A letter from Bahalia

To my dearest and faithful Nollaig

I would like to start this letter off with my wishes that you are safe and content at home. There is not an hour that goes by that I do not yearn to be be back home with you on the green and pleasant pastures of Canolonia and our homely estate in Konigsbruck, for I am counting down the days until I set sail across the Thuban sea once more and to your open arms I will race.

At this time that I am writing this to you, Three days have passed since we first moored in the port of Khamal’ard, on the island of Bahalia. The voyage here was not without its excitement  for our vessel would be besieged by a Scyllat roughly ten miles from shore. I have seldom seen these beasts in the flesh, but they outmatch the folktales with their ferocity and harrowing appearances each time that I do . But fear not my love, It’s armoured scales and prying tentacles found themselves no match for the might of Canolonian harpoon.

How I wish you could bear witness to the lands across the sea. Auburn desert earth cast betwixt the cerulean blues of the sea and skies, with the crown jewel that is Khamal’ard placed upon its breast. the unparalleled beauty of this island so far remains a breathtaking spectacle for one so deprived of the sun’s glorious warmth all year round. The locals must have an extra layer on their eyes however because I for one feel as if there is a handful of sand in each eye at any given time . How they cope from day to day with the sand blowing around incessantly is an enigma in itself.

What can I say about the city itself other than it being a marvel of human architecture. Truly an Unfathomable wonder in our own times. The towering stone walls, hand carved by masons and artisans the likes of which I have never seen before in all my years of voyaging, protecting in a motherly embrace from the winds of the Abduyin desert would dwarf any city walls in all of Canolonia, even the royal palace in Lowestad! The city docks attract faces from all corners of the earth too. Canolonian, Bahalian, Elf. I even met two gentlemen from Cuthtar, far to the east, the very same ones we have read about in our books! They must have travelled for weeks to get here, a shadow cast over our comparably short voyage. I must say as well the lavish stories of their swords and  prowess bore no embellishment, for a Cuthtari blade is the finest steel I have ever laid eyes on. 

The local Bahalian folk themselves are a strange people mind you. On one hand, the majority of them are friendly and well met, and given the opportunity would buy you a drink simply so they could imbibe with you. But one must be careful with the topic of conversation they choose. Dare to mention anything remotely extraordinary and their backs will arch and they will his uncontrollably. Of course I only jest, though they are quite superstitious when it comes to topics such as magic and alternative practices. For instance, you can imagine my surprise when one of my crew was encouraged to visit a local witch to cure his ailments! But no witchcraft or unholy blasphemy of the witches of our home soil were we met with upon entering her home. In lieu of ghastly fire and necromancy was but an old Cunning woman equipped with herbs and brews of the like! Suffice to say It would be this revelation that would explain why our reluctance to go was met with confusion from the local woman who sent us there.

All else aside the true gem of Bahalia, as we know is their world famous Peyat wine. For reasons that escape me it tastes so much sweeter and far richer here, from the land it sources from. The nectar of a glorious nation that flows like silken water down the gullet.  I inquired into how it is brewed in one of the many local winehouses but to no avail, It appears that the recipe would remain a secret that these Bahalians carry with them proudly. Even my veteran tongue, so fond of wines and ales , could not fathom what makes this as grand as it is. No matter, for I will send a crate home to you my darling so we may share a toast upon my safe return.

But I digress, and I shall leave you on this note, in one weeks time we set sail back to Port Marhafen, and back to Konigsbruck I shall ride. For every night spent without you I am indebted to repay you.

With all my love

Yours faithfully

Bartas