Besides my love and devotion to you, my ruminations this voyage have lingered on the conversation I had with Miss Sasamu Samu during her visit to the capital a few suns past. She came with my chief rival for your affections (if I may beg your pardon for referring to him so,) the mammet she calls Zero. She educated me on the topic of mammet intelligence, laying before me both her suspicions that Zero might be evolving to some level of consciousness and the concerns that she and the Bellworks engineers have about the possibility, namely that if a mammet should develop to a Spoken level of understanding, it would no longer be ethical to continue using it for the unending, sometimes dangerous labor for which it was designed. In the course of our discussion, though, we considered if it is not the duty of the mammeteer to, instead of preventing it from becoming intelligent, encourage and shepherd it carefully, guiding its development and protecting it from abuse by the unscrupulous, as a parent raises and educates a child. For all we know the minerals that are refined to create a mammet’s heart -- a process that is apparently poorly understood even by those goldsmiths who specialize in the field -- were given their mysterious properties by the gods, and mayhap it has ever been the Builder’s intention that His disciples extract it from the earth and install it in bodies that can move, perceive, and learn. Though that be only speculation, if it approaches the truth, then Miss Sasamu must be prepared, as young Zero approaches closer and closer to Spoken cognition, to be its prudent and compassionate mother. 

Meanwhile, in the course of arranging an introduction between her and the family of a certain friend of mine, I happened across a rumor that certain indiscreet carryings-on of said friend are soon like to bear the fruit they always do, an inevitability we all should have expected and would have, had the two of them been of a less advanced age. I cannot write much more on the subject till I have verified the truth of the rumors, and would rather tell you in person besides; for now I shall only confess the ambiguity of my feelings, for while I am heartily disappointed in my friend for persisting so long in indecency, and plan to admonish him to make his conduct honorable as soon as possible -- I feel, too, a pang of fellow-feeling, joy at their autumn blessing mixed with a greater part of fear for that blessing's future, born to the same sort of heritage that you and I know is not easily accepted by our society -- and then I am aggravated again and wonder how much thought my friend has given his children born and unborn, how his actions will reflect on them and shape the rest of their lives. 

It seems a great number of us must bear such responsibilities in the coming moons. 

I have not yet written to our landlord 

Helenne tells me the last furnishings she ordered for the new rooms downstairs have arrived; all the quarters need now are the maids to live in them. Some time in the next fortnight we ought to dine together with Helenne and make our choice of house-maid from the candidates; as for the nurse, my friend Father Michandel has offered the services of one of House Pepin's most experienced, if after we both speak with her she meets with our approval. I defer, as always, to my mistress's preference, as her happiness and ease of heart is dearer to me than mine own.

To those ends I beg you also to inform me if you would like me to bring back aught at all for you while on one of my errands in the south. I had thought to come home bearing a bouquet of fresh-fallen leaves, all a-flame with the scarlet and gold of the season, but if my recollection is correct, Language and Sentiment ascribes to those the meaning of "sorrow and melancholy" -- emotions that I fear I barely remember. 

No more from me at this time but a thousand worshipful kisses and the prayer that Halone shall allow me to serve you, midons, in bliss and adoration for all the rest of my suns. 

Written between Ishgard and Gridania on this, the fifteenth sun of the Fifth Astral Moon of the eleventh year of the Seventh Umbral Era. 

By your R.L. 

There remains some slim chance my lameness will abate in the future, but as we approach the fourth moon since my collapse, it seems to me perfectly prudent to discuss the disposal of the property that was once mine, for even if I am not quite so ill as to require confinement to some nursing-home, its size and vertical layout are no longer very suited to me. And so, while I have no means to compel you aside from the promise I extracted many moons ago, I would be heartened to learn that you had begun proceedings to transfer its ownership, as we earlier agreed. 

I must of course strenuously advise you to stay at your father's side until he is strong and hale, but if an improvement in his health allows you to return briefly to Ishgard, I would very much prefer to discuss the details of this, as well as other sensitive affairs of mine, in person, but pray do not feel yourself pressed, for the Lord de Saincourant seems to have realized he shall make no progress on that front and has moved on to obstruct some different affairs. 

No more at this time, but Halone have you and all yours in Her keeping. And I pray that after you have read this letter you will burn it, so my heart may be easy. 

Written this 25th Sun of the Second Umbral Moon of the tenth year of the Seventh Umbral Era. 

Yours faithfully, Rosaire Ledigne

Not that it stopped the cold. Nor did it stop Lord Integris from climbing up to his little observatory floor of the library tower. She followed him up and watched as he opened the viewing window. He took out a tool that reminded her a lot of a protractor. A really odd protractor that he held up to some markings on the window.

After a moment, he put the tool down and flipped open a log that was sitting on the desk there. He wrote down some numbers and nodded. "There."

Norhi scooted closer. "So… what's all this?"

Integris winked at Norhi and then pointed at the moon, visible through the window in it's crescent glory. "I was measuring the moon. Her place the sky, the stars closest to her, the width of her penumbra, and so on."

Norhi nodded slowly and then asked, "Okay. So… What do you do with all that?"

Integris picked up the log and started flipping the pages back, so Norhi could see the decades of numbers written down. "Historical recording, for future references. The moon figures into our readings of the sky for not only star charts and navigation, but also our attempts to understand aether patterns and predict what may yet come. Making these recordings every night means that when major events happen, we can look back at these numbers and compare with the various charts and readings we have. It allows us a better understanding of our world as a whole."

Norhi gently took the book into her own hands and flipped through the pages. "This is a lot of numbers. You used to measure Dalamud too."

Integris slipped his hands into his pockets and smiled grimly. "We did. And… to an extent we sort of still do."

Norhi gave Integris a confused look then. "How do you measure what's not there anymore?"

Integris pointed at the window, to a space near Menphina, but between some stars. "The pattern of the stars, that surrounded our view of Dalamud did not shift significantly, when the red moon fell. And so, we're able to see to about where we believe Dalamud would be, if it still flew today. We don't measure it for its presence anymore, but rather for its absence, as reflected by what we call the Nocturnal Sect."

Norhi hummed skeptically, leaning closer to the window and squinting at the space. "Well… alright then. So what do the stars say tonight?"

Integris looked back out the cold glass and stared at the stars for a long, silent moment. And just when Norhi thought he wouldn't answer, he took his glasses off and pulled out a kerchief to clean them. "Tonight… the stars appear to speak of change coming. The new year and Starlight holidays, I would guess. But without shifting the window to see the rest of the sky, I can't say for certain. Suffice it to say, I believe change, is better than stagnation."

Norhi tugged her coat more closely around herself. "A pity it didn't tell us it'd warm up."