18/01/2022

To my sweet Patricia,

I am safe.

Please ease your worries. Lord Knabe has created safe passage for me through Bzalnia. And by tomorrow morning, who knows where I’ll be. I’ve truly not a clue of where I head to next. And even if I did, you know that I cannot tell you. This is best for my safety. For our safety, my sweet Trish. It’s best I not burden you with such delicate details. We’ll soon be free, my sweet. I promise you. Free. Together. Away from the court. Away from the politics. Just you and me. Together and free.

I know a letter was not what you were expecting, especially given the danger. But when I thought about it, and even when I asked my escorts about it, we all agreed it would be safe. Our kingdom has no entry into Bzalnia. Any agents or spies would find too much trouble tracking me here. But that damn new bounty upon my head… Did you see the news this morning? The Bzalnian court paint me as some sort of criminal. That or they must know that I’m now missing. No matter. Who would expect to find the Prince of Beckham resting within the lion’s den, especially in such a peculiar hotel? I will take you here one day. You must experience its puzzling solace.

As Rez brought us to this hotel… Yes, Old Rezley is with me. So, you know I’m safe. I’ll continue. A lovely ornamental mailbox sits out front on the street. The grand thing is plotted with jewels, ags and au. Yes. Real au. I knicked the damn thing to check. An awe worth of au. A true wonder why nobody had ever tampered with it, let alone burgled the thing. These Bzalnians sure have a strange means of reverence.

I’ll admit, I was worried the hotel and its mailbox would fray our means of cover. The manager who served us said the mailbox was the heart and soul of the hotel. I must comment that manager’s smile was sly. But this was exactly where Lord Knabe personally positioned us. I’ve faith in that.

The furnishing within is quite bland, almost dull, yet there is an unmistakable air of grandeur and vigour. It’s almost as if I’m back at the palace. I must take you here. You’ll see what I mean. I’m sure.

Even these chambers they’ve given me are not the most delightful of sights. They’re dark. And quiet. The furniture all dark mahogany, almost black. The fabrics, drapes, and curtains, much the same. The walls almost seem a pale marble finish, but dull nonetheless. And yet, I feel warm and safe here. At ease. It’s what I imagine home should feel like. There isn’t even much light in these quarters except for the hearth and whatever daylight can seep through these strict windows. Fortunately, it is enough light for this desk.

Ahh right. The desk. The very reason why I write to you, my sweet dear. This would be my very first true letter to you. Such an ancient means of talk, yet so endearing. If not for this old desk, or maybe that mailbox outside, I may not have begun to write. This damn desk already had paper and ink set out for use. To the side, envelopes, ready and stamped. I thought them all the remains of this chamber’s last guests, but Rez mentioned his quarters also had such a desk. I tell you, this place has a peculiarity of its own.

Our meal last night was herbed veal, exactly the way Brandon made it. I grew alert. I was worried others knew you and I often hid in Wildes Lane, inside Brandon’s Inn. But the manager and his calculating smile assured me it was just the common dish they served every Thursday night. I thought Rez requested it for me, but he had no clue. Then, once I saw the elderly couple near us enjoying the same meal, I relaxed. I must tell you about them.

The sweethearts told me they were on their honeymoon. The old lady twirled a flower between her fingers and said that the old man had picked it for her. What classic lovebirds. They were surely older than mother. But the strangest thing about them was when they told me they were Beckish. Their accents didn’t hide that. Clearly born in Beckham. And yet, they didn’t even recognize me. They never once served me a gesture of honour. They were either brilliant actors aware of my retreat here in Bzalnia, or these two truly didn’t know I was their Prince. They must have lived here in Bzalnia for some time. How could anybody from Beckham have entered Bzalnia?

That damn bounty! Not how I wished for you to hear of me. And now the Bzalnian Tzar will reward anybody in the world who can get their hands on me. Me and Rez saw the news this morning. So, we wanted a check of the hotel guests.

Apparently, the hotel was entirely reserved for us and was not taking any guests for the whole week. I asked the manager what of the elderly couple last night, but he told me there were no such guests. Lies, obviously. Rez got a little worked up. Rez pointed out that they were seated right beside us when the manager served us. But the manager assured us that no one was there. He even showed us their book work. That lad gave us that cunning smile of his and told me, “You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Your Highness.” He knew exactly who I was. And so I think I understood. Rez obviously didn’t but I told Rez not to worry. Lord Knabe wouldn’t risk us at somewhere he didn’t trust. Besides, the hotel was ‘reserved for us’.

I guess Rez just didn’t like that manager. I think I like him. I trust him and his obvious sneaky expression. I can’t explain why but I do. I guess the old folk last night may have helped with that.

I went back to where they sat last night. The flower the old women held lay there on the table. So, yes. It is that very flower I’ve flattened into this envelope to join this letter. When I held the flower, I was reminded about why I felt so comfortable here. It reminded me of the palace and how I knew grandmother was still watching over me. I’m sure when I finally bring you here, you’ll be able to feel it too. Just like in the palace. We are protected.

I hope that flower brings you protection, my sweet dear. And I hope I will get to see you again. I hope all this chaos ends soon. I’m caught in a war I want no part of. This may be the last time you hear from me for a long while. So, I want you to know that I will see you again. As long as I’m alive, I’ll do everything I can to make sure I see you again. I will.

With love and honour,

            Edward

P.S

Grandmother told me when I was young that that very flower only grows in Beckham.