Letter From the Comet Hunter

To old friends and enemies and new ones: Those of you who don't know who Hosea Lazaro is, feel free to ask the head of the Department of Implement Arts. I can still recall the man in charge of the Department of Implement Arts when I was a junior researcher trying my best at work. Wen Huairen was his name, the old man of Wen Mingde. Old miser really enjoyed cutting our research funds. He slashed the supply of instruments used to test the composition of atmosphere and soil on different planets and used the money to buy showy antiques from the IPC, calling it "business exchange." He had an eye for rare relics. I'll give him that. He bought low and sold extremely high in the Interastral market. The Department of Implement Arts was raking in profits because of this. In the meantime, we had to make do with an Astro Rod for planetary research. Even after I hit his face with an Astro Rod, he did not change a bit. Business as usual, money for Department of Implement Arts, budget-cut for Department of Cosmic Geography. Business must have been booming for Department of Implement Arts since I left. After all, one less accountant who ran random checks and pushed for fair distribution of resources to worry about. More and more suppliers have "Herta Department of Implement Arts" branded on their packages. In addition to Wen Huairen, all those who bullied the Department of Cosmic Geography were taught a lesson by me, Hosea Lazaro. Many became my enemies who saw to my removal from the space station, but some turned into my friends. I'm not the most amicable type, true, and I got into a lot of trouble because of that. But Wen Tianweng was the only one who gave me a proper smack. It was on me though, I owe him that. Those old friends of mine, I know most of them are still kicking. The same goes for me. In fact, I want them to know that I have never felt better, despite the fact that I nearly kicked the bucket in the waste lands of Destruction several times. My head was wanted by numerous factions thanks to my recklessness. Years of saving wasted in Masked Fools' pub. None of those matters now. I'm alive and kicking. An old friend, or enemy Hosea Lazaro