He tears up a scrap of paper and writes a name on each piece, to make sure he won't lose track of anything. He sorts what he can. After digging through Cullen's books for a bit, he matches the Orlesian heraldry on that particular amulet to a last name, a last name to a first: another piece placed.
Some of the letters use the generic language of any soldier at wartime. All is well. We push forward in a few days' time. Give my love to Mother and Father. A few break down into apologies. One or two mention Corypheus by name, and Alistair has to wonder whether it wouldn't be a greater kindness to burn them and let their family believe they died with honor.
And he writes. I regret to inform you -- is that all he can say? I'm sorry -- for what, their death or their treachery? By now, he's sitting in Cullen's chair, scrubbing at his eyes to stay awake.
no subject
He tears up a scrap of paper and writes a name on each piece, to make sure he won't lose track of anything. He sorts what he can. After digging through Cullen's books for a bit, he matches the Orlesian heraldry on that particular amulet to a last name, a last name to a first: another piece placed.
Some of the letters use the generic language of any soldier at wartime. All is well. We push forward in a few days' time. Give my love to Mother and Father. A few break down into apologies. One or two mention Corypheus by name, and Alistair has to wonder whether it wouldn't be a greater kindness to burn them and let their family believe they died with honor.
And he writes. I regret to inform you -- is that all he can say? I'm sorry -- for what, their death or their treachery? By now, he's sitting in Cullen's chair, scrubbing at his eyes to stay awake.
The candle he lit burns lower. He keeps working.