Olesya's Dispatches - Erengrad, Kislev

The Ubersreik Five may not know Olesya Pimenova as a conversationalist, but the caustic Kislevite is secretly a prolific writer of letters. Amongst her grimoires and arcane paraphernalia are stowed reams of gossip and covert intelligence from across the Old World. To what purpose this correspondence? Nobody knows. Suffice to say, Olesya's fingers are in many pies.

Dearest Kotku,

I hope this letter has reached you safely in Erengrad. I’d have resorted to magical means of transmitting this missive, were it not for the golden trinkets I have enclosed for my little street-mice. The children’s whispers of happenings in Erengrad’s gutters and alleyways are more than worth the inconvenience of Bardin’s stamped feet when he finds his vulgar beard- adornments missing. Well, if the wretched dwarf will persist in eating my candles, he shall find that his trinkets continue to vanish! Ironically, the gloom brought about by his tallow- gnashing greed serves only to further my mischief…

More amusement for you, sister. The shopkeeper has been keeping a journal! I thought not to mention it before as it seemed an embarrassment that he considers his ramblings worth recording. However, I find of late that his meddlings oft stray into my areas of interest… I usually indulge his little intrigues, but these pryings are an irritation. He seems keen on investigating the Great Enemy, the idiot. As every Kislevite child learns, you do not call the wolf from the forest! The conceit of these puny Southlanders to believe they can think their way out of such a situation! Courageous they may be, but they lack for common sense.

In truth, the shopkeeper is more likely to do himself an accidental mischief than cause any deliberate harm, but given his history I will keep a closer eye on his tiresome jottings. In the meantime, you will send my little mice to listen for whispers.

I was troubled by your report that the Skaven have left Erengrad’s sewers… Yes, of course the Southlands are a vulnerable target, but I am reminded of rats fleeing a sinking ship. Can they smell something coming from the Chaos Wastes, I wonder? In your last letter you spoke of something I’ll wager is a clue: perhaps they are indeed being drawn rather than routed, which bodes even worse.

Keep me apprised of the Tzarina’s movements across the steppe. I’d like to know whether her activities displaced the pests, and if her interests intersect with the shopkeeper’s.

Yours,
Olesya

Transcribed and translated from Kislevarin by Victoria Hayward