Post by Brandwyn on Jul 26, 2010 14:10:05 GMT -5
Ian was sitting at his desk going over arrangements for security for the Baron of Meric for the upcoming summer festival when there was a knock on his study door.
“Come in.” he called out absentmindedly, not looking up. A young lad who bore the badge of a widespread merchant messenger household stepped into the room and saluted him, coming to attention.
Ian finally looked up at the boy after waiting for a moment for the lad to speak, “yes?” he prompted and then saw the boy at attention. “At ease. You have a message for me?”
The boy nodded and pulled out a letter sealed with the Gallican official badge used by their local constabulary, and handed it to Master Ian with a bow. Ian took it and frowned at it for a moment, wondering what on earth it could be. The boy turned to leave and Ian stopped him as he lifted the seal and opened the envelope with his belt knife. “Stay a moment. I may have some questions.”
“Begging your pardon, My Lord, but I have no information about the letter. My house was hired by a Gallican merchant to deliver it here. That merchant did not offer his name and it is our custom to keep our cliental confidential if they desire it. You could check with the head of our household, but I doubt you will find out anything else.”
Ian frowned at him again, making note of the badge. He was familiar with the messenger service and knew the lad was telling the truth – at least in so far as he was not going to get any information out of them. He waved the boy off then, tossing him a copper piece. “Very well, I know who to contact should the need arise. Thank you.”
The lad nodded and retreated, closing the door behind him, but Ian was already reading the tall, angular script of the first piece of paper in his hand, and trying not to look at the second yet, which seemed eerily familiar to him. The first letter read;
Unto Master Ian Mac Greggor
Araulen Royal Scout, Meric
From: Constable Pierre LeVenue
Montsombre du ville
Chateu Montsombre,
Gallica
Sir,
It is with a grave heart that I must write to inform you of the death of your Lady Theresa, her name known only to me by your letter we found on her body.
It is with greater sorrow that I must also tell you that she was suspected of being involved with several murders here in the village and must have been involved in some kind of espionage or illegal activities. I can only assume that the lady must have deceived you in some manner for her actions here differ greatly from your obvious memories of her.
You can be comforted, however, in that her death was a quick one, administered by an arrow to the heart.
We are, of course, investigating her death as well as that of several others killed within a matter of days in the surrounding area. We shall keep you informed should we find the perpetrators.
Due to the hot weather, we could not ship her body home to you and were forced to give her a simple burial here in the local cemetery. Her headstone reads; “Here lies, Theresa, beloved of Ian. May she rest in peace.”
Should you wish to supply reimbursement for the coffin and headstone supplied by the local Baron, you may send it to me and I will see that it gets into the proper hands.
I am sorry for your loss.
Pierre LeVenue
He pulled out the second piece of paper and recognized his own handwriting and the linen paper he had written it on. It had a couple of smudges of blood on it now that were obviously not there when he had sent it. He read it again, as tears slid down his cheeks unnoticed;
Dear Theresa,
I know we didn’t have much of a chance to get to know each other, but I was disappointed that we were unable to say goodbye and have been very concerned about your well-being since we parted.
I also have not been able to get you out of my mind since I met you. Your beautiful eyes haunt me as does the soft warmth of your delicate skin. I can think of nothing else but how you are and where you are.
I hope that you got away from the Aslavians and that this message finds you in good health.
I do not know what to say to you, since we hardly had any time at all together. All I know is that I hope our paths will cross again. Unfortunately my duties lead me to take Brandwyn back to Araluen with all speed before she is injured again. The war rages across these lands and it is no fit place for a young girl like her, or a beautiful woman such as you.
I do not know if you share any of these feelings toward me that I find myself dwelling on, but I hope that you do. I cannot explain it, I have never had such an attraction to anyone before and I am lousy at explaining things of this nature. I certainly hope you do not find me a fool and this letter a farce. I care for you Theresa. I care what happens to you, even though we just met and you were so sick.
I guess I just want to tell you that you are always welcome at my cottage in the fief of Meric in Araluen. Please feel free to call at any time and if you are ever in need of help, please do not hesitate to call on me. I will do whatever it is in my power to do to help you.
Until we meet again, please take care of yourself and perhaps think of me now and again.
With all my heart,
Ian Mac Greggor
Araluen Scout
P.S. I am sorry I did not tell you my profession at the time. I had the Lady Brandwyn’s safety to consider. Please forgive me for omitting this important part of my life. Ian
Ian sat back, holding the letter to his chest and wiped his other hand across his eyes, covering them for a moment and remembering the eyes of the exotic warrior woman he had helped his apprentice rescue from the Aslavians just a few months ago.
Over an hour later his apprentice, Brandwyn, found him still sitting there, staring out the window with tear tracks still on his face…
“Come in.” he called out absentmindedly, not looking up. A young lad who bore the badge of a widespread merchant messenger household stepped into the room and saluted him, coming to attention.
Ian finally looked up at the boy after waiting for a moment for the lad to speak, “yes?” he prompted and then saw the boy at attention. “At ease. You have a message for me?”
The boy nodded and pulled out a letter sealed with the Gallican official badge used by their local constabulary, and handed it to Master Ian with a bow. Ian took it and frowned at it for a moment, wondering what on earth it could be. The boy turned to leave and Ian stopped him as he lifted the seal and opened the envelope with his belt knife. “Stay a moment. I may have some questions.”
“Begging your pardon, My Lord, but I have no information about the letter. My house was hired by a Gallican merchant to deliver it here. That merchant did not offer his name and it is our custom to keep our cliental confidential if they desire it. You could check with the head of our household, but I doubt you will find out anything else.”
Ian frowned at him again, making note of the badge. He was familiar with the messenger service and knew the lad was telling the truth – at least in so far as he was not going to get any information out of them. He waved the boy off then, tossing him a copper piece. “Very well, I know who to contact should the need arise. Thank you.”
The lad nodded and retreated, closing the door behind him, but Ian was already reading the tall, angular script of the first piece of paper in his hand, and trying not to look at the second yet, which seemed eerily familiar to him. The first letter read;
Unto Master Ian Mac Greggor
Araulen Royal Scout, Meric
From: Constable Pierre LeVenue
Montsombre du ville
Chateu Montsombre,
Gallica
Sir,
It is with a grave heart that I must write to inform you of the death of your Lady Theresa, her name known only to me by your letter we found on her body.
It is with greater sorrow that I must also tell you that she was suspected of being involved with several murders here in the village and must have been involved in some kind of espionage or illegal activities. I can only assume that the lady must have deceived you in some manner for her actions here differ greatly from your obvious memories of her.
You can be comforted, however, in that her death was a quick one, administered by an arrow to the heart.
We are, of course, investigating her death as well as that of several others killed within a matter of days in the surrounding area. We shall keep you informed should we find the perpetrators.
Due to the hot weather, we could not ship her body home to you and were forced to give her a simple burial here in the local cemetery. Her headstone reads; “Here lies, Theresa, beloved of Ian. May she rest in peace.”
Should you wish to supply reimbursement for the coffin and headstone supplied by the local Baron, you may send it to me and I will see that it gets into the proper hands.
I am sorry for your loss.
Pierre LeVenue
He pulled out the second piece of paper and recognized his own handwriting and the linen paper he had written it on. It had a couple of smudges of blood on it now that were obviously not there when he had sent it. He read it again, as tears slid down his cheeks unnoticed;
Dear Theresa,
I know we didn’t have much of a chance to get to know each other, but I was disappointed that we were unable to say goodbye and have been very concerned about your well-being since we parted.
I also have not been able to get you out of my mind since I met you. Your beautiful eyes haunt me as does the soft warmth of your delicate skin. I can think of nothing else but how you are and where you are.
I hope that you got away from the Aslavians and that this message finds you in good health.
I do not know what to say to you, since we hardly had any time at all together. All I know is that I hope our paths will cross again. Unfortunately my duties lead me to take Brandwyn back to Araluen with all speed before she is injured again. The war rages across these lands and it is no fit place for a young girl like her, or a beautiful woman such as you.
I do not know if you share any of these feelings toward me that I find myself dwelling on, but I hope that you do. I cannot explain it, I have never had such an attraction to anyone before and I am lousy at explaining things of this nature. I certainly hope you do not find me a fool and this letter a farce. I care for you Theresa. I care what happens to you, even though we just met and you were so sick.
I guess I just want to tell you that you are always welcome at my cottage in the fief of Meric in Araluen. Please feel free to call at any time and if you are ever in need of help, please do not hesitate to call on me. I will do whatever it is in my power to do to help you.
Until we meet again, please take care of yourself and perhaps think of me now and again.
With all my heart,
Ian Mac Greggor
Araluen Scout
P.S. I am sorry I did not tell you my profession at the time. I had the Lady Brandwyn’s safety to consider. Please forgive me for omitting this important part of my life. Ian
Ian sat back, holding the letter to his chest and wiped his other hand across his eyes, covering them for a moment and remembering the eyes of the exotic warrior woman he had helped his apprentice rescue from the Aslavians just a few months ago.
Over an hour later his apprentice, Brandwyn, found him still sitting there, staring out the window with tear tracks still on his face…