Ashwynn Isengrim

“This is all too strange, I dare not walk so blindly, even with your letters.”

As the words left his mouth a horse-drawn carriage pulled into the parking lot from one of the alleys. It looked like one of those carriages that tourists ride in through the parks, wreaths of flowers down the sides, and a gruff man with a small whip and a faded top hat. The driver stood up on his seat and waved for the two to come forward. The Courier stepped forward, but the stranger caught his arm.

“Whoever wrote these mentioned a carriage-- and an awful lot of trouble was gone to to make sure you received this letter.”

“Yes, but the man who wrote this letter is known to me. He was a friend, but a greater adversary. He mentions writing my death, which is something I know would tickle him.”

The carriage driver waved to them again, questioning their hesitance, but the Courier was suddenly filled with pity for this ailing, lost stranger. It seemed that his job was to deliver an envelope, but perhaps the real purpose was to orient this wayward man.

“You are a free man. You can walk whereever you want. However, I am going to the carriage. You can follow me if you wish.” The stranger was silent for a moment and then nodded.

“Off we go then.”