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*frayed edges due to exposure to water and many miles of travel the last page in the rolled oil skin* *...*** dispatched the three messangers left. They must break through enemy lines now that we are surrounded. Weeks now they've been landing men on the coast, living in the rock caves the dotted the face of the coastal cliffs. Laying in wait for the signal, which is now on fast approach. Word must get back, it needs to get back. Their norhern forces have been descending slowly south, sacking villages and cutting off communication, sending false reports with staged riders. This all bodes terribly for the union and for the empire. I have failed to stop this in time. I have failed to discover this plot in time. My contacts, my information, all the cultivation for nothing. I have enclosed their full plan in this oilskin and cast it off with the last of my carrier pigeons. As for me, I go south west. I need away from these doings and these conspiracies. They have run their course, and I've lost my taste for this never ending conflict. I look for fairer shores, ones I knew long ago... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ | |