"Hope is expensive. Despair is free. That's why poor people can't afford to give up."
***
Letters from home arrived every week. The academy's courier system, a luxury that had seemed miraculous to Rhys when he first arrived.
In the borderlands, messages traveled by foot or horse. Subject to weather and bandits and the creatures that lurked in the forests between villages. Here, magical communication meant a letter sent one day arrived the next. Regular as clockwork.
The system was intended for noble families to stay in contact with their precious heirs, of course. That commoners like Rhys could use it too was an afterthought. A side effect of making the system universal rather than any intentional kindness.
But he used it anyway. Sending letters when he could afford the postage. Receiving them with a mixture of joy and dread.
