Year of the Emperor 280, Beltane
My son,
You write with excuses. I read them with disappointment.
The capital has summoned House Landon to renounce all claim to the throne. The scandal of Elara’s disappearance—by Rochefort hands—has rippled through the court like fire through dry grass.
I have taken ownership of the matter. The name Rochefort will not be dragged through the mud by rumor and silence. But I will not shield you from consequence.
You knew of the dealings. You knew of the goblin terms. You knew what was at stake. And you knew your brother was doubting the orders of his superior nobles. Why did you not report this to me?
I have long tolerated your indulgences, your salons, your performances. I allowed you your masks, believing they served the family. But now the mask has cracked, and I see the face beneath.
This is your burden.
Restore what has been broken. Redeem what has been lost. Find the princess. Return her. Or find another way to restore the honor of this house and the Emperor it serves.
Do not write back with excuses. Do not seek refuge in Konigsheim.
You are my son. And you will act.
Your father,
Otto