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My Dearest A.--
Yes, the Orlesian noble yet lives. Shall I make up a story for you as to why? You see, there was this most delicious distraction in the form of a young beautiful bodyguard so eager to protect said noble and it would have been a crime to not take both life and virginity. During the passionate love-making, the noble simply vanished. Pity, as I was hoping to ask him to join.
But you know me too well to believe that I would let anything, no matter how well-sculpted, come between me and my target. Then perhaps you would believe I was so taken by our noble that I have turned a new leaf and have pledged myself in service to Orlesian nobility for the rest of my natural life! You've heard, I know, of that Antivan who did it, and it will soon be all the rage—assassins everywhere suddenly becoming the very portrait of fidelity. Since I am, in your delicate words, “a whore for anything considered fashionable,” I simply must follow his example now before the crowds of assassins desiring notoriety turn on their own organizations. It simply won't do to appear as if I follow trends instead of setting them.
This you do not believe, either? What, do you think so little of me as to believe those viscous rumors that I am unfeeling, cold, cruel, bloodthirsty and that I take far more pleasure in my work than is usual for an assassin? I have a heart, you know! Morals guide my life! I am a good person who has always felt pain when I take a life. Oh, I am laughing just writing these words! I can hear your inelegant snort as if you were in front of me. I do you a disservice pretending to be offended by ridiculous opinions you do not possess, especially considering that not only did you spread those flattering tales of my skills, but that you witnessed the events which caused such open admiration. I apologize, mon amie.
Well, the truth then. The story I told you of how I came to Kirkwall, the one of a poor orphan forced to prostitution by poverty who became first the favored plaything of a petty old noble, to his murderer at an opportune moment, to the apprentice of a young, handsome, kindly bard, is true. Or rather, it is true enough. (As a side note, have you ever read The Lord Troubadour's Lover? It really is quite entertaining, full of parallels to my own tale!) The rest of the story was a lie. I did not grow tired of the game, and I did not escape from Orlais at my first chance. I loved every moment of the game, and I did not come to Kirkwall to start anew but because I was paid to. My employer wished to know a certain citizen of your home more intimately, but now that curiosity is satisfied, and I am free to return to civilization at last. The coterie was a lovely distraction from the complete inability of the local nobility to host a decent party, and I thank you for your eager hospitality. You may, of course, keep the reward you offered me for this job, but I think I shall be keeping my life. You are no doubt tempted to come yourself and collect it, but my fondness for you prompts me to remind you of the skill we possess in Orlais. You would fail, and the thought of you covered in your own blood is most distressing. For the sake of your health, stay in your quaint little city-state and play your school yard games.