My dearest Coen,
Hope this finds you well. Excuse the messy penmanship and brevity – hard to write with no eyes.
Brencis's men came to see me. Offered a fuck ton of denarii if I'd set up a trap for you here. Gave it a hard think and decided against it in the end. Must be getting old.
Speaking of old. Don't want to be a burden. Retirement doesn't suit me. So I'm heading out for one last journey. I'll either get somewhere more interesting – or break my neck. Fine with either.
Take good care of my sword. May it serve you well.
Volk
PS. Also, don't be so serious. Life's a big fucking joke.