The brittle parchment crackled between Ludwig's skeletal fingers as he began reading the letter, its ink still dark despite centuries of neglect—preserved by the same enchantments that had guarded the chest. The words lingered in the air like a ghost's whisper, heavy with unfulfilled promises and the weight of a sister's love.
"I write this for you with a heart too full to bear such weights. My mission prevents me from waiting any longer. The last task given to me by Father had produced serviceable goods, and among them the leather of a Manticore. I claimed and used it to create some formalwear for you, which I hope to see you one day donning. Sadly, I cannot wait any longer. Your stay at the Capital took longer than expected.
Today, I leave.
