Burley,
It's getting bad out here, Fist. My men have been vanishing, disappearing without a trace. Ghosts, they're saying. Spirits of the just, judging us for our misdeeds. What rubbish, right? It's those damned undead, always stalking the wilds at night.
More and more by the day, and the guards are powerless to stop them. Spheres, they've been cracking down on us harder lately because they know it, I'd bet coin on that.
My boys are getting spooked, and some of them have even fled, the cowards. They think they can do that to me? Oh, I'll show them. Don't you worry, Burley. But first, I've got to look after my own.
This whole country is turning sour, like milk, and we have to do something about it. But what do we do? There's a nasty storm brewing just beneath the surface, and it's getting mighty hard to keep cool about it.
Sure, I play it off for the boys. Let them know I ain't worried, that we're going to tough it out. But between us, Fist? I'm spooked, too. What if it's me next?
What if I'm raiding one night, living life fat with coin and wine, and the next I'm one of those shambling corpses, dead and drunk on the blood of men? That's no way to be. I can't let myself end up like that.
I could leave, you know. Pack it up and just head north. But would my boys really follow me out there? Could I even ask them to? Damn it. What do you think, Burley? I'm starting to go out of my mind over here.
- Leanne, the Wits
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Books and notes - A Letter Between Bandits - Books and notes
