It is a strange time in the world of Dereth again. The disappearance of a sclavus named Santa a strain. Thus, I task you with making sure these presents spread through these lands. With hopes they may believe in goodwill, I leave this in your hands.
As for myself, I have matters of my own to attend. There are gifts that must be hidden for a friend. As for why this must be, I do not know. ‘Tis simply a tradition done for him, whom I owe. May it bring a sense of excitement once more; to remind us again of those days of yore.
Once you’ve delivered every last treasure; I’ve arranged one more task before you take leisure. I’ve readied still more stacks of great gifts. Yet there aren’t enough workers to cover the shifts. Do not wait too long. And move right along. Eyes upon me as I bundled and wrapped; tragic if theft while little heads napped. I’d hate to see smiles turned into cries; as they learned their presents did not survive. It rests on your shoulders so don’t let me down. Shouts of “Happy Holidays” need arise from the town.
He put down the note and groaned at the matter, “This has caused my good mood to shatter. Why is it me who always must work? Can’t you find someone else, you rhyming jerk? I know what I’ll do. I’ll sit here and let them boohoo. For I never got so much as a token. And hardly a word was ever spoken. So let someone else run errands to and fro. All I wish to do is play in this snow.”
The gifts, they sat piled; while Raymond searched not for a child. He watched as the snow fell, delighted. Meanwhile, Dereth was being slighted. For if he would not rise to answer the call; who would deliver Santa’s great haul?

