Ymiden 1, 718
Early evening
Inali swore lightly in the Ancient Tongue, knowing that all the other members of the Old Guard were far enough that they wouldn’t hear her struggle with this particularly difficult cipher. While Lerrik Calloso was fair and beloved by many, he had not taken kindly to her absence from the faction. Ever since she had returned, her evenings and nights were filled with pages of ciphers and keys, each demanding prompt decryption and breaks of her precious time. It wasn’t a punishment, per say, but Inali felt the weight of the reminder every time she trudged up the steps and through the oak door that signaled she was among fellow cryptographers and researchers. The latest encoded message had been spirited away from the Underground by a group of known worshippers of Syroa. They had left the rogue worshippers alone until there were reports of items being stolen and a drunk individual being viciously attacked. When the victim recovered, he could remember little of the traumatic attack, though many presumed he had said something distasteful about the group or their patron Immortal. The deep gashes that lacerated his body was more than enough to gain the attention of Lerrik. Privileges many Etzori enjoyed – such as worshipping Immortals in the privacy of their homes – would be at risk if the group made it out of the Underground and up to the streets of the city.
The letter that Inali had been given had been written in haste, and she allowed her fingertips to trace the smudged ink and sloppy lettering. This was generally a good sign. Those who were familiar with cryptography and stenography might place smudges intentionally to signal which key to use among many, but there were far too many on this piece of parchment. Even better, the haste in which it was written allowed her to make an educated guess that the group used only one cipher and had gotten quite comfortable with it. The hallmarks of a brand-new cipher could also be found within dried ink – letters were spaced further apart, and the ink often bled through the parchment as the writer hesitated and double checked the key they used. She flipped the paper over and confirmed that none of the ink had bled through.
Next, she wrote all the letters of the alphabet down on her own parchment and counted the number of times each was used before noting it next to the letter. The creator of the cipher had not been wise enough to utilize multiple alphabets, so it was a quick process to denote the number of times each of the 26 letters appeared. She circled the numbers that were notably high and underlined those that were low. She had prepared for this moment by picking up one of the Guard’s many reference sheets. In Common, the letters ‘E’, ‘T’, and ‘A’ were the most used. Conversely, she knew that ‘X’, ‘J’, and ‘Z’ were the least used. Now that she had identified possible candidates to begin digging into the text, she copied the entire letter onto another sheet of parchment and left a moderate amount of space in the margins and between the letters. While the Syroa worshippers were not advanced in some parts of her trade, they were smart enough to know that spaces within a message made it much easier to crack. This message was a string of letters with no punctuation to guide her. Inali smiled and stood up to make a cup of strong tea. While the night would be long, she had asked for this work when she approached the Patron of the city.
Early evening
Inali swore lightly in the Ancient Tongue, knowing that all the other members of the Old Guard were far enough that they wouldn’t hear her struggle with this particularly difficult cipher. While Lerrik Calloso was fair and beloved by many, he had not taken kindly to her absence from the faction. Ever since she had returned, her evenings and nights were filled with pages of ciphers and keys, each demanding prompt decryption and breaks of her precious time. It wasn’t a punishment, per say, but Inali felt the weight of the reminder every time she trudged up the steps and through the oak door that signaled she was among fellow cryptographers and researchers. The latest encoded message had been spirited away from the Underground by a group of known worshippers of Syroa. They had left the rogue worshippers alone until there were reports of items being stolen and a drunk individual being viciously attacked. When the victim recovered, he could remember little of the traumatic attack, though many presumed he had said something distasteful about the group or their patron Immortal. The deep gashes that lacerated his body was more than enough to gain the attention of Lerrik. Privileges many Etzori enjoyed – such as worshipping Immortals in the privacy of their homes – would be at risk if the group made it out of the Underground and up to the streets of the city.
The letter that Inali had been given had been written in haste, and she allowed her fingertips to trace the smudged ink and sloppy lettering. This was generally a good sign. Those who were familiar with cryptography and stenography might place smudges intentionally to signal which key to use among many, but there were far too many on this piece of parchment. Even better, the haste in which it was written allowed her to make an educated guess that the group used only one cipher and had gotten quite comfortable with it. The hallmarks of a brand-new cipher could also be found within dried ink – letters were spaced further apart, and the ink often bled through the parchment as the writer hesitated and double checked the key they used. She flipped the paper over and confirmed that none of the ink had bled through.
Next, she wrote all the letters of the alphabet down on her own parchment and counted the number of times each was used before noting it next to the letter. The creator of the cipher had not been wise enough to utilize multiple alphabets, so it was a quick process to denote the number of times each of the 26 letters appeared. She circled the numbers that were notably high and underlined those that were low. She had prepared for this moment by picking up one of the Guard’s many reference sheets. In Common, the letters ‘E’, ‘T’, and ‘A’ were the most used. Conversely, she knew that ‘X’, ‘J’, and ‘Z’ were the least used. Now that she had identified possible candidates to begin digging into the text, she copied the entire letter onto another sheet of parchment and left a moderate amount of space in the margins and between the letters. While the Syroa worshippers were not advanced in some parts of her trade, they were smart enough to know that spaces within a message made it much easier to crack. This message was a string of letters with no punctuation to guide her. Inali smiled and stood up to make a cup of strong tea. While the night would be long, she had asked for this work when she approached the Patron of the city.