My sweet Beloved.
It has been weeks since my hand has held a quill rather than a pen, as we are all working earnestly towards the salvation of Runeheim. Since Felix’s explanation of the famine in Runeheim and the town’s consensus to prioritize our food stores it seems selfish to take time for you, even if it is what your heart truly wants. But I have snuck away and by the light of the moon I wanted to take this moment for just us.
There was a story I never told you. It was one of the earliest love stories I found in the libraries back in Port Valeria stuck between two of my required readings given to me by my tutor of the Spade. The Clever Lady and Servant – I would be remiss if I didn’t write it down. I told it to the people around the high fire, as I told the spirits were drawn to the fire, I will now recount it for you.
“Once upon a time there was a Lady, as most love stories have. She was born by a Count, and so was to be the single heiress of her Counties. And they were benevolent, kind to their people, and she was beloved by all. As a budding countess she was well-read and versed in the arts, and for every moon that passed so did her beauty grow. She loved riddles, word parlor games, and most of all laughing. If her heart had any weakness, it was humor.
It was this last virtue that made her fall in love with a simple farmboy just outside her Castle. Everything about him was plain. He was from a small family of no nobility, was not particularly handsome nor strong. Quite honestly he was not…remarkable. But he did not need to be. He had one ability, and it was to make the young Countess laugh. Sometimes love is funny that way, it is not a culmination of beauty, charm, or skill, it can just be moments of laughter between pressed lips, smiles across the field as one looks down from the balcony and one looks up from the dirt.
“But there was a third player between this obvious match, one that was ruled by greed. An Old Merchant, that had been passing through the county and upon meeting her knew of her value. Hungry for only the most valuable things in the land, he worked with the darkest of forces and meanest of men to start to break down the county and send it into chaos. Thievery, vandalism, and crookery, it took many years but eventually he twisted the metaphorical screw deep enough and forced the family of the Lady into a proposal. Her dowry could save the people of the county, how could she say no?
“At the announcement of their marriage the simple farmboy did the first courageous thing of his life- He made a proposition: If the farmboy could present three gifts more valuable than the dowry before the next day’s wedding then the Old Merchant would need to surrender the dowry and leave. He promised a gift of gold, a gift of silver, and a gift of pearls. But, if he was unable to find these items then he would forfeit his life in whatever way the Old Merchant wished. So the deal was struck, hands were shaken, and he went to find treasures worthy of his love. He would need to present one at dusk, at midnight, and one before dawn.
“Gold, gold, gold. He had less than four hours to find some! The farmboy had never had real gold in his life, and so he thought of the only gold thing he had ever seen. From the farm’s silos he gathered all the flax left from the last harvest and brought it together in a wheelbarrow. And the Lady, at the same time, decided to tip the wine cask and provide heavy libations at the party. The Old Merchant was quite drunk as the first gift was presented….And without his wits was overcome with greed. That much “gold?” A whole wheelbarrow full! It was much more valuable than his dowry! So with wine on his lips he conceited, the first gift was more valuable than the dowry!
“Silver, silver, silver. He only had till midnight to find some! The farmboy had never had real silver in his life, and so he thought of the only silver thing he had ever seen. He went to the local watering hole and filled four barrels to the top with fresh water. Taking them outside, the beautiful moon peeked down at them, a reflection of silver across the surface. As he loaded them up in his cart the Lady, at the same time, poured the last of the wine, serving the Old Merchant every last drop before dragging him towards the balcony to ‘see his prize.’ The Old Merchant was still quite drunk as the second gift was presented….And without his wits was overcome with greed. That much ‘silver?’ Three barrels full! It was much more valuable than his dowry! So with wine deep in his belly he conceited, the second gift was more valuable than the dowry!”
“Pearls, Pearls, Pearls…He only had till dawn to find some! The farmboy had never seen a real pearl in his life, and he thought of the only pearl he had ever seen. He did not go fetch anything, but simply waited at the castle, watching the festivities as night slowly changed to dawn. So when the drunken Old Merchant stepped forward to demand his last gift, the farmboy did the only true skill he had: He made the Lady laugh. And as she did her shining teeth lit up the room, so did the farmboy’s smile also grew! The Old Merchant was as drunk as one could be as the third gift was presented….And without his wits was overcome with greed. That many “pearls?” Two oysters full! It was much more valuable than his dowry!
And so they went off, the drunk Old Merchant bested by the two. And the Lady and the farmboy were to be wed.”
And that was the ending I told at the fire. It is how I wish it to end.
But that is not the true ending that was given. As, it was not by accident that the story was given to me. As I turned the last page I realized that the story was a lesson: Because the Old Merchant was not going to leave without his gifts. The ‘Gold’ sacks was put into his carriage, the ‘Silver’ barrels sealed and brought as well. But his pearls were still to be his, no? And so with the help of the darkest of forces and meanest of men he made sure to take each and every ‘pearl’ from their lips. Because, in a Spade’s training one must remember: Love is never without pain. And it is not enough to be clever, to be funny, or to be in love. It is only through cruelty and power: The one with the darkest of forces, and the meanest of men, will always prevail.
The next day my training was to practice removing teeth from cadavers, and once I pulled them out of the bodies I was sent away to train with the shield with Uncle Otto. It was then I knew who wrote that story. It was from his journal. That day I realized that the rosary around his wrist were not pearls, as I had once believed.
…Upon reflection, this letter is not for you my sweet. It is a farewell to this story. Maybe it is best that the true ending is not shared. It will be closed and put away, for another Spade to read.
Forever yours,
Lorelei
