Ipomoea,
Blessed be the Dawn.
Messalina
At last you have returned, my king.
I am sorry I have not written to you for so long, and I regret not delivering my regards to your ascension personally.
Some things have... happened, while you were away. However, I do not wish to worry you before the meeting. I assure you that I am alright.
My ship has been delayed, and so I have sent this letter ahead of me to tell you this: I have decided to step down from my position as Champion of Wisdom.
I know this is sudden, and - I wish I could have said this to you myself. I wish I would have found you sooner.
Please, have faith in me. I will tell you my reasons when I arrive at the citadel this evening.
I am sorry I have not written to you for so long, and I regret not delivering my regards to your ascension personally.
Some things have... happened, while you were away. However, I do not wish to worry you before the meeting. I assure you that I am alright.
My ship has been delayed, and so I have sent this letter ahead of me to tell you this: I have decided to step down from my position as Champion of Wisdom.
I know this is sudden, and - I wish I could have said this to you myself. I wish I would have found you sooner.
Please, have faith in me. I will tell you my reasons when I arrive at the citadel this evening.
Blessed be the Dawn.
Messalina
At the first light of dawn, a dove as white as freshly fallen snow sits and taps its beak softly against Ipomoea's window. Tap, tap, tap. Two red roses press their petals against the glass, frost limning their edges.
The dove taps once more upon the glass for good measure before scooping the stems of the roses gingerly into its beak (a careful observer will notice that the stems have been stripped of their thorns) and flutters into the room when the window is cracked open.
It is a well trained dove. One of the very best, in fact - it hovers politely by the sill and deposits the flowers on the wooden cabinet leaning nearest the wall. Then, it turns its inquisitive red eyes towards the young king and waits for his nod to approach.
Attached to its leg is a tightly rolled slip of parchment, and as the dove nears, it holds out its claw for the king.
Take it, its eyes read. From her, to you.
The dove taps once more upon the glass for good measure before scooping the stems of the roses gingerly into its beak (a careful observer will notice that the stems have been stripped of their thorns) and flutters into the room when the window is cracked open.
It is a well trained dove. One of the very best, in fact - it hovers politely by the sill and deposits the flowers on the wooden cabinet leaning nearest the wall. Then, it turns its inquisitive red eyes towards the young king and waits for his nod to approach.
Attached to its leg is a tightly rolled slip of parchment, and as the dove nears, it holds out its claw for the king.
Take it, its eyes read. From her, to you.
