Letter undead

Today there is a lot to do. Not because there was less in the days before, but because more troops were called to Terra Ankor.

So I sit here in my workshop and repair boots. Not all my customers are satisfied with my work. For the common people and the inhabitants of Terra Ankor, my skills are quite sufficient, and they are very satisfied that no more water gets into their boots and shoes. They are actually already satisfied if they have any footwear at all.

But the noble and loyal are very tiring. The stitching is not straight, the shoe pinches since it was with me, the color of the leather does not match the other.

I do everything in my power, and yet it is never good enough.

So it costs me a lot of time and work to do all this work again. But I don't let it dampen my spirits.

The business is doing better than ever, and it fills me with pride to contribute to the war against the occupiers of our beautiful city.

My brother told me the other day that he hasn't repaired such a large amount of armor in his forge in ages, and that the grindstones haven't stopped for weeks to grind the quantities of halberds, pikes

and swords.

I pray to the pale mistress that this will be the last attack on our beautiful city, and soon all the sacrilegious  and deniers of the true faith will lie dead before our walls and sink into the swamp.

Let Terra bring them back to their eternal cycle and see what this curse has brought them.

It brought us pain and suffering, but the faith in our saints and the pale mistress was never as strong as it is now.

I should concentrate again on my task in this story and continue.