Today is 2-4-165; in case you forgot, that means that it’s the second day of the fourth week of year 165 of the Era of Hope. We’ve received no word from House Valia, which is only natural as our audience was yesterday. Time stretches out while I wait, excruciatingly so, and so I distract myself by making a study of time.

  Panzeans divide history into five eras of irregular length, seemingly delimited by major events or societal changes. Remember that the Panzean year is 100 days long, so by our reckoning it has only been around 50 years or so since the current era began.

  First came the Era of the Gods. This is the time during which their gods walked the land. (We would call them “ancestors,” of course, but the Panzeans don’t hold that view.) In the absence of Truthbinding magic, everything known about this era is derived from oral histories, so nobody is certain how long this era lasted or precisely what order events occurred in. The general consensus is that it lasted for centuries; it is heavily implied that the gods, too, lived for centuries, and with the death of the last living god, this era came to an end.

  Second came the Era of Tribes. During this time, the Panzeans spread out and founded the first cities along the habitable western edge of the continent. This era lasted for a staggering 2,834 years (some 800 Guntao years). During the last few centuries of the era, the Great Houses began to consolidate power through diplomacy and war.

  Third came the Era of Empires. House Arix controlled the north while House Jedin controlled the south. House Valia, meanwhile, kept to itself, content with the island of Valhold. I have mentioned in passing the two dominant cultures of Gradstaal and Lecosia in previous entries; my understanding is that these cultures originated from these two early empires.

  In the year 930 of that era (“930 EE” or, more colloquially, “930 Empires”), the reigning emperor of Arix grew discontent with his half of the world and marched on Lecosia. Empress Jedin intercepted him personally and, after a long conversation, they mutually agreed to disband both of their empires and hand power back to the individual cities. I feel there is some element to this story that I am missing, but no matter how many times it is explained to me, it still makes little sense. I have never known a lord, let alone an emperor, to walk away from power so easily.

  Fourth came the Era of Kingdoms. For the first few hundred years, there were minor wars and famines as society broke down into independent city-states. Eventually, things stabilized and there was something of a population boom. As the population grew, the first Heartless appeared. Then, as the Heartless began to make up a larger and larger portion of society, civil unrest increased. In the year 749 KE, war broke out. That war—the War of the Heartless—marked the end of the Era of Kingdoms.

  That brings us to the current era, the Era of Hope (though I’ve heard Olrick cheekily call it the Era of the Heartless). Assuming this history is accurate, and not counting the Era of the Gods, Panzean society has existed for over 1,300 Guntao years. It’s a funny thing to consider. How uncivilized I find their manners, how primitive their customs, and yet their society is at least three centuries older than ours. I wonder what Guntao will look like in 300 years. As our population grows, will our magic also spread thin, like Panzea’s did? Will we begin to see Heartless of our own?

  I apologize if this history lesson was unwelcome. This writing was more for my sake than yours, perhaps. A bit of light scholarly analysis always helps to cheer me up.

  ***

  “The audience! You must tell me about the audience.” There was a certain spark of avarice in Jacque’s eyes, as though he could somehow glean some of the sparkle of celebrity by hearing my account. “You met the Lord Valia face to face, no?”

  But as excited as he was, leaning in towards me from across the table of Nadine’s library, I certainly didn’t wish to relive yesterday’s events. Nadine had left first thing in the morning to see if any of her peers had heard news, but the results were a foregone conclusion—the suspicion, the aggression, the disgust with which the Lord Governor and Lady Valia regarded us…

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  But it also served little purpose to conceal the truth. At least, not in this matter. “It did not go well,” I told him.

  He listened in rapt attention as I described the whole sordid affair. The grandiosity of the palace, the lord’s vapid commentary, the lady’s biting interrogation… I had perhaps hoped for a sympathetic ear and a comforting word, but Jacque found it all endlessly amusing.

  “One giant pill?” Jacque stammered between bouts of raucous laughter. “He truly asked that?”

  My cheeks burned red hot. This entire debacle was shameful, not funny. “His previous doctor perhaps scolded him for forgetting to drink his medicine. Nadine tried to explain that it is not possible for a single pill to hold the medicine for an entire year. He did not have an appearance of understanding.”

  “This man is in charge of the city, and he…” Jacque trailed off as though seized by a troubling thought.

  “Maybe it is his mother who makes the decisions, or maybe it is that he has…advice-giving people,” I said lightly.

  “[Advisers].”

  “Advisers,” I repeated. “Such a situation is not uncommon, is it not?”

  “Perhaps.” Jacque rested his head in his hand and stared past me. “But still, is it so wrong to want to live someplace with a sensible ruler?” He sighed. “I could move to Aldhill. It is mostly civilized, at least by Gradstaal standards. There is the academy there, and not so many cat people…”

  He continued in this fashion for some time—longer than the joke warranted, in my opinion. It was evident that he had no intention of moving, or else he lacked the means. Still, I suppose it did lighten the mood somewhat to jest about the many cultural shortcomings of the Gradstaal people, which apparently included their love of cats.

  I am afraid that we did not accomplish much in the way of actual study today, alas.

  ***

  I suppose I ought to leave the entry here for today. I’ve nothing new to report, really. I should return to my studies, but I can’t quite rouse any enthusiasm for it just now.

  Would it be indulgent of me to look back to another time? Would you join me in remembering a day from before?

  We had just married the previous season. It was the height of summer, wasn’t it? We had set sail to the east, far from the sibling suns, to the fiefdom of Zhushan. That far out, even with big-brother sun at its fullest, the climate was pleasantly autumnal.

  I have one memory of that time that is so crisp, I can still feel the bite of the morning air on my cheek when I close my eyes. We were standing on the deck of the ship, looking out at the snow-capped mountain on the horizon. The captain had warned us that it would be cold, but, capricious youths that we were, we didn’t believe him. You lent me your cloak and swore to me that you were fine, but when our arms brushed against each other, I could feel you shiver.

  Fortunately, one of Lord Shun’s retainers had heavy fur coats waiting for us when we made landfall. The ship’s ghost had made arrangements with the lord’s chief of spirits before we arrived, and they had been forewarned of our foolishness. You looked disappointed when I returned your cloak, as though you wanted to be the one to personally shield me from the cold.

  They say it takes a burning heart to carve a life from the ice of Zhushan. I cannot speak to their hearts, but it’s certainly true of their hearths. Viewed from the outside, Lord Shun’s fortress was just like any other, but once we stepped inside, we felt the sweltering heat of summer. So this is where they’d kept it! The thought made me laugh, and I promised to tell you what was so funny later.

  I never did, did I? It’s good I’m writing this down, then. I’d hate to break a promise to you, my love.

  We were conducted to the reception hall, where we offered our formal greetings. Lord Shun could not have been any more different from Governor Valia. His was a sharp gaze to Valia’s vacant stare, a poised back to Valia’s slumped shoulders. And while Valia is a giant even by Guntao standards, Shun bristled with the strength of a man who fought his own battles.

  He reminded me more of Valia’s mother, now that I think of it.

  “It is good at last to meet my honored friend in person, Scholar Hei.” His voice was measured, firm. The model of a great leader. In a way, it’s a shame that he was relegated to rule a small island on the edge of the world, but I suppose he would never have supported our expedition if he’d held a more central domain.

  The two of you spoke for hours that day, even sharing your noontime and evening meals. It was all terribly unbelievable to me, if you would like to know the truth. Our hypothesis was so singularly mad. Our designs were experimental—no, they were the sort of fevered dreams that live beyond the cutting edge of experiment. But together, somehow, we had composed the letters that convinced Lord Shun to hear us out, and there you were, winning him over minute by minute. From an impossible beginning, we were doing everything right.

  How backwards must this world be, then? I revived long-dead spells and performed actual miracles, but when faced with the opportunity, everything has gone so completely wrong.

  I shall write to you again tomorrow, love. Perhaps we shall revisit some happier memories. I could use the good cheer, as there is no hope that House Valia will accept us now.