My dear portly friend,

Your men skulk about territory in the Canal District that you and I both know is rightfully mine. I suggest you call off your purple-clad dogs, scamper and flee from the territory in the Canal Ward you call your own, and find a new hole to gorge yourself upon food in.

The Donrick Family will not stand for this, and quite honestly, you should know better than to dip your fingers in a pie not cooked for a man of your ill-begotten and impoverished tastes.

I warn you only once that if you decide to invest in the Canal District, it will be the end of your once powerful business.

Lord of the Donrick Estate, Heir to the Donrick Fortune,

- Roland C. Donrick.

P.S. I apologize in advance for any meal I likely interrupted by forcing you to read this letter.

My distinguished Roland,

I see that the presence of a family that has more than their name to bank upon frightens you. My deepest apologies.

By the way, cherished friend, would you give the enclosed rose to your dear wife, Angels? She provided me with a marvelous time, and quite enjoyed my portly build.

A man who actually worked for and not inherited his money,

Belo Macasta

P.S. Please ask your dear son Roarak to stop passing out drunk and nude in front of my estate. It is becoming quite distressing.

Roland strikes up a fire, blazes up a large cigar, and rubs at his temples, frustration painting his face a bright hue of red.

Belo,

You've made your position clear then. Know that I've half the Watch at my beckon, and the support of the Spellguard Mages should I wish it. Who are you trying to convince with your hollow words, me, or yourself? Are you truly ready to be buried beneath my political power?

Whatever you are planning, it is going to fail. I look forward to besting you, just as I have in the past and will continue to do so in the future.

~ R.C. Donrick

Roland-

You may best me, this is true.

But never forget, dear Lord, that it is -I- who have bested your wife.

-Belo Macasta.

Roland is heard screaming like a mad-man. The sound of shattered glass resonates through-out the Donrick Estate, as a few maids scramble into his quarters to begin cleaning them thoroughly.

Belo,

I see that you and your piggish relations have not yet been scared off from the Canals. Know, swine-merchant, that my forces are bolstered daily and that you -will- be forced from the land in one way or another.

Save some face, Belo. What little face you've left after producing that beast known as Cosimo.

-R.C. Donrick

My dear Donrick,

I fear that, in earning my own way and not leeching coin from ancient coffers, I have not had time to read your last letter.

I did, however, want to return Angel's petticoat. You'll find it enclosed.

-Belo