His Legacy – Enlightenment

“We’ve finished clearing the last of Dawnpride’s effects from his office. There was quite a lot of evidence suggesting he’d tampered with the archives during his brief period as an Archivist, and even more prior to attaining the title.” Magistrix Te’Athas tapped her index finger along her lips in thought as her underling continued. “We managed to narrow down most of it, though we cannot assume all the credit… Magist- Mister Dawnpride himself is the one that pieced together the trail of his own misdeeds.” Her eyebrow arched in curiosity and surprise.  “And just how is it that a dead man would pave the path to your success?” She inquired, packing a pipe full of fresh tobacco. “He left a plethora of letters. Most were ramblings, or personal musings but there were several addressed ‘To The Internal Affairs Division’. They go into great detail regarding just when and what he altered, the reasons why, and there were even a few personally directed to you… For your sake and ours, we’ve kept that fact silent, especially given your prior relationship with the former Magister.”

Magistrix Te’Athas allowed herself a sigh as she brought the pipe to her mouth. The contents ignited slowly, giving rise to a thin trail of smoke. “Thank you, Magister Duskborne.” The young man nodded curtly as he presented a sealed file and pressed it against her desk. “This is everything, unless he’s hidden more somewhere else.” Her lips pulled into a smile, despite herself. “The story of the Red Magister doesn’t have an end, it seems. The plot just gets a little thicker.” She waved him off, more interested in the collective writings of the deceased, Anetho Dawnpride, the most controversial man she’d ever met.

To Whom It May Concern,

Thank you for your diligence in picking up my mess. Indeed, for cleaning every corner of our fairest Silvermoon. Your efforts are often unnoticed, and those that are only further the public outcry and bastardize those within our ranks. I am not ignorant of the acts I have committed, and shall yet commit as I pen this letter. At the time of this writing, I am already guilty of high treason and conspiring against the City-State. I have twisted several archives to reflect my own personal whimsies and better facilitate the persona that I’ve assumed. Birth records and names have been altered, as have arrest records and charges therein to better position myself if and when I intend to claim those listed therein. Mine is a justice that is unforgiving and intolerable in the modern, civilized, world. My methods are only as ‘righteous’ and ‘lawful’ as they need be, and only in the light of day. Within the shadows, and those places where the eyes of the Magistrate may not linger I will act as malicious and monstrous as I must.

I blackmailed my way into the ranks of the Magistrate. One that considered me a close friend – now missing and assumed deceased – was involved in an extramarital situation I threatened to disclose. I agreed that if he should manage to sway the council into admitting me into it’s ranks, I would not reveal his secret. Though my youth gave them pause, my intellect struck them. They agreed that I shall be afforded the position of a clerk and that I should fall under Magistrix Te’Athas. The head of the Internal Affairs division, at least, at the time. I strove to please her, and outshine everyone around me; Such efforts did not go unnoticed and before long I was a trusted associate, one afforded sensitive tasks within our Silvermoon and privy to secrets that I dare say could have shattered the stability of Quel’Thalas and it’s relations with the Horde.

I masquerade as a talented Magician; exceptionally so in the Illusionary arts. Though such praise is due only to my practices beneath the sunlit skies. I have touched the Fel in ways even the most demonic and twisted would consider insane and taboo. I do not seek to bend it, break it, or repurpose it. Rather I seek to embrace it. I conduct experiments in the most devious of manners and have committed such atrocities that even Gods may not find the heart to forgive. Many lay dead, but I have yielded the fruit of their demise. I will not defend these actions, for I no longer have need to – the fact that you have this letter means that I am dead. Whether by my own designs or by decree of those my senior, it matters not.

For the convenience of my colleagues, and out of respect, I have kept some copies of the altered documents and for those ‘insignificant’ alterations I’ve made, you can find references within this letter and several more I’ll yet pen. I am a sinner, and like many whom know conflict with themselves, I find some peace in confessing them upon papers with the belief that they’ll only ever surface when I have gone. I hope these better correlate my crimes and dispel suspicions that may run rampant that I had co-conspirators within the Magistrate and abroad. I acted with my own intentions and the only aid I was rendered, or would even be willing to accept, would be that brought in the form of those unwitting.

I am not Anetho Luem’Ray Dawnpride by virtue of family. My name by birth was Asleon Shalenne De’Forte. I was ordained as a priest within the clergy of Lordaeron’s chapels amongst it’s populace. I have no surviving records of birth or those of my parents and their citizenship, though I have found the only extant certificates of my prior station and life. These are enclosed. The name itself is hollow to my ears now, as only the memories linger of a time and persona not rightly mine. Asleon was a good man, one undeserving of his ultimate fate. When the plague befell our lands, and the people gave in to despair he held a glimmer of hope and remained pious. For all his devotion, his was a fate unfair. Twilight’s Hammer absconded with him. They tortured him, broke him, and from the ashes something disgusting was forged. They are the cause of my suffering, and in effect, the suffering of those I shall put to the sword. They stoked the fires of their own demise that evening in the deepest caverns of that most desolate mountain.

As I do not offer them forgiveness, I shall not beg it of those whom bare me ill will.

~Asleon De’Forte~


~ by anethodawnpride on July 2, 2014.

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