A Letter Home
Nora sits in the lower level of the old fishery, listening to the water lap against the floor and the bubble of alchemical creations as she taps a quill against the side of an ink pot.

Dear Sir Willamette,

No. Too formal. Nora screws up the parchment and tosses it in a bucket filled with other pieces of paper, broken glass vials, and other various reagents.

Sir Will,

That's better.

You were right. Revenge was not as sweet as I had hoped. I am ashamed at my reasons for killing the vile Gaedren Lamm, though I am not sad that the deed has been done. I could not do it on my own, you were right once again, but the city itself helped me.
A spirit claiming to be of Korvosa brought myself and a group of like-minded individuals together to bring Lamm to justice.


Nora stops to take a deep breath as flashbacks of Simon's murder flood into her mind.

I had intended to return to you in Lastwall after this deep was done, but I found my home city in need and calling for my aid, and felt the need to find repentance in the eyes of Iomedae for my vengeful actions. My new companions and I have been embroiled in the death of the king, riots and protests surrounding the new queen, potential war with the Shoanti and most recently, the outbreak of a deadly plague.

The alchemical apparatus pops and sizzles as it bubbles over. With a silent curse, and a quick glance to make sure Quintis hadn't looked up from his book at the opposite side of the room, she turns the heat down and adds a dash of a lime green powder to the beaker.

I have failed my companions once already. I stayed behind and let them investigate a vile necromancer whilst I worked with Simon's alchemical books in an attempt to master his formulae. One of them was lost, and the others tortured, before I was able to find and rescue them. It will not happen again, by Iomedae I swear I will protect them from now on.

Nora finds herself staring at Quintis as he pulls at the air, looking like he's playing an invisible harp. The mage seemed absent-minded, but his power and intellect were not in doubt to Nora. She looks back to her alchemical experiment and ponders again why some potions work and some simply do not. It couldn't be that Quintis was translating the formulae wrong, it must be something she was doing wrong in the creation. She sighs and returns to her letter.

I pray to Iomedae for guidance every day, though I know not if she hears my prayers. I now keep her tenet in mind each day: I will never abandon a companion, though I will honor sacrifice freely given. Jaris made the ultimate sacrifice for us and for the city, though I cannot help but feel I abandoned him.

Something is not right with the plague gripping this city, and I plan to help my companions get to the bottom of it. I will have faith in the Inheritor. I urge you not to come for me, I will come back to you when I am ready to be your squire once more.


She ponders a moment on the letter, still not entirely happy, though completely exhausted. It had been a few days since they had returned from Lavender's, where they had stopped fake plague cures from being sold, and truth be told she wasn't sure if she had cleaned the sewerage completely out of her travelling clothes from the prior adventure to see the were-rats. It would have to do, she had to try and create this new batch of potions.

I will learn the weight of my sword yet.

Your squire,

Nora


Nora takes the letter and carefully folds it, sealing it with a blob of wax from her candle. She then takes the potion beakers off the heat, places them on a cooling pad, and begins her nightly prayer.
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Epic × 2!