1866-08-13: The parchment curls and blackens
The parchment curls and blackens
Summary: Mattias reads the message that Cassius delivered.
Date: 1866-08-13
Related: A messenger delivers
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Mattias  

It was only after Cassius had all but fled the bank that Mattias settled back into his chair and picked the rolled and sealed parchment up from where he had placed it earlier. The parchment once again eyed with a hint of curiosity and then with a flick of his gloved fingers, the seal was broken and the parchment unfurled and read.

It troubles me to learn of your predicament…

"Indeed it should your Excellency."

I had hoped to aid you better than I can, though you know the regime is unstable and to leave now would ensure my enemies find the weaknesses this war has caused and exploit them mercilessly. I have done what little I can for you from behind a desk.

"Some of the best work is done from behind a desk." Mattias murmured softly as he continues to read, a twitch of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as the 'regime' is referred to as 'unstable', "So very true though. Quite unstable."

I can only pray to the One it is enough and hope this brings you some small comfort that your friends are doing what they can to secure your release. I believe in you and I believe that you would never do what they claim you have done and if you did, that you felt justified doing it.

"I am sure the assassins at the bloody ball felt justified." That smirk twitches to the other side of his mouth as the banker reaches to tug the candle flickering upon his desk a little closer, the molten wax at the base of the holder flowing freely about the beaded candle.

Know that after all this is said and done, you always have a place here.

"You might come to regret that, revenge is often served rather cold."

With Affection,

"As all such sentiments are ordained to be…"

H.

"Henric."

The letter itself was soon rolled once more and the tip applied to the flickering flame and within a moment the parchment had caught, the crisp surface turning brown as the flame fed upon the parchment, making it wither and curl and blacken and soon within a few moments, the parchment and its waxen seal, melted as it soon was, was dripped upon the cold stone floor and left to burn and smoulder as the tiny inferno ate the very words and consumed the surface upon which they were written.

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