It was five weeks after the start of the Witching season, and after a long and bloody conflict, we were surrounded by opposing forces on all sides, and it was only a matter of time before they charged and put us to the sword. I don't know why they hesitated, but I wasn't about to let it go to waste.
Given the circumstances, I had only one choice, as distasteful as I found it. Over the western border, the Empire of Bone, one of our longest lasting enemies, had an army. So I made six copies of the same letter, begging them to save us, saying I was willing to trade my Kingdom for their help. I gave them to my best six messengers. They knew they were likely to be captured and killed, but they were loyal, and left.
Now, as good as they were, I knew most, if not all of them would be captured, tortured, and killed.
Which is why I numbered the letters as of there were nine, and why as soon as they moved troops to the western border, I mobilised and charged through the eastern flank, so that the messengers' sacrifice was worth it.
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