My dear friend, 

I have never believed for a single moment that you are a cruel man, nor do I think that anything could compel me to do so. I imagine that army life is very difficult, and much like Rene's marble, your men must be sculpted to fit the model of a perfect soldier with expert precision. In Rene's case, this takes the delicate hand of an artist, in yours, the fierce determination of a Captain, and often the need for punishment. Best they learn from you with a gentle tap of the rod that a mistake could cost them their lives than actually make that mistake on the battlefield and lose their lives to foolishness. You do them a service, not a cruelty, by reminding them that the life they have chosen will not be one of ease. 

There are those who say that you are a cruel man. There are those who say that I am a schemer, my charitable endeavours merely a means of endearing myself to the people so that I can plant unrealistic ideals in the minds of the lower ranks and cause division among the upper. We both know that what they say of us is not true, and should pay no heed to their cruel words. I admire you greatly for doling out punishment to those who unfairly treat the new recruits. You are right, it is high time that they learned to respect others, be they soldiers or slaves. Perhaps your punishment may even tender them to look more kindly upon the slaves they once mistreated, now that they too have felt the sting of the lash. 

I myself have never beaten a slave. I have been forced to speak harshly to several on occasion for quarreling amongst themselves, and once to summon the authorities when I caught one attempting to steal from me, but never did I raise a hand to them. They were placed under guard until the authorities arrived, but never touched. I do not believe I could bring myself to harm another human being unless my life, or something equally precious to me, were in very serious danger. 

I shall pray, then, for your dearest wish. I shall pray to Ares that your soldiers be obedient and steadfast in their duties, that they not take flight, that they face battle bravely and remember all that you have taught them. And should a diamond in the rough appear, I will trust that it is Ares smiling down upon you, extending you a gift for your faithful service. Oh, forgive me, I assumed that Ares was your patron. Perhaps you worship another? Yahweh, perhaps? I remember you mentioning your mixed heritage to me. May I be so bold as to enquire whether you worship both the Gods of Greece and Judea? 

It would have been marvellous to have met you at the festival, though I am content to know you know and I assure you I speak as freely with you in these letters as I did at the Dionysa. My correspondences are private, for most think them the frivolous writings of a female and thus do not bother to pry into them. In that respect I suppose I am almost fortunate; I may write what I wish without suspicion, for who in my house would deign to believe me capable of putting quill to parchment to pen anything more than a trivial missive about the latest birth or marriage? Please do not think me bitter, for I truly am grateful for this strange freedom. In letters I can speak freely, for my words seem to be of little import, just as Master Panos believed. I have a signet ring, but my signature bears little meaning. And so, I can tell you all my little secrets, and yours too shall be safe with me.

Indeed, I would advise you steer clear of Lady Korinna, should you ever have the misfortune of meeting her. As for Miss Daria of Vasilidon, I doubt you shall ever have the displeasure of making her acquaintance, and hopefully I shall never cross her path again. Should our paths cross again, on the other hand, I would be most delighted to hunt with you, if you would be agreeable to the notion. Should you not have need of the hides, I would very much like to make use of them. They would make fine carpets or cloaks for those I patron. One of the deer skins from my hunt at the Dionysa yielded four cloaks, which I have trimmed with fur and intend to present to the four eldest women in Vasilidon, so that they might not feel the chill so keenly when the cold months strike. 

You are indeed correct, Master Panos is from Athenia. I had not met him until he journeyed to Colchis for the peace celebrations. He is of the Dynastia Marikas. His ancestor, Princess Lara, married one of mine, Paris, and so we are distantly related, cousins some ways removed I believe. He is rather intimidating; when first I beheld him, I was so awed and frightened that I misspoke and addressed him in a manner I fear was far too informal for his liking. It seems that even things done with the best intentions, such as a simple visit, can often go awry. I am glad, however, that your approach of myself and the Lady Rene has led to a fruitful friendship. 

I am aware of the struggles of the people of Colchis, and wish so much that I could help them. I understand why they may resent me, though I hope that in time I may endear myself to them through more frequent visits. I do hope, however, that this is not your frame of mind. Money I may have, but there are other things that I would gladly trade it for, were it not for the fact that that money helps so many people. 

Fear not, my friend. I shall never surrender my virtie, nor bend to the will of the spiders. They may try to ensnare me, but I will soar high above them and float among the clouds ad beneath me their games unfold. I shall have no part in them. I know what my destiny is, and it is not to waste my life attempting to claw my way to the top by stepping on others along the way. My destiny is to help, to heal, to hope. 

That poor child. Her parents had given her the money to buy something that amused her, but I hardly think a horse with a bull's horn dipped in white pigment attached to its head was exactly what they had in mind. In the end, we found the poor girl a doll and a xylophone. I believe I might purchase the 'unicorn' myself, simply to prevent some poor child from doing so. The horse is in good condition. I can remove the horn, for it is only tied on with ribbon, and settle her in the stables. Perhaps I can even send her across the sea as a gift to my sister, Marisa. 

Oh, my dear, my heart breaks to read these words, and yet it swells with joy that you would confide such a thing in me. Your dilemma is great, but I believe your response can be broken down into several factors. Do you believe that this young lady acts as a willing accomplice to her family? If you think she is being coerced, it may be that you can find a way to have them imprisoned, yet spare your love. That too is another factor -- love. How strong are your feelings towards this girl? What would you risk for her? If you believe that you could be happy with her, then again, it may be worth attempting the imprisonment of her family, while she goes free. Have you any ideas what her intentions may be if she roams free without her family? Do you believe she would lead an honest life? If you think she would, I see no harm in letting her slip their bonds. If you fear she would not, it may be wise to imprison her also. It will hurt, but sometimes it cuts our hearts to the core to do the noble thing. If this girl is merely a pawn in her family's plans, I would ideally wish to see her settled with you, both of you content with each other. But as you have stated before, you are not the type to take a wife, or rather, you have yet to find a girl for whom you believe a bride price worthy. I shall pray for you. I shall pray most fervently that you reach the decision that is right for both you and the young lady involved. 

Your friend, forever, 
Ophelia 

This letter was sent by messenger, along with two casks of the finest Condos wine -- one red, one white. A cloak of deerskin trimmed with fox fur was also sent, stitched by Ophelia's own hand and made from the skinned furs (skinned also by her own hand, on the night of the Dyonisa) of animals she has hunted.