Two crisp letters, born from the same curious idea, part ways.
One goes Topsy-Turvy, gently placed yet jumbled in a messenger's parcel.
The other will go from steward to Steward, handled with care.

If intercepted, the writer seems to pay no mind, written with such
winding prose!

Tales of a sickness brewing within our shared roost inspire great sadness in me.

But our brief plans made for those who wearily approach our shores remind me of our past with strange interlopers, and bring to mind a sickening rot that I fear have infected us too long - the one of inaction.

I will be thoroughly disappointed in the lot of us if we allow it to fester and stain our coast once more.

So perhaps I hope you will entertain the interests of a humble sailor, wishing to make good on your promises of company under the gaze of our beacon, guided through a fine Harrowing night.

MAY SERENITY GUIDE,

C. MORANCAIRE

Lady Morancaire,

This cold morning finds me at my desk beneath a small mountain of letters—petitions and entreaties from across the Spire and the Reach alike. Farmers disputing where one field ends and another begins; grievances long-familiar in both tone and content. Amid them all, I came upon yours.

It is a sincere request, and one I do not begrudge—though I admit to a moment of quiet amusement. If memory serves, we sleep beneath the same roof, and I tend to your child as I would one of my own. Circumstance, it seems, has not dulled your fondness for formality.

Still, if a meeting is what you wish, then you shall have it. Name the time and place most agreeable to you, and send word to my office so that arrangements may be made.

Yours,
Lady Steward Noctis

The letter is delivered back by a calico Tressym, one that Callan is familiar with—Didi. Their arrival is signaled by the chiming of bells, and incessant meowing for rainbow trout.

Humble Sailor,

Apologies for not getting to this sooner. It has been an eventful time of year, and I've had to meet with a few people to ensure the celebrations are not unfortunately interrupted by what brews in this cauldron of a sea.

I would gladly meet whenever it would be well for you to regale your ideas on how to cleanse a festering rot, as sickness is a worrying theme of recent days; the doctor recommended 40 days of quarantine in most cases, if I recall correctly, though I'll ask again when he is done with his studies.

In the mean, as this letter has, you can find me at the Topsy Turvy or the docks most days all but sleeping. I doubt I will be going far until the tide shifts from blight to boon.

May your sailing be Serene,

Scylla

This letter does not come with a feline companion,
but simply as any other letter may.

The Harbour cats are far more interested in fish,
and less so in couriership.