Dear Cornell,

How has it been, my old friend? Fate has been rather cruel lately. We seem to miss each other whenever we arrive at the same destination. It’s either me who just left or you. Most of the people who kept seeing you are the Wicks and Torches of our order. At this point, I should dig out my old Wick robes if it means I can see you and smell the scent of your trade. So far, all of the dossiers you left behind were so impressive. Securing a route between the western marches to the southern dunes was hard to do. Between the nobles breathing down my neck and handling diplomatic relations between those two cultures was like a jester trying to mediate a war table discussion.

The Western Marshes are beautiful, I must say. Now before you criticise my use of the word, beautiful. Especially at night, when the moon is out in all of its glory. The crickets accompany me as I write this letter to you, their chirps often remind me that I should be writing my report as well. Then there is the gentle flowing of the river, if you listen carefully, the water slowly sways downward to the ocean, guiding us to a gentle slumber.

Tell me my friend, do you still have trouble sleeping? The inn that I am staying at provides those three things? You see, the innkeeper gave the order to provide us special rooms. I must say, our influence is growing and our assistance with a Nest certainly helped us solidify our connections. The marshes may be big and scattered, but just like the waters here, we must go with the flow. Eventually, we all converge into one united front.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Another point of this letter is during our reconnaissance, I met this charming young noble. Apparently he was interested in joining our cause. Such a rare sight indeed, no? A noble wanting to be a recruit. Most of the recruits we get are people who are usually not from a higher standing and far from the safety of their ivory-lined walls. I have nothing against nobles joining, but they seem to think that they can rise to our ranks just because they are of noble blood. However this young man is different. He has the drive, an urge for change, something that we all yearn for. He goes by Ignatius of House Sycamore.

I was skeptical, I haven’t heard good things from that house. Especially from the town where they reside. But imagine my surprise when he came to us during a Shedder expedition, he provided us with medicinal herbs, bandages, and food. But the one thing that caught my attention was his proficiency with a bow. He was quick, precise, and resourceful with his arrows. It reminded me of your tales of the nomadic arrowheads you kept talking about during our time when we were trapped in Lord Silang’s Tomb. This is also a reminder that you owe me a new cape that you used as fuel for the torch.

That’s all on my end, I’ll try to observe Ignatius. He might be fit on what the order really is, but I want to know his resolve. He promised to take us to his home, and suggested we use it as a temporary base of operations. I’ll write to you soon once we are there. Take care.

- Stork Briel