That Hellcat, Esther, and Haman, the first martyr of Noticing.

December 9th, 2024.

Dear comrades and brothers in arms, I am writing to you three weeks after the funeral of Haman

and two weeks after the horrific pooch, orchestrated by that

pestilent fellow Mordecai. Insolent Jew, pretends to be loyal to the god of his fathers, but

then swanks around in that adopted name of Mordecai, dedicated to Marduk, is he? Dedicated to

the elders of Zion, more like. Some might object to my use of pooch, because the king remains,

but all our authority that was vested in his counselors behind the scenes has borne the brunt of this coup. A coup it most

certainly was. I haven't been able to write because the uproar in Sousa has been so difficult to

navigate. We've been fully occupied with moving from place to place, mostly at night. And then,

when I finally had this letter

largely composed, we had to wait on a courier. Many of our best men had been lost in the massacre.

We even had to hold the funeral of Haman in an undisclosed place, and that was before they made

their move, before the actual slaughtering started. And now they are in control of everything,

the seal, the ring, the king's heart,

everything. That witch queen is beautiful. I'll give her that. But what a calculating, cold-hearted jade

she has been. But you should hear the rabble talk about her, like she was the best thing that ever

happened. Of course, the rabble always think that life is a beauty pageant. She has the king dazzled,

all right. She must

know some tricks and turns that Vashti didn't. I even saw him extend the scepter to her once when

she dared to come into the throne room uninvited. The effrontery of these Hebrews. It doesn't matter

what we do or what measures we take. They always manage to get through somehow, and if you blink just

...