12 am Delivery

Anthonie had brought his quill set to Verbier for one reason and one only — Samuel Reinhard Sauber was just a little too special for nothing less than his absurdly elaborate and ridiculously overpriced collection. No different from his family’s annual ski retreats, it had became a tradition. His friend’s birthday falling on the New Years, was after all, no excuse to be tardy with his pleasantries. Of course, his correspondence extended to far more than just pretty words, and over the years of their relationship it had never failed to arrive.

Samuel would have been expecting mail by now, and he would find the same perfectly timed owl perched on his windowsill, head cocked, wings spread, as if to tell a man he were late and treacherous for making him wait in the cold. Once his talons would unfurl and an envelope would drop perfectly onto Sauber’s desk, its edges plopping down softly as it hit the tabletop. The paper itself was plain, and Samuel would open the envelope to find lined rows in neat cursive, written in pristine blue ink with just enough flourishes to indicate taste without ostentatiousness.

However, his delivery was not done, and gently, he would set down a box, wrapped in the Engelbrecht’s signature cerulean and ribbons that matched in colour, without the frills and excitement of his usual presents. Long already had they favoured simplicity, and box after box had Samuel received, their only adornment a crisp card tied to the gifts upon opening.

It had been the same envelopes. It had been the same blue ink. Every year he could not see Samuel in person, it had been a guaranteed letter. This year was no different.

to: @Samuel Sauber
from: Anthonie Engelbrecht

02.01.2025

Dear Samuel,

Happy New Year, but much more importantly, happy birthday!

Time flies faster than any speed we have ever achieved down the slopes; I find it difficult to believe you are already twenty-six years old. It seemed only days before when we were fifteen and sixteen — that was a decade ago in 2015 — yet I still remember your birthday then, spent as a day on skis. While it is not in my nature to reminisce, nor do I believe it is in yours, I indulge despite myself, especially when we reach the same spot we stopped at that day.

Your gifts have never varied much over the years, though I do not suppose you would much appreciate hand carved crystal vials that are more decorative than useful. Yes, I did consider this; after all, it is not within my conscience to be so repetitive. But alas, once more, you will find a few Potions ingredients that were particularly difficult to obtain, as well as a few books I thought you would enjoy for your cooking.

Now that you are twice the age since we first met, I can’t believe your mid-twenties are soon to be over. Do you have any plans? Goals? New undertakings, even?

It is a pity we could not meet this year, I would have loved to talk with you face to face. It is quite the shame my ski break is being cut short for chaperoning the Tenūsa event, though I take it you are not coming. Yet another shame, but we can simply catch up over the Koldovstoretz event.

In the meantime, have a nice night. Welcome to both 2026 and your 26th year!

Yours faithfully,
Anthonie

The letter was brief, without any forced cordiality. Their correspondence was a swift one, and frequently exerting owl power, there was no reason for long, winding passages. Last Anthonie checked, purple prose was not a requirement for friendship.