Letters from the Sky

At the tavern, I ordered my first pint of mead in 6 years.

“That will be 3 bronze coins, Sire.”

I handed the tavern keeper 3 silvers instead. He looked at me with confusion.

“Sire, those are the wrong coins. 3 bronze coins are enough for the drink.”

I shook my head. “Keep them, you work hard here.”

The tavern keeper looked at me surprisingly, but not long after, he smiled and took the money. I noticed that some people looked over to me quickly, and looked away with a smile on their face. I had known that the people in this town respected me, but I had assumed that it was because I was Tytus’ son.

I sipped my mead, and I prepared myself.

“Keeper, have you any interesting stories as of late?”

“Besides the Lord Baron not knowing the difference between bronze and silver? Of course, Sire. I have plenty.”

The entire tavern exploded in laughter, and many patrons walked to me to offer cheers. Of course, I was embarrassed, but I felt at home here. Would they have treated me with such familiarity had they known about the letters to that poor maiden?

The night was filled with stories from the tavern keeper, the patrons, and some of my guards themselves. Of course, when I secured the mines by the Mountains of Demune against monsters and camping bandits, I shared huge smiles with the soldiers. But when my emotions were at the forefront of the situation, I chose to recess back into my heart’s cavern. Tonight, I was able to stay open and honest in front of strangers and friends alike.

After a fruitful evening at the tavern, I had told my guards to stay and have fun while I walked back to the keep. They had refused, even when I offered them more money for mead.

“Sire, serving this Barony has been a blessing only the God of Luck could have bestowed me. My family has enough to eat, and my livestock have land to graze. Peace is something money cannot buy, but you, Sire, have gifted us something so priceless. It is the honor to serve you that I will be taking, not your money.”

“Captain Phylx Casus, I will remember this. Report to the keep tomorrow with your patrol to receive your promotions. If you want them. General.”

I walked away while the patrol was in attention form. They deserved a promotion, not just for protecting my realm, but for protecting my heart.

Back in my chambers, I paced back and forth for at least miles. I was full of ideas for my next letter, and I had many tales to tell my lover. I know she will be happy to hear about these stories. I want her to be happy, for the sake of her peace.

“To my Dearest,

I am very happy to hear from you again. My heart was pounding like a war drum in anticipation of your letter. I want to give you so much of my love. No matter how far we may be, may the winds of the gods bring us together again through paper and pen.

I am beyond happy that you noticed my improved handwriting. The tavern has been quite busy lately, and I had the pleasure of serving some nobles who visit occasionally, so my tab writing was forced to improve for their leisure.

I have many stories to tell you as a tavern keeper, so I will start with this one first:

It was a calm night with only 10 people at the main table. I noticed that a strange man with a soldier’s uniform and a cloth over his eye walked in and sat at the bar front. He asked me for a pint of mead, which was only 3 bronze coins. Instead, he handed me 3 silver coins. To my surprise, I recognized that the man was our young count, and he was sneaking out of the keep for peasant’s mead and company. His disguise was seen right through because of his presence and stature. Regardless, the regulars greeted him shortly and returned to their business. I wonder if my lord is tired of the life of nobility and politics, and wants to live a life with simplicity. I wanted to ask, but I wanted to respect my lord’s wishes to be undetected.

Everyday, I am given the gift of seeing the stories people bring into my tavern. These stories remind me that everyone in this world is living a life that is theirs alone. My hope is that our stories will connect one day, and we will see each other again to write the love story that was meant to be.

I love you, and I wish you the best in your days. Please write soon, my heart cannot take another day without your words.

Love,

Marcus”

Hopefully, a small narrative would entice her. In a way, I was telling this person who I was, and how I would act if I were still 17 years old, hoping in a way that this “young lord” would win over this stranger’s heart and interest. Unfortunately, I felt as if I had to relive my young, rambunctious ways to allow anyone to love me, as my current self was too brooding, too honest, and too bashful for any new love.

Despite these feelings of self-contempt, I would still search for love with letters from the sky.