...
A pen, yes. Just what I need, just what I need... Sea horror ink should be good. My veins are far too tired to be writing in blood today.
Some paper... Parchment? Whatever. Not like the smugglers would mind anyway. They'd push a dead body past border security's noses if paid enough.
... Too bad I can only afford a piece of paper.
What do I... How do I even start? What do they want me to say? "Everything's dandy, I'll be back home for Weihnachten with the wife and kid"? Probably.
Probably.
...
...
... Fuck, they're getting impatient outside. Sarkaz scum. Pay them an arm and a leg and they still have the audacity to order me around... Okay Henri, write. Just write.
...
"Dearest Frau Ziegler, I'm wr-..."
... No, what the hell? Frau Ziegler...? Way to estrange the only person who still gives a single shit about me. No.
Scratch it all.
"Ida, I'd like to start off b-..." by what? Ida? That's still awful. Who the hell addresses their own mother by her first name? Just...
...
Yes! Yes, I hear you, you Sarkaz dogs! Go play fetch or something, I'm busy! Gods...
...
Okay. In and out, Henri.
"... Dear mother.
Firstly, I'd like to apologize for the late letter. Things have been quite rocky these past few weeks, but that doesn't mean we're doing unwell, not at all. The land is bumpy and full of hollow depths - navigating it all poses a challenge that sometimes instills a certain sense of dread within all of us, but we manage to pull through every single time.
That being said, I still apologize for the late reply. I know you'll understand, though.
I've read your letters through and through, believe me. The fact that Anselm decided to show his ugly mug at the estate fills me with an unimaginably unquenchable thirst for violence, the absolute audacity of that man, who the gods high above bestowed the title of being my brother upon. Of course, I jest. The next time you see him, please let him know I'm fine and that I miss him dearly, no matter how much of an idiot he might be.
I miss everything, Mom...-" Mom? Mom, Mother?... Scheiße, let's just go with "Mom", whatever. "... I miss everything, Mom. The house, the houndbeasts, the garden, my violins and guitar. The only thing I don't miss is the man I refuse to call my father just as much as he refuses to call me his son. You can tell him that I'm unfortunately still alive, my "whore wife" as well, along with our "bastard son." And add that I wish him an eternity in Gehenna or whatever hell he prefers. I'd spit on this piece of paper, but alas it is quite fragile so I have to make my hatred towards him known in a different way. I apologize.
Lastly, I'd like to address you, Mom. The mere thought of you feeling well enough to respond and write me letters ignites a homely warmth in my heart and I wish for it to be the beginning of your journey to full recovery. I promise, I will come back a rich man. Rich enough to topple that bastard's empire and provide you with the care you deserve. No more war stained blood money, I promise. Leithanien's already full, all oozing with it, all of it circulating around like crimson through my veins. Running clean logistics in Kazdel was the way for me, and I am beyond glad that you can understand. Beyond hopeful.
YOU ARE READING
"No Life 'Til Leather"
FanfictionSometimes shit happens. Hey, it's not always your day, it's alright. One moment you're riding high, soaring above these mud-riddled plains with the king of mercs by your side, another, you're running far away from the crater he blew himself up in. Y...
