The Guild-master's Letter

Dear Gwen,

I’ve gotten myself into a bit of trouble.

Would you dip into the guild’s rainy day fund and send over some of our people? Mont has been strutting around Haysport like he owns the place. Or so I’ve heard. To be honest, I haven’t really been getting a lot of fresh air lately.

I’m still playing my heart out. Well… Okay, so they took my guitar. And the dagger sheath where I hide my favourite harmonica. And the tiny flute I keep in my shoe. But you just gotta keep whistling, you know? In my case, through the hole they punched through my teeth. Hahaha. That is a joke that might be slightly accurate.

You’re the best. So don’t worry! Even if they torture me, I won’t tell anyone your secret. (It’s okay to talk about the secret so long as you don’t tell the actual secret, right? I seem to remember we had this conversation before.)

Charmingly Yours,
Glink Whistlesprocket

PS: Don’t send Shan. You know why.

PPS: Tell that mouse fellow Odrick to get some rest. I worry about him.

PPPS: Could you find out what Fred puts in his mystery stew? I can’t seem to get the spices right when I try to make it on the road.

PPPPS: I’m writing a song about the woods. Please tell Blacksad.

PPPPPS: Do you think it’s okay to tell more than one person ’You’re the best’? I mean, it’s really more an expression, isn’t it?

PPPPPPS: Not that you aren’t the best. You are absolutely the best!

The Guild-master's Letter

The Royal Order of Silly Hats ChristineJackson ChristineJackson