Anonymous Letter of Betrayal

A sudden heavy snowfall swallowed northern Bohemia. The roads around Carlsbad were buried beneath thick drifts, and only trains led by snowplows could maintain contact with the outside world.

Frederick was on vacation. He and the local officials made a round of the town and found that there was plenty of food and firewood, so there was no need to worry. All they had to do was take precautions against fires.

The panic that had briefly gripped the town vanished without a trace. The visitors spending the winter there kept drinking and dancing.

Days passed. By the time fish puffs appeared on the market, an anonymous letter of accusation had arrived in Frederick's hands among the official documents from the Duchy of Weissen.

In the study of the hot-spring inn, Frederick wore a soft, comfortable dressing gown and sat lazily behind his desk, preparing to read the minutes of last month's Supreme Ministerial Council meeting and intelligence briefs from across the country.

None of the routine briefs bore an urgent mark, so he picked up the anonymous letter first to see what was going on. What could it contain to have made its way all the way to him?

The paper was the kind commonly used in Weissenburg City: white stationery ruled with red lines. An intricate border of bellflowers, drawn in red ink, ran around its edges.

The flowers, leaves, and winding vines formed a continuous border, rendered with delicate, lively strokes. Judging by the artistry, the sender had clearly received rigorous training.

The letter's contents, however, had been assembled in the traditional way, from letters and words cut out of newspapers and pasted together. It claimed that someone in Boiham City was plotting to smuggle relief grain.

Frederick read it carefully. Just as he finished, Maria came in.