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The servant came into the office holding an iron oak wooden box, and a letter in a letter case brandishing a wax seal with a skeletal fist with one finger raised defiantly to the sky.
The elderly servant set the box on a small table next to a desk. He stood and bowed before the tired looking man staring out a window.
“My lord, a missive for you. And a package. I have left the package on the table, and the missive is in a scroll casing on your desk.” Said the servant.
“Thank you, Berty. You may leave.” Replied the tired looking man.
The tired man walked to the desk that sat in the rear of the room. He picked up the scroll that sat on the desk, and held his gaze on the wax seal for a long moment. He then broke the seal and opened the case pulling it’s contents out and unrolling the letter. As he sank into the chair beside the desk he began to read the missive.
“To my Former Brother in Arms Squire Tuk Uziel Defender of the Kingdom of the Emerald Hills,
To you, my former brother in arms I send this missive. It is to inform you that I, beyond your attempts, remain very much alive, and resting comfortably in a church the location of which I do not intend to inform you of should you decide to send another assassin to finish the work that your initial knife hand failed at. I have dealt justice to this hack you sent after me. You will find the evidence of this in the box that accompanied this missive. I once called you brother. However when you sent this knife hand to end my life you made yourself my enemy. I told you once when we were on the field during the last spring wars that the Riders of the Gryphon still soared that if one were to strike me they would do well to kill me because if not I will come back with all of the fury of Hell at my back. So I say to you on this day that some day you may put me in my grave, but today is not that day, Tuk Uziel. So in closing I will only tell you that you would be wise to keep watch of your back at all hours because I intend to leave this church and return to the kingdom of my birth. Once I arrive in the Golden Plains I intend to even the score between us. Until then I bid you good fortune in the wars to come, and that you find your way back to Am’s grace.
Sincerely,
Father Fionnigan Hellblazer
Tuk finished reading the letter and placed the letter on the desk, and walked over to the small table on which the iron wood box sat. Tuk picked up the finely crafted box and opened the lid. Staring back at him from the inside of the box was the head of the knife hand Tuk had sent to slay Father Fionnigan. A look of both shock and pain had been frozen on the man’s face. Tuk closed the lid of the box wretched and vomited the contents of his stomach on the floor beside him.
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"A mind needs books as a sword needs a wetstone, if it is to keep it's edge.”
Tyrion Lannister
I do not suffer fools gladly, and fools with white belts never.
Mortem proditoribus.
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