Dearest Marie

[This document is only for viewing by High Bishop Pio. The following letters are written by Preston Bisset, a lowly legionnaire pikeman, and sent to Marie Caron, a nun of the Golden Path, who resides in Adelion. The following letters were intercepted by his officers, inspected for traitorous communications, copied by a scribe and redelivered to Marie; neither of them aware their messages were being read. Not all of their messages are included here, but only 3 of the most concerning to the Inquisition.]
----[Letter 1 of 3. Sent from his garrison in Fort Altin, southwest of Adelion]
My Dearest Marie,
I suppose by this time that you are sound asleep in your bunk and enjoying dreamland. Well, I’m not going to “waste” much time over this so after a few little scratches, will hit the sheets myself.
… About six of the boys received their “marching orders” tonight and tomorrow go the the Dr.’s office to be examined for the front. They join the Salamander Corps. A dreadful duty. Always covered in mud, I hear. They ought to leave for Suttonhithe soon. And then I as well.
I do hope that when you receive this you will be feeling a little better than you were when we last spoke in person. For the life of me, I couldn’t make out what was wrong, whether you didn’t want to say something that someone might hear or whether you, rather, felt perhaps something was wrong with I myself. I’d have sought you later again that night to try to reach a conclusion, if it were not probable that you would have been in bed.
However, I’ll know tomorrow, when your reply arrives.
Now, My Gilded Hyacinth, I must take this out to the box and file into bed. It’s freezing tonight so I supposed that means snowshoeing. Sorry, I want to be able to get over to Adelion for leave — but it’s a no go for the present.
Good night for this trip,
Pres
----[Letter 2 of 3. Sent from a field hospital, north of Leubnitz]
My Dearest Marie,
I do tire of speaking of my own conditions, because I know that it often causes you great melancholies and worry, but with each lavender scented letter you send, you insist on asking if I'd been harmed in battle.
In this regard, in some small way, your fears have come to fruition. I've been struck in the first push against Suttonhithe. But the wound is not too terrible, and the nuns of the hospital are generous with their blessings and healing touch. 
But the manner in which I received this wound is not cause for celebration, rather, it may have me burned on a cross should it be discovered
For as the siege upon the first of the castles had finished, our Legate instructed us to execute all that surrendered, as we had done last month in Osted. But instead, the men made the victims to suffer long and torturous deaths. I could not bear it and fled myself into a stable, only to find the Legate himself raping a stable hand. She could not have been older than 6 or 7, and had auburn hair that reminded me of Lilia when she was of that age. I was ordered to 'go find my own', and he continued to rape.
We engaged in a melee, with I coming as the victor. My officer dead by my own hands. I slinked off to some hidden corner of the castle, brought the corpse of a Tsayid knight I found and blamed the injuries I sustained upon this dead man.
I lay now in hospital, and the thought of returning to this battle fills my head. It obscures even the memories of your face, Marie. This war is not the grand adventure our fathers and grandfathers had told it would be. They would surely see as such, should they be taken into battle themselves.
I fear only your touch could still this tempest of fear which swirls within me,
Pres
[Note 1: the previous letter (Letter 2) and all subsequent letters sent after it were not delivered to their destination in Adelion for fear of spreading anti-war sentiments] 
[Note 2: Preston Bisset was not immediately executed for his egregious murder of Legate Beaupre, and instead sent to the front lines of Suttonhithe with the intent that in this way his death would at least serve Adelion by receiving a bolt, arrow or blade that would have otherwise fell into an honorable inquisitor.]
----[Letter 3 of 3: Sent from the trenches of Suttonhithe, 2 miles away from the border of the Ghost Fence] [Note: spelling mistakes and missing words have been filled in by scribes to improve readability]
My Dearest Marie,
I do hope you are in good health. You have not replied to my last 6 letters. Certainly at least one of them would have found its way to your gentle hands.
This message must be short. The messenger arrived moments ago, granting us a meager 2 minutes to scribe our letters.
The artillery, both our side and the other, rattles my core. I cannot think, nor feel. Only a buzzing. I will go deaf soon, though when I return to you, I'm certain you will have mastered the higher arts of nunery and will be able to return my hearing. So that the first thing I should hear is your voice.
We were given a timed order to attack the barrier in 15 minutes, I in the second wave. I do not wish to accept my death as inevitable, as the others seem to have. George is laughing, and has begun a 'countdown to his death' rather than send a letter with the messenger. He is now in the 170s, which means less than 3 minutes, if I'm even capable of doing math properly still.
The messenger beckons me for my letter. I had wished to say so much more.
I love you,
Pres
[Note 1: Preston Bisset was killed in action moments later by one of the individuals Tsayid soldiers call "Cloak Slayers". His current identity is unknown.]
[Note 2: Marie Caron is not aware of Preston's death. As the High Bishop in charge of the convent to which Marie belongs, it is your decision if she should be excommunicated or even executed for her crimes of communicating with a heretic and engaging romantically as a chaste nun of the Golden Path.]