RPG

6th Day, 2nd Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

After being attacked on three occasions while ascending up to the High Pass Keep, the last part of the path ran alongside the wall of the keep, towards the main gate, which sat in the wall at an akward angle.

The best way to describe it, is as if the wall the at encircled the keep at me cut top to bottom by a very fine edged sword, and pulled apart, one end of the cut having been moved outward, and the other having been moved inward. The gate had been placed right in between. The approach of the gate as previously stated, was along the exterior wall on our left hand side, moving through the gate would put us within the keep’s interior courtyard, this time moving along the interior wall on the right hand side.

The wall itself was very well created. The masons had taken great care in chiselling the stones so that they fit together precisely without need for any mortar. The gate was without a door or a portcullis, which made me wonder just how long the keep had been sitting empty. Had all the wood rotted from its hinges, or had the keep never bothered to close the wall off with a door at all? I decided it must be the former, since why bother having a keep if the latter was true.

When we reached the gate, we took a moment to look southward. Quentyn seemed especially moved as we could see all the way down the pass, down the Galena foothills and we could just make out the edge of the Thar. These lands were all his. His to rule. His to guard. His to keep. It was an awesome responsibility.

I decided to do a little bit of maths. We had likely travelled about 3 league a day for about eight days. That’s 24 leagues. Considering for six yards you gain in altitude, you can see about a league further in distance on a clear day, I reckoned we were at about a 144 yards (a dozen dozen!) in altitude compared to the Thar.

Jago had found more tracks at the gate, probably all belonging to the undead creatures we had fought on the hillside. It was clear that the source of the undead was definitely this keep, which confirmed the rumours that the place was haunted. Jago had spotted several collapsed buildings, probably barracks, stables, granaries, etc. at one point, and a courtyard overgrown with weeds. He had also spotted the movement of several other undead creatures.

As people were setting up defensive positions along the gate, utilising it as a natural funnel, I noticed the warmth of the bloodstone and detected an unnatural nervous energy within myself. Was the demon in the stone getting exciting at the proximity of the evil within the keep? Was this excitement affecting me in subtle ways that I had not noticed before?

With a great banging noise we made our presence known. David and I were taking up the rear as the undead emerged from the courtyard. To my horror one of the undead had scaled the wall from the inside of the courtyard and had plummeted recklessly on the path behind us.

The battle was short and brutal. There were a few minor wounds sustained on our side, but the discipline the people in our company displayed was too much for the undead to overcome. David put the power of his god on full display and turned three of them away, one of which tried to scramble back up the wall, but was pulled back down and destroyed. The other two came back after a minute or so just to get their skull caved in by the waiting soldiers.

It is good to know that when David drives these undead creatures off, it is for a short time only. It seems to be a good crowd control technique to give us some temporary breathing room when we’re being overwhelmed. I should be prepared with offensive spells in order to make full use of the panic he causes among the undead.

While the rest were regrouping, tending to wounds and getting ready to continue, I crept through the gate to take a look inside the yard. It was eerily quiet except for a low thrumming sound coming from somewhere inside the tower, sitting at the back of the yard.

The keep seemed old. Very old. At least two centuries old, judging by the decay, but judging by the style of build is is likely more like four centuries old. This realisation made me have even more respect for the artisans who created the masonry for the outer wall. Here and there you could see the discolouration of patched up stones, but the fact that the wall stood at all was a marvel.

When the others came into the yard I shared that I heard a low thrumming sound, which only Jago could hear too. I’m glad he heard it, because with the possibility of the demon influencing me I could never be entirely certain that what I saw and heard was real until another confirmed it.

I told Quentyn about how old I thought the keep was and the relatively small amount of effort it would cost to fortify and inhabit the keep again. Relatively small compared to what it would cost to build a new keep, but probably still beyond the capability of the Glister coffers to cough up.

In order to start my study of the undead, I decided to investigate the bodies of the undead creatures. I concluded that they were not a species unto themselves but rather had once been people. Most of them, perhaps all of them, had been human. I couldn’t make out other races, but there was a possibility that some of them had been half-elven, perhaps half-orc.

I asked David whether he thought the bloodstone was feeling unusually warm. I was looking for some confirmation that the demon in the stone was responding to the surroundings, but he couldn’t confirm. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside that stone was getting palpably excited at arriving at the keep.

We found the tower of the keep to be completely gutted with most of the organic material long decayed. The floor of what likely was the cellar of the tower was terraced and ended in the back of the keep with a large stone door. The door had the lifelike face of an older man of eastern decent set in its surface, like a decorative knocker. Above the door it read “your master” in large scripture.

Observing the magics cast in the door, it was clear that it was designed to prevent entry. There was an intelligence built into the door which was expressly designed to interact with, likely as a way to verify a person’s credentials before allowing people to go through.

David asked whether the master in question could be Zengyi the Witch-King, since he ruled over these lands long ago, so I uttered the name. The pupilless eyes of the face opened and the face said “No, you are not” before closing its eyes again. The voice was raspy and sounded as if it had not been used in a very long time.

I asked the door who its master was and it responded that its lord was Sigmar, the lord of these lands. Quentyn recognised the name as that of one of Zengyi’s lieutenants which he had heard in an scary story his wetnurse had told him once.

I spent some time talking to the door, trying to convince it that Quentyn was now lord and master of these lands and the keep, but unfortunately it would not share any more useful information nor allow us entry.

I found myself growing frustrated at my lack of helpful divination spells. I find myself jumping from one situation into the next, all of which require different spells, from different schools and different areas of specialisation. Often I find myself wanting to become a diviner, then a transmuter, then an invoker before getting fascinated by the idea of becoming a summoner. Ugh. It’s frustrating and tiring. It seems I am destined to become them all!

We decided to return to base camp. I handed the stone to David and decided I should rest properly if I was going to prepare the right spells to help us through the next day.

7th Day, 2nd Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

The first thing I did the following morning was prepare my spells. I once again bemoaned the lack of divination spells in my repertoire, so I decided to prepare for an auxiliary combat role instead. We’d likely have to open the door using our wits, and whatever was behind it was going to be dangerous and prove hostile.

The entire camp was moved into the courtyard of the keep. It was more secure and we’d have everyone on hand should they be needed. The Glisterians went to prepare the camp while the rest of us gathered in front of the door. David was maintaining we should collapse the tower onto the door and bury whatever evil was behind it. He had first come up with that idea the day before, but I did not take him too seriously. I still didn’t take him seriously, but he seemed to consider it more in earnest than he did yesterday.

Round after round the door rebuffed our attempts to get it to open itself and I could feel the frustration in our group grow. Ser Fosco had already given up participating but stayed because his lord had asked him to be there. But it was Quentyn who really seemed to lose patience, he’d rather solve problems he could swing a sword at. I must say that I was enjoying this puzzle, much more so than fighting those undead creatures from the previous day.

In a moment of frustration Quentyn, now enraged, yelled at the door to submit to his authority and open the door, demanding the door recognise him as the lawful lord of the keep. The door in turn, in an act of defiance I found astonishing, shot back that he didn’t recognise Quentyn as its master, but rather that the door itself was his master. “I am your master,” it said, and apparently that was the trigger to unlock the door. We had meant to convince the door to say the words carved above the keystone, rather than us convincing it to accept us as its master.

A little anti-climatically, the door opened and we found a staircase running straight down for a dozen or so steps before reaching a landing and curling around on either side onto another two stairways going down again. When we went down, we made sure that everyone was carrying a torch. We quickly realised that the two staircases leading further down from the landing merged behind the initial staircase into a broad staircase leading into another room.

The thrumming sound I had heard had become quite clear to everyone since the door had opened, but now it was clear where it was coming from. In the middle of the room was a sphere of swirling blue magical energy, hovering about seven foot in the air. Next to it was another undead creature, similar to the ones we had already defeated, but with a far more patient and cunning demeanour.

It was emaciated, with white pupilless eyes, wearing a set of brigandine armour made of leather and metal or bone plates reaching until just above the knee. In its right hand it clutched a thick staff or club, and in its left hand it held a metal ankh aloft, stuck into the magical orb.

The rest of the room was relatively empty except for a bunch of debris. There were several doors that we never had the chance to investigate before all hell broke loose. You see, once we spotted what we later called “the guardian”, we had started talking to it. This ranged from attempts to ask it to identify itself and demands it lay down its arms. Nothing really seemed to garner a response, until Quentyn moved forward rather threateningly.

The first thing the guardian did was pull the ankh from the orb. Upon the release, the orb ejected a violent gust of wind, which sent the debris that had been laying around the room in every direction. I was hit with flying shrapnel rather painfully, but worst of all, the torches we held were extinguished, which plunged the entire room into darkness save for the soft glow of the magical orb.

After that initial wave of shrapnel had hit, I was too disoriented for the pain to recognise the other waves of magic that hit us. There was one that I I felt but couldn’t make out its effects, before a third and final wave of magic hit, which started to pull at ferrous objects of significant sizes so violently that they flew from us, straight for the orb only to disappear in flashes of blue-white light. I lost a dagger from my belt as it flew into the orb, and later I saw that Godric and Ser Fosco had lost their swords.

David, who had lost his wicked chain to the orb, made an excellent decision in that chaos, and called upon the power of Illmater to illuminate the room. The effect was absolute and much, much brighter than any light I was capable of producing. I was immediately able to asses the situation; several soldiers had lost their weapons, David was disarmed, and to my horror, Quentyn was struggling to keep himself from being pulled towards the orb. It seemed his chain mail armour was being pulled into the orb just like our weapons were.

Luckily, while the shields our soldiers carried were rimmed in steel bands, they were predominantly made of wood and remained in hand. Quentyn was being helped by Godric to free him from his armour. Without too much finesse the leather straps keeping the armour in place were cut and the armour shot towards to the orb, to be annihilated.

I was still at a distance and I saw our soldiers moving in on the guardian, so I wasn’t able to unleash the fiery devastation I had prepared for that morning, but I could incinerate the guardian more slowly.

Flaming Sphere
Zu’u ag hi voth aan krein do yol
I burn you with a sphere of fire

The fight was very hectic. Weapons were handed off to those who had lost theirs to the magnetic attraction of the orb. Improvised weapons were found, like Ser Fosco picking up a random femur big enough to have belonged to an ogre, in order to smash it to dust across the shoulder of the guardian. In the end, Quentyn managed to disarm the guardian who let go of its weapon. The weapon ended up in Quentyn’s hands and he used it to strike the killing blow, caving the guardian’s skull in.

8th Day, 1st Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

Waking up to the now familiar sight of my friends sitting comfortably in the keep’s kitchen in Mund’s expert care, I found that David had stayed the night. He said that he wanted to remain close to the rest for the first few nights while carrying the stone, until he was more comfortable with the charge.

I understood his reasoning, but at the same time was a little worried; the initial point of swapping duties carrying the stone was so that neither of us would be in the vicinity of the stone for too long. My proximity to the stone had now exceeded for more than a day. I reckoned this would have to do for now since we were about to embark on a journey to the High Pass, a journey which would see us in close proximity for at least several days.

Mund had already made careful preparations for our journey, gathering our food and trail rations as well as prepared us a luxurious breakfast. Our fresh food would likely run out before reaching the High Pass, so I decided to break my fast as best as my body allowed. Light fruits, warm water with ginger root, a bit of porridge with goat’s milk and small amounts of bread.

I am looking forward to next spring, when traders would arrive from Hulburg and Illinvur. I had been talking to Haëlla about preparing some mulled wine. So much cinnamon, so much nutmeg and so much honey. The amounts were very particular. Then raisins and nuts and dried berries, but absolutely no lemon; that was the rankest sort of Sembian heresy.

After breakfast I prepared for my departure by going over my things and deciding on what to take. The bigger things, like a thick blanket and my tent, I strapped to Donkey. Right when I was busy in doing that and getting together the feed that Donkey would need for such a long journey, Donkey got conscripted by the Lord in order to carry not just my own things, but other burdensome things as well! Godric, another companion on our travel, brought his own donkey, too, albeit brown instead of grey. It, too, became the focus of most of the burden.

Our group ended up consisting of the following people:

Quentyn, David, Jago and myself. Oh, and Donkey. The Glisterians Godric, Victor, Tove, Ægir and Hubert, together with Godric’s donkey. The Sembians Costas, Alphio and Adan, all three decided to travel with us a ways as they depart Glister. Why they would travel for the High Pass after being banished from Glister is beyond me. I suppose the are heading for Vaasa to pick up their trade as mercenaries. And then the Cormyrians Ser Fosco Ganivet and Yorick. The Vesperi Kusman who travelled with the settlers but originally hails from The Vast, north of the Vesperin river. Last but certainly not least was the Damaran Warpriest Gunnar. Quite the company, at six and ten, plus two donkeys let’s not forget.

We left wizard’s hill with little fanfare and the next two days we travelled into the Galena mountains to the north. Initially we followed a familiar path along the Stillwater and we came upon the falls where we had cut off the Sembians and fought the ogres and lizardfolk.

9th Day, 1st Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

As we travelled beyond the falls the elevation changed and the surrounding flora started changing too. The trees started to become higher, change from leaves to needles and as the trees grew taller, competing for sunlight, the undergrowth changed to a steady amount of ferns.

Travel was relatively smooth. Jago had guided us from the onset, since he was most familiar with the area, and at the end of the day we had reached the edge of Jago’s familiarity. He had prepared well and had plotted our course for the next couple of days.

10th Day, 1st Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

As the day progressed I heard more and more people voice some concern about the direction we were taking. After some conversations with Jago it seemed he had angled off too much to the west, leading us somewhat astray from our goal. Once we had course corrected it seemed we were about half a day behind schedule.

2nd Day, 2nd Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

Almost five days into our journey and the terrain became even more rugged. The foothills of the Galena mountains were behind us, and now we found ourselves in mountainous terrain the likes of which I had not travelled through myself. While sailing north along the Dragonmere lake, I had spotted some mountains that rivalled some of the mountains we saw off in the distance, but travelling proved to be a challenge.

We decided to set up camp early so that we wouldn’t have to move into the mountains at the tail end of a tiring day. We decided to eat the last of our fresh food. The last chicken was brought to slaughter and the meat and marrow was used to make a perfectly serviceable broth together with foraged mushrooms. Tents were erected and everyone seemed in good spirits. Even the Sembians, who essentially were accompanying the lord and his retinue who banished them from his lands, they seemed to be in friendly spirits.

Later that evening, before watch had been decided and people had retired to their bedrolls and I had laid down in my tent, Jago returned from a scouting run in the area. He reported seeing lizardfolk around the camp. He had tried to bring it down with bow and arrow but the elusive creature escaped him. That turned the mood of our group; despite the merriment, people ended up going to sleep feeling ill at ease.

3rd Day, 2nd Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

The bleak mood that we were left with the previous day stayed with us throughout the following day. We were getting closer to our destination and all the dangers we were like to encounter, and having spotted the lizardfolk so close to camp had reminded everyone we were likely marching towards battle at the High Pass Keep. Whatever Lord Balta’s scouts had found there had taken them and we would likely have to confront that evil.

While travelling we kept following the precursor to the Stillwater. The river was nothing more than a stream of ice cold water now, with several other source brooks and streams leading towards it. Often we could simply cross these waters, but sometimes it meant travelling upstream for a little while before finding a serviceable crossing or ford. This forced us to double back on occasion and lose some time in transit.

Some of the more perceptive members of our company had been keeping a keen eye out on the area and had spotted the lizardfolk keeping track of our progress. They never came too close to our party, our group likely being too large for them to comfortably raid. They seemed happy for us to simply pass through their territory under observation.

Later, Jago remarked that this was likely the wrong conclusion to take since the lizardfolk rarely travelled this far north, away from deep or open waters. This was not their territory so their presence baffled him.

4th Day, 2nd Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

We finally were able to spot the high pass. Two large mountains forming a wedge shape on the horizon. Would could just make out a hill at the bottom of the pass with a tower on it. Once I saw the placement of the tower I began to understand why Lord Balta had made a move to secure it. The pass was one of two easy routes through the Galena mountains, the other being the Low Pass, and the keep was strategically placed to easily hold the pass it was in.

5th Day, 2nd Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

When the sun began to disappear behind the mountains and we were about a day away from the keep we started to make camp. Jago came to me and asked me to take a look at some of the tracks he had found in the surroundings. He wanted to make sure we weren’t being followed by the lizardfolk, and he had stumbled on something odd.

The tracks were that of two donkeys. I don’t know why, but immediately my mind went to a bleak place, concocting a scenario in which we had been walking in a circle and we were looking at the tracks left by our own donkeys. I quickly verified that the tracks did not belong to our donkeys, which had very unique hoof prints that we could use to rule them out. No, these were different donkeys.

Jago was especially concerned with a strange, slithering track that seemed to be following the two donkeys. I concurred, judging by the tracks, it definitely looked like a large snake was stalking these two poor donkeys.

6th Day, 2nd Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

We were almost upon the keep. As we travelled in the shadow of the mountain range, the air was cold, but as the rays of sunlight peaked past the mountain from time to time, the entire area was awash in a glorious golden glow.

Vegetation had become sparser and the trees looked sickly and small and I was once again reminded of the influence the demon in the bloodstone once had before we imprisoned it. Arable yield had increased significantly and what had happened in Glister might be happening in the High Pass, too. Rumours had it that the keep was haunted. Perhaps the evil that held the keep also laid waste to the fertility of the surrounding lands like Nar-Narg-Naroth once had.

The terrain started to flatten out and the brooks and streams of water seem to flow through muddy gullies. Eventually it struck us all that the lands seemed to be cultivated and that perhaps the gullies were used for irrigation. We saw some old drywall fencing which likely used to be the way farmland was marked. Perhaps these lands were all part of the keep’s domain. A well garrisoned keep needed food for their soldiers after all.

We finally came upon the start of a well worn path which meandered up the round hill sitting in the path of the high pass, choking off part of the pass on one side. The tower sitting at the top of the hill was surrounded by a sturdy, well-maintained wall. David remarked that the placement of the keep meant it was sun-starved for most of the day, regardless of the season, and so it would need a lot of cultivated land, much further out from the keep than normally.

We started up the path and took several hairpin turns before stumbling upon an old campsite. We found an old campfire, five bedrolls and a host of small belongings as well as three dead bodies, horribly burnt.

It is difficult to find the words to describe the scene. Of the three bodies, one was sitting up against an old, withered tree around which the camp had been erected. Another was laying at a small distance from the tree, and the third was a ways outside of camp, laying in the bushes. Only the last one seemed to show signs of distress, having thrashed around, leaving scorch-marks upon the ground, before collapsing where we found it.

I found the scene to be utterly fascinating and started to investigate, beginning with the man (at least I think it was a man) sitting up against the tree. The burns he suffered were severe. I judged the intensity of the heat to be enormous, which made the unmoving nature of the body a double mystery.

From the smell of the body, I made out that he had been doused in lamp oil. He was also missing much of the flesh off the inside of one of his hands, which I later found sticking to the body of the second burn victim. It seemed as if the first victim had grabbed onto the second victim, which caused the second victim to catch fire.

The first victim was also clutching a small brass coin, which miraculously had survived the heat of the flames. A quick examination of the coin revealed it to be magical, which explained its survival. Gunnar, David and myself discerned the coin to be a Suntoken, items created with the express intent of vanquishing undead by priests. Another remarkable discovery was that the first victim had at one point been wearing a necklace, which was missing.

The third victim was still a complete mystery to me.

I suspected the first victim to be a priest. It would fit with him carrying the Suntoken. And it fit the lack of birds and animals, the sickly growth, the rumours of the keep being haunted. It all pointed to an undead infestation. I quickly sent out Blackwing to call back the others from investigating the keep.

We caught up with the others and shared what we had found. Ser Fosco had stayed behind with several others to set up camp and guard our findings. We ascended the path further toward the keep and found signs of fighting. Weapons, bones, etc. Jago had found a symbol of Lathandar, the Morninglord, in the bushes, probably belonging to the first victim downstairs.

Soon we found ourselves ambushed by two emaciated undead humans. After a short fight, in which Quentyn was hit several times and later reported an unnatural, icy feeling gripping him by the throat when he was hit, I started to form a scenario of what happened back at the camp.

The first victim was the priest of Lathandar. The other two were likely the same type of emaciated undead creatures that attacked us. He was left without his holy symbol and therefore next to powerless. He resorted to self-immolation, both as a method of defence and offence. It had worked, but at what price?

As we continued to ascend the path towards the keep, we kept being beset upon by these undead creatures. Even though the others were doing a very good job of defeating the rather mindless creatures, I was curious to see how my magic would affect them. As it turned out, it worked rather well.

Burning Hands
Ag voth yol nol haali
Burn with fire from my hands

After another hairpin we were beset upon by four others. David had said he wanted to use his divine power to turn the undead away. He succeeded in scaring off three of them, but I wasn’t going to let them survive:

Fireball
Ag ko faal toor do Dinoksetiid
Burn in the inferno of the end times

Finally, there was another battle. Against five undead creatures, this time. I stood back and watched them decimate the undead. David fought impressively with that wicked looking chain of his. He kept hooking the chain around the legs of the creatures and pulling them to the ground, only to break their bones with the blunt end of the chains.

I came to the realisation that I am ill equipped to use my magic in these chaotic, combat situations. I might well have the time and wherewithal to cast my offensive spells while the enemies are distracted by the swords and spiked chains of my companions, but I doubt I’ll perform very well when I’m the one they’re focusing their aggression upon. I must find a way to make myself more useful in combat. To increase my chance of survival at the very least.

Also, I’ve been so immersed in the study of different Tanar’ri that I have completely neglected my studies of the undead. I was completely incapable of identifying the emaciated creatures that attacked us. Was it a zombie? A skeletal warrior? A wraith? A wight? A banshee? I have no idea. I think I could have been of better use to my companions if I had at least been able to identify the creatures and share possible vulnerabilities.

I am so useless at fighting that I at least have to help my friends in other ways. If I can’t help them, why would they ever agree to help me when I’m in need?

 

The first time I left home was right after Danan was born. Old enough to be considered irredeemably useless by my lord-father, he had decided I would honour our family in service of the Earth Mother. I was too innocent to realise what it meant, so initially, I felt excited.

Throughout my early childhood I had been betrayed by my body. My constitution was left in ruins after being struck by the bloody flux. Because I spent much of my time bed-bound my lady-mother often had me tended to by the brothers of the Chauntaic order of Fulcester. I always had fond memories of Brother Leobald. He would prepare my food, administer potions, take me to the balcony when it was warm, and read stories to me at night when sleep could not find me.

As far as I can remember Brother Leobald was the first man to ever show me compassion, care and genuine affection. My lord-father never did, and his men followed his example, though I suspect some of whom I suspect felt sympathy for my situation. I looked fondly at the pastoral order of Chauntea, prayed to her at sundown together with Brother Leobald, and was genuinely excited to study at the temple to please my lord-father.

My lady-mother reassured me that with Fulcester being so close to Redgarden I would be able to visit often and watch Danan grow up and become good friends with him. I was aching for a friend and I suspect my mother knew that. This was the carrot she kept dangling in front of me to get me to be compliant. She told me that I would get to know all the new acolytes at the temple, make friends with them and study Chauntea’s grace with them. I think she meant well. It was wishful thinking on her part.

Arriving at the temple, escorted by Brother Leobald, I found a sprawling estate with a large hill in the middle of it. Atop the hill sat the temple – the largest wooden structure in all of Cormyr, it was said – surrounded on all sides by fields and farms. It was truly a magnificent sight to behold as you stood on the hilltop and looked around, Chauntea’s abundance was everywhere. Her life-giving power was on full display with fields of corn and wheat and grazing cattle, berry bushes and herb gardens, apple orchards and stocked granaries.

It was said that the yield from the temple grounds was so high and so optimised, that it fed the better part of Fulcester. As a result, the temple order was very rich. The lands it held was bestowed upon the order by my family and so, in appreciation, the order donated part of its yield to my family. I was afforded my own quarters in appreciation and I was given servants, Olivar and Annarel.

I first met Olivar the day I was accepted to the order. The ceremony was a long and tedious one, and I remember there were many prayers being offered while we had to stand under the hot sun. My lady-mother had insisted that I was given a shaded position for she was afeared I would faint. Olivar had been lucky enough to end up in the shade of the same poplar tree as I. He was a strong-limbed, sandy-haired boy my age, with bright blue eyes and an easy smile. The overwhelming majority of the aspiring acolytes were women, so Olivar and I quickly gravitated towards one another. Throughout the long and exhausting day we quietly chatted in between prayers. He was an orphan from Wolverton and he had excelled in letters under the tutelage of a local scribe. As such he was accepted as an aspiring acolyte.

Because I was a Redwyne, I wasn’t just afforded my own quarters, but I was also provided a tutor; Annarel. She was a few years older and had started her acolyteship a year before and already had the run of things. She explained where classes were held, when to report for supper, which pastors were friendly and which were strict. She proved to be an invaluable source of information in the first few weeks. She was tall, for a girl, with green eyes, a shock of thick auburn curls and a lovely smattering of freckles. She had been born into a common family but had an uncle in the order who had helped her get accepted as an acolyte. She already knew so much that I would get intoxicated by it when she spoke.

The acolyteship was split up between two tasks; study at the different monastic orders of Chauntea surrounding the temple, and working on the farms on the estate. The former came easy to me, the latter did not. Work on the farms was hard and those days wore on longer than I was comfortable with. I started to notice that there was an inherent inequality being propagated; study was often overseen by female priests, while the farm work was predominantly overseen by male pastors. The highest orders were almost exclusively female and Annarel told me that this was due to women having a deeper connection to the nourishing nature of the Earth Mother.

Both Annarel and Olivar were lovely, and while they were initially selected to serve me, we quickly became good friends. We started sharing tasks in my chambers and the boundaries between us started to fade as we shared things equally. They stopped calling me “my lord” and I stopped expecting them to serve me. Olivar enjoyed his time in the fields more than Annarel or I did, and Annarel enjoyed her time at the temple more than Olivar or I did. And I? I enjoyed my time in the libraries and classes more than they did. We helped each other, tutored each other and covered for each other. This was made easy by being separated from the rest of the acolytes. My family name gave me a lot of leeway to do as I please and as a result, my family name afforded Olivar and Annarel the same. It also caused some friction between us and the other acolytes.

The first winter at the temple was a rough one. For weeks, thick snows and harsh temperatures made pastoral work and priestly contemplation impossible and classes were suspended. We were allowed to continue our studies in quarters, which was heavenly for me. I would sneak books from the library and bring them back to my quarters. I would read. Annarel would read from scriptures. Olivar tended to the fire and would work on his wood carving. At night, the three of us would share my bed in order to keep warm. We were young, we were curious, and under the tutelage of Annarel we began to explore each other and ourselves. Once the cold winds of Auril the Frostmaiden had past and Deepwinter was behind us and we were heading for spring, we continued our ways. During the day, we studied and worked together, during the night, we cuddled and slept together. I look back upon those days as the happiest times of my life.

Annarel was quickly progressing through her studies and as a result she would spend more time at the temple. She seemed happy with that, so Olivar and I were happy for her. In turn, Olivar was growing strong and was given more pastoral responsibilities on the different farms. I was given a few tasks in maintaining the library, so we all seemed to grown in different ways. Fortunately, we would all come back home at the end of the day to my chambers and we would talk about all we had learned that day. We were all happy.

Unfortunately, due to the fact that Annarel and Olivar were progressing as quickly as they were, and I was given a lot of space to spend time at the library, other acolytes had been growing envious. I would sometimes hear that questions were asked, especially of Annarel, which were critical of our status within the order. Olivar had been teased about living in such close quarters with Annarel and had even gotten into a fight with one of the farmhands when the farmhand had opened up about what he would do to Annarel if they had lived together. Looking back now, I realise that I could have predicted what came next.

Because the three of us had been growing in our chosen disciplines it meant we were not always together anymore. It meant that often one person would have duties while the other two stayed in chambers. I knew Olivar and Annarel were having sex while I wasn’t there, just I had sex with both of them when the other wasn’t there. Misfortune struck when Olivar and I were seen together in my chambers by another acolyte who came by to run an errand. We were so innocent of the idea that what we were doing was wrong, that I was stunned when Olivar and I were called before a priest to explain ourselves. High priestess Adelaide of Halloughton questioned us on what had been going on between Olivar and I. Annarel was present but looked at her feet. We knew that lying in front of a high priestess would be a sin, so we told the truth.

The high priestess angrily lectured us on Chauntaic ideas on sex. Chauntea was a mother first and two men being intimate with one another could never produce children. I don’t remember much more of that pious scolding. I just remember that Annarel was moved to a different monstary, Olivar was expelled and made to leave with only that which he arrived with – which is to say, being an orphan, nothing at all – and I was expelled to be sent back to Redgarden Keep.

I never saw Annarel or Olivar again. I would occasionally get word from servants at the keep about Annarel. She had rededicated herself to the Earth Mother and was a rising star in the order. I never heard about how Olivar fared. I can only imagine how hard and unforgiving the world must be to a young boy without food, shelter or coin. I hope he is a farmer or a woodworker. I hope they are both doing well. That they are happy. That they think of me as much as I think of them.

7th Day, 1st Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

The morning start as it so often did with an excellently prepared breakfast. Mund, though a simpleton, has become an invaluable part of the Martell household and it wouldn’t surprise me that behind the eyes of our lovable mute hides a keen intellect. Regardless, his care is much appreciated. He is an empath of rare quality, which is perhaps a result of his diminished ability.

As most mornings, David joined us for breakfast and he handed me the bloodstone for safe keeping. He mentioned being beset upon by troubling dreams and offered the bloodstone as a possible source of them. I was struck by this, since I had the bloodstone in close proximity for two years without ever being plagued by nightmares other than those vivid dreams in which I recall our final fight with the demon. The lovable Mund, however, has been plagued by night terrors. Is it possible that the demon searches the closest easy prey?

After breakfast my stomach felt heavy, and I decided to retreat to my room and lay down for half an hour and mentally set out the particulars of my next task; learning more about Mateo’s green sword. After the food had settled, I started the divinations. I carefully crushed enough of the pearls that I still had left into a mortar and gentle put the powder into a cup. I filled the cup with the little red wine which was available to me, and added a little extra for good measure. I don’t often get to enjoy wine here, and I thought I’d treat myself a little. I stirred the concoction with the feather of a snow owl that I got from Gilbert the duck farmer years before and started the incantation.

Identify
Mindoraan faal laas do aan geinzun.
Comprehend the life of a thing.

The trance took me and I heard the hiss and roar of a large, winged animal. I saw the images of several battles flicker past where all manner of people held the sword in fights against lizards, wyverns and dragons. Some of the fighting were small skirmishes, some of them were epic battles, and a deep sense of age and history came through. The sword was not unique but it and each of its siblings has a unique history in the fight against reptiles. Some call it Scalebane, some call it Dragonsbane, some call it Dragonslayer.

I wanted to share my findings with the others, but unfortunately found the house empty. The others must have gone to Glister or perhaps help the settlers at Oak Hill. I went into the study in order to create the schematics I would need to restore the Deamonsbane Lockbox. I had done some minor artificing while at the Circle of Magi, but I was not proficient enough to do it without careful preparation.

I wanted the box to have certain properties. It should be locked by arcane magic, preferably not using the key of one, but of all of us. This would prevent one of us from being enthralled by the deamon in the stone and opening it, and it would have to become a decision made by all. We would become equal partners in keeping the stone out of the wrong hands, and it would make it harder for outsiders to open the box without first having to capture all of us. The components for this spell would be the blood of each of us, and a large amount of gold dust. Luckily, I’ve been sitting on a small treasure of gold coins since I arrived in Glister. I resigned to visit Corbyn the smith the following day in the hopes of having the coins filed down to dust.

Secondly, I wanted to make sure that none could detect the stone while it was in the box. I would have to study a new spell which would ward against Scrying. I was familiar with that spell, so it would take me a while in order to produce a counterspell to it. Unfortunately, my research quickly unveiled that I would require some very rare and expensive components. Diamond dust would do the trick, but where would I get diamond dust in this remote town?

Initially, I wanted to imbue the box with some enchantments which would contain the deamon’s telepathic influence from reaching out of it, but I quickly realised that the bloodstone was already doing exactly that. I wouldn’t be able to improve upon that, which meant we’d still have to make sure to keep the stone away from others. It made me wonder if the Marbrand laboratory was somehow warded and that this is the reason why the deamon’s influence had been low over the last few years. Perhaps the deamon was simply getting stronger, regaining strength after its defeat upon the Thar.

Regardless, I felt I would probably be ready to imbue the box with the necessary magics at the Highharvestide festival. I would resigned to talking to the others about their contribution and their pledge to this project later that evening.

When the others finally arrived back from Oak Hill they seemed really energised by the hard labour they had done earlier that day. I recognised the energy they displayed from my father’s men, and the pastors at the Temple of High Worship in Fulcester. I have always felt uncomfortable around that behaviour, always felt inadequate in the shadow of it. I worked up the courage to join the others and explained to them the background of Mateo’s sword. I also explained to them the plan I had to restore the lockbox. I asked them for a drop of their blood to use in the ritual. Jago and Quentyn seemed immediately hesitant, but luckily David seeemed to understand the bond our shared charge would create. Like swearing a sacred oath, they were willingly gave up a drop of their blood.

8th Day, 1st Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

As usual I found everyone in the kitchen when I awoke. Apparently, Jago had suffered terrible dreams in which he had attacked a lizard man and was sprayed by that horrible secretion. The dream was so vivid that he had woken up and immediately vomit. I asked Jago some questions to determine whether the dream he had suffered could possibly have been caused by Nar-Narg-Naroth, but his dream struck me as something else entirely. When David spoke about his demon dreams, I noticed Mund’s startled and pained response. It all clicked for me in that moment; the reason I had never been subject to the demon dreams was because of Mund’s proximity. He had been the target of the demon’s retaliation after being captured, giving him incredible night terrors. I reassured him that we would find a way to stiffle the demon’s influence over him and stop the dreams.

No, Jago’s dream struck me as something different. Something more akin to my bond with Blackwing. When Blackwing pulls a worm from the muddy soil, I can feel the filth in my mouth as sure as she feels it in her beak. There was clearly something he wasn’t quite sharing about his dreams and so I came forth with my suspicion. I had read about people like him, hunters, trackers and rangers, who on occasion would develop these preternatural bonds with the animals in their realm. I urged him to seek the animal.

Most of the afternoon I was caught up in errands. I visited Gustav and his daughters and asked them if they could arrange for the creation of a luxurious robe, one with the embroidery of my own sigil on its lapel. After going back and forth over the details of the robe and the sigil, I struck a deal that the robe could be made for three gold coins. Gustav’s eldest would do the embroidery and she would arrange for the looms to produce the robe and purchase the required leather trimmings from The Hoof. While at it, she also took care of one of my errands; to get some of my clothing patched up.

I really felt that the friendship I had struck up with the old sage was really benefiting me more and more lately. He had nuggets of useful information and kept me endlessly entertained with his stories and silly jokes, and sometimes offered me profoundly wise insights, while at the same time his daughters took very good care of me.

The next stop was Cobyn’s smithy. I found the large man at the forge and chatted a little with him. I asked him if he would be interested in taking on an apprentice so that the settlers at Oak Hill would eventually have access to a decent smith of their own without having to travel all the way to Glister proper. He seemed to be open to the idea, depending on whether the apprentice would be studious and serious.

When I asked him if he would want to provide me with gold filings if I would supply him with the gold, he looked at me like I was a lunatic, and said that he’d be happy to provide me with an iron file so I could do the job myself. I thanked him for his help and in no time had filed down 25 gold coins. I returned him the file and thanked him for it.

I seem to have taken up a position in this town that others might find hard to define. My interaction with Corbyn is excellent evidence of this; he doesn’t quite know why I ask for the things I ask for, he also doesn’t question it and just provides me with what I need. I’d like to think that this is a sign of acceptance. They might not understand me, but they at least tolerate me, sometimes accept me and maybe even appreciate me.

There was one more stop I wanted to make; the shrine of Illmater. I was relatively certain I wouldn’t find David there, but I hoped that his acolyte Zacjeni would be there. Some time ago I had decided that I wanted to make a donation to the shrine to help them in the good work they do for the people of Glister. David had channelled Illmater’s blessings to me on several occasions and I felt that a little show of appreciation was owed.

Unfortunately, I found the building empty. I was about to return to Wizard’s Hill when I picked up some people discussing that the lord’s justice was going to be passed at the standing stones at noon. I decided to stay in Glister to witness it.

At noon a small group of people had showed up for the sentencing. The group had been far smaller than had gathered for the last moot, which was not surprising since I gathered Quentyn had announced the sentencing last minute. I also suspected that the Glisterians were less interested in the display than they were in Quentyn simply lording over Glister as he saw fit, provided that still aligned with the customs and expectations of the Glisterians.

Quentyn spoke briefly, banishing Mateo and ordering Ivar and three militia men to bring the Sembian a day onto the Thar. The remaining Sembians were given a choice between banishment and working off their guilt until the last day of winter. Two decided to stay, one of them notably being the one that David rescued from death’s door after the battle at the Stillwater Rapids. The other three decided they would take the opportunity to leave Glister.

I thought that Quentyn’s speech could have been stronger. It surprised me that he had not prepared the speech in advance. He seems to be a man who follows his intuition, lets his impulses lead him and runs on his emotions, but I doubt that this will ever be enough to effectively lead this village of people.

After the sentencing I joined David back at the shrine and we spoke about my tithing. He rejected any offers of gold, but instead was willing to accept food, blankets and clothing for Zacjeni and himself in order to get through winter more comfortably. I thought it odd on several levels (why not just accept the gold and buy your own blankets, and why would a priest of Illmater be so interested in getting through winter in “comfort”), but I decided to use the rest of the afternoon to make good on what I owed. I went and purchased clothing and blankets together, making sure it was delivered to the shrine.

5th Day, 1st Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

After the fight at the falls I felt so nauseous and weak that I was instantly transported back to the courtyard off the inner keep at Redgarden. I felt like I was eight years old again, trembling and crying after being worked over to the point of retching, the contents of my stomach voided and desecrating those hallowed grounds upon which every Redwyne man had learned how to handle a sword. While we all rested I closed my eyes to avoid eye contact. Back then I wished to become invisible so that I could escape my father’s anger, now I just wished for everyone to forget what I did.

We broke up camp when the sun was high above the trees. I noticed David and Quentyn having a chat out of earshot of the rest of the group. When Quentyn came back he had a look of concern on his face. It strikes me that it’s been a while since he’s smiled. He was probably never groomed for governance and rule and I suspect he’s finding it hard to keep track of all the moving parts. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.

The prisoners were bound to one another by the waist and their hands were tied together. Mateo’s mind seemed to have completely collapsed under the weight of losing the bloodstone. He keeps talking to himself, rambling on and on about how he failed, how he failed his master. The other Sembians seem genuinely surprised and worried at his behaviour. They try and rationalise it to themselves by saying that the mercenary life broke him, like it breaks so many others. I’m not going to argue that living as a sellsword doesn’t come with a heavy price that not every man can pay, but I am fairly certain they know something else, something more, is wrong with Mateo than they are admitting openly.

I had suggested that Jago talk to them to see to what extent they had been aware or even complicit in the theft of the bloodstone. Jago has a sense for people, if anyone could get to the truth of it, it was him. The conclusion was that they had only been aware of the theft when they had already been under way. Mateo had mentioned taking something that would allow them to set themselves up whenever they would get to Vaasa in the North.

We marched throughout the entire day until night fell. We made camp a few hundred steps away from the river. The prisoners were tied to a tree, away from the rest of camp, and Godric and Widukin were tasked with their guard. Having observed them throughout the day, I was surprised at how resigned they were to their capture. They did as they were told, answered when questioned and were only interested to learn whether they would likely be executed once we got back to Glister.Perhaps these are misconceptions, but I was raised to believe that without too many exceptions, Sembians were duplicitous, dishonorable people, prone to infighting and eager to lie, cheat and manipulate for the smallest advantage. I saw no such thing in the way these Sembians behaved today. They owned up to their desire to leave. They admitted to learning about the theft while on their way. But never did they seem eager to turn cloak on Mateo.

Once camp had been established we took Mateo apart from the rest and tried to interrogate him. He had been sobbing and moaning to himself until David slapped him back to responsiveness. After that, he kept on rambling the same thing over and over. He could no longer hear his master and because of this he would fail him. No question was answered with any degree of satisfaction.

I took out a copper coin and held it firmly in my hand. I had prepared for this moment and the magic inside of me was eager for release.

Detect Thoughts
Zu hon faal zu se faal hadrim.
(I hear the voice of the mind.)

As the magic flowed from my core, its tendrils started to pick up the snippets of thoughts of the people in front of me. I noticed the disjointed, chaotic mind of Mateo, and I registered Jago standing behind the Sembian against a tree in the distance. I homed in on the whirling chaos of our prisoner’s mind and his thoughts started to come into better focus.

While I was focusing on his thoughts, trying to make sense of it all, something happened that I can’t quite explain. I noticed another presence somewhere off at the periphery of his mind. Just as I tried to figure out what was going on, Mateo calmed down and engaged that presence in conversation. Soon he was instructed to stop thinking about the bloodstone, about his master or any of the plans he had for the stone. An iron discipline kept his mind unyieldingly clear of any useful thoughts.

In the end, what I had been able to discern from his thoughts, before the gates to his inner monologue shut down, was that Mateo is of no small intellect, which means a strong logical and analytical core doesn’t protect against the abyssal influence coming from the demon in the bloodstone. It was also clear that the demon had approached him in his dreams to guide his actions. It was clear that he was forced into the theft. That which coerced him terrified him in a way he could not put into thoughts nor words.

Quentyn convened a council with myself, David, Jago and Ser Fosco to determine what punishment would be befitting a man who stole a precious jewel from the lord’s keep. We purposefully obfuscated the nature of the bloodstone from Ser Fosco but I don’t think he was fooled into thinking it was an ordinary gemstone, since David passionately pleaded for mercy on Mateo’s behalf due to the influence that had been exerted on him by the demon. I wish the magic of the hon faal hadrim had not fizzled out by that point, because I dearly would have wished to gauge Ser Fosco’s thoughts on what must be a confusing situation.

Initially it seemed as if David was arguing against punishing Mateo completely, stating that he could not be held accountable for his actions due to the influence of the demon. He took great offense against my suggestion that you put a rabid dog down despite the dog being innocent to the influence of the malady. A man is not a dog, he argued, completely bypassing my point. I put it in simpler terms; regardless of Mateo’s culpability, he was too dangerous to be allowed to stay. The demon had consumed his mind so completely, in such a short amount of time, that I could not abide the situation David was arguing for. We settled on banishment, which could be tantamount to a death sentence; if the trolls on the Thar wouldn’t get him, the coming winter surely would.

The matter of the remaining Sembians, who didn’t strike me as complicit in Mateo’s plan and had been only been guilty of leaving Quentyn’s domain without his leave, sparked an interesting debate. Ser Fosco and I agreed that the lord’s justice was absolute, barring any fealties he might have sworn. Quentyn doesn’t owe any fealty as far as I am aware, considering the unbound nature of the region Glister finds itself in. The conclusion of the conversation was that whatever punishment Quentyn would decide to dole out, it should be consistent. So if theft is punished by flogging, or dismemberment, or exile or death, it should always be that way.

While the rest of the group was sorting out who was going to take which watch, I once again slid into obscurity and rolled myself up in the blankets I had brought. The last few moments before sleep took me was spent deciding which spells I would prepare the next morning. I was still carrying Mateo’s green sword with me that I wanted to examine. I would need the proper divination spells for that, but I decided I would try and see if I could pick Old Gustav’s brain first. Perhaps he could explain the nature or the origin of the special alloy, which would help significantly in my research.

6th Day, 1st Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

With the exception of some commotion in the middle of the night, the source of which I couldn’t be bothered to discern considering how quickly the ruckus had died down, I slept the night through. I woke up feeling much refreshed as the residual nausea had faded away. I realised that morning that I’ve come a long way from the frail and frightened young boy back in Redgarden Keep. I have struck out on my own and have been forging my own path. I do suspect I still have a tendency to make sure I make use of other people’s comforts to sustain myself. I wonder if it is time for me to move out of the keep and perhaps take up residency on The Gift. Get a hut of my own. I am conflicted. It would be the right thing to do in order to develop myself as a man, but staying at Wizard’s Hill would develop me as a mage and councilor.

Because I had a full night’s sleep in considerable better comfort than most, I woke up early enough to study my spells. I ate a simple breakfast and I got a moment to observe the prisoners. They seemed in remarkably better spirits than the previous day. The Sembians seemed calmed by the fact that they felt it unlikely they would be executed, and Mateo was still unyieldingly quiet, unwilling to betray more of the plans his master had for him. In order for me to try out some self-sufficiency in possible preparation of a move away from Wizard’s Hill, I helped to clear the camp. Buried rubbish, extinguished the campfire and helped people tie packs to their backs.

I did not like it. I liked helping, of course. It was the distraction that I disliked. A solution to the problem of how to protect the stone from further thieves and intruders was beginning to form — nothing that I am currently ready to put down to parchment — but I was not able to concentrate on it. When it comes down to it, I feel like my intellect and talents are wasted on mundane tasks like preparing daily food, patching a thatch roof after a storm, or keeping a home tidy. I have always had the good fortune that the people around me recognised this, but how long will I be able to be useful to Quentyn? And more importantly, at which point will he assume me part of his retinue?

We started our walk and only paused on occasion to alleviate our feet, have a bite to eat, take a piss or remove a pebble from our boots. I accidentally snagged my traveler’s clothes on a branch it reminded me again that I should take my clothing to get patched at the looms on The Hoof one of these days. Perhaps I can then also commission that robe that I was mentioning before. I have been thinking about the herald I would want to have it adorned with; a black bird in flight across a red field, carrying a golden cornucopia in its beak.

At dusk we reached the Newmark and noticed the camp of the settlers having shrunk significantly. We also noticed a plume of smoke coming off from across the Smallwater in the west. It seemed that in our absence squire Croga and Godric’s brother had made good on their promise to start work on The Gift. The plume of smoke was probably a combination of cooking fires, campfires and perhaps some mud ovens. We crossed the moat with the ferry and made our way to Wizard’s Hill. As we passed Creighton’s home, I made a stop to get an update on the progress. He told me that many of the settlers had been lead to The Gift where they found a habitable hill a few hours walk west. They had started to clear the hill of vegetation and trees but decided to leave a remarkably venerable oak tree to remain at the top, dubbing the settlement Oak Hill. He also mentioned that several of the loggers and woodcutters working for the Widow had been helping the settlement out in return for some of the lumber being dragged down to the Smallwater and floated downstream to the mill.

I was pondering the possibility of going over to Oak Hill to see if I could possibly be of service in clearing the land using some of the levitation transmutations and fire invocations I have at my disposal when I walked into the keep. I asked Mund if he had some spiced, mulled cider and he surprised me with some wine! For a change, I must have looked the fool instead of him as I thanked him for it and hid the wine away in my room. The wine, you see, would come very much in handy in the divination spells I was preparing for the following day.

As mentioned earlier, I wanted to visit Old Gustav before trying to divine the nature of the green sword we lifted off Mateo and so off I went to the longhouse. Glister proper was calm and quiet. The only noise came from some of the farm animals and the sounds coming from Corben’s smithy. He was probably working hard supplying the settlers with nails, tools and other assorted metalworks to help them cultivate Oak Hill. I found Old Gustav surrounded by a few of his daughters and I sat with him. I was given some food and a drink by one of his daughters, probably in thanks for coming to sit with the old man. Honestly, I don’t quite understand why more people don’t come to him. He’s got a wealth of knowledge and sage advice! Sure, you might have to endure some of his ramblings and occasionally guide him back on track, but it is absolutely worth it.

As I showed Gustav the sword and asked him if he recognised it, knew anything about it and knew what kind of metal gave off such a green hue. His face lit up and he started to talk. As he spoke, I realised that with Chauntea’s blessing I would grow old like him, but that even she could not prevent my mind from withering the way Gustav’s had. The prospect of my mind failing me the way my body fails me is not one I relish. I should think about ways in which I can preserve my mind through old age. That, or stave off old age altogether!

After hours of listening to Gustav talk — sometimes interesting, sometimes amusing, sometimes frustrating — I had to conclude that it was getting late and that it was unlikely he would share anything useful. I now know all I wished to know about the green hue of the carapace of the Tharassian dung beetle who thrive in the acidic excrement of the Thar trolls. Supposedly, the green of their carapace matches the colour of Mateo’s sword quite closely. I decided to walk Gustav and his daughters home and then retired back to the keep. I would have to find time to properly divine the nature of the sword on the morrow.

7th Day, 1st Ride, 9th Month, 1374th Year

This was a difficult morning for me.

Yesterday we had a heated debate regarding Mateo’s guilt, where David and I had found a compromise; Mateo was not innocent, but Mateo was also not deserving of death, instead he should be punished with exile. We had both given our recommendation and our sagest advice to Quentyn, but we had done so coming from a place we could be live with. We found had established some sense of moral hegemony within our group.

Today, during breakfast, David once again found it necessary to undermine Quentyn’s authority. He started by asking Quentyn whether he had been schooled in statecraft and diplomacy. He then proceeded to explain the concept of the three estates, essentially claiming judicial and authoritarian independence from Quentyn’s rule. Since he and his ward Zacjeni were all there was in terms of religious representation, he asserted he represented the first estate.

I admit that I lost my temper again, but that didn’t last long. After catching some air, I found solace in the realisation why David had kept undermining Quentyn’s authority. He thinks that he represents divine authority in Glister, which is, of course, patently absurd.

I have read about this notion, and it’s a fairly elegant system in areas where there was a divine hegemony. The Zhentilar, famously, abide by this system. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work in areas of religious pluralism. How could it when no one religious dogma holds authority over another? I pray to Chauntea and I don’t recognise the moral or divine authority that David represents. I’m sure that Moloch agrees with me. Who knows, perhaps Widukin is a follower Mielikki the Forest Queen and Haëlla sings the praise of Selune the Moon Mistress.

See, for the three estates to work, they all have to accept each other and the role each plays. That also means that the roles that are being played are agreed upon. Do you think a follower of Bane and a follower of Illmater will be able to agree on matters of divine authority? I think not. And why should the second estate, in this case represented by Quentyn accept their authority? He’s not a follower of Illmater either.

The only thing we know is that the third estate, the good people of Glister, myself included, accept the second estate. Everyone, with the exception of David, is willing to submit to the lord’s rule and justice. Not all of the third estate is willing to be ministered to by David as the second estate, since not all of them share his ideals and beliefs.

Finally, Jago and Ser Fosco arrived and I returned back inside. Ser Fosco was looking for leave to join the settlers at Oak Hill, and when he left the conversation turned back to the bloodstone. The option of destroying the stone briefly came up, but I cautioned against it, because I argued that it was likely that the only reason why the demon could be imprisoned in the stone was due to the flawless nature of the gem. If that was to be compromised it would likely mean the demon’s escape.

David offered to bring the gem to his monastery in Illinvur, where his order could likely offer better guardianship over it. So far, this seems to be the best solution I’ve heard. The only thing I can offer is to restore the Deamonsbane lockbox and perhaps expand its protections to obfuscate the stone and dampen the demon’s influence. It would be fitting. It would also require me to develop my skills in artificing. I was taught the rudimentary basics of artificing at the Circle of Magi and I think I could manage, but it would be a costly investment of my time and resources

Not to mention part of my own essence.