Dear Bishop ab Domincanus
Well, life never ceases to amaze sometimes and certainly does keep us busy. A blessing and a curse in many ways, but one which we bear quite willingly. I have taken to spending a little more of my time here at the Abbey, sometimes even neglecting the daily commute back to Church Square and home. The abbot’s bed has become a little less harsh, though I still perfer that of home to this.
The Abbey is growing on me, I’ll confess. It has a sort of, quiet, austere charm to it all. The monks, though seemingly unable to laugh and only a few still possessing the ability to smile, are quite kind once you do get to know them. Excellent people, the thought brings a smile to me even now. One can wander the grounds for a long time and take in the cold fall air. I am sad that autumn is leaving us behind.. the cold fingers of winter now begin their steady onset. Yet, I think it all shall look quite nice with a blanket of snow and the pond with a good layer of ice.
I like thinking of such things as the monks and snow on monastery grounds. Far preferable, I find, to some of the other thoughts of late. I cannot quite place it, but I feel so.. weary these days. Far more weary than I ever did as Cardinal. And in the midst of the weariness, I miss Julea all the more. I visit he grave from time to time, give the news of the city, talk about it all. It helps, though not quite enough lately. The questions of her death remain unanswered, hidden amongst the whispers and shadows of Lithmore. Part of me desires to confront the one man I have not confronted on the death. I wish to see His Majesty, but I am afraid of what might happen if I do. I mean, I’m not -stupid-, am I? But still, he is the one who I cannot face, not yet. Perhaps.. perhaps I should invite him to the Abbey, show him about our grounds. I might like that, I think. I shall write a letter.
And then there is Lady le Storm. I worry for her sometimes, though have faith. She is young, does not realize all that she does. Yet.. I am sad for her. She must be so afraid beneath it all. Lithmore is different than Tubor, of that you can be sure, and she has so many new things to think about and attend to. To me, she’s become the troublesome, mildly annoying teenage daughter I’ll never have. She gives me grey hairs, yes, but I can’t help loving her like a father would a child. A lot of Lithmore seems to draw that sort of affection from me lately. Not a bad thing, I suppose.
How are you faring, Bishop? I heard that the Spiritists have sprouted up again in Irisum, a pity. Send my regards to mother and father, ask them to have faith in me. They are in my prayers. Of course, you are as well and your good work. Please, I ask your prayers of me as well. Lord knows I need them.
Sincerely,
Fr. Piuso
