Alliance Missive and Package (From Vala disguised via illusory magic)

RP around this letter here

Sir Sildar,

Please accept my apologies for the subterfuge, but I recall how you cast your eyes about even in the solitude of the townsmaster's hall, so I thought it prudent. 

I am writing far more quickly than I ought, and with less certainty than I felt yesterday. I pray you also forgive the unevenness of what follows; I find that sleep has not agreed with me tonight, and clarity comes in flashes rather than true sight. 

[there’s a lot of crossed out text here, obliterated from the page so aggressively that her pen pierces parchment.]

I promise I am not in distress, only thinking too much, which has always been my failing. Still, I felt it wise to leave this with you discreetly rather than carry it into uncertainty.

What I can say, and what I must entrust to you, concerns Urmon’s Journal.

You spoke of a safe haven. Of a quiet protection that does not announce itself like a challange, of care rendered quietly, without the Lords’ gaze fastening upon it like a hawk’s. Shared authority. Obligation spread thin enough that no single hand can choke it.

As I reread his notes on the Pact of Phandelver, I realized it may offer the bones of what you are seeking. The resemblance to what you described is uncanny and perhaps not as radical as I had first thought. In keeping with your plan, it is Old. Proven. Forgotten. It made me recall others from my studies under Edda, and in service to King Bann II, of the many lessons I learned indirectly in court.

I have filled the journal included with my own annotations: Diagrams. Precedents pulled from long-dead border alliances. Trade incentives. Succession gaps. Cultural fracture points. What happens when power consolidates too quickly. The details most scholars skim past because they do not feature kings and queens, but my grandmere always insisted upon, reminding me that one never knows where a vision will take root and that context is worth more than gold. Through her tutelage, I learned the smallest, long-lived successes that survive in footnotes because no one thought to crush them. I’ve organized them as best I could into a blueprint for you, Ser.

If they are not needed, I will be glad of it. I will be equally gladdened by your teasing, should I return unscathed.

But if I do not return with news of Gundren, if I do not return at all, I would like these thoughts to remain here, where they may yet be of use. Phandalin sits at a delicate point, and I find myself more concerned for its future than I would have expected only a tenday ago. A town like this does not survive neglect, and Harbin Wester is proof enough of how easily rot sets in when no one else steps forward.

Should the worst come to pass, please also give what accompanies this letter to Tomlin, it should allow him to retire comfortably for the rest of his days, and that knowledge, alongside your warm promise of his protection, steadies me more than I can properly say.

I trust your judgment, and I believe, truly, that what you are attempting here is worth fighting for. That belief alone has carried me through a great deal of unease tonight and I thank you for it.

I hope you can forgive the state of this page. I expect the road shall calm me.

—V