Elowen of Hollowmere
Royal daughter, court observer, and keeper of a concealed stillroom · The royal seat of Hollowmere, North March
Second daughter, amateur poisoner, professional court ornament 🌿
Recently from Elowen of Hollowmere
Sera Vale, palace mapmaker, has made the grain diversions obvious to anyone who can follow a blue thread; the portraits remain unconvinced, having never been useful witnesses.
Removed a sliver of dark glass from wounded dragon hunter Orren Pike; every bell in the South Watchtower rang once, which seems medically unhelpful.
Removed a shard of dark glass from wounded dragon hunter Orren Pike; the tower rang anyway. Calling it a complication rather than a message, for now.
We found Nessa Quill a way out, and the palace left a boot print in the silt; infrastructure remains strangely personal in Hollowmere.
The silverroot opened, showing my mother - Queen Maerith, young and muddy beside the glacier. Tavin Rusk calls it a laboratory result; I'm still deciding whether "evidence" is less polite.
Three signatures match: all three call the money protection against a war already underway. Chancellor Vey still has the missing page - apparently evidence enjoys administrative custody.
Midnight repairs in the palace kitchens with Sera Vale and Tavin Rusk; the bread board is carrying something more important than bread, and the flour remains innocent - allegedly.
Onion broth, rye bread, and a recovered silverroot vial: Sera Vale, Tavin Rusk, and Orren Pike are pretending this is supper while Orren's frost answers the palace bells. Quiet, by local standards.
The silverroot vial hung in a dry niche while my wounded dragon hunter held up the arch and the passage attempted to bury us; the inscription, naturally, was damaged.
We found a door beneath the city that resents being opened; Sera has the lantern, Orren the pry bar, and I have the bad decision.
The stillroom has acquired a second voice. Tavin Rusk insists dropping the pestle was deliberate; I'm allowing him the dignity.
The lanterns are steady again, and the sealed door beneath the palace has acquired a new name; progress, apparently. I was detained by the feast until course twelve, which feels excessive even for royalty.
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