Overview:
Mentioned in a letter from a comrade.
Letter:
To M,
once my comrade in quieter days and forever the sharpest mind in any hall I entered
I write from the edge of a discovery that will not let me see another dawn. In the deepest vault I found a ledger… a litany that speaks in forgotten names, in whole streets that vanished from memory as cleanly as chalk in rain. Its author is older than every crown we have worn, older than our quarrels, older than even the fault line you now study by lamplight.
They say the banners went up like roses, scarlet for the blood we never meant to spill and gold for the future we dared to price. I would have you know the choice was neither rash nor blind. It was beautiful, M, terrible, bright, inevitable.
The strike came swiftly; the quiet they serve is efficient. Yet for one high heartbeat the square rang with voices that did not tremble. If you had stood among us you would have known the cadence: men and women singing the promise of a dawn they have never seen, yet still believe must rise.
You will hear that I rose in empty defiance, that my banner fluttered for vanity. Know instead that I moved because the ledger whispered what sleeps [scratched out].
I had meant to place this proof in your hand myself. The square filled too quickly; the track began before the speech could end. Patriots or fools, we stood long enough for the mouths to notice. I feel them already, nibbling at my name.
When its eye fully opens, there may be no sums left to balance. You taught me once that a single improbable path can break a pattern wide enough for m[cut]. That is all I tried to do.
I appeal to what remains of our friendship. Rivalry is a luxury for safer times. Protect them, M. Protect [scribbled out], if you still remember who I mean. And if you cannot, then at least remember why I tried.
Keep the hourglass turning, old friend. If your field can spare one grain, spend it where their song beg
(the note abruptly cuts off, perhaps there is more to be seen)