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The Grass Creek Diaries

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Excerpts from the WAR.

Royals Review is happy to present to you now a historic collection: excerpts of correspondence following yesterday's skirmish in the ongoing conflict over the sovereign soil of Grass Creek.

Dearest Lacey,

It is but a moment of solitude and serenity I have found to write you. I can not help but think of your smiling face, bespeckled with the beautiful ignorance of what this great conflict is doing to our country. Though I may quarrel over the nature of it, I do know that it is a war worth the fighting, and am glad to give my full diligence to the successful conclusion of the fighting, and will give my heart and mind to it. Though my forays into the field are brief, my support for my fellow bannermen will be unwavering.

Yours Truly,

Sweetest Leeandra,

I was called to the front lines yesterday. General Yost gave me the orders personally. Our troop depletion at St. Louis and St. Paul were too numerous to count, and so the tip of the spear I became. I fought valiantly, though the vanity of such a statement leaves me recoiling. But I can not fully comprehend the man that crested the hill yesterday. They say that a man can become possessed by an otherworldly presence at times of great crisis, and I believe fully that this has occurred to me. I met the King, the Usurper, on the field of battle, and I have defeated him. I can only pray that my actions will turn the tide for the better.

Forever Yours,

Yo Steph,

I destroyed them with my artillery. Hopefully they'll never forget the name Moostoukas [sic]. I'll see you soon.


Dear Katelyn,

We won again. The battles are easier now, now that I have found myself, as much as one could find in war like this. The demotion was perhaps the best thing that happened to me. As a flagship I was uneven, unwieldy. But now, as I work the bellows of this great siege engine, I know my place. Missing you always.



I want to come home. I want to hunt white tail. I want to spend my days in the blinds on our plot in Georgia, even if it is next door to that loathsome cur Jon Lester. My only solace through cold huntless nights is knowing that we are winning. And deer jerky.