Qrow,

You're aware of my hatred to ask favors of you, if anything you revel it, but this war has gone beyond the point of personal squabbles. Things here have turned south rather quickly. Despite his assurances my trust in Leo's lauded political prowess was unbelievable at best. What little soldiers of Atlas remain have balked without military leadership, our scouts continue disappearing with few caring for "one Faunus", and the upper class have recruited pivotal forces for personal security. I write now only because I've been told by Ms. Rose and Ms. Belladonna of a stolen shipment of dust. With luck this letter will never find you and I'll be throwing it in the fire when you return from Vacuo. But I never was the optimistic sort. Our supposedly impregnable fortress has begun to rot from within, and I suspect outside machinations.

That, and I believe I will die soon.

When you return and I have passed on I would appreciate it if you would kill me. Consider it common courtesy or fulfilling a debt after holding my tongue about that hidden cache of whisky you kept at Beacon. In case of my death not being sufficient, I'd appreciate you burning my body afterward. Prof. Oobleck made mention of it once.

Before you crumple this up, I'm required to partake in the necessary pep talk: you can do it. Think it a mercy, think me a villain, or remember those times I annoyed you because I'm right every single time. I've always respected your capabilities and the care you show for my students, please respect me enough to do the same. Being a danger to them would break me, even in death. Thank you in advance.

You'll do what's right,

Glynda Goodwitch

P.S. Stay sober until after I'm ash. How embarrassing should I kill you instead?