Rotten letters - Ser Ald Meylis last will?

Ser Ald Meyli, Lord of the Kinship - merely the year 339

As it was long enough ago in these deep unraveled times of the so called new era, I couldn't take this time managment as real for not being a bosmer or any elf at all. But I was born late enough to be unable to change this. And of course I am an altmer, but not any.

My title is a relict like few words are relicts in the modern word. But these few words were holy and sancrosankt. A part of culture and identity, now lost. I keep the name high for my ancestors, who are to blame. To blame for not able to hold the kinship together under our crown. Silly ones were pitty of the crown and its rules. Rules to forbid and banish all evil sources in believes. Purify and reclaim our goal, just letting us splinter again after the deep ones left for good hundred of years before.

Almost a unite race, we tend like other to be just kins, living aside each other. Time works against us, but nobody shall know this. They know already to much and my words are just here to be a proof of my own foolness if died by proclaim my heritage, bringing at least one kin back.

The forsaken one. The six kins, later so called houses, great houses! As you need at all a house to settle you kin. Your kin is your live. But they tried to defeat destiny itself, calling to one of the hundred demons with a greater name than others. Boeth, the poet. The living lie, the whisperer. The slayer of truth in need of the own truth. I shall put him back to justice, sue him for the purest of crimes: devide us.

We will weaken with every split and they seem to forget this. What curse is that? Just a call to myself? To rewind it, hold closer?

Which should do the best? The caste of warriors, nothing than honor for their new goal? Carving the inner demons with sword, wealding them to defend the lie? They will not surrender. So not will the loyal core, the heart of gold and the footsteps of making way. One to hold the truth, no matter what it is, and one to betray the betray itself if it becomes the truth of the lie. Are hundred years enough to let me fail? I am not the right? What is a knight without purpose? And I had no teaching. I am the last. I am the inked arrow.

Let the spirittasker away. Their reasons are riddles and the shall be forgotten, left to rot in mystery. But the traders of opportunity! With a price comes a change. It is a joke to forge a bound through coin without having any of it? I am the beggar at the wall. My market yells for the urge to do release my epiphany! Call to the roots! Revive the kin, revive the fire in the houses and let them burn to the ground, so any might acknowledge their true home. My hand is fire and my breath is ill, but I will wander till sun turns red a whole year. My will commands love. And love I will bring.

>I have no clue what this letters purpose is, nor what these events and goals are, claimed there. Is it just the scriddle of a crazy man? I asked and no one even heard about such 'knight'. But I was stunned how well preserved the paper was except for some stains. Ad acta - 2E23, Apocrypha of Alinor