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A Letter to her Beloved on the Journey to the Markgraf House

Hello my Beloved,

Vissivind is beautiful. The houses are not as lovely as your hometown (Soon to be ours) but the parties are divine! But it was not for the parties that I traveled down South. I wanted to rally support for the almshouse.

The Almshouse! For those destitute and those that cannot pick up a sword to fight in battle, for those kicked from their farms in the latest raid. The church pleaded for support and while I cannot take a small hungry charge on my own, the guilt haunted me for weeks until I decided to find support in the way that I could. I cannot gather supplies, but I can gather funds!

With nothing but my name and my charming wit I traveled to the great Markgraf House in the Cold Throne of Njordr to attempt to rally support for the Alm house. In the weeks it would take to gather money from the Knight of Diamond, I could parry from those in Njordr. Thankfully my Lady allowed me to depart from her side to try and support the will of the Church. To help those less fortunate.

I hosted a great party! Well, no. Not the food, or the ever filling wine glasses, but instead the entertainment for a week long gala! We played so many games those weeks at the House of Markgraf and we even had a promise of funds being sent to the church from their houses! I must have done well…But of course I am. I am of the House of Hearts, we can entertain a room.

We had contests of stories late at night, we shared poetry, and I even heard the youngest of the Markgraf’s play their silly little instruments! They adored me, mostly because I doted on them that day. I knew that, to find favor with their parents, one must be the center of their children’s attention. But after a day or two…I found it less of an act and could not stop entertaining the children whenever they found me. The children were so full of joy and I spent much time with the children on my lap and bouncing them during late night conversations.

I know it is my duty to birth an heir. Only for a small amount of time will they be in my hands in Cappacionne before they are sent to be raised in my childhood home in Valeria. Where they will be guided into another suit of cards…perhaps one of the Club or the Diamond perhaps. And I wish them success in their endeavor! If I am to keep them in my home they will not rise to their namesake. But as I spent days in Vissivind I realized how different our houses can be.

The Markgraf House is nothing like the Jokeri house. The rooms were full and the children …Well they reminded me of Jaqueline and me before we were pitted against each other – Before he was sent to academy. They played so many games and none of them were told to steal trinkets from their companions, like I was when I was their age. None of them were performing to be given a higher status in their parent’s eyes, they were performing for simply the applause of the adults in the room.

Not that I am not grateful to the Jokeri Family! But between us…It was lovely to see the cousins so unguarded. When I tucked them in after a long game of hide and seek, the one that was found first was not forced to sleep under the bed like I was when I was young.

I am getting distracted, perhaps it was the four glasses of port. I am grateful to my GrandFather, but I will never forgive my parents for birthing me into this family and being so willing to pass me to another suit. And I expect my children to never forgive me for the same sin.

Thank goodness none will see these thoughts. If I die, I wish for you to burn this notebook with me after you devour these words. You may take the ash and do what you wish with it, but please allow my secrets to burn with me.

With all my heart,

Lorelei

I had to add more! I was just in bed when the bells started to read with news: King Maynor of Einsland has died! It was sudden and now there is scheming to be had! Who will be leaning in for the crown? I only have a few words to spare, as the ink is too valuable tonight.

I will be staying up till dawn writing letters to secure alliances. I do not know who yet my Lady wishes to put her banner behind, but banding support for allegiance to her choice is what I must do. While the guilt of my sins had originally brought me to Vissivind, perhaps it was God’s hand leading me to where I must be in order to put forth his divine will.

Njordr will now be the center of all gossip of Gothic, and the Knight of Hearts is in the center of it! How grand!

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A Letter to her Beloved on the Musing of Love in the North – Game 17

Hello beloved,

Forgive the length of time between our correspondence, and the length of this letter, as I know this one will be long. I am in one of those thinking moods, one where I ponder an idea until the candle burns from tip to base. It is an old habit of mine, from the days where the Spade was on my shield. Night is the time for plotting, for deep thoughts until the sun rises again.

Love is different in the North. Not wrong…I do want to be clear. Love from one’s heart cannot be wrong if it comes with good intentions, much like if one prefers a strawberry tart over a chocolate truffle. How one loves is as vast as the muse for that courtship: It is as unique as the fingerprints of the two hands that hold it. But I want to recount some thoughts of love that I have seen in this past weeks.

First is the love of Helga of Crowza. I enjoyed our chat: She was wise and wore her wisdom as wonderfully as one might done with Capacione’s most fashionable hat – Anyone could see it was of high caliber. I would have spoken many many more hours about her history, but the inquisition interrupted us (Do not get me STARTED on them). She recounted to me how she had not just one love of her life, but several. One of her husbands, she told me, was a coward who ran away from a battle. And, obviously she told me, if one runs from battle it could not be true love.

That idea clung to me like mud on boots as I grabbed by sword and prepared for battle: When one loves it is an act of trust to another. You love what you have seen of them, both their ideas, their wisdom, their beauty, or their truth. When that love is shattered…Was your love wrong?

Or perhaps was the person you loved purely an illusion cobbled with lies that even they did not realize? Did you love the mask the person donned with words and actions and when they dropped the disguise who was at fault? The deceiver, or the one who fell into a trap?

The next day I went back to her (As heroines do in fairytales) and she told me of another husband who died in battle. And while she carried that love to this day through her children and her history, she found another to spend her days with. That love must have been true as well: While a Knight such as myself will only have one great and honest love (as my target of love is as honed as the blade I wield) it cannot be wrong to love many. Not if each love you have is as pure and real and compassionate as mine is for you.

Now, hear me now. If you were to die I would dash myself into the nearest battle and die with you in my thoughts as I removed as many foes as possible for my Brother…But I do not wish that for all. That is not the way their heart is crafted. There are many tales of love in the bookshelves in House Delacroix: And not all of them are like mine nor Helga of Crowza.

I am no poet, you can find many more fluent in the art of essay and poetry in Capacione. But hear me now: I do think there is nothing stronger than Love: Love is what is the foundation of all. Take this last large battle against the corrupt Inquisition: The love of the people of Runeheim is what protect their homestead. Love for my Lady is what holds my shield high when the axes of the enemies crash down upon it. Love is what binds my brother and I across boundless roads and will get us through the turmoil that is starting to brew underneath the floorboards under our positions (That I will not share with you darling, you do not need to know nor do I wish to burden you with more secrets).

I am babbling, you know how I get when I start to think too deeply about this sheer force of power that binds and connects people. And while I did list all those examples of Love…Recognize that you, my Beloved, are my muse and my strength. You will be my only until I die.

And I pray that, when I do return to Capacione, I see you first. If news from the estate is true and my family’s plans are accelerating, I will prove that devotion to you in the only way possible. I am not Helga of Crowza: I am Lorelei, the Knight of Hearts of House Jokeri. You will always be my greatest Love, and I refuse to have another.

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Second Letter to by Darling, of The Prince of Gems

To my Darling,

While the battle was not as dire at this forum, morale was low after battle. Spring has barely touched the frozen forests of the Njordr, and even while I took part in yelling at trees to wake them, my mornings are still spent huddled under a cloak.

But you were on my mind, as often you are, when I remembered a story I read while at House Delacroix. It was tucked away between two tomes of great history: a small novella that told the tale of the Prince of the Gems. I told it to my comrades, but I do not believe I have shared it with you.

Please, allow me to correct that atrocious mistake!

A long long time ago, in the realm before the Witch Kings and presumably when malefic were more bountiful: There lived a Prince. He was coined the Prince of Gems because that was all he wished for. He would tax his people to find them across the land, he would send all laborers deep into the Earth, and he would slay any who dared to touch his growing horde.

But, eventually, his cruelty rose higher than his people could tolerate. Using great spells and knowledge they created a trap that would twist the Prince’s form into a beautiful blue diamond. The people then, insidiously, set it in a crown and presented it to him as a gift.

And once he put the crown on he was devoured by the stone, trapped inside it. And once he was caught the people of the town had a great parade all the way to the dock, where they then took a ship and cast him into the ocean. And the story goes that he is still down there, in the permanent darkness of the ocean in purgatory where he is with his own true love: Greed.

It is a story to trick nobility into kindness and to give to others, even if they have rights to the gold of their people.

NOW I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THE STORY ENDS THERE. How could it? A love of greed is not love enough!

And, so much like I did to the book in the library, I added an Epilogue to the tale for my comrades, to cheer them up! Love can fix any curse, and it can save this Prince from their purgatory. I amended the story with a caveat that, if the Prince found love in anything other than greed, that he would be transformed back into his human form.

So while he suffered for his crimes for many decades at the bottom of the ocean, one day a creature of the deep oceans stumbled upon the crown. She was beautiful, with eyes that sparkled like pearls and hair that even in the deepest dark shone like silver. It took only a moment for him to stare upon her until he fell in love.

And so when he turned back into his human form he was able to spend the rest of his life with her, drowning under the sea with his true love. He truly did love her until the day he died.

A romantic ending to such a tale!!! I told this to my comrade Silvester and while he was not a romantic like you or I and missed the simple beauty of unearthly love, he did seem to fare a little better after the tale, and, even better, it inspired my Lady to sing a sonnet of love!

So we together shared two songs of Romance to the people of House Valerian.

Alas, my candle grows weak this evening and I do not have another to spare: While we did just fortify ourselves in a more permanent residence of Fort Hrafnikastli, there is much to still do before I can waste two candles in one evening.

But, know this. I miss the sunrises in Capacionne. The moment at dawn when the sun would hit the hills, when the soft light purple would touch the dew covered flowers? I knew that Berceau de Artère was a wealthy land, but I thought it was in the gold of the pockets. I would pay any amount to be there again: riding our horses through what appeared to be fields of gem and precious stones. I remember that moment fondly when we first slipped from the castle away from prying eyes. It is because it is the moment I fell in love.

And I hope that if I am to die on this battlefield, my last moments are filled with thoughts of that moment, when the sun hit your face and I knew bliss had found me.

With all my heart,

Lorelei

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First Letter to by Darling, of Lucian Greenfield’s Love

To my Darling,

I know it has been several weeks since we last departed, but I still feel the heat of your palm in my hand as we said our goodbyes. I was told that time dulls all pain, but still I feel the ache in my heart at not seeing your smile as the sun rises on our morning rides together.

Please allow me a moment to distract myself from my own heavy heart and write of other love that I have found between the clashing of swords as I fight for my Lady. While you will not get my letters till I return and read them to you myself, I do not want to forget what I have witnessed here. Even in the North, where the ice is the heaviest and winters the most frigid, love blossoms under the lack of light!

The first tale I weave is one that I have heard of my companion Lucian Greenfield. He is a quiet fellow in my company, though after pestering him with questions I hear of his true love Angela! And while their love is one of courtship and devotion, even producing a child named Peter as a symbol of their affection, it was…Well…I am to be bold, if I am going to write of it I will need to add a stroke of poetic liberty. I wanted to transform the tale of their meeting to be equivalent to that of the power I felt in his words and the love beating in his heart!

~ They met when their carriage was attacked by BANDITS. Two individuals connected by not a strand of fate, but by the will to survive! Individually traveling in a merchant’s carriage, not even names shared between them before the first bolt of an arrow of fire was launched at them! The door was lit aflame and the two of them jumped into action. It was at the edge of a cliff, the horses threatening to pull the carriage off the cliff sides if not for the quick wit of Angela (The aforementioned soon-to-be-lover) who opened the opposite door of the carriage and leaned out of it, stopping it from caterwauling off the side!!!!!! But the bandits were just as cunning as they were vile. They had in their sights the ransom payments for such a beautiful woman in her prime with a large dowry, who knows how much she would fetch?!

But Lucian would not allow it! He leapt forward and atop the carriage fought off not one, not two, but THREE bandits with nothing but his love and fists (Obviously he should have used his weapons, there was no time to draw them)! And after he threw them all off the sides, narrowly catching the hand of his beloved (THE FIRST TIME THEY HELD HANDS) before she fell beneath the thunderous spinning wheels of the carriage. And as they looked into each other’s eyes, truly their Souls, for the first time…The Bandits sent a final poisoned arrow flying from their cursed bow and POISONED HIM.

How could death try and steal him, when he had just met his beloved? But perhaps all in the fate of Love. Though she was entranced by his willingness to fight for her, when not a Knight himself, it was their conversation while she nursed him back to help that knitted their lives together in a beautiful tapestry. And who would not be seduced by the passion of the moment followed by caring for another, cleaning the bleeding and festered wound? Because what is one kind of love if not a bond kindled by battle but then softly fed by tender moments of conversation, a smile. A shared joke while pushing through a moment of pain. ~

I miss you, my Beloved. While a story like this one does bring a smile to my face, I truly miss yours.

With all my love and soul,

Lorelei