4 July 3015

My Dear Brother Leonidas,

Today I watched my son depart for a journey that will take him farther from me than he has ever been, to a land I have never seen, to begin a life whose shape and outcome I cannot predict. As his train pulled away from the station this morning, carrying him toward the coast and toward the ship that will bear him to you, I felt the weight of what we have undertaken settle upon me with a heaviness that no amount of intellectual preparation could have forestalled. He is gone, Leonidas. My only child, the last living piece of your brother, the center of my life for more than two decades, has departed, and I am alone.

I do not write this to burden you with my grief or to suggest any regret about the decision we have made together. I remain convinced that we have chosen the correct path for Lysander’s future and for our family’s welfare. But I find that conviction and emotion are not the same thing, and that one can know intellectually that a choice is right while still feeling its cost with piercing intensity. Forgive me if this letter is more personal and less analytical than those I have written previously. Today I write not as a strategic partner in our family’s enterprise but as a mother who has just sent her son into the unknown, and I find I cannot maintain the composure that circumstances usually require of me.

Lysander left this morning as planned, looking both excited and apprehensive in equal measure. He was dressed in the traveling clothes we had selected together—practical, well-made, appropriate for a young diplomat beginning his service—and he carried himself with a dignity and bearing that made me proud even as it broke my heart. He is no longer the boy I raised but a man undertaking a man’s responsibilities, and I must accustom myself to this transformation even though every maternal instinct in me wishes to keep him safe at home where I might protect him from harm.

We said our farewells privately before leaving for the station, as I did not wish to create a public scene that might embarrass him or undermine the confidence he will need for the journey ahead. I told him that his father would have been proud of him, which is true. I told him that I had every confidence in his ability to succeed in the challenges ahead, which is also true, though tinged with the inevitable maternal anxiety that no amount of confidence can entirely dispel. I told him that he carried with him my love and my prayers, and that no distance could diminish either. And then, because I am a practical woman even in moments of high emotion, I reminded him to write regularly, to eat properly, to take care of his health, and to heed your guidance in all things.

He embraced me then—my son, my boy, this man who towers over me now—and I felt him tremble slightly, betraying the nervousness that his composed exterior concealed. “I will make you proud, Mother,” he whispered. “I will make Father proud. I will justify the faith you and Uncle have placed in me.” I assured him that he already had, simply by being willing to undertake this service, and that whatever came next, we would face it together as a family, even across the distance that would separate us.

At the station, several people had gathered to see him off—Lady Margrave, who has been so kind to us throughout this process; several of Lysander’s friends from his school days; representatives from His Majesty’s government; and even a few members of the press, whose presence I found somewhat intrusive but which Lysander handled with appropriate grace. Lady Margrave drew me aside briefly before the train departed and said something I found both comforting and unsettling. “You are sending him to be educated in ways our own country cannot educate him, Elizabeth. What he learns in Bravia will shape not only his own future but possibly the future of our nation. This is no small thing you have done today.”

I understood what she meant—that Lysander’s education in Bravian ways, his development of expertise that few of our countrymen possess, positions him to play a significant role regardless of how political circumstances develop. But her words also reminded me that I have not merely sent my son away for professional training but have, in a sense, committed him to a path that may fundamentally change who he is and how he sees the world. This is what you warned about in your letters—the danger of becoming so enamored of Bravian ways that one loses one’s own identity. I trust that you will help Lysander navigate these dangers, but I cannot deny that Lady Margrave’s words heightened my awareness of them.

Since returning home from the station, I have walked through the house feeling the emptiness that Lysander’s departure has created. His room, so recently full of his presence and his preparations, now sits silent and still. The desk where he studied Low Bravian, the shelves where his books stood before he packed the most essential ones for his journey, the chair where he would sit reading late into the evening—all are here, but the life that animated them is gone. I tell myself that this is simply what happens when children grow up and begin their own lives, that I should be grateful he has such an opportunity rather than mourning his absence. But knowing this intellectually does not prevent me from feeling the loss.

I am writing this letter on the day of his departure rather than waiting, as I normally would, because I find I need the connection that writing to you provides. You are the only person who fully understands what we have undertaken as a family, the only person with whom I can discuss these matters with complete candor. Mother needs to speak to brother today, Leonidas, not partner to partner in our strategic enterprise, and I hope you will indulge this need.

But even as I write as a mother experiencing loss, I am aware that I cannot allow myself the luxury of dwelling in grief. There is work to be done, and the political situation here demands continued attention and careful navigation. Indeed, there have been developments in recent weeks that I must report to you, developments that may have significant implications for our family’s position and for the success of our diplomatic efforts.

The most significant of these developments concerns Baron Rothwell, whom I mentioned in previous correspondence as having withdrawn from the marriage understanding with our family due to his opposition to your treaty with Bravia. In recent weeks, the Baron has been seen increasingly often in the company of Crown Prince Alexander, the son of His Majesty. This is not in itself unusual—the Baron is an important figure at court and has always had connections to the royal family—but the frequency and apparent intimacy of these meetings has attracted notice and comment.

Lady Margrave, whose intelligence network is remarkably comprehensive, has shared with me what she has learned about these meetings. According to her sources, Baron Rothwell has been counseling the Crown Prince on matters of foreign policy and has been particularly vocal in expressing his concerns about what he terms “the Bravian threat.” The Baron apparently argues that your treaty, while perhaps unavoidable given current circumstances, has created a dangerous precedent and that we must take active measures to prevent Bravia from expanding its influence further in our direction.

More specifically—and this is what concerns me most deeply—the Baron has apparently been discussing with the Crown Prince the possibility of forming a coalition of nations opposed to Bravian expansion. He envisions an alliance of countries around the Southern Sea and beyond who would commit to mutual defense against Bravian encroachment and who would coordinate their policies to limit Bravian influence. The Baron believes that Bravia’s strength, while considerable, is not unlimited, and that a coordinated opposition could contain them and prevent them from becoming the dominant power in the region.

Lady Margrave tells me that the Crown Prince has been receptive to these arguments, though it is unclear whether this represents his own genuine convictions or simply polite attention to an influential courtier. Crown Prince Alexander is known to be more assertive in his temperament than his father, more inclined to see foreign relations in terms of power competition rather than accommodation and negotiation. If he ascends to the throne—and given His Majesty’s age and declining health, this may happen sooner rather than later—there is a very real possibility that our nation’s policy toward Bravia could shift dramatically.

I have given considerable thought to what this development means for our family and for your diplomatic efforts. On one level, it is simply political reality that different factions have different views on foreign policy, and that those currently out of favor may position themselves for future influence by cultivating relationships with potential future sovereigns. Baron Rothwell is doing what any politically astute courtier would do—building relationships that will serve him well if and when power changes hands.

On another level, however, the Baron’s activities represent a direct threat to the policy you have been implementing and to our family’s position as the principal managers of relations with Bravia. If Baron Rothwell succeeds in convincing Crown Prince Alexander to adopt a more confrontational stance toward Bravia, your treaty could be repudiated or allowed to lapse, your embassy could be closed, and our family could find itself politically isolated and possibly even scapegoated for having been “too accommodating” to a foreign power that the new regime views as an enemy.

I have been attempting to understand the Baron’s motivations beyond simple opposition to your treaty. Why has he become so exercised about the “Bravian threat”? Why is he investing such effort in building opposition to accommodation? I believe I have at least a partial answer, based on conversations Lady Margrave has reported to me and on my own observations of recent events.

Baron Rothwell, you may recall, has extensive holdings in territories that border Bravian areas of interest. His wealth comes largely from estates that produce agricultural goods and from mining operations in regions that could be affected by Bravian expansion. He also has business interests that compete with Bravian merchants in certain markets. In short, the Baron has concrete economic interests that are threatened by Bravian growth and by the free trade provisions of your treaty.

But beyond these economic concerns, I believe the Baron is motivated by something deeper and more ideological. He sees in Bravia a fundamental challenge to the social and political order that has sustained families like his own for generations. The Bravian emphasis on widespread property ownership, their rejection of hereditary privilege unconnected to service, their insistence on consent and consultation—all of these threaten the power and position of traditional elites like Baron Rothwell. He fears, I think, not merely that Bravia might expand territorially but that Bravian ideas might spread culturally, inspiring our own people to demand changes that would undermine the very foundations of our system.

In this fear, the Baron is not entirely wrong. You yourself have written about how Bravian ways appeal to ordinary people who see in them the possibility of greater dignity, opportunity, and voice than they enjoy under more traditional systems. You have warned about the difficulty of allowing Bravians to settle in our country without their example spreading and potentially destabilizing our own order. Baron Rothwell has reached similar conclusions, but whereas you have counseled careful management and strategic containment of Bravian influence, the Baron advocates for more aggressive opposition.

This brings me to the political calculus that now confronts our family. We are committed to a policy of accommodation with Bravia, a policy that is currently supported by His Majesty but that may not be supported by his successor. We have positioned Lysander to become an expert on Bravia at precisely the moment when such expertise may become politically suspect rather than politically valuable. We have built relationships with the Bravian government at a time when those relationships may be seen as evidence of dangerous sympathy with a foreign power.

On the other hand, Baron Rothwell’s alternative—attempting to organize opposition to Bravia and to contain their expansion through some kind of coalition—seems to me both strategically unsound and practically unworkable. As you have repeatedly emphasized in your dispatches, Bravia’s power is considerable and growing. Their military capabilities are formidable, their economy is robust, their population is expanding rapidly. The idea that a coalition of nations could effectively contain them seems to me to rest on a fundamental misunderstanding of Bravian strength and character. The Bravians do not seek conflict, but neither will they be bullied or contained. Attempting to organize opposition to them is more likely to provoke exactly the sort of confrontation that would demonstrate, once and for all, just how powerful they have become.

Moreover, I question whether such a coalition could even be formed. You have described in your dispatches how Bravia has been building alliances and partnerships throughout the region—with the Fremen, with the Forest peoples, with the five nations along the river systems. Each of these relationships strengthens Bravia and makes it less vulnerable to external pressure. Meanwhile, the nations that Baron Rothwell would need to recruit for his coalition have their own interests and their own assessments of the situation. Many, I suspect, have already concluded that accommodation with Bravia is preferable to confrontation, and they will not be eager to join a coalition that might provoke Bravian hostility.

So where does this leave us? I believe we must continue on the path we have chosen, but we must do so with full awareness of the political risks we are assuming. We must document everything carefully—not merely for historical purposes, as we discussed in earlier letters, but as potential evidence of our loyal service should we need to defend ourselves against accusations of disloyalty or excessive sympathy with Bravia. We must maintain connections with various factions at court, including those who question the policy of accommodation, so that we are not entirely dependent on the goodwill of any single political group. And we must ensure that Lysander’s education in Bravia includes not only an understanding of Bravian society but also a continued commitment to our own nation’s interests and values.

Lady Margrave has suggested that I should seek to meet with Crown Prince Alexander myself, to present our family’s perspective directly rather than allowing Baron Rothwell’s characterization of our position to go unchallenged. She believes that the Crown Prince, whatever his inclinations regarding Bravia, would benefit from hearing a more nuanced view than the Baron is providing, and that as the widow of a man who served His Majesty faithfully and as the mother of a young diplomat beginning his service, I have standing to request such an audience.

I am inclined to follow Lady Margrave’s advice, though I confess I am uncertain what exactly I should say to the Crown Prince if such a meeting is arranged. I can hardly contradict Baron Rothwell’s concerns about Bravian power—those concerns are not unfounded. Nor can I pretend that accommodation with Bravia is without risks—you yourself have been clear about those risks in your letters to me. What I can do, perhaps, is to emphasize the greater risks of confrontation, the importance of managing relations with Bravia skillfully rather than stumbling into unnecessary conflict, and the value of having people like you and Lysander who understand Bravia and can help navigate the complexities of dealing with them.

I would welcome your thoughts on this, Leonidas. Should I seek such an audience with the Crown Prince? If so, what points would you suggest I emphasize? How can I best represent our family’s position while acknowledging legitimate concerns about Bravia without appearing to dismiss those concerns or to be naively enthusiastic about Bravian ways?

There is one other development I must report, though it is of a more personal nature and may seem trivial compared to the political matters I have been discussing. Two days ago, I received a visit from Catherine Rothwell, the Baron’s daughter who had been part of the marriage understanding with Lysander. She came ostensibly to return some small items that Lysander had given her during the period of their understanding—a book he had lent her, a silk handkerchief he had left at her family’s home, nothing of any real significance. But I believe her visit was motivated by something more than the desire to return these items.

Catherine is a young woman of considerable intelligence and grace, and I confess I had been genuinely disappointed when the understanding was dissolved, as I thought she would have made Lysander a good partner. In our conversation, she made several comments that I found quite revealing. She mentioned that her father had become “increasingly preoccupied with political matters” and that the household had become “rather tense and difficult as a result.” She spoke wistfully of Lysander and expressed regret that “circumstances” had prevented the marriage understanding from being realized. And she asked, with what seemed like genuine interest, what Lysander might encounter in Bravia and whether I thought he would be happy there.

I was careful in my responses, of course, not wishing to say anything that might be reported back to Baron Rothwell in a way that could cause difficulties. But I was also honest with her, and I told her that I believed Lysander would find his service in Bravia both challenging and rewarding, and that he would have opportunities to learn and grow that would not be available to him at home. She seemed genuinely pleased by this, and she asked me to convey her good wishes to Lysander when I next wrote to him.

I mention this encounter not because I think it has any immediate political significance, but because it suggests to me that Baron Rothwell’s campaign against Bravian accommodation may not have the full support even of his own family. Catherine is young and has no political power of her own, but she represents a generation that may see Bravia differently than their parents do. She seemed curious about Bravia rather than fearful of it, intrigued by the possibilities it represents rather than threatened by them. This may be significant as we think about the longer-term trajectory of our nation’s relationship with Bravia.

Now I must turn to matters more directly related to your work and to Lysander’s impending arrival. I have read carefully the letter Lysander wrote to you about his travel schedule and about the invitation to attend the opening of the Cape Esperance Naval Museum. I confess I am somewhat concerned about this diversion from his planned itinerary, though I recognize that he had little choice but to accept once the invitation was extended.

The Battle of Cape Esperance, as you described it in your dispatches, was a devastating demonstration of Bravian military power—an entire enemy fleet destroyed without a single Bravian casualty. For the Bravians to commemorate this battle with a museum and to invite our diplomatic representative to participate as a guest of honor is clearly a message of some kind. But what message, exactly?

On one reading, it is simply what it appears to be—the Bravians marking an important event in their recent history and extending appropriate courtesy to a foreign diplomat whose uncle witnessed the battle. The Bravians are proud of their military capabilities, and they see no reason to be modest about commemorating their victories. From their perspective, they were defending their people and their interests against an unprovoked attack, and they have every right to celebrate their success in doing so.

On another reading, however, the invitation could be seen as the Bravians sending a subtle reminder of their power to anyone who might be considering hostile action against them. By inviting representatives of other nations to witness the commemoration of their devastating military victory, they are making clear that opposition to Bravia comes at a high cost. This reading is more cynical, but it cannot be dismissed entirely, particularly given the political context I have described above regarding Baron Rothwell’s activities.

Lysander, I know, is somewhat anxious about this event, as he indicated in his letter to you. He recognizes that it is a delicate diplomatic situation but is uncertain how to navigate it. I trust that you will provide him with guidance on how to conduct himself—what to say, what to avoid saying, how to be appropriately respectful of Bravian military prowess without appearing to celebrate the defeat of another nation (even one we have had difficulties with ourselves).

I am also somewhat concerned about the timing. Lysander will be arriving in Bravia for the first time, will be thrust almost immediately into a formal diplomatic event, and will then need to travel onward to meet you and to participate in the presentation of credentials ceremony. This is a lot for a young man on his first diplomatic assignment, and I hope he will have sufficient time to rest and to adjust between these various demands on his attention and energy.

But I also recognize that this schedule, difficult though it may be, represents a valuable learning opportunity. Lysander will be observing Bravian society from his first days in the country, will be participating in important events, and will be developing his understanding of how the Bravians present themselves to the world. You have written that the Bravians value directness and honest dealing, and that they judge people by their character and their actions rather than by elaborate protocols. If this is true, then Lysander’s genuine interest in learning, his intellectual honesty, and his clear intention to serve honorably should serve him well, even if his diplomatic skills are not yet fully developed.

I am enclosing with this letter a small package that I would ask you to give to Lysander when he arrives. It contains a few personal items—a pocket watch that belonged to his father, which I think he should have now as he begins his adult life; a small devotional book that I have used for years and that I thought might provide him comfort when he is far from home; and a letter that I wrote to him but did not give him before his departure, as I thought it would be too emotional and might undermine his confidence. I leave it to your judgment whether to give him that letter immediately upon his arrival or to wait until he has had time to settle in. The letter contains nothing that would interfere with his duties—simply a mother’s expression of love, faith, and encouragement—but I thought it might be meaningful to him to have it.

As I approach the close of this letter, I find myself thinking about the larger meaning of what we have undertaken as a family. We are, in a sense, pioneers—not in the sense of settling new lands, but in the sense of building bridges between very different peoples and very different ways of life. We are attempting something that has no clear precedent and no guaranteed outcome. We are taking considerable risks based on our best judgment of a complex and uncertain situation.

Your brother—my husband, Lysander’s father—was not a man given to grand gestures or philosophical reflection. He was practical, dutiful, focused on the immediate responsibilities before him. But I remember him once saying something that has stayed with me through the years. He said that the most important legacy we leave is not the property we accumulate or the positions we hold, but the example we set for how to live with honor in difficult circumstances. He said that every generation faces its own challenges, and that the question is not whether we will face difficulties but how we will respond to them.

I believe we are responding to the difficulties of our time with honor, Leonidas. We are not fleeing from challenges or pretending they do not exist. We are not compromising our principles or betraying our nation’s interests. We are attempting, with clear eyes and honest hearts, to navigate a situation of great complexity in a way that serves our family’s welfare and our nation’s survival. Whether we will succeed, only time will tell. But I am convinced we are making the attempt in the right way, and I draw strength from that conviction.

I will write again when I receive word from Lysander that he has arrived safely in Bravia, and I will continue to monitor the political situation here and to keep you informed of any developments that may affect our family’s interests. In the meantime, please know that you and Lysander are in my thoughts and prayers constantly. Take care of my son, Leonidas. Help him to become the man his father would have been proud of and the diplomat our nation needs. And know that regardless of what challenges we may face, you have my complete trust and my unwavering support.

Your devoted sister,

Elizabeth Smith

P.S. — Since writing the above, I have received a note from Lady Margrave informing me that she has indeed arranged an audience with Crown Prince Alexander for two weeks hence. She has also offered to accompany me to the meeting, which I gratefully accepted, as her presence will provide both support and credibility. I will report to you on the outcome of this meeting in my next letter. Lady Margrave has counseled me to present our family’s perspective as one of “prudent realism” rather than either enthusiasm for Bravia or excessive fear of it. She suggests emphasizing that effective management of relations with a powerful neighbor requires understanding that neighbor’s ways and maintaining channels of communication, and that this is best accomplished by people who have invested time and effort in developing that understanding. I believe this is sound advice, and I will follow it.

I should also mention that I have been carefully preserving all correspondence, as we discussed in earlier letters. Every letter you have sent, every letter Lysander has sent, and copies of all letters I have sent to either of you are now stored in multiple secure locations. Should circumstances require us to demonstrate our loyalty and the soundness of our judgment, we will have a complete record of our thoughts, our reasoning, and our actions. I pray we never need this record for such purposes, but I am grateful we have it nonetheless.

E.S.