The letter arrives shortly after the defeat of Zul, carried by a guild messenger (no doubt at great expense).
Dear Wigmar,
I hope this
letter finds you happy and in good health.
I’m pretty
sure it does. You’ve got Thesalva and Ulfberth at your side, an army at your
command, and the sun on your face. Travelling the world, living from one day to
the next, yet dreaming of what is to come. Always the happiest when you’re out
there in the dangerous unknown.
By the time
you read this I’m long dead. Well, not for real, I hope. But to the people of
Liberungen and the Reikland I’m dead and buried. I caught an imaginary fever,
probably the one that so ravaged Grausee. The servants were horrified to say
the least, thinking they were next. Good thing Rick was there to care for my
body (he’ll stay to guard the children – he’s too conspicuous to bring along)
as no-one else wanted to be near it...
I arranged
for a private little funeral near the manor. You should have an official ceremony
one once you get back, I suppose. Just don’t dig me up, because the grave
contains the body of a woman that really did die of illness. Grieve for me a
little, then find yourself a fine lady of high birth, multiply your lands, and
be happy.
I suppose
you might wonder: why?
It’s simple.
I’m just not meant to be a mother and a wife. When I look at our children I…
they are rather cute and funny at times, but I really can’t be bothered to let
my life revolve around them. As for being a wife… I enjoy a bit of luxury, I
truly do, but it’s such a meaningless life. What am I to do? Drink all day long?
Fuck the stable boy? Sleep with the scullery maid? Have the stable boy whip the
maid? Smoke the lotus flower? It's not me.
What I want
is to be on the road. To travel. To see far-away places, to meet exciting new
people. To sing and play and watch the crowd dance for me, mesmerized by my
craft. That’s what I want, so I’m doing it. That’s one thing you’ve taught me:
if you want it, you must try and take it. And so, I will. Take it or die
trying.
If you want
to be angry with me, fine. I’m not angry. I remember our days together very
fondly and would not be without any of it, even if some things did not turn out
as expected. Wanting to be the master of my own life you can blame Anna for.
Annika must take the blame for kindling the flames of my desire. The rest is on me - and on you, for making me grow a spine.
I don’t
know exactly where I’m headed, but it’s going to be far away from Liberungen
lands. Far enough that no-one will ever recognize a dead woman.
Live in the
light, have fun in the night
Isolde
