Claude Biography post wip

Name: Claude Vey Pelleaux
Born: 1634

Claude is the first born son of Jannik and Aren Pelleaux cousin to the current Head of the Pelleaux family whose well known amidst the scholars and academics of Osrona.

Scattered about a cloistered office within the Imperial Academy are those things which signify a man of thought. From the ceiling orreries of various styling hang, charting the cosmos in brass detail. Each wall is lined with shelves, neatly organized tomes detailing subjects ranging from War of the Dragon  to Osrona: Geomantic Survey. Stacks of papers and books cover the floor haphazardly leaning to and fro as if tempting fate to topple them, anything from trashy coin novels, to student reports, to detailed theorems on migration patterns in the Essharian Swallow. Yet, if one where to seek out the occupier of said office's prized possession within the room they'd find it in the bottom drawer of a great mahogany desk at the back of the room. Within lay an journal bound to a collection of letters by a thick silken cord and auto-biography in the making for the young Pelleaux. At a glance one could spot the very first letter that lay upon the top of the bindings. Sprawled in neat flowing script was the following letter.

Dear Mother,

I did it! Thanks to Great Uncle Andre's support I was able to not only pass the exams but also gain enough votes of confidence to be admitted as an instructor. I could tell from the glares of my old class-mates that they felt my ascent to such heights was only due to my name. Jealous fools, anyone of them could have gained Andre's tutelage, any one of them could have given up their social lives for the cthonic embrace of the stacks. No, I shouldn't dwell upon the short-sighted envy of others. No, that sort of spite is unbecoming of me. I have to keep a more level-head for when I begin instructing them on how to improve themselves.

How are you? It's been a great deal of time since we last spoke and though I grow doubtful of ever receiving a response I feel it almost habit at this point to ask. Father? Still a drunken wastrel as he always was and no I haven't apologized for ruining his last ball. Where was I, oh yes, I've been qualified as an instructor for the school and have my own office. It's a little sectioned off part deep in the sub-level, I believe it might have been a torture room in it's original inception. Oddly enough the school is about to undergo a great reconstruction, putting the loot from the damnable Rhoynish to good use it'd seem. I know you enjoyed my last letter when I told you about those barbarian's being subdued by the Order. Which the Order seems to be burgeoning with new recruits. With success comes prominence I suppose. Well, I don't wish to ramble on and on so I'll cut this short and end here.

Until our next exchange, yours truly.