Written prior to the conclave. A hasty scrawl on a half-sheet of paper.
Not much occasion to write on the road. I’m sending this along with a trade delegation headed home. I hope it reaches you. Here several lines have been scribbled out.
It’s been quite a wondrous experience. There’s a lot more out here than I ever saw back home. I should reach the conclave tomorrow, so mother may expect a proper report for the forge soon. I suppose I still miss you, sister-mine, but the sun rises and there’s much yet to see. Know that I am well and I will write you again soon. Remind Cass to clean her blade. Let Petra know the coin purse she wove me hasn’t been stolen yet. Tell Roz no one in this land sings better than her. Trys, stop reading Ana’s mail, you brat. Beryl, stop doing whatever Trys tells you to do. My love to mother and father.
Added faintly, below the scribbled signature:
As for the other thing, no news yet. Do not think me foolish for trying.