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Letter to Casolinwe



I had another unpleasant run-in with your friend, Mannimarco, yesterday. I don't know if I mentioned this before, but the Relicmaster put me in charge of overseeing vault deliveries. It is simple work—just a matter of cataloging potentially explosive reagents, unstable relics, that sort of thing.

Most of the acolytes have brought a parcel or two. Mannimarco, however, has brought dozens of unmarked crates, barrels of mysterious alchemical solvents, and so on. Given his seniority, I gave him a bit of latitude. But with the sheer volume of materials—I had to say something, you know?

I very politely asked him what was in his most recent delivery. He did not even look at me. He just said, "Nothing you'd be interested in." I persisted—gently, mind you! When I asked him a second time, he fixed those icy eyes on me and whispered something in the forgotten tongue of the Ublivey mystics. At the time, I thought he said "If you ask again, you will know regret." But after some uncomfortable reflection, I think he might have said, "If you ask again, you will know murder." It is an easy mistake to make—the words are very similar. But I tell you, Cas, I do not think it was a mistake. He knows I am a linguist. I think he knew exactly what he was saying. Even now, my skin crawls at the thought. There is something very wrong with that mer, I know it. Please, be careful.

Old Ways Guide You,

PS—His crates made a hollow, rattling sound as he carried them away. If I had to guess, I would say that they contained either dried wood or bones. I think you can guess which is more likely.