Ser Janos | A Letter

[truelarper 594]

 

 

There sat and spoke the son of Stefan, between the thunder of his brother’s quarrel. Low were his words, yet heavy with thought, as though each one were drawn from a deep and guarded well. Before him crouched the scribe he had hired, a thin man with ink-stained fingers, who bent over the parchment like a faithful man at prayer. About him the brother’s of eld raged, harsh words flung as spears and none would yield. Yet Dirk the son of Stefan heeded them not, for his gaze was cast beyond their strife.

 

 

 

[!] ᴀ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ [!]

 

 

To the Good Ser, leal son of Ivanovich,   I pray this letter find thee in stout health and noble spirit. With heavy heart do I and my brethren set quill to parchment, for sorrow hath befallen mine family. My good father hath passed from this realm, by the cruel and biting cold of winter, as the physician did solemnly attest. His passing was not swift, and we stood by with little means to ease his suffering apart from the warm breath of ale.  Our poor hovel, our shelter and our father’s before us too, hath been taken from us, and we are left with naught but memory and want.   Thus am I bound to forsake the path I once walked in thy service, though it is no small grief to me. I must depart and take upon mine own burden. My brothers, though eld in years, are uncertain in judgement, divided among themselves, yet in want of steady counsel, and the folk who dwell near us require a shepherd. There is want of order, and without it, greater hardship will surely follow. Duty, as thou hast oft taught me, doth not always choose the strongest arm, but the willing heart. Oft do my thoughts return to those days of trial we shared, when we stood against the dwarven host with steel and courage, not for coin nor for praise and glory, but for the greater good of man. In those moments I learned what it is to hold firm when fear and doubt press hard. In such memories do I find reflection of my present burden, for I too must now stand and endure.    Know, my Ser, that I carry thy teachings within me still. Whatever strength I possess was tempered in thy service, and for that I am bound to thee in gratitude beyond measure. Should GOD will it, we shall meet again beneath fairer skies. Until such a blessed day, I remain thy humble servant, though afar.   From, Dirk of Littlestock

 

Edited March 24 by truelarper