Image from Huntington Library Ms HM 60, f°7, 15th C.

Written this 15th day of March
Anno Societatus LIV
Being 2020 of the Common Era

My Dear Daughter Caroline,

I send my love upon the wings of the geese flying towards the thawing lands where you now toil for the good populace of Northshield.

The Ides of March conspire against me, and the stars and planets wheel in misalignment.

My wagon packed, I stood ready to once more trek south toward Ansteorra and your estate. Clouds, laden with snow, arrived in the night, delivering the bulk of its freight by morning. Howling wind and swirling flakes continued throughout the day. The roads now are slick with mud and melting ice. Methinks I must needs delay my departure.

Fear not, Dear one, time supports your cause even if the stars do not.
The laborers and tradesmen continue their good work in my absence. When the day arrives to move your worldly goods, I shall indeed have trekked south. There I shall remain at your disposal to guide and assist the work until completion.

Rumors and tales continue of the plague spreading throughout the lands.

Heralds and town criers bring news daily of the deaths and horrors gripping kingdoms and baronys and shires across the seas and close to home.

Daily I receive word from my kith and kin. They travel back to their own estates and cottages to assure all is well. There they endure the solitude until the stars align once more allowing all to go forth.

The great conflict in the kingdom of Gleann Abhann has found the gathering armies lay down arms and retreat.

Our good King Lucian and kind Queen Tamar urge great care. They proclaimed the needs of Their people to survive this plague remains paramount. Without Their populace there will be no kingdom. They are indeed good Rulers and True.

I look towards the brighter days of summer full of sunshine and fresh breezes. When the beasts and babies romp on the hillside while we sip wine in the gardens.

Indeed I do pray hourly for the safety of all the folk I love and hold dear. Mayhaps the halt of travel and revels and gatherings will halt as well the spread of this malady bedeviling our homes.

Know fully that the humours and health of our house and beasts and land here in the Hills of Ponca hold firm and well.

Until the day I once more gaze upon your countenance and have the opportunity to tell you, know that you are held dear to me.

Ever with love,
Your mother.

Image from Huntington Library Ms HM 60, f°7, 15th C.

Letters from Home
Being the 10th day of March
of Anno Societatus LIV
known as 2020 of the Common Era

My Dearest Cristina,

Your duties have taken you exceedingly far away across the seas, and slow traveling missives vex me, my friend.
I will attempt to put pen to parchment and bring you news.

Our King has called for the Army and the good citizens of Calontir to travel to the Southern reaches of Gleann Abhann on campaign to the Great Gulf War. Troubles there seem to ebb and flow like an expansive tide, ever reoccurring.

As you recall, I have oft journeyed south to give ease and aid to our kinsfolk in their mighty efforts. While there, I commonly break bread or bend the elbow with friends made during these campaigns. My heart fair sings, in the midst of the misery of battles, to encounter others I thought long gone.

My wagon was nearly packed in plan to travel with kith and kin to the war when I received word from my daughter in Ansteorra. She also has need of aid at her estate.

The distress in her words lay plain upon the page in every letter of every word. Oh! to be torn between loyalties! Duty to King and kinsfolk or faithfulness to blood of my blood.

In truth, I knew my answer before I spoke it. Choices are few in response to needs of clan and tribe.
Yet, my heart ached for commitments uttered then broken.

As a consequence, I trek still to the south, though not toward the great war.

I whine enough of mine own concerns. How goes your work in Drachenwald? Has spring yet arrived to the English countryside?

Rumours have reached my ears of an extensive plague ravaging the lands. Do take care, my friend. I pray you are well.

Spring mocks us here. One day fair and sunny the next day windy and snow covered. The geese fly, tempting us with thoughts of summer to come.
Our lands are rich and the gravid cattle waddle in expectancy.

I look to your return within the month and know not if this missive will reach you prior to you departure. We shall bend the elbow and feast on the last of the winter’s stores and tell tales of our adventures!

Ever your friend,
Nesscia