You open the letter. The parchment feels thick and velvety between your still-mostly-numb fingers, and the wax seal reflects a comforting emerald hue in the dim torchlight of the cave. When your gaze falls on the page, the letters seem to shift and pulsate, before quickly settling into a language you recognize.
Queen Sotiria Anastatou of Pagolos,
The news of your daughter's assassination has met my people like the death of our own family. Tanarin mourns with you, and we extend our most sincere empathy during this time. Within this letter, I have enclosed five seeds of Senician wolfsbane, taken from the gardens of Mukamar. Please, handle them with care. May they flourish even in your harshest winters.
Furthermore, I would like to express my personal concern for your remaining heirs. Their security must be of the greatest importance, especially for the duration of your forces' investigation. While I have no doubts that your military is strong and will only continue to gain strength, I must advise caution when facing an adversary whose magnitude is only as clear as his face. As such, I would feel ashamed if I were not to offer my assistance. The Apexor has come to possess a handful of properties in the southern woodland, formerly under the possession of the Church of Hether. The transfer of these properties has been peaceful, with the intent of revitalizing Tanarin's economy under Hetheric rule. Cairnmohk has expressed only hospitality and transparency regarding the territory. I would like to offer you use of up to three properties of your choice. Should you choose to accept this offer, your heirs will be tended to by an Apexor detail, as well as any necessary servants, under compensation of the Tanarin throne. Worship of your gods will remain outlawed in these territories, though the Apexor does not enforce Hetheric law.
I look forward to your correspondence. May your mourning see peace, resolution, and vengeance.
Queen Sibari, Throne of Tanarin
There appears to be more written at the end of the note, but as your eyes settle on the postscript, the letters once again shift into a sea of dancing lines and dots. You heave a cough as you set the letter aside. You're nowhere closer to figuring out who you used to be, but you somehow feel confident that you were never one to care about the correspondence of politicians...
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