A hole in the ground certainly wasn't the best shortcut home for Fireheart Manor! Golly I will say not. But what a turn of events. Better than another dull night in the dorm - I'm too old for dorms! and too much a lover of fresh air to fall down some seemingly never ending mud slope and then further until I begin completely lost. So much for my schooling. If Cassandra was here she would laugh like a drain to see my in such a pickle.

Lucky I had enough victuals to see me through mile upon mile of empty passages and then finally turn up on the doorstep of Sanctuary. Odd place. odder folk. and SO many poor people. Ex-slaves some of them But silly me - I am forgetting, I only found out all this by the kind attentions of Merle, a lovely little lady who is now a best pal. She was very kind and not like the surly little folk who are SUCH poor servants back home.

And then - this I am still finding difficult to believe, there is VERISA! after so long and in so strange a place! I was jolly glad to have ended up here Big Sis- it will be such a jolly romp on the way home , just as soon as we get things ready to move off. but I am really not sure who she has become engaged to. He is an orphan apparently - and a 'councillor'. An odd fish, but not lacking in features. Mummy is going to be SO very cross, and I don't want to get the blame. We have been here before methinks! And last time it was no banquets or dances for a very long time.

Well I at least am out of drab travel garb into a reasonable cast off from Verisas wardrobe. What she will do with all this stuff when we leave I don't know . I suppose her steward will have it sent on by baggage train.

The drab little town of Sanctuary holds few delights. No social life to speak of - does anyone ever sing, dance or recite poetry here? The merchants are a little better, and I have spent some time acquiring an outfit aided by another of my new found friends .... a little more of that to come.

Meantime I am troubled. When are we actually going to leave here? Verisa has been vague about this and everyone else seems to avert their eyes and change the subject. Except for Illiana. She is a curious lady but with a good sense of style and amazing healing abilities. Spend an hour in her company and I find the aches and pains just slip away - can't seem to remember what we talk about but maybe thats me! Always was a bit giddy.

Wyric the Fiance is wearisome. I cannot believe how he speaks to Verisa - Daddy would have had him flogged. I don't know how to act, and spend much of my time holding my tongue as I know he is terribly important here and I would not wish to be out of favour.

The day dragged on, interspersed with a speech by a striking looking gent from lower (where the servants al live I think) about the need to educate them. Quite right think I - an uneducated servant is a poor companion when reciting poetry.

Thence I stumble upon a further debate, with yet more assembled town worthies, concerning a library. Folks of all shape and size are there. I almost fall into a stupor of boredom and am lead away.

Which brings me to That Gown. Illiana and I spent a long while chosing the finest of fabrics, braids and colours with a rather good tailoress, using some money from my pocket-purse from school and some other gained in exchange for ... excuse me while I retch .. the bellies of giant beetles. The resulting gown was, I think, magnificent, if a little revealing. Well I am quite old enough to make my own choices, as Illiana says. On to town to saunter about and take in the sights (the outside of the dingy Inn and the town stocks being about the best on offer). I can tell by the look on Verisa's face, as she turns from an assembled group of town worthies including the lumpen Mr Crowshire, she is far from pleased. All would seem to have passed off without incident but for the attentions of a peculiar bearded man whose eyes I can feel burning into me (well he was gawping, but that does not sound very exciting). He, like many here, is interested that I am Verisa's baby sister (their words not mine) and comment I have the 'same body type'. My skin suitably creeps, but before anyone draws breath Verisa's blade is at the beardy's throat as she threatens him with an untimely demise. Golly!

I am whisked away by Illiana before more trouble ensues, wrapped in a rather fabulous cloak lent for the occasion. The whole affair apparently rumbled on, with little Merle, my first friend here, wounding. her hand attempting to defuse the situation. I am in a state of distress at such events and take time to consider my options. Some of which I will not write here.

All is resolved when Wyric seeks me out with messages from Verisa that all is forgiven. The man does have a way with words and I am strangely won over by them and return to meet with Verisa in the town hall, where the strange bearded gent, (Kyle Fox by name) seems to have his head intact and offers an apology which I accept - I can feel my face go red.

The coming days promise further training (I am growing rusty) accompanied by Verisa and ... the bearded Kyle! Perhaps he is not so creepy after all.

Some further company would be very welcome, as I fear Mr Fox's knowledge of the Fine Arts may be limited to tavern songs. Ah how I do miss home.

What an awful nights sleep. Images of drunken gnomes singing bawdy songs to an audience of cut-purses and beggars! Sanctuary is no proper place for a Grand Ball ... and yet I am commissioned to make such a thing happen. I would laugh if it was a dream but alas it is not. Verisa's schemes are as ever on a grand scale, but now lacking any decent staff to command it is I that must bear the brunt!

There is some hope with those who I have recruited. A promising singer called Ingrid for example and her doubtful companion Riappi. I have yet to audition those selected but the promise of 100 gold pieces will maybe bring more to try their talents out. Oh I wish there was simply a professional troupe of minstrels and tumblers to hand!

Wyric has me troubled. He ministered his attentions to my Ball planning and, I am surprised to say, seemed to be full of assistance. He seems to command respect and knowledge of this place - we are yet to find a venue however. Just when our meeting was going well he fixed me with that look he uses on those in his official capactiy and began to pry. He has no right! I came here and that in itself is bad enough without other things becoming known. So I gave back as good as he gave - no Fireheart is on the back foot for long as Daddy would say. He is perhaps not so certain of Verisa as he might be now. It will do him good. It will!

I worry about the planned hunting trip with Kyle Fox and Verisa now after what Wyric said. I don't know what chaps do when they start to become emotional! He may begin to howl! I just don't know!!

Note to self: Dwarves are, in some cases, quite gentlemanly.

The Ball is a mess. I am a disaster. I can neither hold my tongue when it should be held nor speak out when I need to.

The town is gloomy, and fear stalks the alleyways. The good Lady Illian takes time to teach me further skills with the blade, and I am itching to practice. But no hunting trip. The absent Kyle Fox must have better things to do than accompany a foolish girl to kill rats. I have been no further from the Inn than to the market for several days and still Verisa berates me in front of others. A glass of milk with a dancing elf and I am hauled over the coals.

And worse. This night I quarreled badly with someone who I should not so much as offend. I am troubled and have none to turn to over this matter. And I have in my pocket a blade of his that I neither want nor can use without bad thoughts.

The appearance of a vulnerable elf named Vanya makes me forget my own woes. What am I to do to help her? Lucky I have such good friends - Merle and Iliana. Even a rough and ready young woman named Friday came with a suggestion. The town is so full of perils - leering dwarves and other crazies. I continue to practice the blade and will make us of it if need be, particularly in the defence of someone even more in need ot protection than myself.

Now earth tremors rock the town and I am left a quivering wreck. Are there really giants who make such dreadful ructions? I dont know, but doubt I will sleep well for fear of them.

The town yields yet more suprises as Kyle Fox, a curious chap, offers to show me the sights - taking me to a 'death or glory' arena where the blood of the recently slain still stains the dirty sand floor! Whilst it was fairly repulsive I used the opportunity to practice some sparring with Mr Fox, who is at once both kindly and a little brutal. I have a bruise on my shoulder to prove it - luckily not one that Verisa is likely to see and ask awkward questions.

We sat a while and talked of the past - it seems Kyle Fox has suffered much, which perhaps explains his oddness.... but not the beard he sport with such ill grace. I find myself both drawn in and horrified by his stories in equal measure. I hope to be permitted a a proper hunting party with him as guide some day soon - apparently so long as Verisa chaperones me, as might be expected back Home.

Yet standards are very different here in the Underdark ... my distress at the behaviour of one of the town's most prominent citizens continues... I have been confronted with the expectation of an apology . An apology! I was astounded - and showed it through my distress. I may be yet young, but I am of Noble blood and will not bend my knee in supplication to a mere functionary who has had his nose put out of joint! When he comes to me with bowed head - then will this thing be ended.

I confessed a little of this to a goodly gnome who seemed to have a degree of both understanding and empathy with my cause... cause? I do not wish to fight .. only to have the Fireheart name held in its proper position of respect.

Many days have I waited around town for the chance to try out some of my increasing skill. Plenty of time to use the pocket money Verissa occasionally sends my way to acquire several long discussions with the tailor about future purchases... but little else

Finally two foray's into darker and riskier areas outside town are afforded me when a kind Mr Kard and a number of others take me to a mausoleum where trouble is afoot. I refine the use of the dagger ... so much better than school could ever teach on a training dummy. Then, with confidence built, Kyle once again helps me out, leading me to further perfecting of the parry and the thrust.

With the takings from this I have celebrated with a new outfit - and not one that is on display mind you - one I ask to have made! such joy! in the best red leather, black brocade and even fine silk ribbons. I will not be seen in it near Verissa.

There is trouble at the Inn as Verissa argues savagely with the ill-fated Wyric - who seems to have become entangled with another maiden of perfect diction but with a viper's tongue called Elizabeth. I am thrown from the Inn at her command - how dare she tangle wit the the Firehearts! I see Wyric more for what he is during this puzzling incident - a man of low moral fibre! I am yet to have a civil word from him ... nor him from me.

Kyle spends time with a young (ish!) woman called Soleil. She is passable in looks. Yet I worry for her colour sense. Kyle appears not to notice and moons over her. So much for my 'approved' fencing master. He follows her like a puppy dog. She has some spirit and may become bored of this perhaps. She is also old and therefore wise. Meantime how will I ever be recognised for what I really am? I place an advert seeking a new Trainer. He must be young, well spoken and of good family. Otherwise Daddy would kill me.

No young man comes, only a dwarf who nearly gets me involved in a mighty feud in the dark streets of Lower. At least Kyle might have ferried me to safety from such trouble. I return to the Inn with haste and a heavy heart.

My head is in a spin. Not simply the forthcoming wedding of my sister Verissa to the ever-frustrating Wyric, not the immense responsibility of choosing appropriate costumes cut the right way and with colours appropriate to such an occasion, not even the appearance of Uncle Ally - whose disastrous rescue mission from home has yet again dashed my hopes of escape. No, none of these is of consequence when I am now, unexpectedly, pursued by - a wellwisher. Wellwisher is not the right word - for what wellwisher would have been as bold as ... this person! I darest not reveal what has passed - not even in these pages - SANDY I KNOW YOU READ THIS WHEN YOU ARE TIDYING UP IN OUR CHAMBERS.

I am a silly silly girl. How else could I have expected to be the belle of the ball when there is no ball? I am sad and frustrated that Verissa has once more thrown Wyric aside like a worn out yet worthy toy. I am angry that Uncle Allivaran seems to cast aside all family tradition in the pursuit of greed - and now we squabble in the street like peasants at a country fair! Would that he mended his ways and became the Uncle I once looked up to those years ago. I am ... what is the word? ... prepared to throw myself down a hole? ... that I should have so badly spoiled a special meal of celebration with Kyle - who can now be revealed as my wellwisher. How was I to know he knows nothing of Cormyr traditions? He blathered of a first date and taking things slowly. Why - to have offered food and wine to a maiden back home without an immediate offer of marriage is a self imposed death sentence! I am glad that brother Edgar remains far away else a bloody spectacle might have followed to defend the family name. As it is I am bereft - and will never touch cerise wine again (for some time at least).

My beautiful cloak has been destroyed. The prattle of interfering spellguard means it was torn from me and ripped to shred. I am heartbroken. It was a thing of beauty - a master craftsman's embroidered work of art. They say it was made from skin - but surely just like a leather belt? Why such a lot of fuss ?

No one appreciates objects like this. No one understands.

I have nothing to replace it.

At last the great traditions of my family and kin have been honoured! I am no longer held in limbo whilst Kyle Fox blunders about unable to ask for my hand in marriage - for he has actually asked me! Praise Sune for finally removing the blockage in his brain!

Due ceremony was served at the Town Hall to proclaim the engagement with the services of a most accommodating Councillor clad in green (I am not sure it suited his complexion - I should have a quiet word).

Alas Cormyr tradition was not well served - the Nine Days Celebratory Feasting was suspended whilst a ghastly fire in some Temple in Lower was doused. The dour folk of Lower should perhaps be a little more grateful for help where it is offered! All we received were grumbles and threats. Dear Kyle was beside himself.

My heart remains bouyant though, though I have yet to reveal the forthcoming nuptials to sister Verissa. Uncle Alli will, of course, honour tradition in financing the Formal Display And Casting About of Wealth at the Marriage Ceremony (whenever that will be) - I do so love Cormyr tradition!

Since the heady events of recent days there have been unpleasant incidents in town. cruel and crude men from the depths of lower who threatened and insulted. such a scene! and near disaster when it is verissa that ends up under arrest. I am distraught and Uncle Ally lashes me with his tongue.

Yet a day or so later and all is resolved. I take matters into my own hands, enter the Lions Den and emerge with honour. A vow of silence on this resolution is taken. May Sune bless the House of Fireheart.

I am not happy. Despite a burgeoning trade in high quality outfits to a discerning and discrete clientèle I have a gnawing doubt as to my future. Why does Kyle continue to parade a succession of floozies and aspiring competitors for his affections before me? Why do I suspect them? By Sune's good grace I shall not be humiliated in this way. No Fireheart would let it be so.

And yet more worries - the events in the back room of the Crone were nearly revealed to Kyle in front of Councillor Wyric. Not a good idea considering the agreement made in Lower .... and yet has it perhaps been broken already by the other party? I shall seek out the villain and find out.

Once more I have blundered into a situation I cannot resolve. I ran from Kyle moments before we were to be wed by a goodly Priest called Connar. Everything was wrong - the wedding was an impulse yet outside the Hall I could hear the crowd baying for the blood of Guerin - the villain is now dead, executed on the Town Hall steps. How would my wedding day be best remembered? As a day of infamy ?

I spoke for some time with Aylana, my chosen confidante, as we waited for Kyle to appear. She seems so wise yet disquiets my heart somehow ... I can't work it out. I was reminded then of my sister Verissa. They are fools who say she will not return, and Cormyr tradition dictates her place at my wedding. The whole wedding venture was doomed that day.

And what of Kyle? I hope he received as good counsel after the ceremony was suspended as the Priest Connar gave me. He is a gentle man and a good. May I learn from his wisdom to do better in future. I must seek out Kyle. But I know not what to say.

With Guerin dead my vow of silence must end. I stand proud as any Fireheart should in defence of our honour against villainy.

*the page has many crossings out and redrafts* My sister is dead. Verissa died. Verissa sits by Sune's side. I grieve now but know something happened in my mind that stopped me doing so before. The Chosen invaded Upper! Why does no one speak of this but those close by me? What are they hiding? Kyle has been kind. So even my Uncle - perhaps he will deserve honour once more ? I wear the red of the Firehearts not the black of mourning - the wise priest Connar advised it.

I have immersed myself in plans for the wedding. For it must now happen else .... else what? I lose everything ...?

Why must there always be doubt ? I must control my temper. I must control my temper. I must control my temper. I must control my temper.

Kyle was babbling about how I nearly killed him and that he and Connar had to restrain me. What is this? I remember nothing of it. I suspect this is his way of diverting me from finding out about his indiscretions - I still cannot be sure what he is up to, but he seemed ignorant to the accusations in the letter in green ink I finally showed him. I mean to find the author and bring them to speak to Kyle.

And the slut who tried to extort money from me shall pay in other ways. Kyle says he will deal with it himself - but how can I trust him at the moment? He is more often than not a gibbering tearful wreck. Or else being 'enchanted' by the wiles of the dregs of Lower.

I grow more angry more often and less able to see sense. Oh sister, would that you were here to administer a slap.

When is it that I offended Sune so badly? Or any other god? Why then that my second attempt at marriage results in at least 3 deaths, structural damage and an arrested priest ?

We did not even get to the Cormyrian part of the ceremony. I saw neither sacrificial goat nor sheep in evidence ... Not to mention a ruined wedding gown. Months work down the drain.

And yet I feel strangely empowered. As Kyle seems to be still inclined to weep and mope I have taken strength from adversity. Such that the investigation into whoever seeks to slander Kyle and the Firehearts continues apace. Now I can discount the brazen lying whore Jaliah (dead at the wedding) I have lead our negotiations with the people of Lower where, no doubt, the poisonous snake lurks. I will try to be a little more ... what's the word ...circumspect (?) ... in my dealings following an enlightening telling off by Kyle.

I don't think he appreciates how damaging rumours can be, and how expensive to quash them.

One bright star in an otherwise dull firmament - the kind elf Nelas gave a wonderful necklace - a Fire Opal set in silver - as a wedding gift .. despite the wedding never happening. I shall wear it ever about my neck until my wedding day to Kyle finally comes.

Edgar has finally found his way here. I am not sure what has happened to his Commission in the Purple Dragons. Father paid dearly for it. He is as he always was. I fear for the young ladies of Sanctuary. He already has the gold from me I made from the suit ordered for Mr Riddle. He appears to have spent it on a fancy sword engraved with a letter 'E'.

I made a fool of myself. Convinced I saw the Card on the Town Hall steps. As if he would appear so brazen in my presence. The fellow, who seems to be some low life anyhow, took my challenge with ill grace and leveled a crossbow at me. If the Watch had been a little quicker in responding he might have spent a few hours in the cells! Later Private Brinson was courteous to me and made me feel more justified in 'remaining alert'. What a nice man. Always well turned out.

A family meeting was called in the Crone (what ghastly ale they serve). Uncle has a number of elaborate and bureaucratic ways of resolving our current problems. What ever happened to a good old fashioned Fireheart cavalry charge? Fireguard Taarna is quite capable of responding to orders, as is Trainee Fireguard Snyder. I am not sure we could trust Bootsie to do anything other than sweep up afterwards.

I must research what seafarers wear as a commission is in the offing.

*a small illustration of a woman in sea boots and a spectacular outfit is found in the margin *

Where is A.C? I dare not write a note.

Lower remains a dangerous place. We sallied forth to "Show the Flag" of Fireheart to win over the Lowersmen only to face a terrifying mob, jeering and taunting us. It was horrid. Then something extraordinary occurred. From behind the crowd I heard a threat that the mob would face death unless it stood back and allowed us safe passage out. The threat seemed to work as a way was opened up for us to escape - and it is then that I felt my knees about to give way. The assassin himself, known only to me as 'Card' stood on the canal's edge, festooned with bottles of more Alchemists fire than I think I have ever seen in one place. It seems that it was he, clad in that hideous red helm, who was saving our lives, prepared to dowse the angry (and ugly) beggars of Lower in painful flaming death.

How can this be? Why did he do it? I had no time to find out as I was dragged by Edgar and others out of Lower, being pelted with rotten fruit.

Another letter has since appeared, and with it the usual tarot cards. My mind is muddled. I am threatened and yet feel safe now. I must seek advice. Kyle will want to continue the hunt. The Watch will be glad to be rid of my pestering .... perhaps A**** will help me?

After the most frightening and distressing of times I find that Sanctuary is becoming a slightly safer place.

My Uncle is dead, murdered by a band of pirates greedy for gold, lead by the Dread Captain Thorn. I cannot escape from the fact that it was I, and my brother, that brought this to pass. Along with him Captain Mordis met a cruel end - for what reason I know not.

Mordis and her crew had journied with us to where we had heard Gnolls had established a redoubt. The House of Fireheart, a retinue of Fireguard and Captain Mordis' entourage made short work of their defences, albeit with several of our number injured. On our return, on a bridge over a dark lake, we were immediately set upon by numerous villain, uttering curses and laying low our guards and retainers. In the melee that followed four of their number surrounded me. Blows rained down and I saw no more. When I came to I found myself bound together with Edgar, who likewise looked badly beaten. Of Mordis there was nothing to be seen. A Fireguard Cadet - Foundling - sallied forth to try to free us but was beaten back, and told with jeers by the rough crew to seek out my uncle. For what reason I knew not.

A grim journey through many underground passages followed, over water by boat, to the gates of Fort Mur. Never before had I realised the grim nature of this place. I learnt only too well its purpose.

Edgar and I were held captive there, which I will not write of for fear of further bad dreams. There was no escape, no glory or heroics - only further bloodshed and the pirates' twisted sense of 'an eye for an eye'. I vow if ever I meet with Thorn only one of us shall walk away alive.

Some time later I am brought to testify in a court of law before Councillor Redd where one of the kidnappers is condemned by my evidence, prepared by Sergeant Lothor. She was but a minor player in this grim tale, and I could not watch her die.

Kyle and Edgar seem ever at each others throats. Will there be no peace in the House of Fireheart with my uncle gone? Who will bring order ? I must respect the Cormyr Laws of the Bloodline, yet fear that confusion and anger obscure Edgar's noble inheritance.

There have been no letters come from the Card. I dread seeing another tarot.

*on a separate sheet pasted into the Journal*

Order for Lord Fireheart delivery to Angelica.

Gowns and day outfits

Completed and delivered: 300 GP

Day outfit: Paladin a la Mode - in damask. Blue/lilac detailing and leather trim. Tucked waist. Goffered sleeves. Matched to full length cloak in Sapphire.

In Progress:

Full Length evening gown: Brocade bodice, Organza full length. (colours?) Day outfit: Doupioni silk, Bateau neckline, Fine Leather Martingale (colours?)

Awake with pain behind the eyes in a chair in the Grotto. This is why I never accept drinks here. Why do they not offer water?

Morwen wants to meet me. Sune alone knows why. She reminded me of another flaw in Kyle's persona. When will he ever conform?

A suneite priestess has appeared. Finally someone who can help bring a ray of light, properly treated hair and a cared for complexion to this drab sump.

Advisor Snyder and Fireguard Foundling seem to have survived Lord Fireheart's wrath and both continue their duties. Maybe Angelica has finally got through to him? Or maybe there is another plan?