12 February 3015

My Dear Brother Leonidas,

Your letter of the 28th of January arrived this morning by special courier, and I confess I read it twice through before I could fully comprehend the weight of all you have conveyed. That you would think to write to me at such length, in the midst of what must be an extraordinarily demanding period of establishing our nation’s first permanent mission to Bravia, speaks to the depth of your concern for our family’s welfare and, I perceive with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension, to the gravity of the circumstances you believe we may soon face.

I shall address your concerns in the order you presented them, though I must tell you at the outset that your observations about the political climate have not fallen upon unprepared ears. A woman in my position learns to read the currents of court life through channels that may not be immediately visible to those who operate in the more formal spheres of diplomatic and governmental affairs, but which are no less reliable for their subtlety. The tensions you sense from afar are, I assure you, keenly felt by those of us who remain at home. The very delivery of your letter by special courier rather than through ordinary channels suggests that even those tasked with conveying correspondence have become cautious about the contents they carry and the routes such communications might travel.

Regarding your urgent request that I preserve all correspondence within our family, I must tell you that I had already begun such efforts even before receiving your letter. The instinct to safeguard what remains of my late husband’s legacy—and now, increasingly, of your own distinguished service—has weighed upon me for some months now. I have been methodical in this undertaking, dear brother, perhaps more so than you might have anticipated, for I have taken the liberty of not merely copying our correspondence but of creating what I might term a family archive that extends beyond our immediate letters to each other.

I have gathered together all documents relating to our family’s property rights, the letters patent establishing your brother’s claim to the modest estate that now sustains Lysander and myself, the records of our family’s service to the crown extending back three generations, and such personal correspondence as remains from happier times. These I have had copied by a discreet clerk recommended to me by Lady Margrave—you remember her, I trust, the widow of the late Foreign Secretary, who has shown me considerable kindness since your brother’s passing. The originals remain in my possession, housed in the strongbox your brother commissioned before his final illness. One set of copies resides with my cousin in the Northern Province, a woman of impeccable discretion who understands the value of such documents without fully comprehending their political implications. A second set I have entrusted to the keeping of the Sisters of Saint Catherine, whose convent library has survived two civil wars and a fire that consumed half the Old City. The Mother Superior has assured me that should anything occur, the documents will be preserved in perpetuity, though she has asked that I provide a sealed letter of instruction to accompany them, which I am preparing with considerable care.

Your own dispatches to me I have treated with particular attention, for I recognize that they contain observations of the most sensitive nature. I have not shared their contents with anyone save Lysander, and him only in part, for I wished him to have some understanding of the opportunities and challenges that might await him should he accept your generous offer. I must confess, Leonidas, that your descriptions of Bravian society have both fascinated and disturbed me. That a nation could function without the natural hierarchies that have sustained civilized governance since time immemorial seems to defy reason, yet you write of it with such conviction that I cannot doubt the testimony of your eyes. I find myself wondering whether such a society, however alien it may be to our understanding, might not offer certain protections to those caught in the tumult of more traditional political upheavals. But I am getting ahead of myself, and straying into speculations that are perhaps unbecoming in a woman of my station, however much recent circumstances have forced me to consider matters I once believed the exclusive province of men.

The political situation here has indeed grown more volatile, though the nature of the tensions may be somewhat different from what your distance allows you to perceive. It is not merely a question of factions at court disagreeing about the proper approach to Bravia, though that disagreement certainly exists and is conducted with increasing acrimony. Rather, what I observe is a more fundamental crisis of confidence in the institutions that have long governed our affairs. There are those who blame His Majesty’s ministers for having allowed Bravia to grow so powerful unchecked, as if any actions we might have taken years ago could have prevented the rise of a nation that, by your account, seems almost inexorable in its expansion. There are others who argue that accommodation with Bravia represents a betrayal of our sovereignty and our way of life, though these same individuals seem unable to articulate what alternative policy might preserve both our sovereignty and our survival when faced with a neighbor of such overwhelming strength.

But there is a third group, Leonidas, one that perhaps you have not yet perceived from your vantage point abroad, and this group concerns me most deeply. These are men and women who see in Bravia not merely a foreign power to be negotiated with, but a model to be emulated. They speak in hushed tones at evening gatherings of Bravian egalitarianism, of their property rights extending to all citizens, of their insistence upon consent in governance. Some of these individuals are idealists who genuinely believe that importing Bravian ways might cure the ills they perceive in our own society. Others, I fear, are opportunists who see in civil disorder and the possibility of radical reform a chance to advance themselves in ways that the current order does not permit. It is this group that makes your treaty all the more controversial, for to them it represents not a prudent accommodation with a powerful neighbor but a first step toward a transformation they actively desire.

I mention this not to burden you with additional worries, dear brother, but because it bears directly upon the question of Lysander’s future service and, indeed, upon our family’s security. We must navigate between multiple perils: the danger of being seen as too sympathetic to Bravia, the danger of being seen as too resistant to necessary accommodation, and the danger of being caught between warring factions should civil disorder actually materialize. Your proposal that Lysander join you in Bravia must be evaluated in light of all these considerations, and I confess that my initial reaction upon reading your letter was one of considerable ambivalence.

On the one hand, everything you say about the professional advantages of such service is manifestly true. Lysander is bright, observant, and possessed of that quality of reserved judgment that you rightly identify as essential for diplomatic work. His facility with languages has already been demonstrated in his studies, and he has shown a genuine aptitude for the analytical thinking that would serve him well in assessing complex foreign societies. The opportunity to serve under your direct supervision in a mission of such importance could indeed establish him as one of the foremost experts on Bravia among our countrymen, with all the advantages such expertise might confer. Moreover, the practical benefits you mention—the stipend, the potential for investment, the connections he would make—are not to be dismissed lightly by a widow of modest means whose son must make his own way in the world without the advantages of great wealth or exalted birth.

On the other hand, the very expertise that would make Lysander valuable might also make him vulnerable. In times of civil disorder, those who understand a foreign power too well are often the first to be suspected of divided loyalties, regardless of the falsity of such accusations. Your own position, while currently secure, rests upon the confidence of a sovereign whose own position may be less stable than we might wish. Should His Majesty fall—and I write this with a heavy heart, for I bear him no ill will—those who served his foreign policy most faithfully might find themselves in considerable danger. By sending Lysander to join you in Bravia, I would be placing both of you in the same precarious position, leaving our family with no one positioned to navigate whatever political storms might arise at home.

And yet, Leonidas, having considered all these dangers, having weighed the risks against the opportunities, having spent several sleepless nights contemplating the various futures that might await us all, I have concluded that you are correct in your assessment. The expertise Lysander would gain is not merely professionally valuable—it may prove essential to our family’s survival. If civil disorder comes, those who can serve as intermediaries between our people and the dominant regional power may find themselves indispensable, regardless of which faction prevails. If the present order maintains itself, expertise on Bravia will only become more valuable as our relationship with that nation deepens. Even if some faction seizes power that wishes to undo the accommodation you have so carefully negotiated, they will discover what you have discovered: that Bravia is not going away, and that some form of relationship with them is unavoidable.

Therefore, dear brother, I write to inform you that I have presented your proposal to Lysander and have given him your letter to read in its entirety. I thought it important that he understand not merely the opportunity you are offering but also the complexities and dangers that attend it. I have told him that the decision must be his own, for he is of age and must choose the course his life will take. However, I have also counseled him that such opportunities come rarely, and that the chance to serve under the guidance of an uncle who has distinguished himself in the most delicate of diplomatic missions is not one to be lightly refused.

Lysander has asked for a few days to consider the matter, to complete certain obligations he has undertaken here, and to prepare himself mentally for what would be a dramatic departure from the path he had previously envisioned for his life. I have every confidence that he will write to you himself within the fortnight, and I believe I can say without violating his confidence that his letter will contain the acceptance you hope for. He is cautious, as you know, and wishes to be certain that he can discharge the responsibilities you would place upon him with the diligence they deserve. But he is also ambitious in the best sense of that word, eager to prove himself and to establish his own place in the world, and he recognizes that this opportunity may be unique.

I have already begun making arrangements for his departure, should he decide as I expect he will. I have secured letters of introduction from several influential persons at court—Lady Margrave has been particularly generous in this regard, and the Archbishop has provided a letter attesting to Lysander’s character and his faithful adherence to our religious traditions, which I gather may be important given Bravia’s own strong religious culture. I have also located a tutor in Low Bravian, a former merchant who conducted trade through the Free Port of Bravia for many years before retiring to our capital. Lysander has already begun his studies and reports that while the language is indeed challenging, it is not beyond his capabilities.

There is one matter regarding Lysander’s preparation that I must raise with you, for it requires your guidance. You mention in your letter that he should read whatever he can find about Bravian history and customs, while simultaneously warning that most such material is either outdated or inaccurate. I have searched our libraries and those of my acquaintances, and I must report that reliable information about Bravia is indeed scarce. What I have found consists mainly of commercial reports from merchants, which focus narrowly on trade practices and the prices of various goods, and occasional travelers’ accounts that seem more interested in exoticizing Bravian strangeness than in understanding their society on its own terms.

Might I suggest, dear brother, that you consider preparing a kind of primer for Lysander—not a formal diplomatic briefing, but rather a letter or series of letters explaining the essential features of Bravian society that a young man should understand before his arrival? I realize this would be an additional burden on your time, but I think it would serve Lysander well to have such guidance directly from you rather than relying on secondhand sources of dubious reliability. Such letters could be written at your leisure, as your duties permit, and sent to him over the coming months as he prepares for his departure. They would also provide him with a sense of connection to you before his arrival, which I think would ease what will undoubtedly be a difficult transition.

Now I must turn to a more delicate matter, one that touches upon considerations that may seem to you merely domestic but which I believe have implications for our family’s broader position. You will recall, I trust, that in the year before your brother’s death, there were preliminary discussions about a possible marriage alliance between our family and that of Baron Rothwell. The Baron’s second daughter, Catherine, was mentioned as a suitable match for Lysander, and while no formal betrothal was ever concluded, there was a general understanding that such a match might be agreeable to both families when Lysander came of age.

Baron Rothwell is, as you may know, among the most vocal critics of your treaty with Bravia. He has spoken openly in the Lords’ Council of his view that any accommodation with Bravia represents a dangerous concession, and he has gone so far as to suggest that those who advocate such accommodation may not have our nation’s best interests at heart. I need not spell out what such insinuations might mean for your reputation and, by extension, for our family’s standing. The Baron has made it clear, through channels both direct and indirect, that he would consider the marriage understanding to be void should Lysander choose to enter diplomatic service related to Bravia. He has stated, with what I can only term brutal frankness, that he will not see his daughter married into a family of “Bravian sympathizers.”

I confess this development has caused me considerable pain, for I had hoped that such a match might provide Lysander with both the social standing and the financial security that his father’s early death prevented him from inheriting. Moreover, Catherine is by all accounts a young woman of excellent character and considerable charm, and I had allowed myself to imagine that she might make Lysander happy. But I have come to recognize that we cannot allow our family’s future to be held hostage by those whose political positions may prove as unstable as the times in which we live. Baron Rothwell’s adamant opposition to Bravia may seem principled now, but should circumstances change—should Bravia’s power become so overwhelming that even the Baron must acknowledge the necessity of accommodation—he will find himself in a considerably weakened position. We, meanwhile, will have positioned ourselves as those who understood the necessity of such accommodation from the beginning.

I mention this not to burden you with domestic trivialities, but because I believe it illustrates the broader point you made in your letter about the vulnerability of our family’s position. We are, as you note, of good birth but not of the highest nobility, possessed of modest means and without the military glory or great wealth that commands unquestioned respect. In such circumstances, we must be strategic in our alliances and prescient in our understanding of where power and influence are moving. If Baron Rothwell wishes to withdraw from our understanding, I am prepared to accept that withdrawal with as much grace as I can muster, recognizing that it may ultimately prove to be his loss rather than ours.

Regarding the more practical matters you raised in your letter, I have taken note of your recommendations about Lysander’s initial expenses and the stipend that has been arranged. I am prepared to supplement this from my own resources to ensure that he arrives in Bravia properly outfitted and equipped to represent our family and our nation with appropriate dignity. Your brother left us in more comfortable circumstances than might have been expected, and I have managed our modest estate with what I hope has been prudent economy. Lysander will not arrive in Bravia as a wealthy man, but neither will he arrive as a pauper, and I trust this will serve him well in establishing himself among his diplomatic colleagues.

I have also given considerable thought to your suggestion about property investments in Bravia. I confess this is not an area where my knowledge is extensive, but I have consulted with my man of business—the same who has managed our estate since your brother’s death—and he has advised that such investments, if made prudently and in areas where Bravian development is certain, could indeed prove quite remunerative. He has suggested that Lysander might begin modestly, perhaps acquiring property in one of the smaller but growing towns in the developing provinces you described, where prices would be more accessible to someone of limited means. As his understanding of Bravian economic conditions improves, he could make more substantial investments, possibly with borrowed capital if suitable terms could be arranged. I gather from your letter that the Bravians are scrupulous in their business dealings, which would make such borrowing considerably less risky than it might be elsewhere.

There is one additional consideration that I must raise, though it pains me to do so, for it touches upon matters of mortality that I would prefer not to contemplate. Should anything happen to you while Lysander is in Bravia—and I pray fervently to God that nothing will—he would need to be prepared to assume responsibilities that would ordinarily fall upon someone of far greater experience. I do not raise this possibility to be morbid, dear brother, but because we must be practical. You are serving in a foreign land during tumultuous times, and while you have assured me that Bravia itself is remarkably safe, the same cannot be said of the broader political situation or of the risks attending your position. Have you given thought to what provisions should be made for such an eventuality? Would Lysander be in a position to continue the work you have begun, or would he need to withdraw immediately? These are matters that should be addressed before his departure, uncomfortable though they may be to contemplate.

I come now to the gifts you so thoughtfully sent along with your letter. The silk from the Forest people is indeed of extraordinary quality, unlike anything I have seen before. The weave is so fine as to be almost ethereal, and the color—that deep crimson with hints of purple—is truly remarkable. I have already engaged a dressmaker to fashion it into an evening gown, which I intend to wear to the Spring Reception at court. I confess I take a certain satisfaction in the knowledge that I will be wearing Bravian silk while Baron Rothwell and his fellow critics of your treaty decry Bravian influence. Sometimes, dear brother, a woman’s small acts of defiance are the only ones available to her, and I intend to take full advantage of what opportunities I have.

The carved wooden items are equally impressive. The craftsmanship is exquisite, and there is a simplicity to the design that I find quite appealing. I have placed the largest of the boxes on the mantelpiece in the drawing room, where it has already attracted considerable comment from visitors. When asked about its origin, I take pleasure in explaining that it was sent to me by my brother-in-law, who serves as our nation’s ambassador to Bravia, and describing something of Bravian culture as you have conveyed it to me. In this small way, I am doing what I can to educate our circle about the realities of Bravia, to counter the wild misconceptions and prejudices that too often pass for informed opinion in our society.

The photograph of the royal palace is perhaps the most intriguing of your gifts. I must confess I stared at it for some time, trying to reconcile the austere simplicity you describe with my preconceptions of royal residences. That a powerful nation should be governed from such a modest and unadorned place challenges everything I thought I understood about the relationship between political power and its physical manifestations. I have shown this photograph to several trusted friends, and their reactions have been uniformly one of puzzlement mixed with a kind of reluctant admiration. “They must be very confident in their power,” one friend observed, “to feel no need to display it ostentatiously.” I think she may have understood something essential about the Bravians in that simple observation.

I must also thank you for your detailed descriptions of Bravian society in your letter. Your account of the priest and his wife in New Porterville was particularly illuminating, not merely for what it revealed about Bravian religious institutions and marriage customs, but for what it suggested about the ways in which the Bravians build social cohesion across different areas of society. The alliance between priestly families and landowning families, each providing the other with something essential, strikes me as quite elegant in its own way, however different it may be from our own approaches to such matters. I found myself reflecting that perhaps there is more than one way to maintain social stability, and that our certainty about the superiority of our own methods may be less well-founded than we assume.

Your observations about the role of women in Bravian society have given me particular food for thought. I gather from various comments in your letter that Bravian women enjoy a degree of education, property rights, and public voice that would be quite unusual by our standards. The priest’s wife you described seemed to be a person of considerable knowledge and strong opinions, freely expressed, and I note that you recorded her views with the same attention you gave to those of her husband. This suggests a society where women’s perspectives are valued, at least in certain contexts, and where their contribution to family and community discussions is not merely tolerated but expected. I confess I find myself somewhat envious of such a situation, though I recognize that Bravian society as a whole would be quite foreign and likely uncomfortable for someone raised as I have been.

I am conscious that this letter has already grown to considerable length, and I fear I am testing your patience with my many observations and considerations. But there is one more matter I must address before I close, and it is perhaps the most important of all. You have written to me with remarkable candor about the dangers our nation faces and the uncertain political future that may await us all. You have asked me to preserve our family correspondence so that future generations might understand the choices we faced and the reasoning behind our decisions. You have positioned your proposal for Lysander’s service within the context of a broader family strategy to ensure our survival and relevance regardless of what political storms may come.

I want you to know, dear brother, that I fully understand what you are really asking of me. You are asking me to risk my only son, the last remaining hope for the continuation of our family line, by sending him to serve in a foreign land during a time of great uncertainty. You are asking me to trust your judgment about the course our family should take, even though that course puts us at odds with powerful figures in our own society. You are asking me to accept that the world we have known may be passing away, and that survival will require adapting to new realities rather than clinging to old certainties.

It is no small thing you ask, Leonidas. As a mother, every instinct tells me to keep Lysander close, to protect him from danger, to seek security in the familiar rather than opportunity in the unknown. As the widow of your brother, I feel keenly the responsibility of preserving what remains of the family he worked so hard to establish and maintain. The thought of sending Lysander so far away, into circumstances that you yourself acknowledge carry substantial risks, causes me considerable anguish.

And yet, I have come to believe that you are right. The world is changing, whether we wish it to or not. Bravia is a reality that cannot be ignored or wished away. Our nation faces choices that will determine not merely its foreign policy but potentially its very survival as an independent power. In such circumstances, timidity masquerading as prudence is the greatest danger of all. We must be bold, strategic, and above all, clear-eyed about the nature of the times in which we live.

So yes, Leonidas, I will send Lysander to you, assuming he accepts your offer as I believe he will. I will trust your judgment about how to navigate the dangerous political currents both in Bravia and at home. I will continue to preserve our family correspondence and to prepare for whatever disruptions may come. And I will maintain my position here as best I can, representing our family’s interests at court and in society, using what influence and connections I possess to ensure that whatever political changes may occur, our family is not left without resources or allies.

I ask only that you watch over Lysander with the care you would have given to your own son, had you been blessed with children. He is all I have left of your brother, and while I am willing to risk him in service of our family’s future, I am trusting you to minimize those risks as much as circumstances allow. Guide him, teach him, protect him where you can, and help him to become the man his father would have been proud to see. Do this, and I will consider any sacrifice worthwhile.

I expect you will hear from Lysander himself within the next two weeks. He is, as I mentioned, cautious by nature, and he will want to consider all aspects of your proposal carefully before committing himself. But I know my son, and I have seen the spark of excitement in his eyes when he speaks of the opportunity you have offered him. Young men need challenges worthy of their abilities, and the chance to help establish our nation’s relations with the most powerful force in our region is certainly that. I believe he will accept, and I believe he will serve you well.

In closing, let me say that while the circumstances that have brought us to this moment are far from what any of us would have chosen, I am grateful for your thoughtfulness in considering Lysander’s future and your candor in sharing your assessments of the political situation. The bonds of family are precious, never more so than in uncertain times, and I am thankful that despite the distance and the demands upon your time, you have maintained your connection to us and your concern for our welfare. Your brother would be proud of what you have accomplished, and grateful that you have looked after those he left behind.

I shall await Lysander’s letter to you, which I expect will be dispatched within the fortnight, and I shall continue my efforts to prepare him for his departure and to preserve the documents you have so rightly identified as essential to our family’s future. Should the political situation here deteriorate further, I will write to you immediately, though I suspect that any such deterioration would reach your ears through official channels before my letters could arrive. In the meantime, I pray for your safety and success, for Lysander’s wisdom in making his decision, and for the preservation of peace in our troubled land.

May God watch over you, dear brother, and over all of us in the trials that may lie ahead.

Your devoted sister,

Elizabeth Smith

P.S. — I hope you will not think me presumptuous, but I have taken the liberty of having a miniature portrait made of Lysander to send to you with his letter, should he accept your offer as I expect he will. It was commissioned last autumn, before your proposal arrived, and shows him as he is now—on the cusp of manhood, with something of his father’s determined expression about the eyes but also a gentleness of aspect that is entirely his own. I thought you might wish to have it, both to know what he looks like now after so many years and to have something to show to those in Bravia who might inquire about the young man who will be joining your mission. It is well done, I think, and captures something essential about his character that mere description could not convey.

E.S.