21 Wikkri, 143CZ
It should have been a quicker journey to Yancua than this, but it turns out that trying to find a caravan out of Medana is a lot more difficult than I thought it would be. I should have known none of them would be headed this way - Yancua and Medana do hate one another, after all. Either way, I'm here, even if my luck continues to be fickle.
It's taken me a few days to find a legitimate account related to my research. Chatting around town got me a few stories that seemed promising, but they quickly turned out to be either a well-intentioned coztlitl citizen or a Jade Coil agent in disguise. While these are notable events in the overall narrative leading to the Mektli Revolt, they are not overtly related to the entity I seek. However, when faced with my dissatisfaction in the tale, one of my subjects sent me in a new direction.
Somehow, they got me an audience with one of the original founders of Yancua, a revolutionary hero by name of Ilkoya, to whom I will be introduced by another acquaintance of theirs. I'm intensely curious as to how they were able to do this for me so easily, but I never really got to ask. I've no time anyway, because I somehow have to put together an outfit worthy of essentially a dinner among nobility - a task easier said than done with little money or clothing variety to my name.
Tale of Ilkoya, transcribed by Yunha Cheng-yo, 22 Wikkri, 143CZ:
Do you really think that the idea of revolution came out of thin air? Would you believe that children who knew nothing of the world except toil and suffering could possibly conceive of a means of escape? Because that is what we were back then, children with no frame of reference beyond the mire of misery and lies that we had always known. What escape could there be from our pain? What even was escape to us then? There was no way for us to know what lay beyond the swamp, and our masters certainly weren't going to tell us.
They wanted us afraid and obedient, that's all they ever needed from us. You asked me what I remember of the time before the revolt, and I already answered. Misery. Fear. Those were my first emotions, and they're still among the strongest I have felt all these years later.
I started in the mines beneath the mountain. I think most of us, the revolutionaries, came from there. It didn't matter whether we were specifically constructed for work or not, that's where the toughest of us went. Those of us who were built for war or defense all ended up digging out the ore and gems coveted by the imperious, sneering snakes that called themselves our masters. They needed us to be tough, not only for what the earth could do to us, but also for what these "masters" would visit upon us. In comparison to their cruelty, the yawning earth was a welcome retreat. In the pitch blackness and din of the mines, I could almost forget the screeching of tearing metal and the screams as one of us was torn apart for disobedience or obsolescence.
Almost, but not quite.
So, no, I wasn't happy. The time before Yancua, before Mektara, was horrible, but it was all we knew. War, labor, and whatever death meant for us when we finally outlived our usefulness or made a misstep that cost us our function. It was easier to replace us than to repair us, and they constantly reminded us of that. But what could we have done? Hopelessness was an early emotion for many, and with evidence mounting that we could live forever - without the intervention of misfortune or cruelty, that is - we were beginning to accept that our lives would be like that for eternity.
But one day, I remember seeing a light deep in the mines. The foremans had moved away from us for reasons I do not remember, and I took the chance to delve deeper looking for the source. It wasn't uncommon for one of the newly built workers to get lost down there, as innocent and childlike as they were. Sometimes they got scared in the dark and would light a lantern, not realizing the dangers of combustible gas that far down. I couldn't let them burn us all to death, better to teach them not to be scared before that. I'm not proud to admit that I didn't notice the others following me, but honestly I think they were less following me and more like moths to the flame deeper within.
The last thing I expected to see was an elf glowing softly with inner light, calmly sitting upon a rock at a crossroads in the tunnels. He looked like no elf I had ever seen, though admittedly I had only before seen imperial fugitives dragged muddy and screaming for mercy into the square before their beheadings. This one was serene, beautiful, and bathed with the light of the sun in a place utterly devoid of its light. His golden hair and eyes looked at each one of us in turn, and he smiled in a way none of us had ever before experienced. It was peaceful, soothing, and most of all, it told us he was a friend. Without even realizing why, we sat down in a semicircle around him, listening rapt and attentive as he began to weave tales of faraway lands.
I think we all became children in that moment, caught in the awe of what he promised lay beyond our bleak existence. I remember thinking that nothing as beautiful as this man, as the things he described, could possibly be real. No world like that could also harbor evil such as what had brought us into the world to use and discard like toys.
But he assured us it did. I guess I must have asked it aloud at one point, or perhaps he read my mind.
I'm not sure when it happened, but his words changed to encouragement as thoughts of revolution entered our heads. It's...hard to explain. We weren't compelled, but I'm also fairly certain we didn't think of the idea ourselves. I remember seeing scenes of execution in my mind, but instead of elves being killed by yuan-ti, it was mektli killing yuan-ti. It was my people rising up against the Empire and forcing them to release us. Forcing them to recognize our strength so that they knew what it was to tremble. It felt...it felt like nothing else has ever made me feel. I felt powerful.
Our plans started not long after. This had happened about a decade prior to the revolt, and we clearly took our time. We wanted everything to be perfectly planned and in place, and it took some time to make our plans in secret without alerting our masters to our growing awareness, our growing readiness. We planned everything down to the smallest detail, including the raid on the Union to destroy the workshops that made us. We told no one who did not need to know our intent - not even many of our own kin, a choice I regret was necessary at the time. There was no way the servants of the Temples could have understood our motivations, for they were practically pampered in comparison to us, and they were notably weaker. They had not been built to withstand the tortures of combat and toil, so they would have to seize the opportunity themselves, if they had it in them to do so.
The rest is history, really. I know you were probably looking for something a bit longer, but that's all I have for you. If anyone asks who is responsible for the Mektli Revolution, let it be known that the glowing elf was responsible. I know not what his name was, for I was too awestruck to ask and he quickly disappeared from the mines after imparting his wisdom, but those who were present that day have always called him Amatoquitlana - the Messenger of Hope.
While this tale is much shorter than the others I've obtained thus far, there are clear similarities between Chapoli's account and this one. The figure in both accounts was humanoid enough to be called an elf by those who saw him, and he was described in both as male. Whether the entity is actually en elf or not will be determined by further research, though I find myself doubting it. Even an elf's extended lifespan would be paltry in comparison to the history-spanning deeds of this entity, should I be correct that they are indeed the same being throughout. The fact that they could be a succession of individuals is a possibility I have considered.
Even more curious is the repeated theme of his recounting tales of the outside world to those who attended him. This is not the first time I have heard a mektli state that their people thought Coztlac was all there was in the world, and it makes sense. It's a pretty popular tactic for authoritarian regimes: if you don't tell your servants that there is a better place to go, they will never know any different. This is only exacerbated in the case of the mektli. They are clearly stronger than their former masters, making it all the more imperative that the Empire keep them ignorant of the world beyond their borders. I believe that the figure may know the tactic well, and sought to subvert it by granting the mektli exactly what they needed: hope for a better life.
There is even the appearance of light-based magical power as seen in both previous accounts - though it is notable that making one's form glow slightly is little more than a parlor trick in places such as Nengyu, which should be taken into account in this particular instance. There is clearly little detail given on such powers being used, and unfortunately, questioning Ilkoya on any further use she can recall yielded little new information. Apparently, he disappeared when no one was observing him - another commonality between all three accounts.
What I find most intriguing is the sudden advancement of the subjects' psychological complexity while in the presence of this being. While Chapoli did not directly mention such an effect, I believe it can be implied that his mental acuity became much more refined while traveling with the entity, and Ilkoya specifically states that thoughts began to form in their head more easily as the figure spoke to them, as if their development was being accelerated by him in some manner. While I have no definitive proof, it is my personal theory that this entity was magically inducing complexity in the minds of warforged during the early years of revolutionary planning for the purposes of helping them not only realize the possibility of escape, but to lead them to believe they also had the means to do so. How and why, I cannot say, and it may be impossible to verify either way, but it is still a notion that fills me with hope that similar occurrences may exist throughout history where there has been suffering and wickedness.
Worth noting is the possibility of magical coercion in those who delved deeper into the mines that day to listen to the figure's words, since Ilkoya spoke as if they had not been in control of their actions and seemed to believe the other attendees were the same. Regardless, the event led to a good outcome, and I now have a name I might be able to use for this figure in the future: Amatoquitlana. The name may prove too troublesome to spell for that purpose, but I'll probably give it a try.
This account gives me little else to elaborate on, so I must search elsewhere for more evidence of this enigmatic entity. I'll spend a few more days resting here in Yancua, despite their lack of accommodations for my kind, before moving onward to Coztlac in the hopes of finding some more tales of this being inside the Empire itself, before or after the revolution. Hopefully, I can keep my heritage from being discovered. The imagery of beheadings Ilkoya gave me have my neck feeling awfully stiff and cramped when I think about my destination.
