Ooooo could I possibly ask for a letter from Anatole to Valerius? But one that never gets sent? Something he had second thoughts about after he wrote it and locked it away kind of thing š
[ Vesuvia, dated 5 months before the beginning of the game ]
Valeriy,
I do not think it is necessary to repeat anything that had already been said between us. It is useless. I will not tire you with what you called an āunsuitable emotional reaction from a future High-Ranking politicianā ā mostly because if you cannot remember who stands in front of you, then that is your fault and your fault alone.
Unlike you, I donāt forget. I am constantly aware, every day of my life that it is my own uncle, the brother of my father, the one who lies to my face with no discretion, who shits, yes, shits, on every project we ever had together because you use the poor excuse that Vesuvia is not a suitable place for them, that the people are ignorant and unprepared.
Whose fault is that?
I will not have you run the soles of my shoes down through the city for you to shut me up in front of anyone, let alone for you to completely forget your duty to the city, and the modicum of respect you should have for both myself and Aunt Cas.
Moreover, I will not let you utilise my feelings of affection towards you, my looking up at you, or my fears against me. You were the one who told me there was a certain exquisiteness in power, as it allowed you to command your own destiny, to make your own rules. You might have become an hypocrite who fed himself a delusion, one where you tell yourself you know what youāre doing, that you have any sort of control over any situation what so ever. You do not.
I, however, am not you. I have some semblance of self-respect still in me, and I will not pretend to go after you like a kicked puppy because you now decided it was a mistake to make me your successor. How fucking could you, Valeriy ā yes, I will repeat the name over and over again, Valeriy RadoÅ”eviÄ, Valeriy RadoÅ”eviÄ, Valeriy RadoÅ”eviÄ, Valeriy RadoÅ”eviÄ, until weāre both sick of it. You cannot hide from me, you cannot hide from any of us, and sooner or later I will find out what is that youāre planning with the rest of the court, and I will make you regret it.
I know you enough to come up with some elaborate reason for it, but know now that the reason is simple: I do this for the City. I do this for the districts you and the rest of the Court have failed to aid, for the people you have lied to, and for all the ways which you have hurt me. Do not kid yourself thinking that Vesuvians will listen to you rather than to me. Do not kid yourself thinking that because I am young and I care you have the right to underestimate me.
You have already destroyed all my happiness, not only by making a ridicule out of me in front of the Court, but also by condemning my Ilya to die for something we both know he could have not committed.
I do not forget. Do not expect me to forgive. I will never forgive you for condemning the man I was in love with to what you did, and do not have the audacity to tell me there was nothing that you could do, because we both know that is a lie.
I will tell you the same thing I told Decimo Lemione one day: try me once more, and I will make sure there is no place in the world where you can hide from me. Betray me once more, Valeriy, and you can kiss your successor goodbye.
Do you really want to bet Cassiopeia and I cannot sway the Council against you?
One more time, Valeriy. One more.
The paper almost torn away in some places, with the force of the quill which wrote on it. However, the letter gathered dust in one of the drawers of Anatoleās bedroom desk, to remain unsent.













