At some point, a letter would find Arthur. The handwriting was familiar, but the tone was decidedly somber:
Arthur,
If you're reading this and I haven't gotten in contact to tell you not to read this bloody thing, well, you're a soldier. You know how this goes. It was always going to be a tight toss of the dice either way, and one day my luck had to run dry, right?
This is bloody depressing. Go out, raise a glass of the most expensive drink you can find in my honor and then dance with a pretty girl. This was always going to be my fate, my friend. You can't outrun the Pattern. May the Light shine on you--you weren't nearly as annoying as I pretended.
no subject
Arthur,
If you're reading this and I haven't gotten in contact to tell you not to read this bloody thing, well, you're a soldier. You know how this goes. It was always going to be a tight toss of the dice either way, and one day my luck had to run dry, right?
This is bloody depressing. Go out, raise a glass of the most expensive drink you can find in my honor and then dance with a pretty girl. This was always going to be my fate, my friend. You can't outrun the Pattern. May the Light shine on you--you weren't nearly as annoying as I pretended.
--Mat.