Of Blades and Banners

And Victories to Come.

My Amazing Sara,

How goes your day? I hope the sun shines as brightly for you as it does for me. I hope your steed stands strong and your armor still shines in the light as it did the day it was forged. I hope your smile still shows from behind that braided curtain that tends to love to cover your face. I hope this scroll finds its way into your hands and most importantly, I hope you are well.

How does the battlefield fare? Reports come to us of dangers beyond all reckoning. Of the demons and their ilk. Of the vampires and their ghouls. Of the sorcerers and the charms. Of monsters that men have not laid their eyes on in millennia. They speak of a war, unlike anything we have ever seen. Rumor has it that the dark forests in the south stir in the night and the Old Ones will wake soon. I do not know the veracity of these words, for scrolls have been known to be altered by the enemy. I hope these ills do not find you. But then again, I have seen you fight.

Ah, the memories beckon and I must abide by their calling. Do you remember, my love, of the practice pits. The Dances of Wind and Water, the forgotten ways taught again. The silent dance of death, delivered on the stage of battle, by the blade of a sword. Do you remember that evening when I first laid my eyes upon you? You of wit sharper than her sword. You of humour darker than the foul beasts we fight. You with a smile brighter than the Crystal Sun. You with a laugh that could melt a frozen heart. You are magnificent now as you were then, if not more.

I write this to you for I know you head to battle. I bet you wear that look on your face. Half-smirk, Half smile. Those eyes glittering like a wizard with a hidden gem of knowledge. My words may have no bearing on the outcome the Old Ones have decided, but they do have bearing on this: Smile, sweet one. Light that battlefield on fire. Give them hell, remind them from whence they came. Let loose, Dance, and let them all fall. Head out tall and proud and return just the same. May your blade be drenched and may your armour hold. May the enemy falter and may you be victorious. May they rout and may you triumph. May you do all this and more. Go kick a**, love.

Have a victorious day.

Yours, Always,

Lawrence

#Fantasy #Letters #Love