*This rothe leather journal shows little wear and tear despite its obvious, consistent use. Its pages are neatly cut, script controlled and always in perfect lines.*

Weekly List - Gold - Armor - Employ - Love

Notes:

On the surface, no pun intended, the city of Sanctuary seems divided in half. Further inspection shows this couldn't be further from the truth. The fact of the matter is, they are divided down to the single individual. Each individual within this system, seeks more and gives less, making unification of even the smaller groups unlikely at best. There are divisions within divisions. Only outside pressures seems to influence the citizens to put these aside and work together. What the city needs is a common enemy. Some outside force that could only be defeated with a unified army. Unfortunately, most of the armies beyond these gates would prove very difficult to vanquish even if unified.

If the enemy were an illusion, a shadow, a symbol, the desired effect could be obtained. However, something tells me it will take more then slight of hand to put aside the deep rooted differences these people perceive in one another. Ironically, it is these very perceptions which are illusion themselves. Further thought and planning to follow.

You wake up, you run a bit of water through your hair. You put your pants on one leg at a time. You trim your beard, clean your teeth. You fix yourself a modest breakfast and then clean your teeth again. You exercise till you sweat, then you take a bath. You comb your hair proper. You check yourself over, a thousand times maybe, until you get it right. Now you are ready for the world.

The world is full of garbage, piles of it on the streets. Old tattered bits of clothing, half eaten pieces of soggy spore bread, the rats feast and leave their droppings. People covered in garbage, picking through the garbage, they show off their finds with a toothless smile. Urine puddles on the sidewalks, the sticky stains from blood and ale and vomit cling to your boot.

You love every moment of your life as though it were your last. Then you take another bath. Your soul is only as clean as your body.

Notes: I have left word with the Lady Lavenza, but she has yet to return my letter. I'll give it another day before choosing to move on to another. Archibald and Macasta will be the frontrunners, though which comes first, I've yet to decide. I've always preferred to work for a woman, there will be a lot to consider.

The situation in the Lower sections is not as bad as people on the streets make it out to be. Montezzi is a house of tyranny, but I can not say for for certain that the citizens of lower are worse off. If anything, I can roam the streets without fear of being mugged. I don't roam often though. I feel eyes upon me when I do, a hatred for a person they do not even know. Mayweather used to say it was better to be feared then loved. For the moment, I'm content being neither. I am beginning to see a diplomatic solution to things, but am always preparing for war.

There are a pair of twins that work in the Sultry Siren who are vision from a dream. I've been going there often to drink, smoke and enjoy their perfect faces. From time to time I catch their eye and my heart swells three times its size. I've yet to say anything to them. Words just don't seem fitting, like they would only get between what we already know. I heard someone mention that they had been or possibly still were wrapped up in a gang. The hero in me cries to save their souls, and the devil to get a single glimpse of their naked bodies, wading in the waves of the sword sea. Sirens. Mayweather was wrong, love and fear are the same.

Weekly List

- Canal Ward - Recruitments - Animatrons - Love

Notes: I was able to satisfy all of last week’s goals but one, the one that has escaped me for years now. I'd put the probability of war between Montezzi and Sanctuary proper at 50%. It would be higher, though I get the feeling neither side wants to make the first strike. Should a war break out, my calculations on paper have the city at slight advantage. Casualties would be considerable on both ends however, and the true victors would be those who did not fight. For the time being, neutrality and careful diplomacy is essential. Deals are in the works to shift the Confederacy into the Canal Ward. This will be a great staging ground for commerce as well as prestige. It also, however, puts us in a delicate position, sandwiched between the underdark on one side and Montezzi on the other.

The Archibald families long term relationship with the spellguard is something which should be continued to be fostered. Ideally, with the new animatrons on patrol, they may even be willing to sell us some of the older models. While not as effective, I can think of half a dozen uses for the gnomish sized ones. Additionally, I can think of more then a dozen uses for the Associates. Perhaps a deal can be worked with them to move from their whole in the wall of the Stand to our new location in the Ward. Either way, recruiting new soldiers is a priority.

Something worth noting about Montezzi is that he has a romantic side and may be in love with Senestia. I've learned this from one of his men. There is very little chance anything will come of this, but it may prove useful knowledge. Also, while some of his men are blindly loyal to him, others are not so. I do not believe he treats the majority of his subjects any better then hired muscle. All said and done, he is only as strong as his men.

The treatment I had written for him was rejected; the man wants a play about himself. This says a lot about his character and also about my own, as I intend to give him exactly what he wants. He can wait though, until I finish the play I must write first. It is somewhat comforting to know that since it was rejected, I can go about writing it for my own purposes rather then having editors breathing down my neck.

My nightmares persist. Nobody must know this but me.

Weekly List

-Animatron/Recruitment -Great Shadow Death -Elections -Love

Notes: Wherein two weeks ago I managed to nearly complete my liste before, this past one I accomplised none of them. However, progress continues to be made on a number of diplomatic fronts. Working for Alexander has been a joy. The man is sharp as a tac and willing to do what is neccessary to win in every situation. My recognition and prestige around the city continues to grow. I've earned the trust of nearly everyone important, for the time being.

With the elections coming up, I think I could easily earn myself a seat if that were my desire. I must admit, in some ways it is. However, I've found and continue to find that being the man behind the scenes is a much more effective way to get things done. Besides, I would not want to pull any votes from Wyric. With careful planning, we could have three councilors in our pocket this next term.

My attempts to reach the Great Shadow Death have failed. I may have to make a trip to Sslal'teesh. I'll need to procure something of value beforehand as a proof of my worth.

Tradition, honor and excellence. This was our pretense for viewing the world. My blood is thicker then yours.

And we, never believed in me And I never believed in we- Never believed in you. We never believed in you.

[After a long, arduous process, Rook finishes this painting with a smile. He then packs it up into a box and hides it in Archibald storage for no one to see]

"The Fishel Estate, Cormyr"

One step at a time, do not get ahead of yourself. When things do not go your way, change your ways. Laurel is somewhere right now, expecting you to save the world. Do her proud. Alexander is your rock. Foremost you must be there for him. Don't let anyone else push you around.

I lost my weapon, most of my pride. The pieces on the board continue to fall around me. What I can possibly do, without my weapon, without my pride, I do not know. The ship is sinking and I loose the will to stay afloat. Mayweather used to say that desperate times called for desperate measures.

Why did you have to die? I might still be on the sword coast somewhere, a new woman in my bed, and Laurel a distant memory. Instead your face haunts me. Her face, my queen. Your wife. My love. I inherited our mothers side and you got fathers. Except it was you who died this time and I must live with my own infidelities.

Save me now. Give me the strength to trudge into another day. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I'll let you into my heart if you can save me. I'll suffer your love forever, if you would only please save me.

[Finishing another painting, Rook looks upon it with thoughtful eyes. In a fit on fury, he removes his sword and nearly splits it in half. Something stops him though and he instead crates it up, setting it in Archibald Storage for no one to see]

"The Sea of Swords"

Maybe I have been wrong about everything. This place is not my home. My whole life I have done what I have been told to do. From Mayweather to mother, every step of the way people have been wrong. I am punished for what they make of me. Laurel was my only happiness. She was the only person who looked out for me.

She told me of how she wept when I left for the first time. I can not imagine how she must weep now, having left for the last. Maybe I have been wrong about everything down here, maybe I will never be happy until I find her again. My brothers widow. I do not deserve to love because I love her. I always have. Why Mayweather was born first is the cruel joke the gods played on me. They've always been there to give me things so that they can take them away again.

This city is slowly eating me alive. For every problem I solve, ten more crop to take their place. I am surrounded in a field of discontent. I am surrounded by my past. Were I a villain things would be easier. I am trying so hard to be good. I am trying so hard.

You can not give up yet. Your queen is counting on you.

Notes:

• Ghyrrt
• Holdfast
• Shadow Tribe
• Checkmate

[This unfinished painting sits in Rook's old council office. The only piece of work of his not buried in a cellar, it’s obvious he was a talented artist. Why he kept this from the world, is forever left to speculation]

[Untitled and rough around the edges]