You can’t help yourself. You start reading.
It’s not really a letter, now that you look at it. More like miscellaneous lines. It’s not even addressed to anyone. He must be working out what to say.
I won’t bother asking you to come back. I know it isn’t that easy.
I can’t promise you protection if you come here, but there must be some way we can talk.
I do not know what I must do to mend the old wounds, but I wish to try.
Whatever else happens, to me you are still family. If nothing else, I want you to know that much.
I know you can never forgi
That’s all. It raises more questions than it answers. Who’s he trying to patch things up with? And what, exactly, happened?
Well. You keep the letter with you for now. Maybe you’ll get a chance to give it back to him. Or possibly hand it to another officer, one who you can be sure won’t be too mad that you read it.
It’s not as if it’s got any real details, but then, you can see how the Captain might not want to talk about it.
But maybe it’s best if you don’t get caught on the way back to your room while you’re carrying it.
As to the letter home, you decide to just send that tomorrow. You can write it back in your room. You put the pen back, climb down the ladder, and carefully make your way back.
You consider taking another look at the notes, but you’re already more tired than you realized. Those can wait for tomorrow, too. If you take longer than Eighth likes, that’s his problem. You just head to sleep.
Is that all of this night’s events, or is everything quiet until Marshall wakes up?
Marshall is awakened to the sounds of alarm bells hours before daybreak. A bogknight pounds on each door of those sleeping during the night shift. Looks like it’s all hands on deck, even for the one-handed.
This ended up as a very short chapter, but I decided it was better to split it off into its own thing rather than trying to squeeze it into either the previous or next chapter.