(Written in Sylvan, the handwriting beautiful but even more faint, on a beautiful sheet of paper.)
I fell asleep — I can hardly believe it — asleep while writing. Arrrgh… this chair is evidently not fit for sleeping. Argh, sleep is terrible…
But onward. We were not done. We fought and fired our way through that palace — traps, guardians, basilisks — nothing proved a great obstacle. At the basilisk, Frederick became our salvation; he dealt with that monstrous thing alone so that we might finish it together. Old forgotten tactics were called upon to master the worst moments — Yuri’s throwing caltrops move among them. Thus we pushed through the floor. We took a brief rest, and Yuri identified the things we found. I now bear the weapon of that watch-captain. At first I thought it would not suit me: it strikes not only the flesh but the soul. Yet after some reflection I decided it its me and my task all the more for that. Dibarra must be punished. The children must be brought home…
— (a long, trailing, slipped line)