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How have you been? I arrived in Cherensko this afternoon.
As always, the summer here is cool thanks to the sea breeze. It is a landscape I wish I could show Your Highness, but in lieu of that, I have attached a postcard.
Among the postcards lined up at the stand, this one seemed most similar to the Cherensko reflected in my eyes. It is a place that evokes an infinite sense of liberation, different from that of a lake, so I truly hope Your Highness will visit someday.
I shall end my first summer greetings here. I have reviewed the concerns regarding the secret mission I gave Your Highness.
If I may offer one piece of advice, it is that not every plan needs to be clandestine. Both great and small matters tend to remain in one's memory longer when shared, so a secret mission that family or friends can participate in could still have a sufficiently positive impact... >
<To Valentin Vladimirovich Dmitriev.
Autumn has come to Ohala, Valentin. Half a year has already passed since you left.
I've grown more over the last six months. By about 0.3cm. A remarkable development, isn't it? The progress of the secret missions is also going very smoothly. The second secret mission (I hope you understand why I cannot write the details in a letter, just in case) seems to suit me particularly well.
However, something very annoying has happened. As you know, the third secret mission is related to sponsoring an orphanage, right? In exchange for the sponsorship and hosting an annual equestrian competition, Vasily set one condition. Can you believe he wants me to personally visit a nearby orphanage and write reports?
Thanks to that, once a week, I spend three hours at the orphanage mingling with the children. That place is truly so dirty and filthy that it's hard to describe in words. They say the sponsorship has increased, but it's more horrific than what's recorded in the photos or reports. When I stand next to the children living there, I can smell filth. I don't even want to go near them.
So, for this year's 'Harvest Festival,' I'm thinking of delivering soap to that place. My theology professor, Bishop Parben, is a Kashlain, and I heard that Kashlains wash their hands and feet more than twice a day from a young age. Apparently, thanks to that tradition, they grow up with relatively few minor illnesses and have a lower probability of contracting infectious diseases.
I must teach the Kashlain tradition to those dirty kids at the orphanage. I'll have to go once a week to check the status of the soap so they don't skip it... >
<To Her Imperial Highness Princess Larisa.
By coincidence, today's letter is quite long. I expect it will fill about three pages, but please understand that it may extend to four.
I hope Your Highness will examine the contents of today's letter thoroughly, feel a deep sense of your own wrongdoing, and reflect upon it. Please accept this not as nagging, but as a lesson. A liberal arts lesson.
First, the point I wish to emphasize most is that Your Highness was in the wrong. As Your Highness said, that friend named Sergei is indeed nothing more than a mere noble and, by status, can never defy Your Highness. However, Your Highness mentioned that you wish to develop a good friendship with Sergei.
This is where the contradiction arises. What is a friend? Is it someone more noble than a maid or a servant, yet someone who must obey Your Highness in a different manner? If so, I cannot be Your Highness's friend. For I do not have a speck of desire to obey Your Highness... >
<To my dear Valentin.
The first snow fell last night, Valentin. In one month, I'll be seventeen.
Emma had her baby. I wondered why there was no news for over two years after her marriage, but apparently, it's a trend among newlyweds these days to enjoy their honeymoon period for about two years before having a child. My goodness, the trends people come up with.
Are you doing well there? You've been very quiet lately about which city you're staying in. While I love hearing these small, trivial stories, I want to hear about your studies abroad too. As you know, I've never left Ohala. Your letters are the only window that directly connects me to the outside world.
Tanya's obsession with finding me a husband has worsened lately. It was already bad, but I mean it's gotten even worse. I don't understand why she interferes so much with my future planning when she isn't even dating, let alone engaged or married. When I tell her this directly, she says I'm just sensitive because I've hit puberty.
I am absolutely not sensitive! A few days ago, she brought some man along, claiming she wanted to introduce him to me (yes, just like she did before), and while he was certainly a very handsome blonde... >
<To Her Imperial Highness Princess Larisa.
How have you been? I am writing this reply amidst a storm of swirling pollen. Spring here is the worst in many ways.
It is the spring you waited and waited for, so it is a pity that snow fell in Makhachkala as soon as March arrived. What I wish to tell you is, as has been the case for the past three years, that I hope you do not bind yourself too tightly to things called 'plans.'
Of course, I know well how Your Highness must feel. It is likely because of the 'March 1st Zinnia Legend.' The legend that says if a golden flower blooms from a zinnia planted on March 1st, any wish will come true.
But Your Highness, zinnias bloom even if you plant them on March 2nd. They bloom if you plant them on March 3rd as well. So just plant them. Legends like the zinnia legend are all lies. In vulgar terms, one would call it a scam. Even if a golden flower blooms, no wish comes true. That is merely a petty tactic used by flower shop merchants to sell zinnia seeds... >
<To my missed Valentin.
Are you doing well? Ohala has been trapped in the rainy season for nearly four days now. Last week was the rainy season, and the week before that was too! I don't think I've seen proper sunlight since my sixteenth birthday passed. This is the first time August has been this tedious.
Things are restless in Makhachkala lately. A terror attack occurred near the outskirts about fifteen days ago, and rumors say it was the work of rebels. Even when I ask my brothers about the rebels, they all just give vague answers. I suppose they don't want to tell me properly.
At first, I tried not to pay much attention, but I changed my mind after an incident two days ago. I heard that a rebel was hiding in the Imperial Palace. They say Vasily personally beheaded him in the middle of the night... I'm worried that all our past efforts might go to waste because of them. >
<To Her Imperial Highness Princess Larisa.
How have you been? I write this letter today with a somewhat regretful heart. It seems my return will be delayed a bit longer. I tried to return as quickly as possible, but it appears it will take a little more time to achieve my goal.
I know you will be very disappointed upon reading this letter. You might even send a reply nearly five pages long reprimanding me. Whatever you say, I shall accept it humbly.
The land where I am temporarily staying is the royal capital of Oblonsky. The young men and women who came up for their coming-of-age ceremonies make the city center noisy day and night.
Here in Oblonsky, men and women exchange apple blossoms on the day of their coming-of-age ceremony. The men pin a flower to their breast pockets, and the women wear one in their hair. And on the roadsides, every apple blossom in the world is sold out. Walking through the city center on the day of the ceremony, the crisp scent of apple blossoms made my head spin.
Until now, I felt no special emotion when March returned. But this year, every time I saw the women passing by on the street with apple blossoms in their hair, I thought of Your Highness. More than anything, worry came first. Also, I simply cannot believe that Your Highness will become an adult next year.
How can such a thing happen? Your inside still seems like a thirteen-year-old's. When will Your Highness finally grow up? I am speaking of the mind, not the body. I check how Your Highness is growing through the photos I receive every year. I am even more worried because you are increasingly resembling Her Highness Tatyana.
Come to think of it, it will be March by the time this letter arrives. I wonder if you failed to plant the zinnias again this year... >
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