Dear Nanthel,
I hope all is well concerning your cases. Winter is a difficult season for individuals of our profession, and (if my memory is true) many of those in your care as well. Perhaps my letter shall reach you after the advent of spring, and you might read it when a hundred different flowers bloom upon the hills of Lebennin.
I write to you not of the usual matters—a reprieve from which I am sure you will be glad to enjoy—but of a man whose condition may be of interest to you. His name is Iestin; he once hailed from the village of Mossward on the North-South road, but turned to banditry years ago. Although he bears no obvious wounds, in these days when war and deprivation have led many Men to take up wild and unlawful ways, a man whose body appears intact may sustain an injury which renders his spirit inimical to a peaceful life.
My kinsmen and I first heard of this man through a rumor from the trading town of Herne: A rider was attacking travelers on the road. As he did not relieve his victims of their possessions, it was concluded that he attacked them for sport rather than for material gain. Yet when we encountered him, we found a madman in a black hooded cloak who called himself a "Black Rider" (one of my companions noted that Iestin's raiment bore a resemblance to that of the Ringwraiths who served the Enemy). He was soon apprehended.
I have pieced together his story from the accounts he has shared with me. In the autumn of T.A. 3018, he and his band of brigands had attempted to ambush the Ringwraiths at Sarn Ford. Iestin was no match for the terrible riders, whose mantle of dread overcame him instantly. Blinded by fear and rage, he turned on his own companions. Since that fateful encounter, he has wandered under the misapprehension that he is a Black Rider, although his attacks became known to the folk of Herne only in recent months (The most obvious hole in his story appears here. What was he doing in the years following his encounter with the Nine?)
It is plain to me that this man's particular affliction and history of wicked deeds preclude him from dwelling in Herne, where he is currently jailed, or in his hometown of Mossward, where his misdeeds are surely known. I shall not deny that he deserves the bitterness that he receives from his kinsmen. Yet I believe that no Man should be denied redemption, and that his condition might be studied as to grant greater insights into the ways of Men whose injuries drive them to inflict the same upon others. I can think of none more learned in this matter than you, Nanthel. You have made your life's work of studying those afflictions that cannot be seen by mortal eyes.
Yours sincerely,
Amardal
