A Plea to Minah, the Captain's Mate

[Rance]

“It will not be much longer before I am no longer in need of your help, Professor,” said the seamstress.

de Lanz raised his eyebrows. “You are going to let me retire,” he said, feigning surprise.

”All things are temporary, messa. It was only a matter of time before I no longer needed your services. I am learning the delicate art of mathematics from Proctor Olwak; starting soon, I will be under the tutelage of one Proctor Duquesne for the Common tor’amad.”

”Speaking, rhetoric, and writing,” he said.

”Yes. The tor’amad.”

”I could teach you those things.”

”No,” she said. She folded her hands in her lap and said, “No, I am just fine with my tutors.”

”But I speak Jernoan as if I was born into the language, Glour’eya. Even your name, I understand its nuances, the changes in the tone, the way one must give out a breath between the first and second syllable. I have studied your language for all my life. Were it not for me, the studies of your people would be dead on this side of the ocean.”

”Then maybe they should die,” she said. “I am a Jerno, but I am not Jernoan anymore. I am a Mrykener; I will try very hard at it. Gloria. It is just Gloria. Simple. Precise. Myrken. You see?”

”No breath anymore,” he said. “Between the first and second syllable?”

”No. No, that is just foolish.”

”Gloria,” he said.

”Yes,” she said. “Gloria.”

”And I assume you are here to dictate a letter,” he said.

And while tomorrow she might be a Jerno again, exuding pride in her people, in her tarsweat, her Nameless, today, she was just Gloria, a displaced foreigner who knew nothing more than selling bags in the town square, speaking a missive to the old professor for what she hoped would be one of the final times.

She letter was sealed with a messy wax-pressing, and was crumpled underneath Minah and Captain Oliver's door at the Broken Dagger the next day.

To Myna or Meena (I cannot for the Life of Me remember the Correct Pronunciation) in which I Offer an Apology for Two Things, and hope You will find it in Your Heart to forgive Me though our Past Interactions have been Slight and Minimally Impactful:

First, let me say that My Upset Last Night regarding the subject of Mister Catch, though it may have been misdirected at Your Husband, was not Improper. I care a Great Deal for Mister Catch, whose Kindness and Loyalty has been Responded Respondent Rescinded Resplendent in Many Past Situations during My Short Time in Myrken Wood. I love Him strongly and cannot abide by His mistreatment. Mister Catch merely requires a Different Manner of Approach than other Beings, and sometimes a Forceful Tongue, but never Insult, never Words such as lunatic.

If You please, We may discuss Better Options in handling my Friend in your Future Interactions with him. You and the Good Capiten Captain are Light-Hearted Folk of Good Fibre and Constitution, and I think you will Benefit from not getting headbutted Catch’s Friendship.

Of a Second Topic: I have been Rude and Cannot stand it. Righa the Potion-Maker and I are Fast Friends, and because I cannot stomach the Vision of a Sword or a Blade meant for Cutting A Person Into Two Lumped Steaks or Various Slabs of Meat, I was very rude to Her regarding her Lessons, which I have come to understand were being provided by You. She has said She has stopped these lessons; I realize only in Retrospect that it was not My Intent to Dissuade her from wishing to protect Herself, but that I have an Unhealthy Discomfort of Blades.

It is My Wish that you should encourage Her to try again, but with knowing to be Very Responsible, and learning all the Honor behind a Responsible Sword, and Many Things like This.

Very Cordially,

The Loyal Uniformess of the Good Marshall Emory, and Dedicated Subject of the State,

Signed,

Glour'eya Wynsee

Add: I will return your jacket Very Soon.