I'm not sure why I continue to write to you. I know you're gone. That you can't read my words and respond in kind. I certainly never send the letters. In fact, the box I keep them in is nearly full. Whatever the reason, writing my thoughts as though I'm talking to you calms me and helps me think through the problems of the day. And, oh, dear Uncle, do we have problems!
I've told you at length about the vile and hateful Fortunata ap Dugal. Damn the woman, but she's a pox upon the Gold Coast! It's all I can do to keep her greedy claws from snatching Kvatch and devouring it whole. She's already ruined Anvil. I refuse to allow her to do the same thing here. And, I suppose, that's the reason for our latest correspondence. I just wish that I could benefit one more time from your wisdom and experience.
I have decided to appeal to the lesser of two evils in order to save our beloved city. I never expected to consider the Dark Brotherhood to be a lesser evil, but that's the times we're living in. I've gathered all of the components necessary to conduct the foul ritual. I'm not looking forward to performing this gruesome ceremony, but I know of no other way to employ the services of these assassins. Uncle, do not be disappointed in me. I can truly claim that Fortunata has left me no alternative.
With any luck, the next time I write to you, it will be to tell you that Kvatch is safe again. I miss you, Uncle, every day.