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It had been weeks since he had encountered Miss Aurora Namid. At the time, he had not realized how truly deplorable he had acted. However, after his ancestor had set him straight, the guilt began to creep throughout his being. It haunted him, hearing the words he had dared to say at the girl's expense.



It hadn't taken him a very long time to decide that he needed to rectify the situation. It didn't even take very long for him to decide the manner in which he wanted to proceed with the matter. Howl had an ample supply of tools for formal letters.

What took him so long was merely finding the proper words for Miss Namid. He would never consider putting a minimal amount of effort into something, especially when it came to the written word.

It was only upon his 20th birthday that he finally found the words. Rather than spend the evening celebrating his own existence, he slipped back to his wonder with several tools at hand. He had the highest quality stationary with matching envelopes, a swan feather quill pen, a bottle of pitch ink, and finally a lighter and stick of sealing wax. He knew a signet when he saw one, so the ring which he wore had long been recognized for the tool it was intended for.

Once he had phased into the wonder, he quickly settled down at the desk. Promptly, in his finest script, he wrote out the address upon the envelope.



He set the envelope to the side so the ink would dry. The Squire then spread out the parchment-printed stationary. With a fluid motion, he dipped the tip of his quill into the ink, then proceeded to write out the date, as any proper letter would have.

September 30, 2013

With a sigh, he proceeded to write out the words which had been lingering in his mind for a few weeks. There would be an occasional pause when words momentarily seemed to stop flowing, but given the proper time, he soon enough resumed with writing.

Dearest Polaris,

Today marks my 20th year of life, and I would like to start clean off my slate of the misdeeds I have committed.

I want to apologize to you for how our last encounter went down. I was quite uncouth and said things which I regret now after having time to dwell upon their content. I am genuinely sorry, though I know sometimes written words do not express the writer's intent sufficiently.

You have been moral support for me ever since I have become acquainted with the war in this city. You opened my eyes to the truths and were willing to help me learn from my previous mistakes, rather than deal out judgment to me over my misunderstandings. You were willing to take me into your fold when I had nowhere else to go.

I am not proud of the accusations I made about your role in my life. Perhaps they were words of envy for the knights you have. They come into this war and they know what their role is because they have you there for them. Not only there to guide them, but as the support they will need. I want more than anything for the Princess of Neptune to return and to bring meaning to my title as a protector of her planet. Perhaps I ask for too much, but I would still like to seek her out.

However, I already had the support I desired in the form of another Princess. I apologize for my lack of gratitude, though I do still stand by one of my statements. You are not my Princess, and I am not your Squire. No, you are my friend, and I truly hope that you can forgive me for losing sight of such a wonderful gift.

Sincerely,
Nysa
Squire of Neptune

Once he had finished, he set the paper to dry. Of course, his eyes casually glanced over his work, making certain he had not made any errors. Any wrong spellings or smudges would have ensured another draft of the letter.

Once he deemed his work satisfactory and the ink dried, he folded up the letter and placed it into the envelope. To seal the envelope, he proceeded to heat up the wax stick with a flame from his lighter, dripping a bit of white wax upon the lowest point of the flap. With enough wax pooled up, he then pressed his ring upon the heated material, leaving his signet. He was not able to admire the mark for very long, for the whole packet faded out, sending itself to the addressee.

It almost felt as if a large burden had been pulled off of his shoulders, and a subtle sigh of relief escaped his lips. Perhaps his apology would not be accepted (though he did not imagine Polaris to be the sort to hold a grudge), but he had done his part.

"...Happy Birthday, Howl..." he uttered to himself. He would have been content, just sitting there at his ancestor's desk and relaxing. However, something else had a different idea.

Rather suddenly, the Quill of the Ocean appeared, floating within an arm's length away with an aqua glow to it.

A more naive Nysa would not have known what such a thing meant. However, after surviving an encounter with Painite thanks to a similar signal, he knew what it meant. Had it been his humility that had caused such a reaction from his weapon? The Squire smiled, hoping that perhaps that was the case over a mere coincidence.

He stood out, reaching out for the grip, curling his fingers into the familiar shell guard. He would accept the responsibility that came with this new chapter in his life.

A light engulfed him for a moment, and when it finally dulled, a beautiful transparent gossamer cape seemed to flourish about him.



He briefly inspected his uniform, taking in the changes in his clothing and his weapon.