and I savored many days in his company while in that time we caught up on how each was doing and discussed many subjects in the midst of sipping hot wassail and sitting in front of the crackling fireplace like we did so many times when we were young and free without a care or duty in the world. But now he has a responsibility and that most of the time it draws him into danger. I found myself worrying recently that he might not come back from his latest conquest and that he could be fatally injured in the midst of battle and never return, theses are thoughts that often occupy my mind when he is on one of his adventures, so my relief was more than words could describe when he came home. I am overjoyed that he can spend Christmas with me instead of off at an unknown location in the East full of danger and enemies that lurk around every corner.  It is not that I doubt his skill or competence as a warrior but anyone can make a mistake and that miscalculation alone could be very detrimental in war.

But to a lighter subject and one that is to dominant this letter, you should see the palace in all it's finery and decor. The servants have applied fresh pine boughs that emit such an earthy and vivid scent, to every banister, windowsill and doorway, and it fills the palace with a lovely deep fragrance.  Holly and mistletoe are included in the decoration of the long feast table for tomorrow's dinner, wrapping in between the golden lamp stands arms.  I have had the tapestries all washed, the whole palace dusted and I fear the servants will be greatly fatigued by the time this feast is finished. But they do not seem to mind, not that they would utter a complaint, because even while they work I can see an excitement and exuberance in their countenance that one would not easily find any other time of the year.

I have planned the menu to consist of roasted quail, large cuts of beef and lamb, eels in a thick spicy puree, pastries of all sorts and pies and tarts of all flavors. That is just a small amount of what the whole meal will include and the finest wine also will be served.

A midst all this commotion I begin to feel overwhelmed and even wonder why I attempt this every year but once I calm down and next Christmas comes upon us I feel ready to plan again. The truth is Christmas is not about feasts or parties, I know this for a fact, even if it is enjoyable and anticipated, but Christmas is a time for spending with the family. To enjoy each others company and to not take for granted their love for you.

But more importantly, it's about a Baby that was born long ago in a little town in the East. This Baby was Jesus Christ. He loved us so much that He came to offer us salvation from our blackest sins by His sacrificial death on the cross that took place years later.

So when I get caught up in the commotion of planning and begin to be stressed out I have to stop myself and remind myself what Christmas is really about: His birth.  That is the true meaning of Christmas and without it there would not be a Christmas.

So I will leave you with this note, and with all my heart I wish you a merry Christmas.

-Emerald de Gavrillac
 Queen of Krespania