Journals of a Fleet Admiral

Her Ladyship had odd staffing habits. She did not employ a single Violet, ANYWHERE in any of her enterprises, which were very many. Now, only having a small handful, that's to be expected, to avoid a usurpation of power. But none? Highly unusual. I can only speculate why, and nothing that comes to mind is convincing.

Tch. What does Old Man Moebey know anyway. An old washup who has lost all passion for his post. Well not me. I'm not going to end up like him. Sad excuse for a sea dweller.

I went to the Head Archive Master to bring up some of the discrepancies I have noticed lately. He's an old bastard, to be honest. A very old Violet, apparently used to have a title that he was stripped of. Old man Moebey we call him now. I told him I had found something unusual in the archives for her ladyship. The tone I am used to hearing from him is a sort of "What can I say to get this annoying young brat out of my office so I can go back to smoking". But when I brought up the subject I had sought him out for, he quickly got very angry. I have never seen him angry. He told me to stop thinking about stupid questions to things that don't matter, and that they didn't pay me to pour over ancient receipts and pay stubs of some ancient dead witch of a woman. When I told him that they literally did pay me for that, he told me to "shut up and go back to moping at my dead-end job like the rest of us, and get the hell out of my office". I didn't think it was a dead-end job...

I can't tear my bulbs away from the parchment. There's something HERE in this archive that I don't even know that I'm not understanding. But I have been awake for 42 hours and I'm worried my pan will start making connections where there are none. I suppose poring over stacks of merchant receipt documents for a secret code or whatever will have to wait until tomorrow.

I've been looking over the battle records of the late Admiral over the course of her career, and mapping them out, as well as sorting them by success. There's something peculiar, though. The Admiral had, from very early on, impeccable success for battles she attended. She had the most well oiled crews on all the seas when she was there to give the commands. But as her territory expanded, and the need increased to spread out her forces, her success stumbled. Crews without their Admiral simply didn't perform as well, and though she was a brilliant field leader, high minded strategy was something she performed well enough, but did not exceed in. But then, there's an abrupt change. Battles start going her way even when she is not present. Not just success, humiliating, CRUSHING defeats began to be doled out en mass. Strategies no one had ever even thought of, or dared to attempt, effortlessly sweeping away the enemy. Largely, this was against dissident lowblood rebel factions. The reprisal brought upon them was swift, bloody, and without mercy. It bothers me though. What prompted the change? A sudden strategic epiphany? I would love to believe so, for so great was her talent, but something about it just doesn't feel right. Puzzling.

A note on the stylings of the great Admiral's hair: One thing that has survived the archives into relative public memory is the Admiral's striking presentation. While the woman was known especially for her often revealing- yet not TOO revealing dresses and other fine apparel, that has been discussed to death (and in some long since penalized circles, turned to SLANDER). What is not often mentioned is her elaborate hair styling. The woman had a great deal of long, beautiful hair, and at many times, she wore it down, allowing it to flow and fill our her silhouette, as if evoking a great siren of the sea looking down upon you from above in the water, backed by the moonlight. But there were also times she would wear it up. And often, it was kept in place not by traditional hairpins, but strange fixings reminiscent of *fish hooks.* Barbed, and painful looking. What does this say about the woman? Such fixings would not be manageable on her own, they would require the help of a servant to put them in place safely, lest they tear at her hair or injure her scalp or prongs. And yet, working with them as a servant would also mean endangering yourself greatly. Hook yourself, you could give yourself a nasty wound, or worse, spill your blood in her hair. A death sentence, stamped in your own lifes essence. Even worse than that, you may injure her, tug on her hair, even draw her blood. Such would earn you far worse than a culling. This paints an elaborate picture of the lady and her Handmaidens. A very strict expectation of precision, perfection, obedience. One slip up, and the servant dies. And yet, absolute faith, to allow them to put her in such a vulnerable position, with capacity to harm her both intentionally OR by accident. She did not even consider it worth THINKING that they would not perform their work without flaw. But she knew it sent a message, of the quality of her servants to all her peers in the Violet naval and noble community. To have servants, armed nightly with the tools and means to mangle and maim you, and to emerge unscathed by them each and every time. To make this very clear, both at the time AND in the modern day, that is simply something Violets do not do without much more significant precautions. Servants allowed that near to a noble in such a position are often watched at the end of a barrel. Not her handmaidens. They seem to have had freedom in the hivehold second only to the Admiral herself. And even the higherblooded servants, the Indigo scribes and document managers, harbored fear of them. The mystery drives me mad. Who were they? Why were they trusted so deeply, where did they go upon her death? And were they responsible for her assassination?

But why would a beast need tutors, rather than trainers...

A lot of caegars were being spent on training hounds. Or... hound?? Singular???? Maybe they caught a really big one to guard the manor, akin to the great myths of the beast of the underworld.

There is only one portrait featuring the four handmaidens alone. It's... somewhat unnerving. Expressionless. Sharp gazes. It's like they can see you, across time and space through the paint and canvas.

One of the great mysteries I keep returning to is her Handmaidens. The Admiral employed four women to do much personal work. From occasionally doing her hair, to cleaning her quarters and ONLY her quarters, preparing her attire on important formal affairs, and other such things, anything that would require a troll to be in very, very close proximity and have access to her in a vulnerable state, these four women did. Stranger, in contrast with her ENTIRE staff, whom all had thorough documentation, these four women have only their names. I won't list them, for they seem to have had no historical relevance outside of their service to her. No history, no age, no personality descriptors on an individual level, and most of all - no caste. Who were these women? And what happened to them after the Night of Storms? There is no saying. They simply... vanished from history after that night. Curious. And perhaps suspicious.

I have spent who KNOWS how long looking through minor house documents and receipts for such items as... paper and ink, for MORE receipts, presumably. Staff pay stubs. Work schedules. You know what I haven't found? ANY KIND OF DETAILED JOURNALS OR DIARIES FROM THE STAFF. Sure, there ARE journals. But all the staff have to say is "Work was difficult today. I was on shift with Rellik, whom I cannot stand." and whatnot. Next to zero mention of their master, OR any happenings of import within the hivehold. Many of these trolls worked under her for sweeps. How did NONE of them write anything worth reading???

What really puzzles me is why I am the first person in centuries to read through ANY of this archive. Sure, it's disorderly, decrepit, and rather laborious to sort through, but this was one of the great heroes of the early Alternian Empire! Other major figures of the time are remembered as mythic figures, and have MUSEUMS! Why doesn't she? Such a strange career I have chosen.

"CARGO PURCHASE MANIFEST FOR ONE [Unintelligible], RIGHTFUL REGENT BY CONQUEST OF THE GREATER EAST ALTERNIAN REGION AND DEPENDENT VASSALS ASSORTED STEEL CONSTRUCTION MATERIALS, 5,000,000 CAEGARS METAL PLATE STAMPING MACHINERY, 300,000 CAEGARS PROCESSED RARE METALS, 200,000 CAEGARS SUB-MARINE PRESSURE TESTING APPARATI, 30,000 CAEGARS OTHER FOUNDRY TOOLS - 10,000 CAEGARS" This is believed to be rather late in the timeline, perhaps less than a sweep prior to her untimely assassination. What was she building? Nothing was ever found. No construction sites were discovered on land or sea, and the dawn of the age of Steel Vessels was still about 30=40 sweeps away. I'm not sure what to make of it.

I only hope one day the Empress sees my work for the VALUABLE educational material it is, exemplifying the IDEAL seadwellers of a better age. And also that I'm nothing like the Nookleheaded Bulgengrossed LAYABOUTS I am surrounded by on a nightly basis. #NSFW AGAIN I GUESS.

So many problems with Violets nowadays. Naval impotence, sex-addled minds, obsession with nonsense personal ambitions that are counter to the well-being of the Empire. ESPECIALLY on this website. You people should all be ashamed of yourselves. Violets of yestersweep used to STAND for something. Passion, Cunning, Wit, Ambition. Oh how I wish I could live in the golden age of naval intrigue, with the true Greats of our caste, rather than with the refuse of tonight. #NSFW mention, but it's YOUR FAULT that I had to bring it up.

"Eighteenth Night of the Third Perigee, of the Sweep [Unintelligible] Ugh. Captain Surefin of the Darkened Depths? Terrible ship name by the way. This dullard comes to MY manor and spends three entire nights trying to impress me, win my pusher, establish 'diplomatic relations'. Brought his expensive wine and champagne from abroad, INSISTED I try it, 'cultural exchange between elevated minds' my chute. He hoped I would take to it, get drunk. Probably hoped to win his way to my private chambers. No such luck for the man, I'm afraid. The wine was good though. I decided to keep what he brought in my cellar. The man is swine. Every diatribe about his many naval accomplishments, how our fleets together would SURELY be complimentary, it all sent a shiver up my posture pole and made me went to have him gutted within my drawing room. But I played nice, as is my talent. Told him his ships were beautiful, larger than I had seen from any other hailing from his region, made a few implications about whether the sails matched the hull. Suckered him into a trade agreement that benefited me far more than it did him. I'll have to put up with the bastard for a while to keep up appearances, but eventually I'll drain his intelligence, what little there is, dry, and usurp his resources from under him. If I am lucky, I will not find need to invite him to my chambers to keep him upon my hook. The time will come where his use is spent, and then the man will be thrown to the wolves, far from both his and my port, and no one will know what he did to earn a blade in his neck, nor who specifically desired it so. Well. Perhaps the former will be less a mystery than the latter. Ha ha. Ruminating on that future gossip brings a desire for drink upon my tongue. I believe I will have wine." ~Journal entry, precise date Unknown

"Her forces have pulled back, and she has stopped raiding our supply ships. Everything has become so peaceful. The others are rejoicing. 'The wretch has been cowed! She harries us no more!" Or "Perhaps she has had a change of heart, and seeks to allow us a foothold on this coast." I am not so foolish. Why would the Royal Navy's most dogged hounder of rebels and insurgents suddenly leave us be to build our forces? Something is wrong. Very wrong. She has designs for us that we have yet to understand, and I fear it will be too late when we finally do. I wish I could say a storm is brewing, for that at least I could prepare for. Instead, the air is quiet, the waves are still. I do not know what comes for us, or when. But it comes." ~Excerpt from a heavily damaged log, recovered from the ruined rebel stronghold of Thrillwater Bay after it's storming. Author unknown.

Sometimes when my thoughts are adrift, I wonder if some night, some troll will do for me what I am doing for her. Sifting through the ashes and pages, reconstructing the story. Then I realize that is ridiculous. She was one of the most influential Fleet Lords to ever break the waves. I am an archivist. A pencil pusher. Ah well. It is worthy work.

"She says she accepts my love undying and my devotion true. All I need do, to prove myself true, is perform one last voyage with her valuable cargo, to be sold to a location I have never heard of till now, but She gave me instructions so clear. Her voice was like honey, her words like wine, and I just know she loves me too. She will take me, and I will join her in her cause, the right hand to her arms that span oceans. One more voyage, and she is mine." ~Except from the journal of an Indigo sailor Captain and merchant, who perished weeks later in the harbor of a suspected seditious coastline settlement, from an explosion originating in the vessels cargo hold.

What I wish I could find in all these records is what her GOAL was. She writes of her ambitions, she made great plans for... some far off future. She constructed fleets, her talons were on half the supply lines of the world's oceans. What was it all for? She never says. Perhaps she never told anyone.