Your courier is only giving me scant minutes to write back before he leaves for your secret location. I'm in tears that he won't give me the location or take me along, but I trust you. I don't know if it's fair to be this angry with you, or if I should instead cry tears of joy knowing you're still alive.
It seems that Morley is on the verge of going to war against Gristol, and the rumors from Dunwall are grim and strange. We've heard about soldiers made of metal, women commanding the trees, and whales gathering in the harbor, singing their songs in reverse. I hate the whole world for being between you and me while we should be holding hands. Please be safe or I won't know what to do.