t seems that just thinking of Badger the other day was enough to summon him, or at least a letter from him. This morning, a messenger from town slid the letter under my door. He was away before I could thank him for the delivery. The letter read as follows:

Ivar,

I hope my letter finds you besotted and with a fine lady on your lap. I ride on an important errand, and I am headed for a place no less than Castle Aspen. I have few days to spare free of travel, but Cannaghdown lies between here and there. My hope is to join you soon for some ribald tales and carousing of the sort that Cannaghdown is known for (ha!). I have news, and a few stories I think you will enjoy, having recently become engaged to a woman whose beauty outshines that of even the Band aflame with starfire. And my amour grows even sweeter when I find myself daydreaming of her ample assets, and you can take that as you will. I know that this announcement is a surprise, and I know you long for more details, but you will have to suffer in ignorance for a while longer. I will tell all when I appear—at the Shrine, of course.

Ah. A few days of rest with good friends and good drink will be welcome.

Regards,
Badger

It will be good to see Badger. He will be a sympathetic ear. But his engagement news reminds me of just how much I miss Fina. And being kept from Fina fills me with an anger that builds with each day. Idiotic ideas of “propriety” and the tradition-bound cretins who hold them are the force keeping us apart, and I cannot help but feel that the world would be a better place if purged of both. I may never again be able to spend time casually with her without looking fearfully over my shoulder. And these people are the reason.

My impending trial does not make this easier, even if the only punishment is a fine. The public shaming and further demonstration that our love is forbidden may be too much.