The agent of House Drake, Lord Gilbert Drake, stared at me in the tavern, blanketed in an aura so smug it was almost physical. Perhaps it was some sort of new fire magic the degenerates in Torchgutter had developed.
“Give me the unit of mages under your command, Sir Lorain,” the pompous second son of the likely related said.
”No.”
”I do not like being told no. It makes me angry,” he said.
”No one likes being told no Drake, but no. Fuck off.” I told him.
Sir Dipshit Drake then proceeded to unleash a flood of magic against me, and only my reflexes saved me. I felt the heat of the flames brush my skin, damn near leaving me sunburnt. I watched Java rise from her place at the table with a look of unadulterated rage on her face.
”No you don’t!” She shouted, forming arcane signs with her hands as Drake attempted to follow up his first attack.
Nothing. Apparently her efforts had cut him off. I went for my blade but the weasel proceeded to run while yelling insults and threats. I let him go so that I might return to my feast in progress and finish compiling the latest orders for aunt Tahliya.
”I’m gonna need your support when they inevitably come back causing trouble,” Java said.
”You have it,” I told her. “I won’t let the worm get away next time.”
The next morning I arose to hear my name shouted by a vaguely familiar voice. I was newly rousing and headed to do my morning business when I saw Hans, the mentor of the fire mages. Before I could reply to him, he unleashed a flurry of magic on me, dropping me to the ground. My bodyguard, Butch, the lovely man that he is, saw it was time to intervene, and struck Hans. Unfortunately, Hans had wrapped himself in vile fire magic, causing a retributive strike on Butch, dropping him as well. Hans turned to me, and stopped my bleeding.
”Give me those fire mages you refused to give Lord Drake,” he shouted. “This is guild business, not noble matters.
Little did Hans the obviously insane know, he had just made it noble matters by assaulting me.
“I would have been more than happy to hand them over had blanket demands by a rival faction of my homeland not vaguely demand them and then attack me. You knew these mages were in the forum and under my command. Communication is key, Hans.”
He threw another fucking fireball at me.
Thadeus pulled me off the floor, and had he been armed I would have insisted we strike the villain down then and there, after all, Butch had gotten quite close and triggered whatever contingency he had in place. Java and Sygrun saw to Butch, and we both rose. Dr. Heimr, the saint of a man he is, started seeing to my healing getting me back on my feet.
As I recollect these events to keep them clear in my mind and for posterity in case the mad dog seeks me out again, I prepare the letter I will be sending home. A noble agent of House Drake had struck me publicly. We may not be in Rogalia where the Pactum Domini reigns supreme, but damages would be claimed, or I would claim Gilbert’s life blood.
As for Hans Flamehand, mad dog of the fire guild, when a good animal goes rabid, you don’t keep it alive for the sake of the hard work it had done previously, you do the humane thing and you put it down. A fucking peasant struck me with his sorcery, and this would not stand. Let’s see how your magic stands against the laws of the emperor, Hansy boy.
Legacy of the Red Queen
I pen this journal as an outlet for the thoughts that consume me and present such an internal conflict as I have never faced. How can you live before you die when you’re already dead on the inside? Is our humanity nothing but a mask we wear to convince others we aren’t walking husks forced to persist within a nihilistic cycle of self destruction? Learning what I have of this relic of my order, speaking with Elizabeth, it is so hard to justify not following the path set before me when it has so much potential, coupled with knowing it is one my order has walked as well. Wallowing in existentialism is far from productive, and I know the answer to what I must do. I will write father and Count Archibald. I will ask them what they know of the amulet. I will write Elizabeth. After all, we are only human, and blood is a price my people have paid for uncountable centuries.
Identities and Revelations
It seems I did not have to wait long into my stay in Njordr to see a vampire. The spawn was everywhere Friday night, and finally Saturday night, a true vampire was revealed. The man they call “Sigi” communicated his intent to handle the situation to me and I agreed, not knowing he meant that he was going to strike her in the head with a lump of silver. I have to hand it to him for his bravery, though it is becoming clear my services as an educator are greatly needed here. The vampire proved to be oddly amicable and did not attempt to fight back as the Eparch took her into custody nor when I confronted her. This development is fascinating, and I will need to pursue it further. She claims to want to liberate these lands from the grips of their old gods, and this may be true. Speaking with her further may prove fruitful in diagnosing what mortality and soul remains within the creatures after they are turned.
The Distance From Paradise
I have no idea what is happening to me. I apparently spend my nights wide awake, dealing with unsavory types and promoting crime. I have no recollection of these events and have only seen the truth of them through the help of Brother Erasmus. He is a kind man, and has been a beacon of hope for the future of the church. Unfortunately, we have not yet been able to fix this issue, nor discover its roots. I have my suspicions, as does Clemens and Sir Knut, but we do not know for sure. Was it that odd crater, or is it something deeper in me? Is it related to this urge I feel and fight, the one I’ve had since that day in the wilderness with the Hollow Song raiders? I have to accept what I saw and did there broke me irreversibly and there is only one way to satiate it, and it is unlikely to be the source of my night time wanderings. What am I doing to satisfy that urge when I should be sleeping? Who am I hurting? How am I violating justice? One person I know has contact with my other self, and that’s the doddering peasant Gor. His unassuming, simple demeanor has to be a mask, and I will break it. I will find him, and I will find out what it is I’m doing, and who else is involved. We will fix this and I will do my duty to Runeheim and House Dragomir, and most importantly, to my dear friends. Clemens, Sir Knut, Sigi, Thadeus, and God rest his soul, Viktor. I haven’t done right by The Grey Company by placing this burden upon them, and the settlement as a whole. I only pray that I can break this curse or whatever it is before someone I care for is hurt.
Violence, In The Purest Form
The voice fueled me today. Usually it was a nuisance, but sometimes it’s single minded desire to commit atrocities that would make the Hollow Songs cringe could come in handy.
“When I find Alexis, I’m going to take his other fucking eye and have Heimr preserve it.” I said to my self.
“Ah yes, We shall take our vengeance and our pleasure.” The other me said.
You would think I would be disturbed at the desire to enjoy the suffering of another human but today and many others, the thought was as sweet as the best wines of Sartois. The man had taken my sister, and he would pay for it.
The agent who worked for Alexis laid on the ground in front of me, obviously in shock from the skin I had removed from his forearms, and perhaps also from hearing me having a full conversation with myself about murdering his employer. Maybe it was also the fact that he could hear the replies.
“Don’t worry my dear man. We will be done with you as soon as you reveal your master’s location.”
I pressed the dagger gently into the skin of his exposed calf, going blue in the winter air.
“Either you will leave here with some skin left, or you will die as an anatomical presentation for the crows. The choice is yours. It matters little to me, but you and your mind will break.”
His sobs seemed to start to form words.
“Please. I don’t know where he is. I mean it. I was given orders for a delivery. That’s it.” He cried. “Please let me go.”
I believed him.
“Very well. I will grant you your freedom.”
The forest rang with the gunshot.
Of Darkness and Hearts Divided
I stared at the little girl with gold ringlets sitting on my knee, she was a spitting image of her mother.
“Uncle Armand, why did the bad man take mommy?” Irinia asked me.
“He wanted to hurt me, sweet girl. He knows I love you all so much.”
“But you saved mommy and stopped the bad man!” She said with a huge smile on her face. “Uncle Armand is a hero!”
Uncle Armand is a hero. No I’m not. I am a villain through and through. A murderer and a thief and a torturer. A man who will do anything he needs to in order to secure his station.
“Maybe if you kill them all you won’t have to deal with this conflict.” It says with its oily voice. “Maybe you can embrace who you are. Who we are. Do it Armand, become one with me.”
I ignore the voice and stare at my niece, sitting there, innocence unshattered by countless lives staining her hands. What I would give to make sure she never feels what I feel, or make the decisions I have to make. What I will give.
“Are you going to kill the bad man, Uncle Armand?” She whispers quietly.
“I am. I will will protect all of you.”
I exit the small cabin into the brisk fall evening. How can I protect them if Alexis is still alive? What is he planning? It doesn’t matter. I will find him and I will do what I do best.
Uncle Armand is a hero.
The Thoughts of Armand Grisfosc, as dictated to the glorious and wonderful Victor, known herein by his well earned branded name, The Forgemaster
This place is a frigid far cry from home, though it does have a distinct appeal in that it keeps my head attached to my body, and I am quite fond of that. I have been welcomed into The Grey Company by The Forgemaster, and he has proven himself to be a good friend, and a fantastic warrior along with being an acclaimed blacksmith. Sinclair is here as well, which has eased this transition a bit, though I still find his denial of perfect opportunities in combat a bit disturbing.
The thing that has concerned me the most after coming here was my encounter with the Shara’Qyn Luqa. While he saved my life multiple times, he turned out to be a traitor. He assaulted the Inquisitor multiple times on the grounds of avenging some friend named Rolf, who was apparently Lionized postmortem. I fought alongside the Inquisitor, and while he seems to have his secrets, I believe he means well. Luqa was initially given reprieve from being executed, but upon his second attempt on the Inquisitor’s life, his head was forfeit. Sister Solace seemed genuinely remorseful to have to perform the act, but she did it with grace and all the respect one could imagine being granted to a traitor. I’m starting to see that this religion is more than a pathway to justified annexation and look forward to seeing people truly following the teachings of the Lion. Luqa mentioned something of a Djinn as his last words which disturbs me a bit, given the stories I’ve heard from the desert people in regards to these Malefics. This place seems full to the brim with the unquiet dead, and I do not love the idea of more Malefic making their way into this community, especially with the incursions of the dissenting Njords. I watched Ragnar nearly fall in battle after several challenges to the rival clans, and while he fought well, a man is still only a man. All I can do now is make this home mine, and pray that my strength of arm is enough to keep myself and my new friends alive.
