I write to you from the front, for perhaps the last time. Do not worry, my friend, this is not my death bed confessional, but a missive to bring you hope in these trying times. A peace is about to be ratified in this grand convocation of nations we call Soren, and I will be released from my indenture of service to Vorsoon.
I find it likely that word of the end of the war will have reached you long before this letter, so I will not dwell over much on the news of this development. It is both a blessing and curse – I am blessed to have lived through Strife’s last grand act of isolation from the rest of us, their destruction of the Bridge of the Rift, but cursed for having to admit my, not insubstantial, powers were not up to the task of quickly repairing such a daunting structure. General Verashl has not let me forgot how I let down the leaders. I feel torn, for I believe given enough time, I would have been able to provide passage for the army, but should I have been allowed to do so, it would have led to continued bloodshed. I know which outcome the general wanted, albeit without the time commitment it would have caused, though I am not sure he was correct to want that outcome. A quandary we can ponder together, perhaps?
Which leads me to the inevitable truth of this dispatch, though I am sure you have already seen through my abecedarian obfuscation already. I plan to visit Kabal once released. It has been quite a spell since we were able to speak in person, debate the vagaries of your god once again, and a chance to relax in the countryside. How I have longed for the cool breeze of the East in my face as I while away the hours with my friend. It will be good to return to the care-free life of pastoral Lockwood and rid myself of the stress this servitude has introduced into my life. I crave for your arms to once more ease my grief, with your eternal optimism and faith in your god’s plans.
I am sure this epistle will arrive, at most, a week before my physical appearance, but thus is the nature of being forced to use this physical media rather than the infinitely more elegant mental communing we have enjoyed in the past, made impossible by the many miles that separate us now.
Dream of our reunion, for the both us, robbed as I am of such human pleasures.
“Matz” was a war veteran from Kabal, finally coming home with the great peace that had finally been signed. He quickly took up the defense of the nation, despite his weariness and desire to rest after fighting for so long. Unfortunately, having fought such a straight forward conflict for so long blinded him to the devious nature of the evil he was facing – he fell to several traps pursuing Edmund, eventually dying to the final one.