Your Majesty,
As requested, I have scouted out the remnants of the Myrddin Bridge engagement with General Fraldarius. The defenses – particularly the prototype repeating-ballistas "donated" by Duke Gloucester were quite rapidly overwhelmed in a night-attack across the river.
If it's any consolation, The Field Marshal never bothered destroying the artillery positions. I am arranging for the Fraldarius Penal Battalion to arrange their transit back to Garegg Mach as I write this to you.
Surprisingly, It appears that Marshal Goneril used a number of those flat-bottomed boats that the Professor gave a lecture on during the Garland Moon to affect a crossing of the river. I admit I had my doubts on the supposed utility of such craft, but now I must stand corrected – it would appear that several strike teams took advantage of the river's current by deploying the vessels due North of the Bridge in Acheron territory – and then rode the southern flows to surprise us from the Adrestian side.
Their activities following the conquest of the bridge are a bit murky. From the limited intelligence that I've gathered – as most of my local scouts have been butchered… we are facing an enemy of about divisional strength. What remains of my intelligence network also seems to indicate that they've been marching due South through the Duchy of Varley for some time now.
Additionally – it would appear that the Varley manor has been burned to the ground, along with the adjoining town… but most distressingly I fear – the silk plantation and weaveries that have been responsible for much of our incomes in trade with Albinea since your ascension.
While I understand and agree with your personal preference in Ochs Cashmere for its fluffiness – I suspect that we cannot simply substitute that for silk and please Albinea's merchants. This will require a concerted economic strategy – and I must submit to you that we can only respond to such a blow from Enbarr.
Total mobilization of the economy may be necessary for us to maintain the flow of iron to Adrestia. Otherwise, I fear we will have to abandon the Professor's proposal for weapon standardization – which I must grant was an excellent concept that I wish us to continue maintaining at all hazards.
My intent is to return to the Garreg Mach to consult you on these matters further. I hope to do this before the arrival of my wife and her expeditionary force.
Naturally, I will be at your disposal above all else – in spite of the circumstances.
Your Humble Servant,
Hubert
PS: This missive from Holst was pinned to the corpse of the Chief Artillerist. Since the fellow is a cousin of Lorenz Hellmann Gloucester – I am arranging for the Penal Battalion to transport him back to the monastery so that the family can retrieve him.
Please read it while sitting down and take comfort that my loyalty is absolute and eternal.
O EMPEROR,
Adrestian Devil and Ashen Demon's kith and kin, Secretary to Eternal Flamekeeper Ishtar herself, Greetings!
What the devil kind of Emperor are you, that can't accept the challenge of Claude von Riegan with your own hand?
You shit fear, and your army eats.
Holst hopes they enjoy the taste of your shit, as your Empire shan't have a single grain of wheat to spare when he has finished occupying Gronder.
You will not, you spawn of the succubus Anselma, twice cunny to two Crowned Pricks, a rancid hole who destroyed two royal homes within a decade, make subjects of us Leceistrians – the faithful of Seiros, who have just concluded sinking our teeth into heathen necks upon the Throat!
Holst hath no fear of your pitiful, mutinous army, so by land and by sea we will battle with you.
His Host will strip your friends and allies of their loyalties and lives in the same way you stripped the friend of Holst from his bosom. Look into their eyes tonight and make your peace with them.
Your Vestrain Scullion,
Your Hevrian Wheelwright,
Your Brewer of Bergliez,
Your Goat-fucker of Fraldarius,
Your Swineherd of Greater and Lesser Brigid,
Your Pig of Ordelia,
Your Plagarist of Varley,
Your Catamite of LeClerc,
And Your Harlot of Enbarr.
Each of these will receive gracious offers from Holst to bend their knee to spare their head.
Those who stay with you will receive no mercy.
You are a fool of all the world and underworld, an idiot before the Goddess, Questionable crotch-fruit of Ionius the Cuckold, and the crick in Holst's dick. Holst's father also fucked your slut of a mother and thought she was a starfish.
Holst's only surprise is that Byleth Eisner, the once-betrothed of his beautiful sister Hilda, was taken in by your piggish snout, your marish arse, semen-colored hair, – and most offensive of all, your saggy tits. No wonder you pretend to be modest while wearing that greatcoat of yours in the summer sun.
So the entirety of Holst's Host declares, you lowlife. Five thousand men have taken turns pissing on a copy of a painting of you and your Academy classmates made by Ignatz Victor. Before pulling down his pants, Holst laughed at your ugliness.
Enbarr won't even be fit for herding sheep when the Host is through with Adrestia.
Now to conclude, for Holst knows not the date and carries no New Adrestian Calendar:
The moon's in the sky, the stars are the same as they are above the sands of Almyra.
Thus, it is a good night for a challenge.
Many have said that Fort Merceus is impenetrable.
Such was said about the Depression of the Nefud and the Castle Bardia – before Holst himself conquered it single-handedly by strangling the captain inside.
When the winter comes and Holst's entire Host sits atop your fortress on thrones of freshly baked bread…
Holst promises to share some with you–
…Under one condition– you kiss his unwashed arse!
-Spoken by Holst Goneril, with the whole of Holst's Host in attendance.
Penned by the hand of Maya Kirsten, Adjutant of Holst's Host
