Dear Sparrow,
I hope this letter finds you well. I was surprised and pleased to receive your recent package - how fine it is to read news of home, and to learn that the people of Westmark are making such strides toward shaping the republic they so deserve following the long years of uncertainty. I feel the past year has flown; Theo and I have barely begun our travels.
I must thank you for enclosing your revival of the adventures of Old Kasperl and the Bear - I feel, and Theo agrees, that Keller would have been proud to see you carry his work forward. It is the role of the press to keep those in power honest, and more so, I should imagine, in these years of the infant republic. I believe I spy your brother's hand in the reporting of the political events of the our your the new nation - Citizen Weasel has always had a bloodthirsty turn of phrase that I confess I cannot help but admire.
We plan to leave Regia in another fortnight, and intend travel southward. Theo is much enamored of the tales of the southern sun, and is taken with the idea of capturing the light with his paints. He reads a great deal, finding endless occupation in the philosophy and theory of art. I believe it is a balm to his nature, this new life away from politicking and warfare. I leave him to his books I fear he only sees the world he wishes exis He is well and happy, as am I.
Do tell, have Las Bombas and Musket returned to Marianstat? We were saddened by their decision to return to Westmark, for all that we understood it. The constant surveillance The attention paid to our As a group, our notoriety, I fear, was a bit overwhelming They missed the familiarities of
I hate this. I hate writing to you, but choosing my words to suit the prying eyes that will open the letter before you ever see it. I hate the careful formality, I hate limiting my words to be polite, to never go deeper than the surface. I hate to think that you read my letters and think that I've gone cold toward you and toward everyone we've left behind because there's no feeling in them. Sparrow, I miss you. I miss Westmark, I miss Marianstat. I hear the Juliana bells in my dreams, and I wake up dry-eyed, but it's a close thing, closer every day. I think I've made a mistake. Perhaps this was the best of a bad lot, yet I cannot help but wonder.
I thought when we left Westmark to begin my exile that it would be like living before I remembered my life as Augusta - but with fewer nightmares, less uncertainty, with a family of friends around me. It isn't like that at all, of course.
We're watched wherever we go. I have no anonymity, I cannot hide - we develop a retinue no matter what we do - monarchists who suspect I hold an ambition to return to Westmark and retake the throne, radicals who hope I have entered a nation to spark revolution, spies of governments that fear the same. It was naïve to think I could just be Mickle again, that Theo and I could be together anywhere, that we could make a home and be ordinary and happy. We are not, I suppose, completely unhappy. Theo paints, as I said, and I do believe he is finding a sort of peace within himself that has been missing for too long. Theo is an idealist, and while he sees our retinue, and tolerates their presence with a bemused good humour, he chooses not to look at their motivations too closely. I wish I could do the same, but that would endanger us both.
I fear assassination; I fear the way that my very presence in a nation, any nation, can spark unrest. No matter the system of rule, in each new place the governments gather us close to watch our every move. Here in Regia, it's almost tolerable. Constantine has installed us in a country house - it's beautiful, and we lack for nothing. I know, though, that we are here as prisoners, for all that he never says it. He's become a careful ruler, fair and progressive, but alert to danger. In his place, I admit I would do the same - and I know he has been counseled, is still counseled, to do worse by us. For all that I love the resultant republic, I hate the terror, turmoil, and death that Westmark endured, and would wish the experience on no nation. I fear that I (my life, my name, my actions) could be used to recreate those events.
If I had stayed, if I had not listened to Florian, but had countered his arguments with my own, would it be any different? I suspect that I might have had more control over my life if we had remained in Westmark. I could have openly refuted the ambitions of the monarchists, openly supported the work of the republic, bent my back to the work of rebuilding. I know he didn't truly believe me capable of it, despite everything I did, but should that have mattered? Our situations are different only by a matter of degree - Florian, with his followers and his history, could reinstate the monarchy and claim the throne with no more difficulty than I. Had Justin survived, he would have argued for Florian's exile as well, and done so with furious determination.
I confess I was so happy to finally marry Theo that I didn't care what exile would mean. I am happy every day to be with him and not alone, and I hate to say that it isn't enough - but it isn't. He has an occupation, several occupations to choose from; my occupations are limited to former queen, former revolutionary, former thief. Secretly I dread bringing children into this life of exile.
I do not confess these things to Theo. I will, perhaps. Someday, when he looks up from his books and his paints and sees the cage that surrounds us wherever we go. I cannot point it out to him yet; I cannot be cruel just so that I may have company in my fear.
I wish I could send this to you. I wish I could see you, and Weasel, and everyone alongside whom I fought for Westmark's freedom, and for her future. I wish I could be free of the weight of suspicious stares and false courtesies.
But none of that is possible. And so this letter shall go into the fire, and I shall watch carefully as the truth turns to soft ash, not a single unguarded word remaining; and I shall begin again to write inanities, and I shall resign myself to receiving your ever more brief letters in return, each more distant and polite than the last. And you and I, Sparrow, we shall be strangers, soon.
Goodbye from Mickle, your friend.
I hope this letter finds you well. I was surprised and pleased to receive your recent package - how fine it is to read news of home, and to learn that the people of Westmark are making such strides toward shaping the republic they so deserve following the long years of uncertainty. I feel the past year has flown; Theo and I have barely begun our travels.
I must thank you for enclosing your revival of the adventures of Old Kasperl and the Bear - I feel, and Theo agrees, that Keller would have been proud to see you carry his work forward. It is the role of the press to keep those in power honest, and more so, I should imagine, in these years of the infant republic. I believe I spy your brother's hand in the reporting of the political events of the new nation - Citizen Weasel has always had a bloodthirsty turn of phrase that I confess I cannot help but admire.
We plan to leave Regia in another fortnight, and intend travel southward. Theo is much enamored of the tales of the southern sun, and is taken with the idea of capturing the light with his paints. He reads a great deal, finding endless occupation in the philosophy and theory of art. I believe it is a balm to his nature, this new life away from politicking and warfare. He is well and happy, as am I.
Do tell, have Las Bombas and Musket returned to Marianstat? We were saddened by their decision to return to Westmark, for all that we understood it. Perhaps our paths will cross again and we will see them, someday, entertaining a crowd in some nation far from Westmark.
I fear my time is short, as the post-carriage is ready to depart - convey our good regards to all of our acquaintances you might see.
I remain yours sincerely,
Augusta
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