Year of the Emperor 280, Beltane (Speculative)
My Lord Otto,
I write this not for dispatch, but for clarity. I do not know if these words will ever reach you, but I must set them down.
The matter of Princess Elara has weighed heavily upon me. I understood the logic—her surrender to the goblins would secure imperial stability, preserve the lives of thousands, and ensure the cohesion of our campaign. It was a service to the empire, and I resolved to see it done.
But resolution is not peace.
There are goods, I have come to believe, that exist beyond the bounds of order. And sometimes, those goods clash with the very structures we are sworn to uphold. I have never faced such a moment before.
As we flanked the caravan bearing her to the goblin kingdom, I heard her cries. They struck something within me—not sentiment, not softness, but a chord of conscience long buried. I do not know what stirred, only that it did.
I stole her away.
I do not know what this makes me. A traitor to command? A servant of a deeper law? I acted not in defiance, but in reckoning. I could not let her be handed over like coin.
I will face what comes. But I needed you to know: I did not act lightly. I did not act without thought. I acted because something in me refused silence.
Your son,
Alaric