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I hope whoever finds this can read it. I hate the thought that my last words might be used as kindling or, Maker forbid, to wipe someone's bum, but that's happenstance for you, I suppose.
My name is Branan. I was born in Rainesfere. I grew apples, once upon a time. When the Orlesians came to demand I bow to their emperor, I turned them away. They set fire to my orchards. To my house, too, but I didn't care. I stood and watched them burn. Trees die eventually. Houses fall. But my honor can be lost only if I let it.
They came back a week later and demanded that I swear an oath. This time, when I refused, they clapped me in irons. Now I'm here, and I'll die in this place. It seems a foolish thing to die for, doesn't it? I could have said a few words and rebuilt my home, gone on with my life as if nothing had changed. A hundred generations of my family have lived and died on that land, and I won't be the one to trade our family honor for apples.
Whoever you are, whatever they've brought you here for, if you leave this place, I hope you'll go to Rainesfere. There is no living remnant of us left there, but you'll find my family all the same. We're stamped onto the earth. We're in the wind that rustles the trees. Tell my family how I died, and I promise you, they'll hear.
- There is no quest associated with this item, as confirmed on the Dragon Age forum.