The Wolf has given us a day of respite. I shall take advantage of this to see that the tales of my recent adventures begin their journey to reach your eyes. I depart on my next quest tomorrow.

A day off… It was a foreign concept to Troy. Growing up, there were no days off. There was always work to be done. Lessons to learn. Appearances to keep up. A full day of simply having the freedom to wander around town and enjoy himself? Completely unheard of. He wouldn’t have had to do all that sneaking around and lying during his rebellious years if he would have simply had a few days like this every now and then.

On his way to the courier’s office in Davied, he stood out amongst much of the common street folk who wandered to and fro. Strolling with a confident gait, straight-backed and a hand resting on his rapier’s hilt, today’s attire saw him don a simple sand-colored shirt that buttoned down the front, tucked in at the waist of his dark gray trousers. Simple enough in general look, but it was the meticulous care he took to ensure it was fine-pressed and free of any wrinkles or holes that gave him contrast to the others he observed walking by.

He reached into his satchel and nervously fingered at the edges of the papers within to assure himself they were all there. They were of course—as if he would forget to pack something. The reassurance still brought comfort regardless.

Giving a polite but empty smile to a clangor of children that were chasing each other in front of the courier’s office, he deftly weaved between their game of tag and opened the door to head inside. A small bell announced his arrival, with a mustached face popping up from behind the desk in front of him shortly after. The postmaster was elderly and bald, the loose wrinkles of his forehead overlapping and drooping to shadow his eyes. He regarded Troy with skepticism as Troy approached the desk and reached into his satchel.

“Good day. I have some letters to deliver.” Troy said, pulling out the small bundle and setting them down.

The man scratched at his bald head for a moment, looking from Troy to the letters and back again. “I don’t recognize you.” He finally stated plainly after a pause. His voice was slightly shrill, like that of a young child, while also a bit muffled behind the large mustache.

“Apologies for, uh, being a bit… cautious about this. I normally don’t ask these kinda questions, but given the times I hafta ask who you are and what these letters are for. Kinda odd for a stranger I don’t know to be sending letters somewhere like the Riess estate, if I’m looking at the destination correctly that is.”

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Troy’s heartbeat caught slightly at the words, but he didn’t let his exterior show any sign of stiffness or surprise. “I am new in town, a new recruit of the Last Stand Mercenaries specifically. You can call me Troy.” He gave a slight bow of the head.

The man’s face seemed to brighten up, though it was hard to tell with the cascade of wrinkles shrouding his eyes and the forest of facial hair blanketing his mouth. “One of Geren’s, eh? Well anybody Geren trusts is good by me.”

That man really does have everyone’s respect doesn’t he?

“Thank you. I expect that means you will respect my privacy and I am not required to answer, in that case?”

“Well, partially. I would still like to know the general purpose. Just to cover myself in case any type of inquiries came asking about, you understand. ‘Specially since these'll be crossing the border to Trausen.”

Troy gave a short but deep sigh of relent. “Very well, I suppose that is understandable. They are… updates on my travels. To those who are interested in knowing of them and that I am interested in informing. Simple letters, and nothing more.”

The postmaster scratched at his mustache thoughtfully for a moment. “Works for me.” He then said with a shrug. He took the letters and began weighing them on a scale, placing and removing small stones of different sizes on the other side of the scale, the letters bobbing up and down before resting at an even weight once he got the amount right.

“If possible,” Troy began, “could I ask that no sending information be included? While I want to keep the party I’m sending this to abreast of my travels, I don’t… actually want them knowing where I am currently at. Discretion, if you will.”

The old man grunted in response. “It’s a bit strange, but not unheard of. Just a small additional fee included.”

Troy’s face perked up with surprise. “Oh! Excellent. Thank you. You… don’t have any other inquiries of me, then, to fulfill the request?”

“Like I said, if Geren trusts you then I don’t really feel the need to question that.” He said absently as he began writing.

“And… if I’m lying? I could simply be saying I am part of the Last Stand Mercenaries to get out of answering your questions.”

The man looked up from his pricing calculations. He went back to writing, laughing to himself. “Aye, you could be. But you aren’t. I can tell by looking at you and listening to you speak that you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

He passed the bill across the desk to Troy for what the delivery would cost. “You wouldn’t go claiming to be part of his crew unless you really were. A young lad with a good head on their shoulders like you is smart enough to not cross The Unbreakable Wolf. ”

Though his voice was kind, the words still froze Troy in place. He stared blankly at the delivery bill for a moment. Looking up from the paper, he gave one of those smiles he had been trained all his life to give. Empty, but pleasant and warm to the observer to keep them ignorant of the battle he fought internally.

“Of course not. Thank you for taking care of this for me.”