My Dear Helke!
Remember when you said, "Izbor, don't you go robbing folk, the gods don't like it, and besides, only refugees on the roads these days, and they're even poorer than us"? How you were cross that I shirked working in the fields and didn't bring a scarp home to put in the pot? Well, you are gonna have to eat those words, my dear! Gobble them all up, with a hearty slice of humble piece and some baked crow on the side!
Yesterday we corned this merchant. And not a Gors Velen or Brenna man, but from Nilfgaard itself, you see? From the City of Golden Towers! Didn't speak much Common, but enough so's we could understand each other. He said he was carrying some goods to the Black One's camp. We took everything he had, and I"m telling you, Helke dearest, you've never seen so many crowns in your life, nor could you ever hope to count that high!
Now we're going to rough him up a bit more to make sure he hasn't hid some of his gold or goods. Once we cut off his thumbs he'll spill the beans about any extra treats slashed in the soles of his boots, and once Mirko scalds him a bit he'll tell us about the precious stones he's got sewn in the feedbag. Might tell us a great many such things of interest, in fact. You never know just what till you try.
Tell the young'uns Da's gonna be home soon. That he'll bring them toys and treats and they'll eat so many honeycakes their tummies're gonna burst. For you Helke, I'll bring a silver necklace and brooch. Because while you can be awful cruel atimes, I still love you, you naughty bint.
-Izbor
P.S. Throw on that nightshirt with the lace and red beads for my arrival. And color up your kisser somewhat.
