A man of middling age sits at the prow of the ship his face unreadable a well worn journal clutched tightly in rough and calloused hands. His eyes glazed with grief his focus entirely on his current writing.My Dearest Alexi,
It has been a long week since the events that transpired in the Well, I still find myself doubting that you are truly gone. Even though every scrap of evidence I have encountered tells me that you died with the Jericho. If so then I have yet another sin to add to those I bear, your blood stains my hands just as much as Arryn’s. But my dearest baby sister . . . . . . . . . . .
The following passages have been scratched out the ink smeared and smudged as if from rain
It is all my fault. I grew complacent. I let this warm soft land lull me into believing that it was safe. That I could hide from the sins of my past. I let my knowledge and skills wane. I became weak. But know this, I will discover what led to your presence in that foul city. I will find why you were sold on those slave blocks. I will find Eugophylis and I will kill her. I might not be able to protect you anymore my baby sister but I will see the ones who stole you from this world damned to the deepest pits of hell. And if that requires me to sell my soul to Asmodeus then so be it. I will take what infernal power I can grasp turn it against my enemies like our family has for generations.
Your Loving Brother,
Animam pro Anima
With a snap the journal snaps shut the man slowly rising to his feet. The grief is gone from his gaze, replaced with a terrible deadly purpose.