From the correspondence archive of The Royal University of Ul'dah, letters received from the governess assigned to the family of Lost Fist and Attractive Sparrow, addressed to Headmistress Shashaci Shaci.

5/17/1560

My Dearest Mentor,

I have safely arrived in the Farreach a bell before dawn, a full two bells ahead of schedule. My legs are blistered from days upon chocoboback, but my excitement at this historic moment makes the pain all but disappear from my mind. To be one of the privileged few to see the ancestral home of my clan, to partake in their culture, and to teach the great-great-grandchildren of Winstan Oxlade himself is an opportunity for which I cannot thank you enough. I will be given a day to recuperate before meeting the children. As much as my body wills me to sleep, my mind races so greatly I doubt I will get but a wink.

With endless gratitude,

White Ginger

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5/18/1560

I awoke at the break of dawn to a dreadful cry; when I questioned Lost Fist about it, he suggested it may haved been the morning call of animal whose name I cannot pronounce, nor relate to you. Whatever its cause, it sent chills down my spine. I hope it not to be an ill omen.

I must remark, there is no sign of Winstan Oxlade's considerable wealth here. The family of Lost Fist lives as Hellsguard, though they have the money to live as kings. The only evidence of their wealth at all is my own presence. You know I did not come cheaply.

I was introduced to the children before first meal. The eldest at thirteen summers, Famous Auroch, shows a poshness about him he could only have learned from his great-great-grandfather, for his father is as brutish as Hellsguard come. The second child, Honorable Ox, is a girl of eleven summers who takes after her father. She has nothing but vitreol for me, and her father did nothing to keep her horrid tongue in line. The youngest, Broad Bull, was amicable enough though as disinterested in the concept of learning as you might expect from a seven-summers-old Hellsguard of traditional heritage. Certainly he would prefer to guard the gates of hell with his father, or whatever it is Master Lost Fist does.

Nevertheless, all three children strike me as incredibly bright, as one would expect from the progeny of Winstan Oxlade, even if five generations removed. Honorable Ox will no doubt be a handful, but I have equally no doubt we can come to an understanding.

P.S. I should add that Broad Bull is technically the second youngest; the youngest child, whose name the family shies from telling me and whom they seem quite discomfortable discussing, will not be under my tutelage. From context I have determined she is likely touched and an idiot. I cannot blame them for their reticence. Such matters seem a source of shame the world over.

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5/25/1560

I was wrong about the children. They are not simply bright, they are phenomenal. Gods-touched. At first I thought they had somehow gained access to my lesson plans, for all their quickness. Then I assumed they must be blessed with some sort of psychic power, because by the second day they answered my questions before I had even finished asking them. Attractive Sparrow claims they merely have determined the pattern of my questioning and can extrapolate my next question from very little context, but I see no such pattern. Honorable Ox treated me as if I was her idiot sister, and she went so far as to spit upon my feet. To say I felt intimidated is an understatement, but I have confidence even these blessed children will find my following lessons challenging. If they think themselves geniuses, I will teach them as geniuses. You were wise to select me for this task; I believe no other graduate of The Royal University would be up to this task.

P.S. The mystery cry which awakened me one week past is now known to me; the touched child, who is apparently not allowed within the family home, shrieks like she is being tortured in the depths of all seven hells. Normally Hellsguard would put down such a defective child. I can only imagine it is their wealth that protects her.

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6/25/1560

I was correct; the children have found I am not so easily cowed. It took me to the very limits of my knowledge, but I have found that if I teach the children as if they were final year university students, even they do not know everything I have to impart. What's more, the rawness of their intellect has become bare to me; they are in need of refinement of their thinking, self-reflection as to how they come to the fantastic, and inevitably correct, conclusions that they do. Up until now they have been surviving on pure talent, as a fish swims or a bird flies. They must learn to know of the water and air they take for granted.

P.S. Winstan Oxlade paid a visit two days past. I would have very much liked to meet the living legend, the paragon of our age that he is, but apparently he speaks to no one but Attractive Sparrow and the idiot child. I admit to feeling envious. The girl is likely not even cognizant of speech, and yet she earns the audience of one whom may be the most gifted man to ever live.

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12/25/1560

I wish you a happy Starlight Celebration, and equally wish my own could be so happy. After six moons the children, even Honorable Ox, respect me. A half-year with this family of geniuses has left me feeling as if I were the most accomplished governess the world over; even the Garleans best pale in comparison to what these children know. So why am I so cross? Because in the coming year, the idiot child is to join my classes. Attractive Sparrow was deaf to reason, and my pleas. Apparently I am to treat her as an equal to the other children, and not adjust my lesson plans in the slightest. How am I to keep up the children's education in the presence of a shrieking banshee? The only gifts I want this Starlight Celebration are earplugs.

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1/2/1561

This was the first day of my tutelage of the idiot child. Until now, I had never met her, only heard her screams from the shed. When I attempted to address her by her birth name, she screeched, the loudest screech I have yet ever heard, fell to the ground and thrashed and bucked, and did not let up for a full bell. Attractive Sparrow would not take her back to the shed. Lost Fist cared nothing but for his drink. After a bell I become so incensed I wrestled the girl to the ground and gagged her. They allowed me. From now on, I will only address the child by the nickname given to her by her great-great-grandfather: Caya.

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2/5/1561

I have reached an understanding with the family: Caya is to be bound and gagged if she is to be within my classroom. I cannot teach through her screaming; there is always something that sets her off. It is far from ideal, and terribly cruel, but it is the only way I can cope with her family's insistence that she be a part, if only in presence, of lessons. I must needs learn to ignore the smell of soiled breeches.

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6/5/1561

Incredibly, the arrangement is working. Every moon, Caya's screaming has become more infrequent, as has her terrible thrashing against the restraints. Yesterday I allowed her to be present without her gag, and to my absolute astonishment, she participated in the lesson! The other children are not in the habit of stating the intermediate arithmetical steps in their calculations as they find it too trivial. Caya filled in one such gap. It was a simple thing, merely multiplying a pair of two digit numbers, but until then I had never heard the child utter a single word. I thought her incapable of counting let alone multiplication. Perhaps I have misjudged her.

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12/25/1561

Once again I wish you a happy Starlight Celebration, and once again I regret to say mine has not been so merry. Caya has grown more communicative by leaps and bounds, but that newfound communication has given way to a stubbornness that reminds me of Honorable Ox, and a deep hatred in her eyes. I do not blame her; She was bound, gagged, and made to sit in her own excrement. That I never wished for her to experience such things, that it was the only way to accommodate the demands of her mother and great-great-grandfather, means nothing to her. I blame myself as well. Now knowing there was a light within that head, and yet I treated her suchly...I am ill with guilt.

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1/2/1562

It was not guilt which made me ill. She is poisoning my food, I'm certain of it. The family does not believe me, but I know. I will prepare my own food from now on.

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1/7/1562

Welts have appeared across my body. Lost Fist says it is likely an allergic reaction to my new diet. It isn't. I see the way Caya looks at me. Somehow, she's responsible. I don't know how the darkness in those eyes escaped me for so long. I've never feared a child before. I should have sooner.

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1/12/1562

I indeed misjudged Caya. She is no idiot child, she is a demon.

I took the children on a field trip to see a lava flow today, to learn about the finer points of volcanic geology. Near the flow, a sudden report startled me. I turned to look, and when I turned back a loose rock twisted my ankle and almost sent me tumbling into the lava myself. The rock fell, but I saw it before it disappered. It was shale. It had no business near a volcano. It was Caya, I'm sure of it. The report, the rock, I would not be surprised if she was responsible for the damned volcano itself. The other children saw her put the rock under my foot, I can see it in their eyes. They all claim it was an accident. Do they fear her, too?

They carried me back to the village not an hour ago. My ankle is as a ripe faerie apple. I am penning my letter of resignation to Lost Fist and plan to give it to him this eve. I will not be aparty to this any longer.

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1/15/1562

Headmistress Shaci,

We regret to inform you that your colleague, White Ginger, has been killed in an accident on her return to Ul'dah. The investigation is ongoing, but preliminary analysis suggests the black chocobo which bore her suffered a fatal heart attack while crossing a deep ravine. Such ailments are known to strike chocobos at times, but usually with no more for the rider to fall but a few fulms. You have our sincerest condolences. Enclosed you will find a full refund for the journey.

With Sympathy,

Spineless Basin Chocobo Services