17/07/2025
Dear Tricia
It’s me, your dear brother Dallas.
I’m writing to you from Bzalnia.
I know a letter from me is out of the ordinary, but I don’t exactly have anyone else to write to. Especially since Belle left me. That’s also part of the reason why I left home. There were too many things back in Pallio that truly wrecked my peace. I can explain all that in this letter.
If you’re wondering why I’m even writing a letter, I’ve been experiencing some unusual things since I’ve come to this foreign land. And so, I need to write about all of it just to help me make sense of it all. And also, just in case I don’t make it back. Not that I’m planning to ever come back. But these unusual circumstances have me a little worried. I’m not quite sure about what I’ve gotten myself into.
This hotel I’m staying at also has writing desks in every room, all equipped with pens, paper, and stamped envelopes. It just felt like the right thing to do, writing a letter.
I know. I left without letting you know. I’m sorry, Trish. But if you knew how things were going for me, maybe you’d understand.
I found out not long ago that Belle has already found another lover. She told me that he was a “good man” and that he “treats her right”. It’s almost as if she was saying that in spite of me. Either way, it was clear that she’d already moved on. It made me wonder what our 10 years of marriage even meant to her. Or if maybe I was the only one truly in love, and to her, I was just a place holder, keeping her company until she found someone else to fill that space. It really felt that way after the start of our marriage. It always felt like she was just trying to get away. Like I had to always give her reasons to stay. It always felt like it was going to get to this point. The worst case for a devoted soldier. Forever sworn to a cause that had exiled him. Or worse, a cause that didn’t even exist.
I became truly alone when she left. The confirmation of it all and her recent news further reminded me of that reality. Because all I’ve known and seen for these past few years is nobody beside me. I know you might say “Oh, what about all your friends?” And all I ask you is “What friends?”
The ones you used to always see me with? Yeah. Nice folks. Even though I knew them all first, I never realized that at the end of the day, they were all Belle’s friends and not mine. Because when Belle shut the gate on me, those folk were nowhere to be seen. I don’t blame them. They were just normal people living their own lives. I thought they’d be more, especially after all the years I spent with them. But recently, I found out from my unit that they’d all kept in touch with Belle the whole time. That they’d even met her new husband and were well acquainted with him. I can’t blame them. I just had to accept that they were her friends.
What about my unit? You know what I am to them, Trish. You know how much they really care about me. You know how they benefit from my loyalty. I’m just a guard hound they keep around, just in case they need the extra bite. Which I appreciate. It’s nice to know that I’m considered for something. But at the end of the day, when I wonder why I sit outside in the cold while they all chase their luxuries, I have to remember what I am to them. A loyal hound. Nothing more.
After we all escaped the war, their true ambitions were free to become the unit’s new voice. There was no longer a reason to care and protect each other anymore. No longer a cause to make everybody matter. Nobody mattered anymore. Only gold and profits mattered. And you know how little I care about such drives and politics. That unit is not one I truly belong to anymore, unless we want them to leave me for dead a third time.
And you? My dear younger sibling. Well, I’m writing to you this letter because it might be the only way I can ever reach you. It may be the last time I reach anyone.
I heard about what happened with you and Antonio. When you never answered my calls, and you made yourself hard to find, I understood that maybe you didn’t want to be found. And then I thought about how miserable I already was. I couldn’t blame you for not wanting to risk your own grief with my own darkness. I understood. And then I found out about the type of civilians you’ve been spending time with. So, I don’t blame you for wanting to stay away from me. If they’ve convinced you of such, they’re just trying to protect you. I’m just not fit for the people of Pallio. It’s not like they’d want me to ruin the view of their gardens at all their tea parties.
So, you can see, I have no where I fit back home at Pallio. And as I was saying before, I need to write about what is happening with me here in Bzalnia. I know you won’t talk to me anymore. But I have nobody else to send this to back home. It gives me a little peace knowing that my only family might have a clue of what has happened to me if I don’t make it through to the future. And if you never read this, I at least got this strange situation down on paper.
I got to Bzalnia about 6 days ago. I didn’t exactly plan to come here. I just went to a few places with the more covert sort of crowd and asked if anyone knew a good way to get out of Pallio. There was a caravan headed for Peetsurg. I was told Peetsurg was the place to go for anyone who didn’t want to be found. I still don’t know why that is, but I made it here to Peetsurg either way.
I packed light. All I had was a small bag with a change of clothes, a few precious things, myself, and grandmother’s ring on my tag chain. Yes. Belle returned it to me when she left me. So, I’ve worn it around my chain, waiting for the day she might come back. But now I know that that day won’t be coming anymore. And so, I left for Peetsurg.
When I arrived, nobody exactly pointed me to where I should head for. So, I searched about the city for a hostel or somewhere to stay.
Walking along the streets, I crossed this very peculiar mailbox. The thing was covered in jewelry, and it seemed to be built out of ag and au. I wondered why nobody had ever tried to steal any of it. Maybe the people of Peetsurg had a sense of respect or reverence for such things. And then I saw the building that this fancy mailbox stood before.
Gargoyles guarded every corner of this olden day building. It must have been a classical heritage site of the city. When you saw a place like this, you just knew deep within you that you had to show it respect. The mailbox and its untampered stance began to make sense.
While I gazed upon this olden day structure, I noticed men stationed at the door. They were dressed neatly in formal serving attire. Yet they had an air of discipline and composure like soldiers. I couldn’t make out what the building was. A government building, or maybe a wealthy theatre, I thought. Then the men at the door noticed me. They opened the front door and smiled to me. A gesture for me to enter.
The place turned out to be a hotel. It was a somewhat dim and dark place with a feeling of grandeur that never tried to intrude your thoughts. All the workers had a properness to them, and they even made me feel welcome. Even the patrons had a classic air to them. An elderly couple in an olden suit and dress stood politely by the counter. The old man held an old round brim hat in his hand, showing olden day manners.
I never planned, nor thought about staying here. It looked well beyond what I could afford. But a distinct worker approached me.
“Hotel Mysteria is a safe haven for anybody who does not wish to be found.” The man spoke in fluent Pallion. How he knew I was Pallion, I’ll never know. I didn’t wear any uniform or anything to make me stand out. Yet, the man was sharp and could tell my situation. I soon found out he was the hotel’s manager.
When he got someone to take my bags, I told him that I would not be able to afford the stay. He raised a hand to hush me. And told me I would be treated with the wanderer’s rate. He assured me it was cheaper than any other place I could find. When I asked him why he would offer me such, he told me.
“Hotel Mysteria’s main concern is that those who find themselves in Peetsurg are safe and sound.”
It all seemed too good to be true, but I trusted him. There was something about his hotel manager that you could sense. You could feel it. He was a protector. And he wouldn’t betray you. My soldier’s sense made that very clear to me. We become privy to knowing when to trust a man or not. And so, I knew I was in the right hands.
When he brought me to my room, he told me to freshen up and enjoy myself in town for a few days. He would soon find me work he felt best suited for me.
To be continued…
Diaries of the Moonlight Hours 