Fordola,
I find myself conflicted. In the streets they jeer and call you “Butcher.” Even I bore witness to actions which oppressed your own people. Yet, after that moment we experienced the Echo, my thoughts often linger on you.
You claimed that I did not understand; by that vision alone, you are correct. How does a person who clearly loves her country turn on her kinsmen? How is it that even as you took tithes, you sought to shelter them in a way? Upon reflection, am I so different? Even as my Astrometer soothes wounds, how many forced conscripts from other lands have I slain? Would I have done any differently than you, in the same position? What is Good, if not saving who we can, however we can?
You are so strong, in more ways than I can express. Saving the Council and me from the treachery of the Qaylana only reaffirmed this. I see your fire and resolve and can’t help but admire that.
I find that I
don’t wholly understand, neither you nor myself. But I want to. I want to know you. I care about you Fordola. I will wait for you. Will you wait for me?
Alice Reis