Everything, it seemed, was still bent against him.

"Oi, Alfred," Arthur voiced weakly, "You wouldn't mind growing just a mite smaller, would you?"

"I'm a shapeshifter, midude, not a sizeshifter."

"Bother. Well, I don't suppose you could maybe…" He eyed the others crammed into the small cabin of the carriage, but was only met with discouraging glares, save for Ivan, and he was not on Arthur's mind to suggest.

"You want me to be my true form?"

"The driver doesn't know your secret," Francis warned.

"As the smallest person here, I will not have two of myself," Yao interrupted.

"Why?" Alfred asked. "We'd have more room, and it's only until we stop. I'll gladly change into someone smaller. You or Arthur—"

"Not me."

"What part of 'no' do you not understand?" Yao retorted. "Your powers are impressive, but turning into your companions is just creepy."

The changeling gave a surly grunt and turned to Arthur. "Lemme see the big book again. There was a pretty accurate picture of a pixie riding a corgi in there. I'd love to be a corgi."

"I want to keep the book hidden away right now." Arthur replied from his right. "You remember I'm not supposed to have it, and we're nearly in public."

"You just don't want me to beguile you since I've got like three spells I get to cast on you now."

"You never found a single spell suitable."

"I was taking my time finding the perfect one."

"Bet," said Ivan.

"In any case, we must be serious about breaking the spell on Feliciano."

"Well, right. I was looking at spells. Swear it."

"Matthew, you're his brother. How much time did he spend laughing at the illustrations in that accursed storybook?"

"I wouldn't know."

Arthur turned to look at Alfred, their faces meeting not a foot apart due to the cramped mass of sweaty mercenaries taking up residence in the carriage. "You tell me. How many children's stories did you read, and how many spells did you study?"

"Well, the stories are interesting. Some of 'em get really dark and twisted, too. Some folklore from Volkerburg says everyone is controlled by a bitter evil spirit called Schicksal who haunts a forgotten castle and aims to make all life as miserable as possible!"

"Alfred," said Yao, "Do you think Arthur's compilation would contain information on the spell he used to get arrested?"

"No!" Arthur interjected. "I burned that book myself. I recognized that one as a book of evil."

"You did not," said Ivan.

"I did too, and you can't prove anything."

"I can see what your mind tries to hide. Very insightful, demonsight. And anyway, is obvious. You quickly said that you burned book so there would be no further questions."

"Right. That's what I keep saying about Arts and this Peter guy he hates so much," remarked Alfred.

"Oh, Titania, will you stop asking about Peter!?"

"If you tell me who he is, then yeah, sure, and I'll throw in a favor, too. Anybody got any wax—?"

"Peter is just no one. Absolutely a name I said purely out of Demon's Spirit delirium."

"Ivan?"

"Keep asking who Peter is. Quite funny."

"So your spell came from an evil book?" Yao asked.

Alfred cracked a wry smile. "Actually, I was kinna curious about that, and I already did some looking. I'm makin' a mental note. A book, not a scroll or document. Probably fresh-ish notes in the margins. I noticed you make notes a lot while I was glancing through your potionery books. Your handwriting's pretty."

"Why thank you. It should be, being that it's actually tidy and legible."

"And you got lady hands."

"Even the ugliest ladies have more than claws."

For this, Arthur suffered a quick, stinging blow to the shoulder.

The window on the other side was obscured by the forms of Ivan, Matthew, and Yao, so any imagination the scenery would've conjured was lost to brutal reality. Here was the dignified and powerful Lord Kirkland still on this travesty of a mission and sandwiched between mundane human and terrible changeling. His hair, though he paid little attention to it, was in dire need of a wash, and frankly, so was the rest of him at this point.

They'd left the tranquility of the chateau three days ago? Or was it four? Anyway, the only trails for them to follow were word of mouth and Ivan's sense of smell, which they relied on most earnestly, for even after Francis' warning that their quarry had left, the issue of clothing for the apparent twins still hindered them for a former three or four days.

It was too many days to count for Lord Kirkland. Why had he been sent to Amotoile again? Was it because he was a magician? A talented magician? He'd been magicianing anyway. Alfred now "owed" him a good three or four spells for the ones Arthur had laid and lifted in the days previously.

What have I done? The lord mentally remarked. The Council gave me a sense that they trust me but will enforce punishment if I get out of line, and how many times have I gotten out of line on the mission? I've read forbidden texts, I've used forbidden magic, and I've shared both texts and magic with a forbidden creature. Well, I guess they'll have to deal with it. It has been for my mission. And they were the ones who decided to send me here and take the suppressor off my wrist.

Still… in my nightmares, they use the old punishments… it's wrong, but... no, they wouldn't turn me into a changeling. However rational it was in dreamland, it would be outrageous here. But… oh dear, would I look better as a crow or a frog? I'll plead not to be a frog. If I must be something slimy, I'll take the snail punishment. I'll take losing my limbs over those bulging eyes. And I can't swim.

It only took another ten minutes of the uncomfortable ride for Francis himself to histrionically declare it a time of break, and he signalled the driver for them to stop.

Fresh air drove itself into Arthur's brain like an iron arrow. Every limb he stretched with a profound sense of relief, and he gulped in lungfuls of the precious air over and over until he could possibly begin to consider his position in the universe.

"Wait, so like this?" Came the small voice of Matthew. He and his brother were under a tree not too far away with one not touching the other. Matthew leaned precariously over his cane.

"Put your feet down," Alfred replied mechanically. Matthew's habit of walking on his toes hadn't been stifled even with the new addition. He gave a yelp when he began to lean too far to one side. Alfred made no movement to help him, and once again, Matthew landed squarely on the ground with leaves getting tangled in his hair.

Alfred laughed.

"Help me up!"

"It's not that hard, bro!"

"Please help?"

"Haven't you ever heard of pushing yourself?"

"Alfred!"

"Bro, you're whiny. I already helped you like ten times today. Pick yourself up."

Well, Matthew's awkwardness was one way to tell them apart. This had been an increasingly daunting task among the Mercs. Their waistcoats differed in color, and their boots in style, and Matthew bore the moose-headed cane, but their faces were still eerily the same.

Matthew had soon picked himself up again and successfully walked a few steps forward with the cane's assistance, though he trembled and held one arm out to the side for balance.

"That's it. You'll be balancing soon. Just put your feet down."

"I don't need all the surface area."

"No, you just walk heel-toe. Fall into your natural gait. It's easy once you get used to it."

"And how many days did it take for you to learn to walk?"

"I think I was walking without pain by the time I was ten. Days. So wait, when did I learn to speak, then? I should be able to remember these things."

"Well, I guess this is realistic then. I've only had two legs for about two weeks, and I think humans take longer to learn than whatsits." Matthew fingered the silver chain around his neck, upon which dangled a little corked vial. The liquid within was a wild purple and glittered whenever the sun emerged from the clouds to shine on it. The antidote had taken just as long as the initial potion, and Arthur was thankful when he was given time to rest and recover from brewing without much interruption.

"So, how are you doing, Arthur?"

It was Yao suddenly sitting beside him in the grass.

"I can't complain, but I would say my shoulder isn't too well at the moment."

"Did he hit you hard?"

"No, it was merely playful, but the knuckles were sharp."

"You are good at comebacks," Ivan commented.

"A gentleman must always be ready to defend his dignity. Would it be the same for you, Ivan?"

"No one says anything bad about me. I usually have friendly conversations with my servants. Water demons are very talkative. I would almost say they talk too much."

"Are there all sorts of demons?" Asked Yao.

"Snow, wind, earth, water, and fire, but is funny. All demon lands are covered in snow and ice."

"That's right," said Arthur. "You seized them all, didn't you?"

"All annexed for the kingdom of snow, Seeniiseryi."

"Even the fire demon lands?" Yao asked, screwing up his face.

"You can freeze fire," explained Ivan. "Lava from the earth becomes stone, and demons can freeze flames, too."

"How? How can you freeze flames?"

"Show us," said Arthur. He cupped his hands and produced a little floating flame that danced in varying hues of green.

Ivan shifted closer to Arthur. He peered at the flame and twitched his goat-like nose. Then, he drew in breath and blew softly over the fire. It instantly swelled from the disturbance of oxygen around it, but then started to slow down. Its form shuddered and sputtered and sparked, then utterly liquefied into a viscous emerald lava, then came together again as a soft, gelatinous green orb and cracked loudly as it solidified and crusted over with frost. It dropped into Arthur's hands a perfect, frozen sphere.

"It's become cold!" Arthur exclaimed. He dropped the orb, and the blades of grass it landed in grew crystals of frost.

"It looks like green ice," said Yao.

"Still fire," assured Ivan. "I just froze it. Fire became a solid. Not with ice, just with cold breath."

"Ivan, you — you just — fire is — you just froze pure magical energy. My lord, you just shattered the bloody laws of physics. Demonic power… " Arthur sucked in his breath, his eyes growing wide. "Can it melt?"

"You would just use spell to heat it. And of course I can freeze energy. Little fairies can channel and manipulate energy, but demons can freeze it and shape it and even banish it if we please."

"So theoretically, you could store frozen magical energy somewhere and build up a… I mean, erm, real frozen fire! Absolutely brilliant! But… do you freeze all fire? You must let your people be warm in such a cold place. The demons of other elements especially."

"Of course I do not freeze all fire. I know other demons need to stay warm. It is only the land I froze. And what kind of ice magic do fairies use, little Arthur?"

"Ice magic? Personally, I'm a standard-licensed magician, so I have general knowledge in all the, ahem, legal magicks. But I know there are some who specialize in cryomancy. The winged fairies of western Hejgrund use a special form of ice magic to insulate their wings from the harsh winters. Ironic, but it does prevent them from freezing and breaking."

"Cold can break fairy wings?"

"They're delicate, yes," Arthur scoffed. "Fairy wings are like very thin, delicate glass. Alfred had them once. He could tell you."

"Oh," Ivan said somewhat sadly. "I did not know."

"What's wrong?" Asked Yao.

"I may have hit one back in city," Ivan replied, his furry ears drooping. "I did not realize he had wings until the last second. I just wanted to protect little changeling ally, and this man was insulting him."

"You hit a fairy with your ice magic?" Arthur gasped. "It wasn't Feliciano, was it?"

"His voice was not like Feliciano's. It was deeper. But it was the same accent."

"Ivan, if you shattered his wings…"

"I did not mean to!" Ivan exclaimed. "I did not realize. I did not realize. And anyway, I hit him in side, yes?"

"Did you really?" Yao accused.

"I lied. I do not remember where I hit him. It was too fast. There were too many people that I threw out of way when we were escaping city together."

"Pucking hell," Arthur muttered. "There's going to be legal trouble there. At least he's a king, but that may trouble him even more."

"What're you guys talking about?" Alfred asked as he sauntered over and squatted next to them.

"Oh, Alfred! Would you like to see an orb of frozen fire? If you like real magical science, what Ivan's just done is pretty brilliant," Arthur said to quickly change the subject. He gestured to the orb in question.

"That's fire?" Alfred asked. He tightened his brow quizzically, then reached out and touched the emerald sphere. He pulled back in shock. "That's not fire. Fire's, like, a gas, right?"

"Fire isn't matter, Alfred," Arthur corrected.

Alfred cocked an eyebrow. "Wait, but if it's not…"

Arthur and Ivan explained while Alfred's face twisted into an expression of pure, childlike wonderment. It was then when Arthur saw, through the solid form of a young man, the image of a silly thirteen year-old boy who still marveled at magic and was eager to learn. Arthur realized he'd worn that same dorky smile perhaps a decade ago when he stayed up with candlelight devouring books of theory and lore.

Francis emerged from the trees not too long after and was also quite intrigued, if not scared, of the orb created through fairy and demon magic. No one dared touch the frozen fire for more than a second, as it was so cold it burned and sent licks of electricity through the skin on contact. Alfred at once took on a bet to see how long he could hold a finger on the sphere without flinching, and Arthur just as quickly exacerbated his sore shoulder by telling Alfred he might as well, as he hadn't much flesh to lose to frostbite anyway.

And from the development of frozen fire, Matthew was initially excluded. He still struggled over beneath the tree to pull himself up, balance with the cane, and step forward without trembling or stumbling backward from the lack of hind legs. With his brother's mocking laughter echoing in memory, he persisted. He thought he probably looked a fool — leaves in his soft hair and a few spots of mud on his new coat. He fretted when a stitch was pulled. His successful gait was a horrendous thing that looked as if he were tip-toeing wildly down a creaky corridor.

Trial after trial, fall after fall, he eventually stumbled over to where the other Mercs sat, and in announcing he had walked such a distance all by himself, he felt an air of pride swell within his chest. Though, there was no rumbling in his throat, which was disappointing.

"Good, Mattie," Alfred commented. "Now look at this frozen flame!"

"Didn't you watch?" Matthew asked. "I tripped over my own feet, but I really did get here by myself."

"Yeah," said Alfred.

Matthew was taken aback. Was he too querulous about his struggling? Was that why they couldn't praise his success? He thought he'd been modest and polite when asking for help. He then thought he must apologize for such an offense if it occurred. Either way, he accepted their halfhearted words and joined in the conversation next to his brother.

With their breath and sanity replenished, they decided to continue on within the carriage, though this time, they decided at least one person had to sit up front with the driver, and by mere chance as determined by drawing blades of grass, this outside rider was Yao.

"There," said Alfred. "We got rid of the smallest person. Feel roomier?"

"He was sitting on Matthew's lap," complained Arthur. "There's no change in room at all. Er, Alfred, maybe you should… slim down a bit."

Alfred gave a look of mock concern. "I'm not so sure I should do that. I might die from a lack of flesh."

"Good. Then we could throw you out of the carriage and have twice the room."

His shoulder pulsed with soreness, and a tear tugged at his eye, but Arthur smiled.

Ludwig and his companions, because they had been given an extra three or four days to get ahead of their relentless pursuers, were quite satisfied with themselves. They found themselves on this same day looking through a magic shop in the countryside which Feliciano had pointed out. Ludwig, in this time, was on his own toes trying to fabricate like Gilbert could.

"Gilbert has lots of collections like these, right?" Feli questioned, his wings flapping in and out with excitement.

"Ja, but he doesn't sell his artifacts."

"Oh, does he have knives like those?" The fairy pointed to several iron daggers with jeweled handles laying over leather pads. Ludwig inspected them closer. He weighed one in his hand, then shoved it back down in conflict.

"No, he does not," he said.

"Oh, then what about amulets? You said he had amulets."

"Plenty of amulets imbued with all sorts of charms. Good luck, good health, and he has one that causes you to float in the air."

"That one wouldn't be much use to me," the fairy giggled. He flapped just a little bit faster, and his heels lifted off the ground.

"No flying in here!" The appraiser of the shop yelled. Feliciano folded his wings down, and his cheeks and pointy ears reddened.

"You're in a good mood today," Ludwig remarked.

"It must be the fresh air," Feli replied, "And our traveling. You know, ever since we left the city, we haven't had any trouble at all. No one's come after us or spied on us. We even slept in beds last night. You got to sleep in a bed. And Lovino wasn't as grumpy this morning as he usually is. I think he's starting to feel better."

"I don't feel better about anything," Lovino cut in from the other side of the room. Two bulges rose from under his new light brown traveling cloak. He adjusted it around himself and shifted his shoulders.

"But you feel happier, don't you?"

"No. Life's still a mess."

"Just do what makes you happy," Ludwig said, remembering the words of Roma, (if he had really spoken to Roma at all.)

"What have you got to say about it, mundane bastard? You never smile. Practice what you preach, I say. Now, what do these all do?" He grabbed two strangely-colored potions from inside a chest and inspected them in the light.

"I believe that blue one is a shrinking potion," said the appraiser. She tucked robust curls behind her ear and made her way over to where Lovino stood. Feliciano watched intently, and the focus of his vision was just a bit too far below her face.

That's why he's so happy, Ludwig thought.

"Is it, now?" Lovino cooed. "Seems I came here looking for the opposite of this, then."

"So did I," Feliciano purred.

"Put your hands in your pockets," Ludwig snapped.

"I must ask you to stop," Kiku added. "What you are implying is really the opposite of what you intend."

The brothers flinched, but obeyed. Lovino put the potion back in the chest and angled his eyes toward the ground in embarrassment.

And just as Ludwig turned away from the scene back to the daggers, he caught something out of the corner of his own eye. Through the window, he saw this something alight on the high branch of a tree. It was a large, ominous bird with glossy black feathers. His heart lifted in his chest.

Without saying a word, he left the shop and the terrible pick-up lines and strode out under the tree. The black eagle twitched its head downward. It eyed him fiercely.

"Gilbert! You came to visit! Did you get my letter?"

The eagle jumped and flew to a lower branch. It made no sound.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it? You should really join us. We're pretty sure the amulet is in Allegria. Possibly in the very place where Feliciano grew up. They prefer wine in Allegria. Not as good, but you should really come out into the world and experience it. Although… I guess there would be wards. Maybe you could just come with us to the border."

The eagle was in front of him now. Ludwig, in this time, did smile at the bird. It was not an awkward smile either, but a warm, friendly one. He had it in his head that Gilbert was smiling back at him, too. Perhaps he couldn't transform with the others around, but he could smile at the shared secret. At least, until Ludwig's smile abated in sudden skepticism.

Something was off about this bird. Firstly, it was huge. Was Gilbert really this big in eagle form? Was the hook of his beak this sharp? This bird took up space on the branch like a tangible shadow. Its chest was full and proud, and it eyed him with judging authority.

That was it. The eyes. They were golden-brown.

"Have you found a new bird to be your muse, Gilbert? I thought you loved being a red-eyed eagle. It's your familiar. Stupid how you call it that, but you love that shape."

The eagle cocked its head to the side. Ludwig studied its eyes again. There was something disturbingly odd about them. It was almost as if this bird was just a bird. No great intelligence. No unique personality. Gilbert was animate, and his eyes sparkled with consciousness. Gilbert was a fairy who took his heart's true form as a bird. But this, this was a dumb bird.

"You're not Gilbert," Ludwig said. "I must look stupid talking to you. You're just an eagle." He turned around and went to go back into the shop.

Then the bird was upon him. It dove from its position and latched onto the bag on his back with its talons, screeching as it did so. It flapped hard to stay in an airborne position. The claws ripped at the fabric, and the hooked beak bit at the pockets.

"Ach, get off!" Ludwig commanded. He reached back and tried to strike the bird, but a talon tore a bloody fissure in his hand. He winced, then wrestled his arms out of the straps and threw down the bag.

The eagle descended with the bag, too. It ripped a hole in the front, then started searching through it, shifting and ripping through the contents madly. Ludwig kicked at it. He caught it in the wing, and it flew a few feet away.

It wasn't done, however, and flew back with greater fury to tear and widen the hole in the bag. Ludwig kicked again. He took stones from around him and threw them at the bird, aiming for its head. This only exacerbated the eagle's ferocity. Its head twitched up, then it came straight at Ludwig's face. Something red had just come to the surface of the hole in the bag. A red box.

The wand.

But Ludwig couldn't try to save the wand. He was running backwards and punching at the air while the eagle slashed at his face and hands again and again. It ripped chunks of his hair with its beak and spat them down to the grass. The eagle gripped the fabric over his back in both talons and flew forwards, trying to pull him down prostrate. He stumbled and swatted at the vile creature. His hands were red.

"Scheiße! Where's starlight when you need it!?" He shouted just as the eagle bit one finger.

"Doggie!"

He turned and saw Feliciano running toward him.

"No, Feliciano! It will attack you, too!"

"But Doggie! Why is it attacking you!?"

"It wants the wand! Hide the wand while I distract it!" There was a crack, and Ludwig grinned when he saw he'd punched the bird squarely in the beak.

"I can handle this. Eh, Doggie, bring it over to the tree," came a deeper voice. Lovino then stood next to his brother.

Ludwig nodded and slowly stumbled over to the tree. His face was growing hot under the exertion. The eagle kept coming at him, though slower now. He was able to land a few more punches to its wings and body, and several of its feathers lay idly around on the grass.

Once Ludwig and oppressor were under the tree, Lovino thrust out his hand and outstretched his fingers. A creaking emerged from behind him, and Ludwig looked up to see one of the tree's branches bending down, its boughs twisting into the shapes of fingers that reached for the terrible bird.

"Duck low!" Lovino called.

Ludwig did so, covering his head with his bleeding hands. A smack resonated as the arboreal hand slammed the eagle against the trunk of the tree and clenched its fingers around its thick body. It wiggled, but was trapped. From its beak came a terrible screech. Its talons clawed and sliced at the air. The golden-brown eyes bulged as it looked longingly at the red box in the grass. Cautiously, Feliciano bent down and scooped up the box, then held it to his chest.

Ludwig stood up and ran over to where Lovino stood. "You saved me," he said. "Danke."

"Don't get blood on my cloak," Lovino spat.

"Doggie-san, do you suppose that eagle is Alfred?" Kiku asked — quietly so as to not frighten Feliciano.

"Nein, that's not a changeling," Ludwig replied. "If we wanted to be sure, we could test it with scissors, but at the moment, I don't know if I can hold them." He looked at his hands and twisted his face in disgust. They were sliced in several places, and he felt pounding on his head where the talons had scraped. "Feliciano, can you heal me?"

"H-heal you? Oh! Of course!" Still gripping the wand box, he sprinted over to where his lute lay and slung the strap on.

"I'll take the wand," said Lovino. He took the box from his brother and stowed it in the pocket of his cloak.

"Where did it come from?" Kiku asked. "It just came out of the sky?"

"It was in the tree," Ludwig replied gruffly as he sat down next to the fairy and held out his sorry hands.

Lovino nodded. "I saw it. The human was talking to it. You like to talk to birds, eh? You probably made it pissed."

"You like to talk to plants, eh?" Ludwig retorted.

Lovino's lips tightened. "You didn't see anything! I don't talk to plants!"

"He does talk to plants," Feliciano whispered close. "Why were you talking to it, Doggie?"

"I — the same reason Lovino talks to plants, probably. Just someone to talk to who can't reply."

"Are you worried about something?" Feliciano asked. He knit his brow in concern.

"Well, no, but we all have private things we like to talk to ourselves about. And a bird in a tree doesn't have much to be concerned about."

"Sounds like this one does," said Lovino. He pointed to where the bird still writhed in its wooden prison and twittered. "Hey, wait. What's that?"

"What's what? Hey, ow! Don't touch them!"

"Stay still, Doggie. I need to see these cuts."

The woman in the shop appeared in the doorway. "I've never seen anything like it," she breathed. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine," Ludwig replied.

"You'll need to wash those. I brought a basin and ointment."

"Washing them would be good," said Feliciano.

The cool water stung Ludwig's hands as it flowed over the skin. The sight of the cuts made him wince every time he looked down. And every time he winced, he felt them even more painfully. Feliciano took a wet cloth and washed his face and temples. Then he positioned his hands on the lute and cleared his throat. Ludwig bit his lip in nervous anticipation.

"I'm talking about this," Lovino interrupted. He had bent down and was cupping something in his hands. He brought it over to where the others sat.

It was a chubby yellow bird lying limply. Its feathers were tousled, and its little chest quivered. One wing was bent way out of joint. It chirped a weak note.

"That's Gilbert's messenger bird," Ludwig breathed. "It must have been attacked."

Feliciano agreed. "I've seen that bird before. Why was it attacked? That looks like it hurts!"

"A bad omen," Kiku remarked.

Lovino screwed up his face. "It's not a damn 'bad omen.' That eagle tried to steal the wand. It's just a continuation of all the bullshit. Just look at this bird!" He clutched it to his chest and pet it softly with a finger. "Look at you. A broken wing," he whispered almost silently. He frowned at it, almost to the brink of tears. "At least I can do something for you." He set the injured bird softly in the grass and pulled its twisted wing into a more natural position. The bird tweeted in anguish, but Lovino spoke soft words of solace.

He then felt along the wing-bone with a delicate finger, and when he found the break, he drew in breath and closed his eyes. His fingertip glowed a dull, olive green. From within the wing, a sickening crack sounded. The bird gave its equivalent of a scream, but then silenced. Lovino took it and perched it on his finger. It fluttered both of its wings and gripped its claws tighter in affirmation that it was healed.

"Lovi, you healed it!" Feliciano gasped.

"What else was I supposed to do?" Lovino groaned. He stroked the bird on its head and produced a smile which he shared only with his little patient. The yellow bird tweeted a song before leaping off his finger and flying near the tree again.

It returned moments later bearing a small note in its beak, which it deposited at Ludwig's feet. It then flew up and perched on Lovino's finger again. The fairy was quite surprised by this and instantly went back to petting.

"A note for me," Ludwig remarked.

Feliciano reached down. "I can read it."

"No, no. Let me see." Ludwig's fingers stung as he brought them out of position and picked up the note in the grass. A little blood smeared, but he unfolded it to see a pithy twelve words scrawled in Gilbert's wild handwriting:

Lud,
Keep searching for the amulet.
I have a duke to kill.