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The knight Chalimir's letter

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Journal entryEdit

Your Most Honored Grace, the Duchess of Arcsea!
[illegible fragment]... The witcher Gerd feared Your Grace's wrath, feared Your Grace's righteous fury, so off he fled to Skellige, to that hive of pirates, thieves and other such bandits. In sooth, the goods must have smiled on our quest, for quickly did we catch his foul scent and track him to a public house near the village of Fyresdal, where he was banqueting with the locals. Some sought to protect him, treating the traitorous man as a companion in arms. We therefore showed them no mercy and burned the inn to the ground. Alas and alack, the witcher escaped us once again, but we tracked him to the ruins of the old fortress called Etnir, where he went to hide or else perchance lay in wait by some monster... [illegible]
We made haste to assault his position with all our strength, but still the treacherous foe slew five of my men, wounded me most severely and brought the ruins' roof collapsing down on us with some witchcraft. Never fear, we shall surely free outselves from ehre soon. Meanwhile I have ordered the vile witcher's campsite searched and have found a diagram for some highly curious weapon. It is enclosed with this writing, entrusted to Your Grace's safekeeping. Another day, perhaps two, and we shall dig ourselves out of this rubble and catch the witcher. If fate is kind, perhaps I shall next send Your Grace not a missive, but the witcher's scalp... [illegible]
...yet it must be said that from the very start he slighted Your Grace with his most rude and brusque manners, though it is beyond the reasoning of a simple knight such as I to comprehend how a base worm like that could dare refuse your Duchessness anything! Why, serving Your Most Graciousness is an honor, and anyone who shuns such service reveals himself as a simpleton and a knave. Thank all the heavens the gods watch over Your Graceful Being, and the merciless usurper, that twisted wretch who deems himself your father, could be ripped off his stolen throne without the need for that mutant's help. Yet it is a witcher's swiving employ, Your Grace, if you will pardon my Temerian, to kill monsters, and Your Good Grace's father, why, what was he, if not a beast, a murderous monster lapping up the blood of innocents? And since he was such a monster – though draped in human skin, revealing his monstrous form only through deed and not demeanor – the witcher ought to have killed him, as Your Grace asked of him. Therefore, it is just that said freak shall pay with his neck for violating the dictates of honor and witcher law alike.
You Grace's humble servant,
Chalimir of Black Frydland, of the Brant banner

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