To my dearest Master:
The cold winds of the Northern Territory are as sharp as knives, and the snow falls like cotton. Here in this silver-clad wasteland, Maggie thinks of her Master's warmth at every moment.
Whenever the wind and snow beat against the carriage window, I am reminded of the warmth of your embrace in Duval Castle. It is my only solace in this world of ice and snow.
The hardships of this journey are truly beyond words.
We passed through the muddy trails of White Maple Territory. Their roads are as muddled as the local Lord's mind.
That old fox from the White family actually thought he could win my favor with his crude wine. How utterly laughable.
But please rest assured, Master. Maggie has already "borrowed" five thousand Gold Coins from him. Let's just call it tuition for his foolish notions.
Archbishop John has been droning on and on about his doctrines this entire journey, as if that could drive away the northern cold.
