When fate plays its hand

Carissa hesitated for a moment before finally taking the letter.

She sat down on the wooden chest, holding the letter in her hands for a long time before carefully unfolding it. NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

Wade had never been fond of reading. He preferred carpentry, crafting mechanisms, and excelling in martial arts. Dominic had often chastised him, accusing him of neglecting serious pursuits. Even as a military officer, Wade was expected to understand military strategy and tactics, not just rely on brute strength. Dominic had forced Wade to study through threats and even the occasional caning

But effort without interest–and a near–total lack of talent–meant Wade had never made much progress in academics. His handwriting was notoriously messy. He had once joked that his strokes were a masterpiece of wild grace, a chaotic dance of dragons and snakes that only the truly enlightened could appreciate.

Remembering his words, Carissa glanced at the haphazard script and couldn’t help but

agree.

Fortunately, she could make out the general meaning, even if a few words eluded her. What mattered was the content.

The letter explained the concealed weapon’s usage. The mechanism required a slight offset to hit its intended target, just as they had just tested.

It wasn’t a deliberate design choice, Wade clarified in the letter, but rather the result of a rushed process. The war was looming, and there hadn’t been time for refinements. He had promised to make improvements once the battles were over and send her a perfected version as a gift the following year.

He also mentioned the throwing knives, describing how their streamlined shape allowed them to cut through the air at great speed. The thin, razor–sharp blade required less inner force to use, relying instead on skillful technique.

Wade ended the letter by mentioning several designs for other hidden weapons, already sketched and awaiting construction after the war. Once completed, he planned to send them all to her.

The letter contained little else. It was mostly an ode to his own genius, with an unabashed confidence that no one in the next 50 years would surpass his mastery of concealed weapons.

Rafael held a lamp to illuminate her reading, but he didn’t intrude on the contents of the Hetter. He was lost in his thoughts, remembering Wade’s sacrifice. Wade had fallen at the battle of Victory Pass when Leroy had first appeared. It was the war’s opening skirmish, a disastrous ambush that caught them unprepared. Wade’s life had been one of many lost in

# 1871

Chanter

that ill–fated engagement.

Carissa folded the letter slowly–once, twice, three times until it was a small square. She opened her sachet and carefully tucked the letter inside.

Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, dripping onto the backs of her hands. She didn’t wipe them away. Instead, she turned to another chest. There was still one more box left from her uncle. When she opened it, though, it contained only mundane trinkets.

It wasn’t Carissa who made the observation–her seventh uncle had left a note inside the box. Placed neatly on top of its contents, the note read simply: Just mundane trinkets.

Carissa began unpacking the box, one item at a time. Inside, she found a fox fur cloak, leather hides, and warm winter clothing. There was even a pair of white fox fur gloves, so soft and plush that within moments of wearing them, her hands began to sweat.

She moved on to the other chests, opening them one by one.

There were several pairs of shoes. Carissa recognized her grandmother’s handiwork in the stitching–two pairs of embroidered shoes and two pairs of soft lambskin boots, each a testament to her grandmother’s love and care.

Among the remaining items were clothes, a few pieces of high–quality emerald still uncut, but no gold or silver jewelry. The conditions at Victory Pass had clearly been harsh for

everyone.

“These look like baby clothes,” Rafael remarked, pulling out a few tiny outfits -both for boys and girls. He also uncovered two pairs of tiger–head shoes and matching tiger–head hats, placing them carefully on the lid of the chest.

Carissa gently touched the small shoes. Her aunts must have made them, likely around the time she married Barrett. Back then, her life had seemed predetermined–marriage, children, managing the household, and raising the next generation.

It was the future Melanie had always envisioned for her.

The tiger–head shoes were exquisitely made, with round, bright eyes and soft, rounded ears. The stitching was meticulous, and the craftsmanship brought the little tigers to life. Carissa imagined that any child lucky enough to wear such shoes would surely feel surrounded by love and blessings.

She carefully put everything back into the box, except for the shoes her grandmother had made.

The bracelet, now fully loaded with needles, she slid onto her wrist. It was her uncle’s to protect her, a tool meant to save her life.

“There are still some clothes. Do you want to wear them?” Rafael asked, gesturing to

another chest.

gift

Carissa ran her fingers over the fabric, hesitating. Then, she shook her head slowly. Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I can’t bear to wear them. If they get worn out, they’ll be gone forever.‘

“Then leave them be,” Rafael said gently, “but maybe take them out once a year That way, you honor their love without letting it go to waste.”

ear to

wear.

He helped her seal the boxes again, glancing at the throwing knives. “You should take a few of these with you too. They seem useful.”

“Yeah. There’s a leather pouch for it here.” Carissa rummaged through one of the boxes and pulled out a black leather knife pouch.

The pouch was stitched with individual slots for the throwing knives, keeping them neatly organized. The design made them easy to draw–her fingers barely brushed the knives, and one seemed to leap into her hand.

Even now, Carissa struggled to accept that her seventh uncle was truly gone.

Yet, she knew denial wouldn’t bring him back.

They were gone forever.