My Mo,

First of all, I hope this letter reaches you before you’re dead. Not that you’re in imminent danger, well, any more than usual, but more so that this stupid bird refuses to fly back to you. I’ve tried every trick in the book to try and persuade him, but the journey over here was obviously traumatic for the feathery fella. So if you don’t reply to this letter anytime soon, I won’t be hurt, nor surprised. Just a little more annoyed at birds than usual. More on that later.

First question – have you checked your Ruler System lately? I understand if you haven’t. That whole Sera death box that consumes souls thing takes obvious precedence. But I want to be the first one to warn you if you haven’t been keeping up with the times, they’re, well… something.

Now back to the bird part. Remember that chicken pope you waved around in Mole City? He’s become the most prominent religious figure in the entire continent. At least a third of Morganium have converted to the Calling of the Holy Bird. Here’s my humble breakdown of that disaster:

Pro: We now have something called ‘chicken electricity,’ which is kind of like the earthly electricity you told me about, but powered by the… chickenductor, and some dwarven shenanigan called gnomic currents. We’ve been able to make considerable improvements to the city’s infrastructure due to this advancement. Apartments have gone way up in price ever since we introduced elevators. You’d be amazed, Momo. People don’t even want to live on the streets anymore. It’s wild.

Now onto the cons. First up, all the chicken shops have been closed down due to religious protests. This is a disaster for me specifically. Now all that’s left is the pizzeria. It’s a very sad state of affairs. Secondly, every single person on the government staff is asking for their own chicken now. They’re calling it a basic right. I want to ask you for permission to shove their basic rights up their basic behinds.

Okay, that’s about it in regards to chicken. What else… ah, yes. This Knight of The Sun named Gorim showed up at our doorstep about a week ago. I was expecting more from Jarva than one delusional metalhead and his nervous sidekick, but I suspect you must have had something to do with this. It took a bit of effort, but we captured him and put him in Sera’s old cage for now. Don’t worry, no jester outfit.

Now, that’s all of the cheery news out of the way. Onto the kicker.

Your article never ran, as you probably know by now. I’ve tried to make do with Teddy, having him polymorph it up and pose as you to give frequent inspirational speeches to the populace, but let’s just say the people are more than a bit sore that you just went and disappeared off the campaign trail. I’ve collected so many tomatoes from the podium that I might as well make soup for the entire continent.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

It doesn’t help that crime rates have increased dramatically after you got rid of the Banned Items list. Refuge’s End has become a bit of a criminal hivemind. All the malefactors from former Nam’Dal have moved over there, and the word on the street is they’re amassing ancient artifacts. No idea why. But criminals + all-powerful weapons and armor is kind of a shitty mix. Seems kind of fun, though. I’m sure you’ve gotten yourself involved in that mess too, if I know you at all.

But, all in all, things are… okay. Hell, they’re not great, but our walls are still standing. We have fucking elevators. And the city hasn’t turned against you just yet – your Approval Rating is hovering at a brilliant 25%. Some might call that better than most monarchies.

I am still, of course, slightly worried that Jarva and his actual Circle of Hell will show up on our doorstep any second, or that the Holy Resistance will recover from their debilitating leadership issues, but, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, we’re more ready than ever to handle them. Viktor and his new assistant are cooking up some weapons powered by the chicken currents, the Wall of Nether is strong, and they have a queen – even if it's a sham queen, for now – who’s committed to protecting them.

Gods, that must have been a lot to take in. But sorry, you did appoint me as your Chief Advisor, so it’s kind of my job to freak you out. It’s also my hobby in general to freak you out, but that’s unrelated. Now, before I run out of parchment, I think I can take off the advisor hat for a second.

I miss you, Mo. The city misses you. I… I know I told you how important it was to get out on the road, to meet the people where they are, to grow their devotion. Fuck it. I want you right here, next to me, at that stupid pizza place. I want to wipe the tomato sauce off your mouth. I want all the stupid little moments I never got to have back when I was Roland’s little pet.

Shit, I even want you next to me when the inevitable happens, when the armies do arrive. When Jarva gets too cocky, when Nia says fuck it and storms the capital with her little group of necro hotshots.

I want you next to me when we win. I wanna see how victory looks on you.

Come home soon, pirate,

and also – no more sailing without me. It’s rude.

Yours,

Sumire

—

“Ribeye,” Momo said, holding the letter tightly in her shaking fist. Her throat bobbed up and down with unspoken emotion.

“Yeah?” the orc said, turning his head. The sun was setting behind him, the children sleeping soundly in the cabins beneath. The two stood alone on the main deck. “What can I do for you, Cap’n?”

It had been a hard day of repairs, but the hull was in good shape. Usable shape.

“Tomorrow,” Momo said. “Tomorrow, we’re sailing back home.”