Letter of the Baker Tensen to His Son
Ratedorf, the Third Day of January, in the Two Hundred and Fifth Year of the World Congress
My dear son,
I deem it needful, as a father and as a man of our honest craft, to address you with counsel at this hour when you stand before a great decision in life. I trust that in your own heart you will soon discern the rightness of what I now write, and that you will not turn your back upon your family nor forsake that which you are, and of which we are proud — our trade. Even now, while you sojourn with your uncle Wilbur, with whom we placed you for this last year of your schooling that he, being a man more learned in the sciences than ourselves, might aid you in your studies and that you might bring honour to our name among your classmates — even now, your place is missed in the bakery, as you are missed by your mother. There you were raised, there you became a man; it is your calling, your purpose among men.
The Reform of our glorious Archqueen is not an uprooting, but a strengthening of roots — through it, our Archkingdom shall once more be harmonious and whole. Every household shall honour tradition and take pride in its forebears; every man shall fight bravely in war and labour faithfully in peace. For that is what it means to be a Sigislander: a proud man, a man of duty, who knows who and what he is, and cleaves to it. Our Reform stands as the very opposite of the Revolution, of Anarchy and Chaos such as reigns in Guntreland — where, in their madness, men set up abstract, hollow, meaningless Ideas and Principles, cut off from life itself, delusions and fancies and vapours of the mind, and for these they slit throats daily, trample upon their own sanctities, and cast away all dignity and honour, replacing moral sense with what they call Virtue and Morality.
Our Reform is solid and ancestral, founded upon the legacy of our forefathers. It is the true essence of freedom in the Archkingdom — not a ragged slogan shouted in vain, but a living principle, guarded, renewed, and increased with care. That, indeed, is the glory of our young Archqueen’s work — a rebirth, a rejuvenation.
Since you have been away, new works have arisen here, as part of the programme for our province — a new school and a hospital. All hold in high esteem our doctor and our teacher, who now sit in the first row of the village hall when, on the nights of the moon’s turning, as has been custom since olden days, our worthy organist plays good Sigislandic music. Beside them now sits Mr. Retel, lately come from Hahnstadt, the keeper of our new public library — a treasury of knowledge and wisdom, where any may ennoble his mind with literature.
A community that treads the ancient, well-laid paths; that honours him who heals, him who teaches, him who has read the most books, and him who practises the loftiest art — such a community cannot but prosper. The Edlers have raised a new house, proper and fine; Riedelmaier and Schieff will follow. Things are being built, work is done earnestly, each fulfilling his duty. So must you, my son — and therefore I counsel you, at this crossroads of your life, to categorize yourself as a baker, to join me in the business, and one day take my place, pass on to your own son the knowledge I have taught you, expand the shop, perfect the craft, and raise your son that he may far surpass you — as I am confident you shall.
Your affectionate father
P.S. During my journey to our bright capital, I made acquaintance with persons of high rank — Baron Sigismund von Austenberg, known to the whole world; the academician Zacharias Steiner, learned in the lore of vampires; and the renowned Guntrelandic royalist Martin Wagner, host of a most refined salon where manners are kept as at Court itself. These gentlemen were much delighted by my tales and rustic wisdom, which, they say, even Her Archqueen herself is said to study. Great personages always stand in need of a good baker, to furnish their tables with rolls, pretzels, croissants, and other delicacies.
We are not revolutionaries, nor do we forget our station; we seek nothing beyond our village bakery, where we are rooted in our community. Yet, should any of this noble company offer us a post within his household, we would not permit ourselves the impudence to refuse it — and thus, my son, you might have your future in the splendour of the capital, such as no other categorization could so surely promise.
