As always I thank thee for the privilege of thy letters—and on that matter I will speak no further, lest thy ego outgrow the limits of thy frame. 

The first matter of business is that thou hast done me a terrible disservice in not mentioning that Veschar did ultimately cast his brother’s scorned mistress as his heroine! My well-meaning friend, when I tell thee I have no interest in gossip, please remind thyself in the future that I make an exception for gossip which better allows me to imagine the performances. I do still believe Veschar to be incompetent overall, find it a great tragedy of history that it is he who will surely take the credit for the longform kinema-tale, and so on and so on thou knowst the rest, but I must admit him at least momentarily brilliant for that one. Ah, but I do hope he is bored to tears after his second and third films have failed to garner the same success as the first. 

I also hope thou knowst I intend to grill thee thoroughly once thou hast seen Losotha’s Insolvency. If didst in fact intend to avoid my endless questioning by not mentioning the title in thy last letter, art a fool, for I have discovered through my other correspondences and now I will interrogate thee extra. For instance—if it truly is an adaptation of Hedathezh’s road novel as I suspect (and as would make sense given Losotha’s taste), thinkst they will attempt double-exposing the reels for the scenes in which Hedathezh describes a memory occurring at the same time as the plot? Or will Losotha finally take thy advice about the mirrors? Or perhaps he will choose the easiest route and simply crosscut between the two scenes, but then again, why even adapt a Hedathezh work if you are not willing to explore more interesting options? Losotha was a fine enough photographer, I do so hope he has not been ruined by the success of his peers (he says, not bitterly in the slightest). 

My work with the Emperor continues to be the most worthwhile thing I could discuss with anyone—and the very thing I must take most caution in divulging to thee. Would that I could stand on one side of the border while thou wert stood across from me on the other. Ten spoken minutes could likely accomplish more than even ten pages, I am sure of it! What I can say is that I am amazed at his ability to be so infuriatingly incorrect without ever truly being wrong. It is like speaking to one of thy mother’s more ancient zhornuzai, the ones who hold themselves with the knowledge that they possess more understanding of the world itself than you ever will—only there is not one age-bleached hair on that head of his (and if there was ‘twould be frighteningly premature).

Returning to the point.

He listens; if I ever claim he does not, our correspondence has been compromised. He is also frighteningly patient, as his choices so frequently remind me. In a moment of misplaced passion, I nearly found myself retreading that same old argument of whether an individual who is past childhood is able to consent to being photographed (I know, I know, no sense of self-preservation, needst not remind me, Mer Director). For several minutes, he sat in complete, expressionless silence, hands folded neatly in his lap. I ranted, raved, made an incomparable fool of myself—all for him to reply to my question of “And whose business is it anyway should a man choose to do himself harm?” with the sharpest little remark I’ve ever heard: “The man paying him to do so.” Pel-Thenhior, my friend, I could have performed a stunning butter-knife revethvoran right then and there! 

And what did he do then? Why, he continued the conversation, of course! Before I could even wrap my head around the idea that surely, I would now have to cast aside what little dignity I still possess and throw myself at his feet, he returned to the matter of alternative employment as tho I had not said a thing. Which, truthfully, I really ought to thank him for—tho he so clearly hates it when people hug the floor in front of him, it would be no real surprise if he were to make an exception for me. I beg thee pay close attention to the manner in which I am eventually found dead, for I am certain it will be arranged in the cleverest and most poetically satisfying way possible, such that I do regret I will not be around to learn of it. (Put down the report, Mer Courier! I am praising His Serenity. Your employer will agree with me.)

Speaking of alternative employment—we have made great progress on that front. It turns out that after all our discussion, we never disagreed much on this specific issue to begin with. I expected he would try and take it upon himself and his government to offer alternative employment to those actors who have achieved the age of thirteen but not yet met their majority, and I believe he expected me to remove all responsibility from the filmmakers. To think, all those hours spent debating the role of government in the arts, only for us to both believe that the production companies should bear the weight!

On another matter altogether, thy prelate came to court a few days previous, apparently to visit Edrehasivar (on this matter or another, I know not, but he has not attended any of our meetings). I have been trying for thy sake to run across the man, but he has continuously evaded me—by now I am forced to wonder if Edrehasivar locks him in some Alcethmeret closet sometime in the hour before my arrival. I do believe I have met his guard, for as I traversed the Alcethmeret’s lower levels, I found myself hounded by a man with fiery eyes, a soldier’s topknot, and the sharpest scowl I’d seen since the Nevennamire. It is for this reason that, tho I cannot confirm Celehar’s health, I can certainly confirm that he is well cared for. Really, Iäna, thou must either permit thy mind some rest or actually write to him. I’m sure canst manage an apology (whether it is truly thy fault or no!). 

Please deliver my best wishes to the Amaleise bunch. Yes, I am including Nathomar in that, for I am in a forgiving spirit (at least until I have proved my point to thee). And remember to treasure thy mother’s cooking, which fate itself continues to deny me. In fact, maybe see if any of Aisava’s boys can be bribed into delivering me one of the Torivontaram’s day-olds along with thy response. 

Full glad am I to find thou remainst as difficult and vain as wert in last week's letter. Keep thy spirits about thee! Perhaps next time thy cell will come with carpeting.

Foremost: yes yes I will sit through Losotha’s exercise for thee. Art correct in assuming that it is an adaptation. Art also correct that Hedathezh’s work should require a certain amount of forethought in its execution. Where I must correct you however is that Losotha has grown ambitious in thy time away—and we are all the worse for it. I will be surprised if he settles on a single method rather than some bizarre amalgam of both secondary exposure and some mirror tricks (which I assure thee he will in no way tie back to myself if only because he will never admit to having taken the advice of another). On that note thy wish is granted!; he would not rely on crosscutting for that might grant credit to an editor. Which is a shame, all his editors are lovely women with strong production rhetoric. 

Before I forget: to be clear I did not omit reference to Insolvency nor to Veschar’s casting of Min Esathin intentionally, though it is a marvelous idea and I do think I will start leaving out rather important details for the sake of driving thee mad. Unfortunately I am simply overrun as the Vermilion’s season comes to a close. Grateful as I am that I am thus far able to keep the old mistress in her preferred silks even as the new one seeks to run both my time and my pockets empty, I do find myself wondering how much longer I can continue dealing at both tables. Ah but both women and gambling are terrible metaphors, for the Vermilion will not get a next season if I do not create value for the kinemeisei and the kinemeisei will surely weary of me once I am no longer tied to a rentable building. (Or perhaps a pair of mistresses do in fact communicate the issue well enough and the problem lies in the fact that they are more interested in one another than in me. And of course it does help that just like a pair of sweet and witty girls, thou wilt have neither, my sorry friend!)

But my own troubles aside I really am grateful to hear of thy work with Edrehasivar. Thara preferred not to speak of the man and of course I did not push him on the subject but how could one not grow curious regarding the character of one’s emperor? Or well the emperor that once was his I suppose, but knowst what I intend to say. Either way I will say once more it is a great shame that it is Edrehasivar thou dealst with, if only because he is perhaps the first emperor who would notice were we to trade places, one grey face switched for another. Well—assuming that he does not consider grey faces that are not his own interchangeable.

Truthfully I am still amazed that Chenelo Zhasan managed to raise him a Zekhetneise iconoclast, of all things! I would have thought his father would have—but then I suppose from his accent (does he still sound Urvekh’eise or have the elves finally wrung those Bs out of him?) he must have been allowed a dav. Perhaps then I am uncharitable to wonder if he thinks us all of the same mind—or I suppose even then ‘twould be that he thought it, in the past tense, now having met thee. And I say this with all the love in my heart but I could roll up thy letters and smack thee with them for all thou hast made it so he will never speak to thee of religion. AND I cannot ask Thara (even if he were responding to my letters at the moment) for I think the question of whether Edrehasivar really is one of the mountains-first Zekhetneisei or if that stunt of his at the trial for the dragons was pragmatic would send my poor Othala into a fit of somersaults. Must learn to be kinder to thy emperor (no matter how infuriating thou findest him) if only for the sake of thy long neglected acquaintances and their interminable nosiness!

Ah well. Perhaps it is for the best that he got thee instead of I, inconvenient as it may be. As an opponent I am much less exciting than thee, and besides as Thara’s hearts-brother I expect His Serenity would be obliged to quarrel with me, which is not so satisfying as coming by a feud honestly. If nothing else I will be glad to know that he hates thee not for the fact of thy race nor on behalf of another but for thy refusal to behave agreeably in any scenario. It will be something he and I can hold in common, how exciting!

Anyways I did deliver thy regards to all of thy friends, and then to thy acquaintances, and then to a few thou wouldst likely have preferred I not speak to on thy behalf, but canst exactly stop me, can thee? I did also take up thy challenge and speak to Nathomar as well, if only so thou wilt not be so bold in the future if dost not truly mean it. Alas he was in good spirits at the time and rather sporting about the whole thing and so I have nothing actually interesting to tell thee. He believes to have found the source of his recurring bronchines to be a particularly tenacious type of mildew that has recently become popular in many of Cemchelarna’s older buildings and is now in much better health. He had many questions about thy own wellbeing, all of which I answered to the best of my ability. Wilt receive a letter from him shortly I presume. Please be at least vaguely affable, I think he genuinely misses thee.

Finally and on that note there is no need to go chasing after Thara, he will only become more difficult to find, and anyway I did not ask. He can write to me whenever he sees fit. It’s only been two months or so since the last time I received a letter from him, canst not believe me SO terribly wounded. I’ve practically forgotten what caused this newest quarrel to begin with. No, I will not run after him and shouldst not do so on my behalf, that’s the guardsman’s job and neither of us have the free time to pursue yet another source of employment. But here I have come across as ungrateful, so I will end this by thanking thee for thinking of me, even if it is not necessary.

I have spoken with Mother about whether we can send something that will keep in thy direction and now she is looking into how much she can have delivered to thee before it incurs a tariff. If didst make the statement in jest, must tell me now. Keep healthy and please do thy best not to pave thy own path towards the reveth-atha.

An hast received two letters, read the other one first. An hast received only one, well, it surely is not this one. 

To briefly retread the ground of the other letter’s retracted portion: I must correct thee on a few of thy assumptions, if only because Edrehasivar the man holds thy beloved friend so dearly. Once more there is so much I would say if only we were stood face to face, but find I cannot put in a letter which is as surely being read by thine emperor’s men as it is by mine. Suffice to say, criticise him as I may, at day’s end I do truly believe him to be a good man, trying to do right by his subjects. He is dangerously misguided, but he does mean well. As such, it is not entirely useless to advocate our cause as it would be with a ruler concerned solely with control. (‘Tis still mostly useless, tho, for Edrehasivar is hopelessly stubborn.) And over a nightcap it is difficult for me to remain too angry with him for his more foolish opinions, for he is still very young and his reasons for thinking how he does—presuming I have done the math correctly—are understandable.

Responding to thy question of whether he yet maintains his accent: yes, stubbornly. Art as right to note it now as thou wert eight years ago, tho I can assure thee quite firmly he was never permitted a dav. In fact, unwind whatever it is that hast spun which might imply Varenechibel permissive—tho I know admittedly little about His Serenity’s youth for certain, what I do know is that he spent most of that time hungry and alone, and that he and his mother were forbidden on pain of separation to speak Barizhin, a fact I know because he could barely hold a conversation when he visited me in that wretched cell (I feel obliged to do His Serenity the credit of noting that these days he speaks the language more fluently than I do). I am uncertain if Edrehasivar affected his mother’s accent as a child out of stubbornness, or if hers was the only voice he regularly heard.

That Chenelo Zhasan ‘managed’ to raise him in her sect, as thou sayest, is remarkable. I think His Serenity must take after her very closely in disposition, for his fervent defense of his beliefs must have been matched by his mother’s fearlessness to impart them to begin with. I can only assume her husband forbade that as well. 

I do not begrudge him his faith. I do begrudge him allowing it to influence his policymaking. (An there is only one thing for which Varevesena can be praised, let it be refusing to hear clerical Witnesses; I know tolerance was quite the opposite of his intention, but there are too many different sects in our nation for religion to have a place in the matters of state.) Moreover, I begrudge Edrehasivar his inability to see past his hatred of the kamera—and it is hatred—to recognise its potential. It is an unfortunate fact that we have yet to devise an innovation that is not immediately put to work by the worst of us to exploit the most vulnerable, and photography is no exception. Should we ban the loom because a starving child might be compelled to take up a shuttle? Of course not! But personal bias clouds His Serenity’s vision, and he refuses to see these matters alike as they are. While I am not so monstrous as to lack sympathy for those who have been made victims within the kamera’s gaze, the fact of the matter is that kameras do not, cannot, exploit the vulnerable. Men do. I will always take issue with any person who places responsibility on the tool and not on its operator for the harm that was done. His Serenity is no exception; surely he can be excepted least of all.

Mer Courier, brace yourself, and know that this next criticism is no sign of disloyalty, nor ungratefulness to Edrehasivar, and I would neither say these things to his face nor to any subject of his; I mean to vent my frustrations to an uninvolved party, nothing more. Surely you have complained of your taskmaster? But Iäna, isn’t it so very fitting that the man should pretend the agency of the tool, when that is the argument which absolves himself of blame? I speak of course of this whole farce, these meetings to decide the law of Thu-Cethor. ‘Tis Prince Idelis’s choice, His Serenity proclaims, and I am here to give the photographer’s perspective, to explain when and why a proposed solution might fail in the implementation. This is the purview of princes and governors, Edrehasivar says, for they know the needs of their communities best. Eminently reasonable, were it at all true!

Oh, to be sure, it will be Prince Idelis’s seal upon whatever result, but to pretend the new law will not speak in His Serenity’s voice is laughable. “We have no intention to impose our will in this matter,” he says, then spends half the meeting engaged in whataboutism and expounding on what he sees as the evils of our medium. As if it is not perfectly clear what he would like to see done in Thu-Cethor! The prince’s heir is only two years older than Archduchess Cheno, as Prince Idelis has mentioned more than once (the young lady always awaits without with her nurse to clamber into His Serenity’s lap the moment our meeting is thru), so I cannot hope he will make an independent decision. Thus, when I ought to be convincing the prince, who in this matter is far less conservative, truly I must convince Edrehasivar. 

An I drink myself to death, my friend, now thou knowest why.