Dear Lady Illyria,

I am truly grief stricken for the sorrow you must be feeling. The loss your father, nephew, and of course, Hamish is a loss that will be felt throughout all of Amelor. I know this is a difficult time for you, and I shall keep my correspondence brief out of respect for you and your family.

Although my words will bring little relief, know that I am here for you and Anders, and the Belzen’s stand ready to assist our great Corsin allies. You need only say the word. You, Lady, are strong and resilient. I have little doubt that you will successfully carry your great house through these troubling times with the grace that befits your name.

The primary reason for my letter involves the Oath. As much as I desire to carry out the promise made by our late fathers, I cannot pretend that this tragedy doesn’t put great emotional strain on your soul. And I cannot in good conscious force you to carry it out. Although he has left us, your bond with Hamish was deep and true. I cannot look beyond that, and neither should you. With our fathers gone, the oath need not become public knowledge.

My only hope is that this small gesture will help ease your pain and allow you to continue with your life as you see fit. You. Deserve nothing less.

May the spirits bless you and guide you.

Yours truly,

I don't exactly remember leaving the city. I remember tearing out in a panic with my drum and not much else; I remember calling my brother’s name through the chaos of the terrified crowds, and hearing nothing back. I remember smoke and flame, the sound of crashing rock on wood, steel on steel. But beyond that, it's mostly a blur, and my first clear memory is moving at a gallop on horseback down one of the streets beyond the destroyed walls. I don't know whose horse it was. Whoever it was, I don't think they've got any use for it anymore.

To tell the truth, I'm not all that fussed about the city. A place is a place, nothing more, and no matter where you are, there's always a market for good music and stolen secrets. But Durance is missing, and I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back and little hope of recovering what I left behind. My only hope is to go forward, to keep moving. There's whispered word among those in red that Illyria has secured lodging for us at some Ranger castle deep in the forests. Among my adopted family I'll be safe again; of that, at least, I’m certain.

It’s hope, it’s a plan. It doesn't sate the gnawing grief in my chest, but it’s something…

I lost the horse to exhaustion just outside the Stronghold; I'm walking the last few miles on foot, near to toppling myself. Just as I turn into the long path that leads to the castle, a voice sounds behind me, a shout just as exhausted as I feel.

“Is that my sister?”