Written on the 10th day of Gozram, in the 10th year of the Regency of Prince Noleski Surtova.
It has been over a week since I have written. I apologize, mother, but mail packages to Restov are very irregular. I have complained to the Count, however I believe the man, a Nikitin, has ascertained my allegiance to the Medveyeds, and holds a grudge. Who knew there were any Nikitins left, let alone a Count?
The Osstian noble left last week, just after I posted my last letter. There was some sort of disturbance at a local mill that afternoon. Perhaps the Osstian needed flour? The Count is somewhat upset by the matter, and has called up some local levies. I don’t see why, the bread here is terrible. Still, now the streets are filled with peasants stomping all over with long staves sloped over their shoulders, and the quiet little tavern is now filled with louts until well-past nightfall.
Despite promises to keep in regular contact, I have not heard from the Osstian or his companions. Possibly they have all persished. I will wait until the end of the month, and if I haven’t heard from them I will send notice to the Lord mayor and return to Restov.
Oh, and do you remember that Garess woman I told you about, before I left Restov? She passed by, with a troop of surly mercenaries. The Captain-General really should have turned her out. We’ve all heard the stories about her. She had some sort of criminal in her wagon. Why take an outlaw back to the frontier? I think the Captain-General is too smart for his own good.
The mittens the women of the parish knitted for me are wonderful, and keep my hands very warm. Once again I ask for you to stop having them knit a long cord between them, I am certainly old enough to not lose my mittens anymore.
Your loving son,
Yuripol Yuripovitch Andropov