[written in Rjurikan in a very elegant hand]
I CAN'T BELIEVE Father sold me like a whore for two hundred
silvers to be married off to some dogshit-caked mongrel-breeder from the armpit
of Taeghas. He married big sister Freydis off to a proper Rjurikan lord from
Leivika, and she isn't nearly as pretty as me! And now she's like a queen and
has already given him three sons while the nursemaids care for them and she
just struts about in her silks and jewels all day. But no, he says,
"Reynhild, you're to help us foster stronger ties with the
Anuireans." Stronger ties, indeed! Laying on some flea-infested pile of
straw while some inbred yokel ineptly plows me day and night! I should have thrown
myself in the icy waters of the Sidhebyrn before it was too late!
I'm headed off to this dreadful pit of a barony now; it's
barely an ale-stain on the map, right next to the lands of that awful monster,
Rhuobhe. What manner of madman would live there by choice?! I was excited at
first when I heard Father had picked an Anuirean lord. I've always felt like I
belonged someplace other than Rjurik, and the Anuirean merchants always have
such pretty things. But if anything, this barony sounds worse than the most
godsforsaken backwaters of Rjurik. If I'm to be sold to an Anuirean, the least
Father could have done would be to pick a nice civilized place where I can get
velvets and that nice Anuirean embroidery and rubies. The Taeghans probably
wear stained rags, and the Wilders (I'm told that's what they call themselves)
dogshit-stained rags. Wilders. Even their name sounds loathsome.
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