I hope this letter finds you well, I hope the job with Master Caufield is still good. He is a fine smith and it will do you well learning under him. Alas, I myself cannot offer grand news, the exploration into the fascinating dimensional disturbance at the local religious temple here has borne no fruit. The local priest managed to seal it away and refused, quite rudely I might add, to pass on to me knowledge of his rituals of temporal manipulation. It would be quite promising research, and could advance university science years ahead. We could be summoning demons on our foes before the next big war with those greasy Sarilian bastards (may a bear eat them in their sleep!).
Currently I am on a most disagreeable caravan trip in pursuit of a bizarre temperature related phenomenon. It appears some nefarious fellow is freezing whole towns in durable magical ice, a most impressive feat! I plan to discover how he does it, by force if necessary. I am currently traveling towards one of the occurances with a most eclectic crew, under the guidance of a foul-mooded caravan master. His one redeeming quality is a fine sense of art. Otherwise the trip has been grueling. In addition to being attacked by a motley assortment of woodland based hostiles, my companions have spent the entire trip plotting and planning on discovering this man’s history and looting his tent. Very odd. I suspect his wife left him and received half the estate, after starting her life as a common scullery maid, hence his foul disposition concerning her.
Please take care of the estate, and I remind you, as always, should someone approach you demanding payments for a debt I headed east to the great desert where the gigantic fire breathing scorpions live.