Dear Eugene,

How is Corona fairing in your eyes? I've been thinking about you every day, wondering if my volunteer project did you any good. I'd greatly appreciate it if you would let me know how it all turned out after all of this sneaking around is over and done with; if it made no impact whatsoever, then be honest with me and say that. I can always do more to make the operation better. Petitioning against this travel ban has been even harder than it was before, but I don't plan on backing down or bowing out just like you don't; restrictions are loosening up, just not for me.

I'll be focusing on your statements about Isolde in another letter because I still have to make the time, but I want you to write back to me after August 30th. Tonight, I'll be sending you a type of logbook that touches on my developments with Prince Aloysius. I'm going to write everything I can as thoroughly as I can, so please bookmark any pages you can't finish:

I spent June in the Southern Isles. Going to the kingdom sounds like a gamble - I'm not denying that - but back then, I was sure that I knew what King Ragnar's A plan was, so I told myself that I had no reason to be afraid. I also had no choice in the matter. Even supposing that I did think the brothers were dumb enough to abandon their first plan for a takeover, the visit was irremissible. I was obligated by vote and protocol to spend a month with my "soon-to-be-husband" in his own kingdom.

Before the trip, I learned from King Kasimir that Prince Hans was quietly released by King Ragnar in January to live in exile on a cay. The idea of him being a sailboat away was . . .. unnerving, to say the least, but interaction would've been impossible, so I took comfort in the thought of him floundering about a secluded island without the freedom to leave. I needed proof, however. I needed to know that King Ragnar wasn't lying. I received my proof when I was rowed there by King Ragnar, King Kasimir, Prince Aloysius, and my convoy.

I don't think I was ready for what I saw once I stepped foot on the cay's labor fields, which didn't run all that differently from the prison farm Hans worked on before his release. King Ragnar's parliament apparently made this program for "special ex-convicts," so Hans and a dozen others make their living off agriculture and quarrying under his aegis. Fed rotten corn for breakfast, lunch, and maybe even dinner, most of them had missing teeth, but all of them had black gums, bandaged hands, and thin bodies. Apart from the conditions of the field being unhygienic and unbreathable, I saw signs of young overseers beating old men like slaves whenever they could get away with it. I interjected at one point, which cut our tour short.

Not too long after that, King Kasimir pulled me aside to tell me how impressive King Ragnar and Prince Aloysius thought I was "for a woman." The last thing I wanted to do was impress them. To tell you the truth, I would've preferred anger over admiration. I had a hard time tolerating their amusement while I watched Hans and the workers try to make it through the twelve hours that lied ahead of them. King Kasimir didn't look like he wanted to be there, but King Ragnar seemed to be watching the scene play out like it was something to be proud of.

Prince Hans never saw me. I made sure of that, but if only you could see him for yourself, Eugene. I'd be surprised if he had any strength left in his hand to hold a pen or paper. I'm not saying that his incarceration is uncalled for, but I don't know if conditions like these, ones that serve no emotional or psychological rehabilitation, are teaching him the lesson he needs to learn. I don't think torture teaches anyone the lessons they need to learn; it just teaches them nihilism, cruelty, and more mixed messages about what justice means.

King Ragnar asked me about my thoughts on his "reformation" of Hans at dinner. I told him the exact same thing I'm telling you now. He doesn't want an adjusted brother; he wants a soulless puppet. As diplomatically as possible, I added that the repercussions for trying to break Hans will only affect me, you, and anyone else he blames for his new cage. The king was surprisingly respectful of my point of view, but we still disagreed.

I indirectly brought up Hans's public slams against you to explain what I meant. Though I didn't say it outright, I asked questions about Hans's pastimes and what he did in that bothy of his on the cay. He allegedly wrote short prose in the beginning, so King Ragnar doesn't know who was sending your scandals to the media outlets. I didn't buy either story, but I had to leave it alone for the afternoon. We talked about my relationship with you for the rest of the evening; Prince Aloysius was a less poised piece of work by that point, but what else is new?

Whether or not I knew some things about the prince's history is unimportant now; what I can say is that your version gives him far more credit than what he deserves. Indecent as he is, his Achilles Heel is still women. His real fixation, however, is the "unknown." He's infatuated with witchcraft novels and cheap books about magic potions, so his dealings with me were comparable to fanaticism. There was a love letter served on a tray before every breakfast, rose bouquets sent to my room every afternoon, and poems spoken to me in the royal garden on several occasions.

That kind of attention isn't something I'm used to, so I feel bad about admitting that it did throw me off a little. I've never seen a man get down on his knees to kiss my hands and tell me "what a rare, perfect, and beautiful monument of a woman" I am because of my powers. I've never been called "flawless" so many times (or any time) in my lifetime by a regular person; it was horrifying and demobilizing after years of hearing the exact opposite. It didn't make me attracted to him or anything of that shallow nature, but I almost didn't turn my head in time when he stood up to kiss me. The limbo I fell into made me realize that any person who defines me by my powers is a person I can never satisfy; worshiping me doesn't count as seeing me at all, and I want my humanity to be seen, not ignored. (I'd rather be told that it's okay for me to be imperfect, if I'm being completely honest with you)

After I realized that, I was able to put his favor to better use. The month was full of balls and foreign ambassadors giving their blessings to our marriage, but when we were alone, we bonded in his eyes. He thinks women are too pretty to be smart, so I played the part of a shy, unprejudiced, and understanding fiancee without acting so out of character that he suspected a hoax. He began to entrust me with some of his deeper feelings about the dynamics in his family by insisting that he was the misunderstood and unpopular brother because the public called him the least attractive. I was honest when I said that the surface shouldn't determine the value of someone's worth, and I suppose that made him feel precious for a moment.

Anna, who was supposed to keep an eye on Arendelle while I was gone, took it upon herself to pop up unannounced the following morning. I tried to send her back, but it's hard making a grown woman do anything she doesn't want to do. I keep forgetting that she isn't five or eighteen anymore. She clearly has her own way of reminding me, but I wish she could've done it without beaching a schooner on the shore of a paranoid kingdom. The upside is that two sisters just so happen to make better detectives than one.

To shed some light on my purpose, I wasn't just looking for proof of the family's involvement in Corona's Bovi Fever. I was looking for evidence of two genocide plans, and maybe even an overlooked correlation between both. I had been tipped off in March by Queen Malmö that the Regeringen disguised their extermination of the Kiribas as tension between natives and foreigners. According to her, they were actually training militia and squads to eliminate the latter; Queen Malmö also suspected Prince Aloysius of hate crimes in the form of "extrajudicial punishments, unjust imprisonments, and ethnic cleansing." Proving something so "systematically choreographed" to the Storting and the world had its bottlenecks, but I was in too deep to backtrack.

On the upside of our investigation, Anna gained the friendship of two Kiriba servants, and I managed to speak to three Freedom Fighters from the kingdom's lower archipelagos. We formed a little network of intelligencers who were willing to confide in us, which helped a lot. I don't know if you care to hear about all of it, but it's important for you to know that the Kiribas are the ones abroad the kingdom's trade ships; that includes cargo ordered by livestock breeders. Now, remember when you told me that you felt like the Southern Isles dropped off sick livestock in Corona on purpose? You also mentioned something about their carriers either incubating the virus or the kingdom itself taking precautionary measures to keep their people safe.

Well, a widow told me that there was a case not too long ago about three livestock ships being burned in a cove after their return from the sea. The courts ruled that it was an accident and, for the most part, kept the trial out of the mainstream eye; Kiribas feel like the militia did it because the minorities aboard were "sacrifices." I have yet to get a straight answer from anyone about what they mean by sacrifices, but I think you and I both have the same idea. I just can't confirm or prove it beyond gossip. Stories keep changing from person to person, and no one knows any names or eyewitnesses who are willing to come forward.

What I did finally get a hold of were Prince Aloysius's receipts and letters to the Regeringen's squads.

From Arendelle,
XIII of August, 1848
Hoping that you're sleeping safely,
Elsa