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'To... my beloved Seraph,
Who has so callously forsaken me!
You cruel, oath-breaking man! I am quite incensed with you... To leave only a solitary letter before spiralling away upon an airship to join the Bloody Hunting, without so much as a backward glance at the heart of this poor girl!
I waited... nursing a hope that you might reconsider and remain by my side during this brutal Hunting Season. Yet, my spirit was battered by the news that you had already transited to the furthest reaches of the Bloody Hunting front...
I comprehend... I understand entirely that the duty and the mageia mandate to dismantle the Demon Legion hold precedence for both you and all of Laurasia. Yet, I cannot entirely stifle a flicker of petulance...
I find myself adrift, gazing through the window day by day, entertaining the selfish notion... 'If only he were here, stationed by my side.'
But... I am equally aware that had you chosen to remain within the safety of Balyon with me,
you would not be the gentleman I recognise...
you would not be the man for whom I... kept my faithful vigil.
However... my resentment evaporated in a single pulse! The moment the news of your martial feats and the Observation Crystal recordings of your struggle reached Balyon, my heart swelled with ecstasy, as if a caged bird had taken flight within my breast.
You cannot possibly fathom the degree to which they speak of your name and the North-Western frontier here in Balyon.
Upon every street corner...
In every bustling market...
In every tavern...
Even within the infirmary wards...
The Balyon soldiery debate the legends of 'Magis Seraph' until the air is thick with the clamour of it.
They recount how you scoured a hundred thousand of that nascent demon breed within the Darkwood, and how at the Ragguard Fortress... you enacted a terminal judgment upon a million undead and excised hundreds of Crawlers with flame spears of celestial wrath.
The children now brandish wooden boughs, mimicking your liturgies and the sweep of your blade.
The minstrels weave your narrative into verse, as if reciting an ancient chronicle.
And every time your name resonates through the air... my heart thrashes with such intensity that I am forced to avert my gaze from the crowd.
I am so overcome with pride that I can scarcely suppress a smile; I harbour a frantic desire to proclaim to all of Laurasia that... that you are the one whom I... that we are the closest of friends... or perhaps, something more...
During this ongoing Hunting Season, Balyon too has sustained heavy assaults from the undead and several thousand Devilbats.
You must not harbour any anxiety for our safety here... the tribulations of Balyon surely do not rival the terminal crisis you face upon the frontier, yet the tapestry of gore and attrition is a burden almost too heavy for my heart to sustain.
I... I have also committed a certain madness of my own. I implore you, do not rebuke me for acting without your prior counsel... I donned the Master's healer vestments and surreptitiously ascended the ramparts to exercise restorative mageia upon the Balyon regulars and within the field infirmaries.
When Father discovered my transgressions, his censure was absolute; he unleashed a fury the likes of which I have never before witnessed.
But... why should I be forbidden from such a path, given that I have been schooled in the mageia of verdant restoration since my youth?
I wonder if you still recall? My innate affinity for the verdant element and the arts of mending. It is a profound pity that Father insists the Arkflame realm harbours no interest in the mageia of the wood.
But I am capable of far more than merely tending to blossoms and culinary duties.
Though Father offers no patronage... I am certain my restorative mageia preserved numerous souls! And you should know... I believe I performed with excellence! Scores of soldiers offered their gratitude through tears, their lives reclaimed from the precipice of the abyss just in time.
I have studied the healing liturgies under the Master since I was a small child; at long last, I feel I have been of genuine service to another...
And yet... when I cradle a soldier as his breath falters and expires before my eyes, or when I behold thousands of demon beasts besieging the walls of Balyon, my heart constricts with terror.
And what of you? You, who must confront millions of horrors far more loathsome than these—how much agony and isolation must you endure amidst that demonic theatre of war?
The more I have witnessed the brutality beyond the ramparts of Balyon throughout this past month, the more sleep eludes me. I have been besieged by consecutive night terrors of a suffocating void and the dissonant bellows of the Demon Legion... and of your own face, slicked with gore amidst an encirclement of demons!
I am afraid... I am utterly terrified that some dire premonition will reave you from my side.
Seraph... I pray you keep the four-leaf clover locket I gave you at all times. I entreat it to serve as your vanguard in place of my own heart.
And when the Bloody Hunting tenure reaches its conclusion... I implore you to return to Balyon with absolute haste! Return so that my own eyes may confirm your safety. Return to prove that you bear no scars as harrowing as those in my fevered dreams!
I will employ the finest restorative mageia to mend you, whether you are injured or not... and I will personally tend to your welfare... every laceration you bear, I will cradle and heal with my own hands.
I have despatched a consignment of chocolates alongside this missive (I trust that Snowfang has not compromised the confectioneries). It is my hope that amidst the boreal chill of the north, these treats will afford you some measure of warmth...
You must eat every meal, and you are strictly forbidden from losing sleep until your features grow haggard. I have no desire to see the gifted Magis Seraph resembling a walking undead upon our reunion.
Return to me with haste...
I have so many stories I long to share with you.
I hold 'something of the highest value' which I have guarded with my life, reserved solely for you...
.....
With all my devotion... and a concern that nearly overflows from this small heart,
Lenora Florencia... yours (if you return promptly!)'
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Seraph set the parchment aside, a convergence of visceral emotions swelling within his breast until they threatened to erupt. He was, of course, consumed by the guilt of having bypassed Balyon and violated the oath he had sworn to the lady.
Nevertheless, he maintained a steadfast conviction that his current struggle and martial trajectory were an absolute necessity. It was his hope that these actions would serve as a clandestine vanguard, shielding Lenora and her city through indirect providence.
Following the conclusion of the second tenure, Captain Mordan had prohibited his deployment upon any further sorties. It appeared the Bloody Hunting mandate had reached its terminus, with no third chain-mission manifesting.