"Highness, your son approaches," was the only warning the Queen Ophelia received before Rogress XII swept into the room. Ophelia had been reading in the library, as was her habit after tea, and carefully sat the heavy volume down on the desk beside her, placing a smile firmly on her face to greet her Prince and only child.
The smile dropped when she saw the worried frown on the young man's face, and she tilted her head in maternal concern instead. "What is it, pet?"
The Prince took a moment to incline his head in a perfunctory gesture of respect before presenting his burden - a large folio crudely bound in leather. "I finished it just this morning, and decided that you should read it as well." Instead of handing it to her, he placed it carefully on the closes reading table and beckoned her over.
Queen Ophelia gingerly opened the solid binding where a loose sheet had been placed in the front - a preface letter, very common between nobles when lending a book. The handwriting and seal were both unfamiliar to her, and the handwriting quite small if precise, written in their native Late Norenian script:
"To His Grace Prince Rogress, Twelfth of His Name. Peace and good will to your house.
"I am certain that my army's movements have caused your family no small concern these past months, but be assured that it is not Norenia with whom we quarrel. My people's history is not so different than yours, as I hope you will soon see.
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"You hold in your hands as full and frank a personal history as has ever been written about one of my kind. In it is much brutality, for we are a brutal people, and much tragedy, for we live in a tragic world. I have taken to write this, not to aggrandize myself or excuse our actions, but to provide a basis of understanding between me and you - between my kingdom and yours. I know as much about humans as one can learn from books written by humans, but until now, you had no such opportunity.
"I presume upon your temperance and wisdom. Please read my account and, if it moves you, please share it with Their Royal Highnesses the King and Queen. No more than a season from now, I will arrive at southern-most walled city, Sheston, under colors of truce. It is my most sincere hope that I will find you there, and that our dialogue may be fruitful.
"With respect,
"XXXXXXXXX, the Goblin King"
The signature was in a script that Ophelia didn't recognize.
"It was delivered to me by courier - human courier - two days ago. I... believe it to be genuine."
His mother frowned. "What leads you to believe that?"
Rogress flipped a page in the manuscript. "It's far too elaborate and costly a ruse, for one thing. What little in the account I could confirm, appears to be accurate. And it explains a number of rumors and reports going back years that we didn't have a good rationale for."
The Queen nodded. "You've read this account, then? What do you make of it."
"I think..." the Prince swallowed. "I think you should read it for yourself."
So she did.