Another reminder—Hrothwulf Oswald. Seems to be “your” husband or lover. He is to you what he is to you; as for me, I see him as my companion in battle, and nothing more. He bought us another book to write this diary in after the last one was burnt to bits after some thugs raided our turf. Hrothwulf came in really late, and though he did manage to drive them off, our diary was irrecoverable. F-ck, thinking about it makes my blood boil. Word of advice, put this book in the safest place you can think of. This is perhaps the only link between me and you. It is yours as much as it is mine, so maybe you can add something else while I’m trying to patch up your head. If you ever forget about our “companion” or even me, read the notes I left here for you.
- Ase Sandrael -
Ase, you work as a free mercenary and bounty hunter. I don’t think I need to remind you this. You’ve more than enough cash already, so you’re using the money to tend to those poor little sh-ts in the slum. These savages always get harassed by the cops and tax collectors, but your cause is purer than the f-cking Rosenberg Foundation, so you’ve got that going for you. Curse them and their f-cking founder. There’re also a bunch of folks after our heads, a mixture of mobsters, thugs, revenge-seekers, and hitmen from a whole bunch of places.
I can feel it. There’s going to be a big war. A really big war, just like First Great War. Remember when that sh-t went down? Early 20th century, Ylva’s children f-cking around the Intermarium. One c-nt abused the position of power she was in, while the other dipsh-t spewed retarded bullsh-t about some so-called “democracy” to gain support against the former. It’s only a matter of when another f-ggot will pop up. And when that happens, leave everything to me and your “lover”. We’ll find the cure ourselves. F-ck, if Ostsee were still here, maybe they could cure us.
- Ase Sandrael -