page_0: "To the most base Kareidas, the Pawnbroker,
Doktor van Luchmann sends his greetings.
_____________________________________________
I write, compelled as I am, to chide you in the matter of a certain substance of rare quality, which either by your FOLLY, or your IGNORANCE 
(or perhaps, both!) you purchased from my maid for a paltry sum of... one measly farthing!?

   A MAN OF ANY SENSE would have esteemed its value at NO LESS than FORTY FLORINS!!

Indeed! The handkercher I lended you (for one farthing!) is daubed in King's Blood; the very own of King Grismand the Child King, it cures scrofula, dryness of the loins, stiffening of the bones..."
page_1: "Yet you, heedless as a dolt, called it bilk and bought it only to make my maid \"muzzle her damn gob!\".
Have you grown so swollen in purse and dull in mind that you misprizest what is priceless, mistake gold for dross, life for a bauble and fate itself for a bit of play? 

Mark this, Kareidas, and mark it well! 
I engraved your name upon three defixiones, that I will cast down wells and affix on walls, the wretched winds of misfortune shall howl down your chimney and unto your hearth!
May a rogue purloin what is most dearest to you!

Farewell."
