The Settling Dust

Dear Phoebe,
 
I'm sure you've already seen the news, again. I wish I had something to say in my defense this time, but the Council's propaganda machine is essentially on point, for once. I must admit, I am a little surprised to realize I don't feel as much guilt about it as I might have before the whole Event Horizons thing.
 
Once again, as we flee the scene of the crime for our next big circus, I'm left reflecting on the number of very good people I met before the warehouse went up in flames.
 
The first one is likely to be a recurring encounter, as it is through him I am sending this letter. He admitted to reading the previous letters I sent, so I have no doubt he's also reading this one (Hello, Rhys). The difference this time, is, I hope, that the Authority is NOT also reading it. While I would prefer it if he didn't read my private correspondence at all, if that is the price that must be paid for keeping my mail below the Authority's radar, then it is one I will pay without too much complaint. At the risk of inflating his already enormous ego, I will say that he does appear to be a truly capable and kind-hearted person, so he has that going for him, at least. As long as I keep Zellias alive (which is turning out to be an absolutely Herculean task), I think I can count on him to keep whatever he learns by reading this to himself.
 
I won't say much about the others I met until I can confirm the efficacy of Rhys' system, other than to describe one as a very kind, wise old soul and the other as an idiot with a heart of gold in the wrong line of work.
I wonder what stories you remember hearing about Zellias Vance-Arland? The ones I remember always paint him as this larger-than-life prodigy spell caster without a heart or soul, whose only cares in life were the pursuit of wealth and chaos, and not necessarily in that order.
 
Would you believe that this fearsome and dangerous pirate cast Fireball, centered on himself, and absolutely wrecked himself in the blowback? I pulled him back from the brink of death because he’d got his ego bruised by a little bit of trash talk from some Adamantine Authority intern. Admittedly, he did kill the man with the spell, but on the whole that particular victory would have been a lot less impressive if I hadn’t been there to cast Cure Wounds on his stupid face. What an ignominious way to go, allowing one’s ego to override common sense.
 
I’m not sure what’s coming next, other than it’s sure to be at least as dangerous as everything I’ve encountered up until this point. We’ve found some leads on my search for Kelemvor, so we’re taking off to follow up on them. As I have before, I’ll tell you where we’re going once we’ve left. Hopefully you won’t hear about whatever we get up to from the Council’s propaganda machine until I have a chance to tell you myself.
 
Stay safe, and I will do my best to do the same.
 
All my love,
Finch