Sylvangarde

Melchior to Lord Vors, Lamashan 12, 4713

My Lord,

It is with some abashedness that I pen this letter, as I realize how melodramatic my last one must have sounded. I can only imagine your profound amusement to have heard the news of my success, not from my own hand, but through official channels. Dealing with the Stag Lord was an adventure in itself, however brief. I shall have to save the particulars until such occasion as our respective duties allow us to catch up in person. Suffice to say, our preparations were largely sound. With a bit of guile, we infiltrated the fort. One of the bandit lieutenants, cannier than most, apparently saw through our act, but chose to take our side in the ensuing struggle. The Stag Lord himself proved little more than a drunken bully. I will spare you the unpleasant details of our victory, but you know the gist of what followed. Straightaway, we sent proof of the Stag Lord’s fall to the Sword Lords. And the rest is history.

My lord, you can not have imagined my shock upon learning what the Sword Lords had seen fit to lay upon my shoulders. My task was to draw maps and bring bandits to justice—what do I know about building a nation, let alone ruling one? This escalated rather quickly. Of course, I have no grounds for refusal. My sense of responsibility impels me to devote myself to whatever task I am given. Though this is not something I might have chosen for myself, and I am dubious about the suitability of my qualities for such an endeavour, I have no intention of abusing the trust that has been placed in me by yourself and the lords of Brevoy. I know not what their aim is in funding a new territory, but for now my sole concern is the welfare of those people who have chosen to make their lives in this untamed place.

At the moment, I am up to my eyeballs in logistical concerns. I have chosen an inner council of sorts from a pool of who I deemed the most qualified individuals in these parts, and we are feverishly making our preparations. We have decided upon the site of the late Stag Lord’s fort as the location of our fledgling settlement, as it is ideally situated along the river and lake shore, it is defensible, and has structures in place. We are just getting started, but we hope to have something livable in place before the winter snows begin. In any event, I shall not bore you with finer details. So many details! Were I not in possession of the excellent education you have provided me, I would surely be lost in a sea of details! As it is, there is so much to be done that I fear I have not been sleeping adequately.

I am suddenly reminded—surely, you recall what I have written of my elven companion, Coriella? Well, she and I are on speaking terms again. In fact, she has hardly left my side since I had my throat c became injured during our scuffle with the bandits. Fear not, however, as I am in quite good health, and in good spirits. In truth, I fear I am in love. Coriella, for all that she is deadly and formidable, deep down is quite affectionate, though I gather that she has had a difficult life, and has some difficulty getting close to people. In any event, we shall see how things unfold!

And now, my lord, I fear I must bring this letter to a close. I still have a mountain of papers to sort through, funds to disburse, workmen to hire, building plans to look over, etc. I suspect I may be busy with such affairs for quite some time, so forgive me if there are lapses in communications between us. That said, I shall do my utmost to keep in touch, as now, more than ever, I wish I had the pleasure of your company, and could ask your opinion on several matters. Kurik will surely scold me if the morning sun finds me still at work, but what am I to do? If only you knew of the innumerable concerns I have. For starters, my Chief of Intelligence is a faerie dragon and my Minister of Magical Affairs is a kobold. And that should tell you all you need to know about how this new nation is shaping up. But it will surely be a sight to behold if it works out!

And with that, I must sign off. We are all well, and I hope this letter finds you in equally good health and spirits. To assist in that, I am enclosing a parcel containing some of Svetlana’s homemade fangberry scones. Be well, my lord.

Melchior
Lord Mayor of Haven, of the newly-founded territory of Sylvangarde

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