Victor,

Marshal’s leaving today, and thank heaven for that. Five times I asked to help with the investigation and he dismissed me for being too young. I’m old enough to help stop a homunculus incursion and tackle a wizardess mid-spell, but not enough to help investigate the aftermath. They let the Blue Wench poke her nose in and she’s less mature than I am!

I should be nicer about her. She’s apologized for the trick she played on me, she’s the only person under the Marshal who’s been treating me like an adult, and she does feed me a bit of information here and there. She’s even choosing to stay here for a while until she finishes her training. But it burns me up inside to see her get to do what I can’t. Have you seen the uniform they gave her? It’s gorgeous on her. That should have been me!

Apologies, I’ve been stuck in the house for ages and I feel like I’m going mad. I have news. Father’s given me permission to become your apprentice officially, since you helped defend the town and all, and I’m eager to resume my education. I want to know how you survived the second attack after barely surviving the first. I want to open up my first leg. I want to do something besides helping my mother with her stitches and taking care of my brothers.

I want to know enough to get out of here. I’ve been thinking about it since the day Walstead made a fool of me. I told her I wanted out of Henshaw as a blind, but after seeing her get hired by the Marshal, I keep thinking about leaving now, not when Stephens finally accepts me in two or three years. There’s so much I haven’t seen yet, so much I would have died without knowing if that horrid woman decided to kill me.

Apologies, I know I’m rambling. I feel like helping to save the town has only made people trust me less because young girls aren’t supposed to save towns. But you did. You do, despite myself. And I trust you, with my goals and frustrations. I hope we can continue working together, and I hope you stay a while longer, because I don’t know what else I’d be doing without you right now.

Geraldine,

A confession. I wasn’t planning on staying here.

I have my doubts now, mind you. If I hadn’t accepted your help, I might have survived, but the town would llikely have been overrun by homunculi in the process. The Marshal was trying to investigate me on the grounds that I might be a threat to the town, but…I was, wasn’t I? They came for me, and now five people are dead.

I count myself a Christian, despite the rumors. I believe one should care for their neighbors, as the good book says. I came here to heal and to help, ulterior motives aside. This town is ill and doesn’t even known it. But does that account for neighbors who’d burn your house down? Henshaw was never going to fully accept me. Even now, there’s the air of suspicion when I walk the streets. But does that give me free reign to do as I see fit?

No, no, it is too late for regrets, and I already made my choice. All I can do is let you make yours. I will be leaving within a year, possibly the year, and I doubt Henshaw will remember me fondly. I can take you with me; I would not recommend it. My final destination will be very far from here, the journey promises to be perilous, and any bridges I burn in my departure will no doubt burn yours as well. That said, I understand if an exit is worth making that break. I grew up under uncharitable conditions myself, though mine were quite different.

I would like to discuss them with you, actually. I mentioned that my mother was also a teacher in her own way. She specialized in history and ethics and philosophy. I am a more material sort, save for my faith, but she was teacher as much as parent to me, and what she taught me, I will have to teach to you. This is beyond the craft; you’re bright enough to pick up the fundamentals well before I leave town. This is about the truth. If you want to ever truly know anything, ever truly understand anything in this world, this is where it starts. I am hesitant to even offer this; white folk who learn these truths rarely accept them. They grow bitter and paranoid because they cannot deny the knowledge in their hearts even as they do so with their heads. But you are young; you have not been treated well by the world; you like to ask questions; you think; you care; I trust you.

If I fail and you regret having ever met me, know this. I am not my mother or my father. I do not follow this path to spurn those who betrayed me or to continue an eternal string of sneaky tricks. There is a better future for mankind, and it starts with what lies behind the gate, and if it is a sin to open it, that is my burden to bear.

I’ll explain in full the next time we meet. Please, be careful. Secrecy and respectability are my tools here, and they must become yours as well. I am looking forward to seeing you again. I’ve been dragged through aloof gratitude and polite suspicion for days now. You’ll be a breath of fresh air.