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——

Nisah 8, 7789

I wonder what took me so long to get started on this. I've had this journal since I got here. When was that, the last days of Tesrin Hray? Suppose it's been more than a couple months now.

We'll call it acclimating.

Ephia's Well has been quite the place to call home after all.

Or maybe it's because - [The pen lingers on the page.]

Acclimating.

I'm feeling better. It's a new year and there are new things to look forward to.

——

I have more friends than ever now - which sounds like a lot, but it just means more than two. But I also have a place to call home.

Home.

This war started long before I arrived it seems - and until now I've done what I can to support the effort. I do my best to feed the refugees while the rations are ferried to the front lines. I tend to the local threats and collect supplies, handing them over to Grenth and the Duunthall. I made dishes to cool the body against the Scalding.

But it's not enough and there's more I could do. I'm no soldier, but I know how to stick my knife where it hurts the most.

I've found myself joining the offensives against the orc forts out in the Scald - to some success, but not without some new scars of my own. I'll admit, it's hot out there - but all my time working over stovetops and ovens alike has tempered me against the heat.

There is something therapeutic about it all though. Something therapeutic about War. I'm sure Agaslakku smiles down on me as I write this. Fighting to protect my home - in the wake of such overwhelming grief. By the end of it, I'm too exhausted to feel anything.

——

It's been a week. Only a week, but so much has happened.

Grief. War. Hope.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm cursed to be alone.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm better off that way.

I'll open the restaurant soon - thanks to Zina. I don't know what she did, but she secured the Palm Heights property from Cogsworth. Sometimes I think she's actually a wizard.

Casa Manta.

That's what it will be called. Named after him, obviously. I just hope it honors his legacy.

[The rough sketch of a Palm Heights restaurant - a sign reads 'Casa Manta' in a flourished style.]

——

[The penmanship becomes noticeably loose.]

It's been a week. Only a week, and the Wheel turns like nothing.

I miss him. I've been missing him - and he shows back up only to go and - [A frustrated scribble.]

It's my fault.

I just couldn't step through that door, that cursed portal into that cursed realm.

Why? Why couldn't I...

I could have saved him, I should have been there - someone who loved him at his side. It should have been me, it should have - [The ink trails, several tear drops dry into the page.]

——

Who knows how long I wandered the wastes before I arrived here. Caravan to caravan, kitchen to kitchen.

It helps to be kept around when you can cook a decent meal. But that's all I was - a decent meal.

At least, until I met her.

My first friend here in the desert. She showed me a kindness I thought was lost to the ash - consumed by necessity and survival.

At least, [A marked hesitation] until it became more.

I'm thinking about her, about the time we spent together. I'd wonder how she's doing. I'd hope she found a place for her garden. I'd wish to see her smile again.

At least, if I didn't know better.

[A small splash dries into the page. A spilled drink, clear and astringent.]

I wonder if her and Manta have met yet. Would they know? Could they?

At least, I know I won't can't forget her.

——

[An ashy stain at the top of the page, brushed away just before burning.]

I'm smoking again. She'd hate that.

But she's not here to say anything about it.

It helps, and I'm feeling a bit more creative.

I've got a new candy recipe.

Something from a dream I had.

——

[The penmanship is a mess now.]

I miss you.

I can't stop thinking about you -
since he passed - all these
memories of you.

Of us.

Maybe it's the guilt.
The circumstance.
It's all too familiar.

I miss you.

——

It's late now.

[The rest of the page is blank.]

——

——

Nisah 9, 7789

How embarrassing. What a mess I made last night.

I started smoking again?
What was I drinking?

I can't fall into this again. Not now, not when there's so much to do. When it's all right there in the palm of my hand.

There are prizes on the horizon. Honors, titles, stipends. The culture of Ephia's Well - and I'll be it's Master Chef!

I've a name to make for myself and I'll be damned if I let that bitch her haunt me.

——

This new candy is good. And I mean it's good.

[A sticky fingertip shaped smudge stains the margin, orange-red sugar and spice residue lingers on the page.]

I went to taste it - a spark in my mouth as the spice coat melted away into the soft sweetness of the liquorice. I could feel a tingle in my finger tips and a sudden urge to run about.

Next thing you know, the whole batch was gone!

I need to be careful with these.

——

I was chatting with Haldar - he's absolutely enamored with Zina. In love even. I won't lie, I could feel the throes of jealousy creeping through my mind. To love, be loved.

He told me Ulfgrim and Baelerie got married.

How nice.

I'm happy for them. [The pen rests on the page, waiting to complete a thought.] Really.

There's some other exciting things, but I shouldn't write them down. I still don't know if Zina's a wizard or not.

Manijeh mentioned getting together, the three of us. I'd like that. I saw her name on the roster of the Gold League and she was walking with Dante - no surprise, with her working for Zina and all.

[The following text is scratched through and scribbled out, barely legible.]

We could be the Golden Girls. Or is that childish? Is three even enough to give a nickname? Do they even consider me a friend?

——

Dudley approached me in the Krak when I was talking with Haldar.

She mentioned a smith's guild in passing once. I told her I've got some experience forging and finishing knives - chef knives, butcher cleavers, pairing blades. I hadn't considered myself a smith - a chef certainly, and a chef should know everything about her tools!

She talked about meeting together, with Ulfgrim and Tryggvvi - to get this guild started proper.

I did help fix up some broken hammer - it wasn't as hard as I thought, and it came out pretty good.

I guess that makes me a smith.

One day I'll forge a knife fit for a Royal Chef.

——

[The loose penmanship begins again. The page is stained all over with sticky smudges and orange-red sugar spice.]

Fuck. This liquorice is good. I can't believe I came up with it in a dream.

I don't think she'd like it though.
She never had much of a sweet tooth.

Why would I call her a bitch?

It wasn't her fault.

It wasn't her fault
we got kicked out of that caravan.

Just because she said some things
to be spiteful.
Things I know she
didn't mean.

Just because she didn't have a chance
to apologize.
Because she couldn't
take it back.

Just because I was a bitch.

——

[The penmanship is even messier.]

I think she'd like my pretzels though.

——

——

Nisah 10, 7789

Again?

Get your shit together Ritz.

You know what you she did.

It doesn't matter anymore. This is your home now.

I had to wash the sheets this morning. I hope the Banda don't find out and charge me a cleaning fee -  I already cleaned it myself.

I can still taste the vomit. It tasted a lot better going in than coming out.

I don't think I have the stomach to take another bite, no matter how delicious addicting it is.

It's going straight to Manijeh now - she's been great at selling my lollipops so I know she'll have no problem moving the liquorice. It's expensive business, opening a restaurant.

——

I've got the menu for the grand opening figured out:

• Wyld Salad
• Chicken Vichyssoise
• Goat Liver Stew
• Blanquette de Hare
• Lion Chop Steak
• Citrus Crème Brûlée

[A few doodles of some of the dishes are drawn to the side of the list.]

I think I'll host a private dinner first. For the League, and everything they've done to make this dream come true.

Now to figure out the furniture. Wheel above, the furniture... It'll probably cost me more than the property!

I've still got lots of work set out for me.

Get your shit together Ritz.

——

I saw something today. It really inspired me.

I went off to this valley of black ichor - a terrible place, filled with terrible things. But at the peak of this mountain, there was this tender little sapling. Doing it's best to survive grow in this dark and destitute place, surrounded by this life sucking ooze.

It had me thinking of the Wyld. How tenacious she is, and despite all the darkness that surrounds us, there's still life and beauty. There's still room to grow.

Anyways, I feel like that little sapling. Shrouded in darkness.

I'm still alive. I'm still fighting. And I'm still growing.

[A little sketch of a sapling.]

——

I ran into Grenth when we returned from the valley. It was great to see him. He seems to be in good spirits, always looking forward. I admire that in him. He fills me with hope. I'm going to host a dinner for him and the Duunthall, a thanks for their efforts in the War.

And then there was a demonstration by Cogsworth for some boots he made! It was quite impressive really. Zina's the exclusive retailer and I got one of the last pairs! There's a waiting list now - I bet I could flip mine and get a new pair when they come in. I'll have to find out when that happens. Zina'll know. [A large star is doodled here, a reminder.]

Another batch of liquorice made - but I haven't found Manijeh yet. Why do I do this to myself? I can feel my mouth start to water when I look at them, even the sound of them rustling in my pack!

[The faintest smudge in the margin.]

——

——

[A page is torn from the journal.]

——

Nisah 11, 7789

Maybe if I write about her in a clear state of mind.

Maybe then, I can leave it all on these pages and finally forgive myself forget her.

I don't remember how long ago it happened. Months? A Year? It doesn't matter.

It feels like yesterday.

I do remember the first time I laid eyes on her - at that crowded, makeshift caravanserai - she was dancing. A crowd of drunks and sellswords, jeering and begging for her attention as they tossed coins and favors.

Gozan stood there. Towering over the improvised stage, playing that tune of his, on that lute that always looked too small for his fingers. His stare alone kept the lusting mob at length.

I remember the look on her face as our gazes met. That alluring smirk she flashed before returning to her routine. It caught Gozan's attention. And I was soon on the receiving end of that piercing glare.

Gozan.

Gozan Tor - that magnificent stonefolk.

I hope he can forgive me.

This is stupid- [The ink is smudged, still wet, as the journal slammed shut.]

——

I went to the War Council today. At least part of it. I stood next to Cort. Durgin and Ulfgrim were nearby, and then Cogsworth showed up. Cort said I looked nice.

I'm not sure why I went. I think I just wanted an excuse to wear that fancy outfit I bought months ago. It's not as if I have much to contribute to the War.

It sounds like things are going well. Too well, even. Apparently Q'Tolip himself made an appearance - that curse that Durgin 'released' actually comes from the lake. At least that's what I heard.

The Divan is beautiful though, I don't even have words. Sublime - it's in the name after all. But it was the smell. The smoke of cigars, pipe, and mizzar. Medjools - the fancy ones. The ones covered in honey and syrup. Perfumes I've never smelled before. All of these scents competing for space in this cavernous chamber. But the victor here -

The wet sand.

The massive tactician's map, taking up the other half of this cave. Large renderings of our Great Desert - landmarks and cities, fortifications and movements. All made of sand, stone, and ash. A place to plot the War, to discuss strategy.

A place to wet the sand.

——

The restaurant is coming along nicely. I'm going to need to work a payment plan with Zina. She's already giving me a discount on some second hand stuff.

And I still need more furniture!

[The doodle of a chair, a table, and another chair - it looks like they're dancing.]

——

[A charcoal sketch, painstakingly drawn with intimate detail - the portrait of a woman glancing over her shoulder. She meets your gaze, a sand kissed complexion, eyes that see you. A performative smile - but just for a moment, a break in character. A subtle curl in the lip, a flash in the cheek. Gone in an instant.]

——

[The penmanship is a mess.]

I swear I could smell her.
I swear I could smell it.

Smoke and perfume.
Wet sand.

Her.

Wet sand.

——

——

Nisah 12, 7789

[The penmanship trembles.]

I can't get out of bed today. I'm having the worst fever. The worst nightmares.

I'm in a kitchen. It's on fire, but it's okay. I'm cooking for a King.

It's time to take the dish out of the oven, but I can't open it. I try to turn it off, but it just gets hotter.

The door won't budge, and it's time to serve the main course. The kitchen is ablaze now, the oven begins to ooze.

I'm petrified.

It oozes and oozes - a thick, viscous liquid. Like blood and molasses. A screaming hiss as smoke and steam begin to escape. The oven's maw opens - and just before I can see what's cooking -

I wake up. Tossing, drenched, and shaking.

And then again. The same nightmare. Always a moment closer, but never in view.

——

I'm putting too much pressure on myself - if I were to seek any meaning from these dreams.

I feel better already. It's just my body telling forcing me to rest. All this cooking, these dreams, ambitions.

I can't let myself burnout. I shouldn't have eaten all that liquorice.

I'm just going to rest. I'm sure I'll feel much better in the morning.

——

[The penmanship is manic.]

Can't sleep.
Can't go back.

Did you leave the oven on?
You left the oven on.

You left the OVEN on!

——

——

Nisah 13, 7789

I feel much better this morning. Some dream I must have been having last night.

I met with Zina today. We've made an arrangement for some of the furniture. Should have it paid off sooner than later. Then after the election, a larger loan for the bar and the rest of the furniture I need.

Zina will make a great Legate.

That reminds me. I need to cast my primary. [A little star reminder.]

I met someone new today - he sold me a heavy bundle of coconuts! I can't believe it. I find one coconut, next thing you know I'm being gifted a bunch! I gave him the last of my coin, I hope it was enough. Once I make something with them, I'll be sure to give him one!

Oh. His name is Jan. I like that name. He was at the battle at Red Hill. I've only heard stories about it, and I think it happened not too long ago. Maybe the beginning of this war?

He said he just got back. I wonder how he survived. He looked very beat up. Blood worms in his arm. Now that I think about it, it looked like he was wearing Rose colors. Beat to all hell and back, but Rose colors nonetheless.

Then he said something terrifying. A meat tumor devouring the minds of the living and raising the dead under its control. It's out there and it's coming for the Well! Eventually.

He didn't make it seem very imminent.

[A weird sketch of a brain with a mouth and tentacles. A few crude zombies waltz around.]

——

I poked into the League meeting. It's settled. Zina is the Gold's candidate. Too much negative sentiment around Dante, he's not even putting himself forward. A smart move if you ask me. Then some stuff about Accord votes - but I had this nagging feeling that I left the oven on.

It wasn't.

I showed Grenth the restaurant, at least in it's current state. He's excited for me and is looking forward to it opening, maybe as much as I am. He's also planning to confront the thing that took his spark away. I'm hoping I can be there with him when it happens.

He asked me for some salty pretzel snacks. He wanted to give them out to Rhuk Nor and those fighting for the Well. I gave him a few of my steak pockets and the last of my pretzels.

I hope that Old Mine contract comes back to the board. I need some snake guts for my dough.

[A doodle of a pretzel.]

I'm keeping busy. Never enough dinar.

——

[Some sleepy penmanship follows.]

Worms in the kitchen.
Worms in the soup.

Worms in my brain.
Worms in my blood.

——

——

Nisah 14, 7789

It was pretty quiet around the Well when I woke up. It's so hard to tell the time out here in the desert.

I had the strangest dream though. Worms? Snakes? Must've been snakes because they did put up the Old Mine contract on the board again! I probably overheard them bellowing about it in my sleep. Good thing too, because I just ran out of dough for my pretzels.

[A little drawing of a dead snake - a slack tongue with x's in place of eyes.]

——

A productive day I think. Some priority work to defend the trade routes. A tribe of goblins waylaying caravans bound for the Well - we recovered some supplies for the War, and I found another of those rings that Cort's collecting. I gave it to him, since he let me have the one that had the precise aspect I was looking for.

Cort. Cort Cadugan.

I - [The pen lingers, hesitating, before retreating.]

He's a good man, and I'm quite fond of him.

It was going to be him, Zalka, and I heading off to the Old Mine. But then she said they wouldn't take her signature, after Cort and I signed the contract. He was mad about that. I thought she might not be able to read - and just didn't know that she had already signed that contract earlier in the day. So it was just me, Cort, and a dozen or so vials.

There wasn't much in the mine, but I've got all the guts I'll need for a month's worth of pretzel dough!

Oh, and then he told me Elara is running for the Gold in the primaries! She wasn't even at the meeting! I don't think it'll matter, I think the rest of the League is behind Zina.

——

[That familiar penmanship returns.]

Caravans. Who needs them anyways.

All they ever do is-
carry around mysterious treasure,
tempt people to commit arson
burn to the ground in freak accidents,
and murder the ones you love the most.

Yeah. Fuck caravans.

——

——

Nisah 15, 7789

[Flour residue and doughy smudges dot the page.]

So much dough. So many pretzels. I love my new oven. Of course, I still spend a bit of time over at Bert's. He's got one of the few water sources around the Well after all.

But the pretzels are coming out better than ever. I can't wait to finish up the rest of the kitchen and start making some proper dishes!

I probably need to think about hiring some help. A serving hand. A bouncer? A- [The pen lingers.] sous chef.

——

I found a book today. Some nonsense about how cooking is a gateway to brooking. What a load of shit.

There's been a lot of rumors going around about brooking.

Vilia - she was killed surrounding some [A hesitation in the ink.] curious circumstances. But they say there's been an ongoing investigation, and they found a hoard of Djinn marked boxes. I trust Rhuk Nor, and if he had evidence then I guess that's that.

Grenth - Cort said that he still followed the commands of a Djinn, even after he found out it was a Djinn. But I don't know about that. He's entirely devoted to Agaslakku, and I can't imagine him ever betraying the Axe like that.

Djinn are deceivers. Preying on people's most vulnerable thoughts and desires.

That's what happened to- [The thought is retracted.] At least that's what I've heard.

I suppose Grenth's unwavering devotion to Agaslakku made for an easy target. But that doesn't make him a brooker. I'm worried for him and whatever it might want from him. I hope I have it in me to stand by his side.

I have to forget about her. I can't be made an easy target.

——

[The manic penmanship returns, this time hurried and distressed.]

Try again. Try again. Try again.

You can't keep it in your head. It makes you vulnerable.

We met.
We loved.
We travelled.
She died.

No. That's not good enough.

All of it. You have to get all of it out.

Caravan to caravan.
Kitchen to kitchen.

She entertained. I cooked. Luxuries along the routes.

We were hired.
We were sought after.
We were successful.

We were so close.

Then it happened. Just like the stories. The job that's too good to pass.

Too good.

——

[The penmanship is frantic, barely legible.]

I shouldn't have gone snooping. But she shouldn't have listened to it.

Promises.

Promises in return for blood and fire.

First there was fire.
Then there was blood.

Why did she have to?
We were so close.

Why did I stop her?
She was so close.

She could have murdered that man
and she'd still be here.
But I stopped her.

So it took her instead.
No bargain to be half fulfilled.

Fire and blood.

And then a glimpse into the hellscape. A door left ajar.

I thought I heard her scream my name.

But there was so much blood. So much fire. She couldn't be.

So I ran.

As the entire caravan was engulfed in blasphemous hellfire.

I ran.

It might be my fault I found it.

But -

She did it.
She started it.
She listened to it.

Why didn't she listen to me?

I'm no brooker.

——

——

Nisah 16, 7789

Finally. Some rest.

Wheel above, I needed it. A quiet day for me. I have no idea what's been going on in the Well. Probably just politics.

I put my chip away and spent the whole afternoon in bed. What a luxury when it's not spent with a fever - and even then, the beds here in the Krak are a luxury of their own. At least when I think about where I'd have to sleep before.

I started to get a bit restless, so I went downstairs to check the board - some nasty pit was a priority, and it was open to everyone. I understood why as soon as we got there, truly an infestation of spiders and their kin.

Dante even decided to take a break from the politics to join us, I suppose he was having a quiet day too. We had plenty of magic to make it a quick and easy job - even with just me and Omi at the front.

Anyways, a nice quiet day for once.

——

——

Nisah 17, 7789

More cooking. More baking. I made some bread for the refugees. It's been too long since I've made some soup for them - but it's hard. I only have so much time and so much dinar. Let alone time to make dinar.

The restaurant is expensive. The taxes alone are just more than double the rent I pay for my room. Almost shy one thousand dinar a week for everything. Not to mention - the rent is due in the middle of the week, and the taxes at the end!!! [The exclamations descend into scribbles]

——

More refugees are showing up to the Well every day. Some more useful than others - but still, I wonder. Where are they coming from? Is this brain eating tumor monster closer than I think?

I wonder if he told anyone else. Because I haven't told anyone else.

——

I spoke with Zina at an odd hour. Convenient, but odd nonetheless. I paid her back as much as I could for the furniture. She's very generous.

It sounds like the election is stressful though.

People will believe what they want to.

It's unfortunate because I've never seen Sayburgh do anything except bellow on the winds. If she wins, we'll have two absentee Legates!

I can finally feed the refugees again - with Zina's charity, it frees time to make my soup. I've been so busy lately, with earning dinar to make the restaurant come true, that I haven't had the time for charity.

——

——

Nisah 18, 7789

Another night of actual rest. Something I needed for what's coming today.

Grenth is confronting the thing that took his spark. I don't know what to prepare for - I think it's best to prepare for anything and everything but I don't have enough coin for much more. Luckily I think I have enough.

I'm a little scared. If it's a Djinn, I-[The ink lingers.] I don't know. I don't know what I'd do. I don't want to run again. I can't run again. But I won't be alone. Grenth won't be alone. I just know we'll have most of the Well with us.

I better make sure I'm prepared.

——

It wasn't a Djinn. At least, I don't think it was one. Maybe it all really was a test from Agaslakku.

The Warrior. The Murderer. Two sides to every coin.

Just as the Wyld provides with her many bounties, so must her fields be toiled - and what was given must be reclaimed.

I wonder if it's my place to retell what happened. It was War - and I'm no warrior. Great battles against the Clans and the Sibilant. A temple - ancient beyond recognition.

Not all battles are won with force alone.

That's what it said - and it did not deceive us. In fact, it may have saved us with those words.

It wasn't a Djinn. I'm almost sure of it.

We almost lost Asherias and Haldar. I'm not sure when they went down, but we were able to bring them back, and thank the Wheel they were still alive. I was so worried - what would I tell Zina. And Asherias - [A thought unfinished.]

I'm exhausted. It's hot, and I think I'll take advantage of these restful nights while I can.

——

——

Nisah 19, 7789

It's been three weeks. Almost three weeks, and it's happened again.

[A lone teardrop stains the page.]

Oh Grenth. You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve to die like that. Not after everything. Stabbed in the back and tossed down a chasm - hidden and hoped to never be found.

The fucking scum.

You deserved the Warrior's death. Bathed in flame and valor. I'll do everything to make sure you get the Warrior's rites.

Tonight I pray to the Wroth. I pray the spirit of vengeance finds the coward. I pray they gouge his eyes out. I pray they sever his tongue and deafen his ears. I pray a cold black existence befalls him - no light, no warmth.

Because that is what he took from this world, what he took from me. Because death is a mercy undeserved.

——

[Exhausted scribbles - hints of ash, dry blood, and dog hairs can be found scattered and stained about the page.]

The howling. The damned howling.

Suddenly everyone cares that I'm smoking.

It's not good for you.
You shouldn't do that.

Fuck them.
It helps.

Silencing the dogs helped too.

Haldar and I.
Just Haldar and I.

We wet the sands in his name.

It helped.

——

[A familiar penmanship returns.]

The Murderer.

Tonight I pray to The Murderer.

I pray for spilt blood.

I pray for malicious fire.

I pray to find the murderer.

——

——

Nisah 20, 7789

I have no more tears. No more feelings.

I can't let anyone get close to me. I can't let myself get close to anyone. If I do they'll die.

It happened to her, and it's misfortune. To Manta, a coincidence. But to Grenth - I'm cursed.

I'm so sorry. It's my fault If I had known.

——

I met some new faces.

I could hear the new jobs being posted on the board - so I went downstairs to check.

Luther was appraising a would be Recluta. Didn't get his name. Big sword. Bit slow.

Nela - A proclaimed Speaker for The Wyld. Nice enough, only a day in the Well. She'll get along nice enough.

Nox - A peculiar priest of the Martyrs. There was something about him. I felt- [There's hesitation in the ink.] something. He could feel something too.

I walked them to the garden shrine, we tended the flowers. It was nice. I could feel something again.

——

[The manic penmanship appears again.]

Embers to flames.
Embers to flames.

Flames that bring light and warmth.

Flames that scorch and rebuke.

Flames to fire
Flames to fire

Fire that inspires compassion.

Fire that spurns the wicked.

There will be Fire.

——

——

Nisah 21, 7789

[There is lethargy in the penmanship.]

I must have slept all day again. The sun looked to be rising when I finally fell asleep. Now it's dark again.

Most of my waking hours these last days have been in the dark.

Alone.

I have to be alone.

I'll go make some pretzels for the refugees. I can do that alone.

——

[Manic scribbling ensues, cigarette ash and ember stain the page.]

The sun's coming up.

He's watching me. He knows.

The murderer. I know it.
I know his name.

He left things for me. He mocks me.

A confession?
A trap.

The Sister knows.
She told me his name.

It's him. That's why the candies-[A scribble interrupts the thought.] the candies never last that long.

He scares them away.
He eats my food.

Rhuk knows.
He calls his name.

The murderer.

But there's more.
More that can't be penned to page.

That dream.
It wasn't worms.
It wasn't snakes.
It was wyrms.

The sun's up now.

——

[Near illegible scratchings.]

He knows.

He watches.

The Murderer.

——

——

Nisah 22, 7789

[Something lingers in the penmanship, hungover.]

I need to keep busy. I've slept all day again. I can't let my thoughts engulf me. I can't be vulnerable.

My mind is aflame. Anger, vengeance, grief, despair. It clouds my thoughts. I have more important things to think about. The longer I linger here, the more I bleed. The little I'm able to get out of bed for isn't enough to pay for the restaurant, let alone the necessities.

And despite everything. Despite all these thoughts swirling about in my head - there she is. The eye of the storm. The stillness among the chaos.

That self assured smirk of hers. What does she know now?

She always knew then.

When Gozan went missing, she knew. When that smuggler was going to skip out on paying us, she knew. When I wanted to tell her how I felt, she knew.

But that night- [There's a hesitation in the ink.] she didn't know.

So what could she possibly know now.

——

[The penmanship is calm again.]

Catharsis.

I can't put it into words beyond that, but I feel it.

I ran into Dandrik first thing after waking up - he was able to bring back a chest from what I assume was one of the Many Vaults. And by chest I mean the corpse of a mimic. Fascinating things. He was wondering if I had any ideas - being of a craft and all.

I don't know much about mimics, but it looked like a big one. You'd certainly need to know your way around furniture to make something of it. I recommended he speak to the Hakem. Yogi told me he was a bit of builder himself, looking to find harmony between civilization and the Wyld. Here I was, making assumptions that all Kulamet were herbalists and gardeners.

At least my foolishness could point Dan in the right direction for his mimic sculpting as he called it.

The board hadn't changed yet, I don't know why I even look. I haven't taken a job since Grenth died before we set for the Scald.

——

But I'm glad I looked. I nearly bumped into him - he was standing at the base of the stairs, right next to the board. Writing in a journal.

The Twindari priest - Witness Noxieos.

He carried a tome - The Book of the Dead, he called it. Not as sinister as it sounds. A book of remembrance, in reverence to Kalim.

I told him of Manta - he asked me to speak of him, so that he could record Manta's legacy in the tome. I thought it would honor his memory and, maybe selfishly, bring me some peace.

Selwyn overheard - I saw them peak around the steps and frown. I tried to convince them to come with me, and speak to Manta's legacy. After all, they were much closer to him than I was. It didn't go well - I offended them. I need to apologize. [A big star reminder.]

I worry about Selwyn. Nox asked me "Who worries about Ritz?" It was hard to answer. The only people who I could think of that would worry about me are dead. He said he would worry for me.

I spoke with the Witness for some time. I gave him my memories of Manta, and it was recorded in The Book of the Dead. I made sure there was still room for Selwyn's testimony.

And then there was call for a trial.

——

Nox mentioned his duty to study the laws of this land and mentioned his desire to witness this trial - no doubt in service to Gamil.

Murder.

Luther, Melody, Wigs - the Banda. Accused of murdering him.

I'll admit - I was filled with joy to hear that Luther had killed him.

But who hired the Banda to kill him - to tie up loose ends.

And then there was politics. Levying fines and retracting Voices.

No good deed goes unpunished.

Cort showed up at the end. But he didn't miss much. I saw him at the Krak afterwards. I wanted t- Then the sun started to come up.

——

[Half-conscious penmanship appears.]

He listened.

He answered.

The Murderer.
The Wroth.
The Wyld.

All met their justice upon the wicked.

The wicked called upon by the evil.

The evil that is yet to be known.

He knows.

He watches.

[A little scribble at the bottom of the page.]

How did she know?

——

——

Nisah 23, 7789

It's here. The Sublime Bank.

Manijeh announced her new station at the head of The Office of Public Accounts, overseeing the re-established Sublime Bank. I'm glad to hear her voice over the bellows. I was beginning to worry.

I completed my application last night. Or was it this morning? Sometime before I could rouse myself fully. I slept all day again, I hope I filled it out correctly.

——

I don't feel as- [The pen ponders a thought.] hopeless today. As much as there are still those responsible for Grenth's murder, justice has been cast on the murderer. Soon enough the cowards and conspirators will be met with their own.

But today - there's hope. I've been thinking about my conversation with Witness Nox. What would Manta think, what would Grenth think - what would she think - if they saw me like this.

To honor them is to keep living, keep moving forward - to acknowledge their sacrifice, to embody their legacies, to inspire others - so that their memories can live on through me.

——

I saw Jan again. It was brief, he gave me an old pack of smokes from an old friend of his. The pack's stained with blood something. I feel bad taking them, but he just tossed me the pack. I think I'll just hold on to these ones for a while.

Still - everyone's still giving me cigarettes. Did I sound that desperate? Am I that desperate?

I talked to Witness Nox again. He asked if I worshiped any of the Spokes - I told him of my devotion to the Wyld. We talked about the other Spokes, the Wheel, the Synod. Talked of the other Speakers and things I won't writ-

I gave him an old Kulamet robe I'd found a few weeks back, a show of my gratitude for his wisdom. Though he's a Twindari, I thought he would appreciate a priest's robes. He was very grateful. But then he realized the boots he was wearing snagged the hem of the robe - he decided to forgo the boots. "For now" he said. I think he was just being polite.

Or maybe he wanted to walk with the Wyld for a time. I think he's going to be an important figure in the Synod soon.

Soon enough.

——

[Manic, frightened penmanship.]

Is it a threat?

Veiled knowledge of my suspicion.
Whispered but known.

Is it him?

A mangled, unrecognizable corpse.
Strewn and severed.

Is it an offering?

A trophy to be consumed.
A gift from The Murderer.

——

——

Nisah 24, 7789

A curious thought to welcome the demon's gaze. How many days now have I slept through til the night? Three? Four.

I caught Selwyn on my way down from my room. I apologized to them. "Under the rug" as they put it. I hope that means they forgive me. It was nice to see the Krak bustling with life. The lonely echoes no more. Jan was taking a lesson from Peter - teachings of the Warrior. It sounded like he was keen to be baptized an Agasian.

And then there was a call for work - a few jobs out in the Ashways. Harpies, trogs, the like. It was good work. I met more new faces. A man of the wastes - Spinesplitter, his name escapes me but that was mentioned of his old tribe, or at least once was - and there was another warrior too. Then the Musafir, Antethe - a Speaker of the Wanderer - the one who found Grenth, according to the testimony at Luther's trial. Ramez was with us too.

And then there was the Sorceress - who is, or was, called Sutton. There was something about her. Him? Them? I can't place it, but there was something.

Once we returned, there was War. War to be waged in honor of his memory. I'm no healer, but I doused water among those fighting with me. In honor of his legacy.

——

He got my note, but they've muzzled him. His hands are tied and there's nothing he can do. I'm not sure I trust anyone else at the 4th. I'll have to stay vigilant, at least until I can figure out who put that in the bins.

I also got a letter from the Bank about my grant application. A meeting request to discuss further with Manijeh. It was good to see and talk with her again. I almost ruined it with my bellowing last night. Luckily there was nothing out of the ordinary today, still some leftover soup - whatever whoever is out there, spooking the refugees, is still there.

But! My application was approved! I'm honored to be the recipient of the very first grant from the Sublime Bank. It's going to go a long way in getting back to feeding those in need.

I was able to get my recipes finalized for tomorrow's cook off. These dishes hold a special place in my heart, and I hope I'm able to capture a bit of their legacies in them.

[A drawing of two loafs - one engulfed in flames, the other shaped like a fish.]

——

I was just able to catch the Musafir before her Four-Wheels-Rounding rites. Witness Nox, Claudia, Nela, Faith and I all walked the Wanderer's path with her. The Scald - where Witness Nox erected a small monument to Kamil. And then to Frostport - where we climbed the Vanarod.

No coincidence I think - places that remind me of the ones I lost. The flames of the Scalding pyre - the last time I saw Grenth whole again. The shivering air and snow of Frostport - the wicked ice of Vae Mojem, where Manta perished.

And then the caravanserai- [The thought wants to complete itself, but doesn't.]

I found myself struggling to keep up, a long day. It'll do me good to get some sleep with the rest of the world. I'll spend the night here, at the caravanserai.

——

[Some sleepy penmanship.]

I can feel you here.

Just like we used to.
The crackle of the campfire,
the night's breeze.
Looking to the stars,
lying together.
The comfort of furs and throws,
sleeping in the sands.

I can feel you again.

——

——

Nisah 25, 7789

It was quite jarring, waking up in that camp. I was stirred by the sweetest old lady - she offered me tea and mentioned some shady men whispering and glancing over at me while I overslept.

She also told me I was mumbling in my sleep, tossing and turning. I was so embarrassed - I tried to offer her some coins for the tea and the warning, but she wouldn't take it.

It was a quick walk home - Cog's spring boots made the Lover's Gap a breeze. I saw some orcs and dune raiders skirmishing about the bend, but I was already on my way.

Time to get ready for the cook off - so much to do!

——

A prefect score! My "Loaf of the Flamebringer" - first place with thirty points!

I even did the final preparations live in front of everyone. I was nervous before - but then my poor little kitchen cart started falling apart. I don't think anyone noticed, and I was still able to get everything done quite heroically - if I do say so myself.

I should talk to Cogs about repairing and updating the cart. But maybe after the restaurant is open.

Bashir needed a model for his dress, so I offered - it was a beautiful dress. [There's a note in the margins "mangoes" - accompanied by a little star reminder.] I might buy it if I can save enough. But he paid me, which was nice. I was able to make a little more progress on the restaurant.

——

Luther's selling his helmet. The Darkhelm - probably just a fucking bucket painted black.

I found this Magnus person. Not what I was expecting. An old man, but he was spry and able. He has a tonic, but not what I was looking for. He did confirm Luther was hired though, but that's not news.

Sayburgh had an assassin come after her in the Krak. I don't know how to feel about that. I wouldn't wish her dead, despite what I think about her politics. Doesn't matter, she's got the Banda protecting her anyways.

I don't know how to feel about a lot of things lately. I feel hopeless nothing again. Why? Things were just starting to look up, today was good. I should find Witness Nox again. I guess I'll just sleep in the meantime - tomorrow Durgin gives Grenth his rites.

——

[That familiar penmanship returns again.]

The helmet. I need it.
For the rest of him.
And then the weapon.

Together, The Murderer.


Until then - why?

Why do they die,
and I become rich.

Her - and I'm here, home and Voiced.

Manta - and I've a reputation and a restaurant.

Grenth - and I've grants and prizes.

Why? What did I do?

——

——

Nisah 26, 7789

I am in awe of Agaslakku.

Grenth - the Flamebringer. Magnificent flames that measured the walls of Got Valdazhr. Avatars of light, fire, and warmth appearing in the pyre - protecting us, emboldening us.

I offered a last meal to the flames - the same dish I gave him before his trials, "just in case." If only I had known. I might have stayed longer after his victory, I might have served him a greater feast.

I even saw one of Kula's angels - with my own eyes! A gryphon - carrying Aeronwy on its back and into battle. In a state of cursed fear - my guardian angel. Her Its marvelous wings, protecting me. He- Its razor talons, tearing through the orcs. Wyld watch over me.

There was a moment I went down though - unconscious. I saw Ulfgrim - and then I was back on my feet. Grenth was Was Grenth there too? I didn't see him, but I could feel him.

There was much said, and many deeds witnessed. I'm glad we had a priest of the Martyrs with us. Witness Noxieos - I saw him linger over the embers at the end. The Warrior's rites and a song from The Twins to see him down the banks of the Edutuu.

I will always be glad to have witnessed this.

——

I spent some time with Cort - hanging around the Well, some jobs on the board. I was working at least, Cort was just hanging around the Well. Dante made Luther "apologize" for a pardon. I didn't need to hear any of that - he already sold the helmet to Manijeh anyways.

I made some more progress on the restaurant. But there's still more to do. It is coming along nicely though. I just need to find a solution for cleaning the rug every day.

There was a battle of wits and rhymes in the Krak today. Linlett and that Soldier Hans. Lieutenant Colmes showed up, and I went over to the garrison to report the stuff I found in the boxes. He heard me out at least - it looked like he was taking notes. But- [A defeated thought lingers in the ink.] it's just rumor and happenstance. It doesn't point to anything. Just dreams and feelings.

And when I got back to the Krak - they were still going at it! Linlett won in the end, you could tell she's done this before. Cort was good company.

——

[Sleepy penmanship ensues.]

The Murderer.

In the pyre.

I saw the flames.
The same in the Scald.

I need to know more.
I need to know Him.

He knows.

The Murderer.

——

——

Nisah 27, 7789

It was an early morning. Errands around the Well. Lieutenant Colmes called for me down at the garrison. He had some follow up questions for me, and took the evidence. He brought up Selwyn and Cort - he's concerned about the association. I am too.

I had a some flowers made for the restaurant. They're nice - and add a little of the Wyld's touch. It's starting to look like a proper restaurant, the election is almost over. I'll be able to open soon.

Dudley helped me move some furniture, she got a sneak peak at the restaurant for it. She's still looking for a worthy refugee to claim her offer of a Voice and a merchants license. She's very strong - seeing her carry all that furniture, she even managed to run with it! I'd like her to carry me-

——

A decent day of work, taking advantage of the upper board while I still can - barring any accidents - I'm not sure they'll let me sign for them much longer.

I need to talk to Zina soon. As much as I know Zina's the best candidate - I just want this election to be over. I do hope she wins though.

As I've been trying to make Casa Manta a reality - I've been able to add a few mementos and some memorabilia I have of him. I even found the dress he designed and bought me. I took the colors and dyed it to my own outfit - I'm going to keep the dress at the restaurant, something to decorate the shelves with.

——

[Some barely legible scribbles.]

Soon.

Many things, soon.

[The rest of a blank page.]

——

——

Nisah 28, 7789

Finally. It's over.

Zina didn't win. Unfortunately. But I think the Rose needed Sayburgh to win. And they've got resources. Not that Zina doesn't - but she's just one woman!

Anyways, I'm glad it's over. Though it did get me thinking. I spoke with Durgin a bit, he gave me some perspective. I should try to be more conscious - these things affect more people than I think. And then later Sister Selsi- [A moment of thought lingers on the page.] Amelie Selsi. Narwen was there too. Perhaps I've been too quick to judge.

——

Some board work with Witness Nox - he got his Voice now too. We were talking about goals for a bit. Taking his grand and vague ideas of honoring The Martyrs and studying The Law - and turning them into digestible goals. Like continuing the work on his Book of the Dead or becoming a Magistrate.

More new faces. Everyday there's new faces - but I guess I can't be too surprised.

I did leave some nicer meals for the refugees - it's a celebration for some after all, and I'm imagining all the needy she's promised to uplift are having quite the time celebrating.

——

[Some loose penmanship follows.]

Legates.

Promises.

Legates make promises.

Them.

Promises.

They make promises.

——

——

Nisah 29, 7789

Another day of sleepless nights. Or is it another night of sleepless days?

Another day of waking to the stars.

The damned howling again.

A tenacious pack tonight - but nothing that couldn't be handled. Magnus, a Nadiri, and I. What was her name - I know I've seen her around.

I must say, fighting with this- [A brief hesitation.] skewer - a dragon's foil it's called? It's pretty nice. It's especially easy to stab things where it hurts. A wonderful gift from Witness Nox that I'll treasure for some time.

I should talk to Magnus again. He speaks of The Axe. As much as there are many Agasians - it's always The Warrior. I know enough of The Warrior! Victory, war, honor. Noble things. I need to know more about The Axe. More about The M—

——

I heard a rumor - and I can only pray it's not true. The Nadiri mentioned it - Manijeh might have disappeared. I hope that it's just another escapade of hers, and that she'll be back in no time. Of course she will. [The pen lingers after finishing the thought, disbelief in its own words.]

Maybe Zina will know where she put it.

Speaking of - I hope I can find her soon. I'm so close to being able to open the restaurant. I just need that bar and some final touches!

And then to clean up and organize the kitchen. And a few more chairs. And then wine to stock the bar. And to hire someone I can trust. And then- [The writing comes to an abrupt stop.]

Just the final touches.

——

[Some manic penmanship.]

Water the garden.

It's time to water the garden.

The toil has finished - and now we tend.
Soon the harvest - and then we reap.

But now we water the garden.
We wet the sands.

The sands are
thirsty.

And they crave
blood.

——

——

Nisah 30, 7789

I woke up to howling again. Damned dogs.

It was deja vu. I can't even remember who I was with. The same howling. The same cries. The same blood. Everything felt the same.

I can't even remember who I was with. I think Cort was there? Selwyn?

Oh Selwyn.

I have a feeling they aren't too happy with me being friendly with Cort. They think I'm trying to match with him "for whatever reason." I can't don't even like him like that.

Once I got back, the board clerk told me "no more upper board for you!" The bastards. But, it's a bit of a rite of passage I suppose. Just means I'm earning a reputation. I can always take those relaxed jobs I guess.

——

A triumph for the War effort today. A Titan down, a fortress left in flames, and a stalwart defense of the camp. I was tasked with launching the flares, Aurelio showed me how and gave me direction. He said I did a good job, but there were some groans of friendly fire when we returned to camp. I did have a little trouble, but I think I did OK.

By the end of it all, we found five prisms! Luther was a bit upset he didn't have a chance to cast dice for one - I guess he didn't hear me when I said we had five of them. I gave him mine. Jan didn't want me to, said I earned it and Luther missed his chance. But Luther knows what he did, and I owe him for that.

Marcellus requisitioned some new leathers for me. It's quite nice, and certainly more suitable for War. I'm just not used to wearing a skirt! I hate the way it makes my thighs look. I guess proper armor isn't supposed to be flattering.

——

A lot happened. There's a brooker in the Well. I shouldn't write any of it down.

[The rest of the page is left blank.]

——

[Familiar sleepy penmanship follows.]

Can't sleep.
I can still hear the howling.
But they're dead.

I killed them all.
The sand wet
with their blood.

I thought I heard her again.
Screaming in the wind.
But she's dead.

So much blood.
The sands were drowning
in her blood.

And then the fire consumed.

——

——

Nisah 31, 7789

Something happened last night. A storm unlike any other - almost like something else was causing it. Some people banded out against it. I'm sure I'll found out more about it sooner than later.

There was some companion duels this morning - dogs, spiders, elementals. It was quite entertaining. Jan was on a losing streak with his bets, I cut him some slack on a double or nothing. Obviously the dog was going to lose to Cog's animated halberd. But it was a magic dog - at least when it fought Luther's ghost spider! That was funny to see his reaction, a little bruising of the pride.

It's good to stay humble. I need to remind myself sometimes, especially now that I have a bit of a reputation. Dueling sounds fun though, maybe Luther can teach me a thing or two. I'd let him teach me a thing or-

I passed Cort as he was heading out to deal with the spider nuisance. He mentioned something about goblins after. Thronging. I might have blushed a touch. I hope I didn't come across- [The pen hesitates.] no, of course not.

——

I'm still a bit uncomfortable in the armor. It's nice, but it's hard getting used to a skirt like that. I still have my old outfit - maybe I'll just keep the armor for War. A new helmet might be nice.

[A drawing of a simple helmet with a single spike atop.]

[Another drawing - of a chef's hat.]

I spent some more time with Cort. We took care of those goblins. Asherias came with us. Nox, Gio and Baelerie too. I was teasing him a bit. He wants to see if there's a market for the slug- [A pause, looking for an appropriate word.] slime. It's more of a-

A productive day. Rent's paid and I've some coin in my pocket. I hope Zina returns from her trip soon.

I even cooked up a new idea. I can't wait for someone to taste it. I think Cort will like it.

——

[The manic penmanship returns.]

I think she'd like him too. I think Gozan would be wary - but he'd warm up.

I know she'd like Selwyn. I think Gozan would mistake them for a fennec.

I still have more friends now than ever.

I hope.

——

[The penmanship devolves into scribbles.]

Blood and fire
Blood and fire

A chef's best friend

Blood and fire
Blood and fire

A cook's worst nightmare

——

——

Iyar 1, 7789

A busy day ahead. I'm surprised how rested I feel.

A few new faces about the Well. I didn't catch their names. A dwarf I'd seen once or twice before, the Witness knows him. And two women - one more confident. The other like a lost hound.

They were going about some minor tasks - I offered them some coin if they could bring me some jelly for my lollipops. A decent haul from them. Could still use some more jelly though.

Meanwhile the ashfolk acolyte was collecting signatures - for distinctions of Voiced and Voiceless to be removed from the Law, and lowering the cost of a Voice.

For the first assembly under the new Legate.

There was a call to the Tower - an audition - a special team to see to the "Containment Procedure" at the Lake. Seeking strong willed volunteers. They tested us with fearing magic and doom. I can't believe they could have killed me.

"All under control" they said. But still - what if it wasn't. Jan panicked when he saw the curse pulse. Shoved a crystal in my hands. Saved my life he might have. I gave him the horn I had - enchanted to keep the mind clear. Hopefully it will help to keep the incomprehensible nightmares at bay.

——

We set off to aid the Accord camp - Cort, Selwyn, the Sister, Melody and one of the Soldiers too. The orcs have been sending small warbands to test our defenses as the rest of our forces push towards Bet Nappahi.

During the skirmish, I came upon one of their champions in single combat. A curious blade. Antique even. [The pen pauses, deciding to conclude the thought.]

Then they returned. Most of them. That poor Nadiri. Anilia. Anilia Antipode. The same from the other day - how awful that I couldn't remember her name. And now- [A hesitation.] she's gone.

"It was bad." Jan said. He seemed unnerved. More than usual.

Vaporized. Undone. Made into mist. It sounded bad.

She was bright. Enthusiastic about her work and research. A shame she came to her end. I hope that she might have died doing what she loved. And I pray that it might have been painless.

There wasn't much time for memorial. The frontline was advancing. There was only time for War.

The orcs are stronger here, as we approach the final siege. Their magic more sinister. Several times my own wards stripped from me. Black voids tearing at reality. Cort went down at the peak, a vicious last stand by the holdouts. Thank the Wyld he was alright. I shouldn't- I can't get any closer. He might- [The ink halts, a thought unwritten.]

——

I knew it. A vindictive hypocrite. So much for Asterabadi democracy. Voices for everyone but don't use it to vote Gold. Lest they seize your property and punish you for participating.

The assembly as a whole was a farce. A Banafsi envoy showed up - questioning the whereabouts of one of their Soldiers? Officers? The look on his face as he realized Komemnos had him fed to the lions. I will admit - he has my respect for his resolute frankness in detailing the account.

It wasn't until I stepped away when I'm told that they discussed - with enthusiasm - opening the voter rolls to find and punish those who voted for Zina. Seizing their property and levying fines. And the compromise to the absurdity? Stealing the Emporium, among other properties, from Zina.

I hope she comes back soon.

——

[Exhausted and frightened penmanship scribbles about the page.]

Nightmares.

Incomprehensible nightmares.

Doom.

He's dead.
That blade.
Antique and bloodied.

I can't stop it.
I'm too close.

The blood.

It's everywhere.
On my hands.
In my hair.

Everywhere.

——

[Near illegible scribbles.]

I can't sleep.
Nightmares.

I won't.

I won't see him
like that.

——

——

Iyar 2, 7789

I stayed the night - and most of the day - in the restaurant. I won't let them take it from me. They'll have to kill me.

I didn't get much sleep though. Nightmares again. I think Cort was in them?

Nobody's come though.

Yet.

I had to get out, I couldn't stay cooped up. Just in time to catch a group headed out to see to some bandits waylaying the caravans again. Claudia was there. And Maqqari? Dandrik?

Bandits. If you could even call them that. As disorganized as ever, and hardly the lot of them. Things were just starting to feel therapeutic - and then they were all dead.

I thought I recognized one of them. One of the younger ones - always waiting for me when I went to drop off some of my soup. That look in his eye, I think- [There's some hesitation.] he recognized me too. And then his skull was caved in by a particularly zealous swing of a mace.

I hope it wasn't him.

——

It's happening.

Katya - volunteering a shift at the Emporium. She's not even one of Zina's clerks. And she wouldn't answer Cort's questions about where the sales were going.

Luckily we were able to save most of the valu-

If it's true - I hope they have the decorum to return her belongings.

I doubt they do.

Cort filled me in on a few more things. Many of the Voices she sponsored and funded voted against her. Betrayed from all sides. First, the Serene who baptized her as her own - only to abandon her as soon as the politics began. And then, those who would benefit from her generosity.

Traitors and hypocrites.

——

[Loose penmanship appears, cigarette ash stained across the page.]

What do I do?

What do I do?

Run?
Fight!
Murder.

What do I do?

——

——

Iyar 3, 7789

"New policy" - that's what Luther said when he searched me this morning. At least he was polite enough to ask first. He said the old antique sword I found was on the Balladeers list or something like that. It's just an old sword - he didn't say anything about that though. I shouldn't be carrying any of this around.

He was surprisingly delicate though.

I spoke with the Witness again. First about my fears - the results of this election, the assembly, my safety. He was reassuring - telling me that as long as I'm not alone, that I can show the good I do for the Well - that I would be safe. He's right. Cort, Milo, Cogs - we're all in this together. There's no room for redemption in the Well - you are what they assume. I need to open the restaurant.

I've been conflicted. Grenth's murderer is dead - but the conspirators are still out there. I asked about the Twin's justice - and when that fails, what of the Wroth's? There was less- [A moment to ponder.] confidence in his voice. There was something said - "Slip through the grasp of the Martyrs" that sometimes evil may not meet the Twin's justice. But I think they cannot escape the Wroth - the vengeance. I should seek a priest of the Eighth. I still need to know more about The Murd-

——

Nox was able to procure a bar for me - and at a fraction of the price Zina was going to charge. The restaurant is all but finished now, at least the front of house is. Time for the final preparations, and then planning the grand opening.

I've heard word that Zina won't be returning - and by extension, Haldar too. It's not safe for her. I understand, and I hope the two can live out their lives in peace. Manijeh too - no word from her. I hope she's at least safe. I'll need to find new funding for my charity meals. Hopefully the restaurant will be successful enough to enable that - I should talk to the Sisters soon.

I have fewer friends now - fewer close to me. Perhaps for the best. But the loneliness, it makes me vulnerable.

——

I spent time working the boards with Cort. First the goblins - their incessant thronging. The need to keep their numbers in check is important to keep the Well safe. The last thing we need is another threat with the War nearing its climax.

Then it was time to investigate a missing Sandstone expedition. One of the Many Vaults. The poor souls didn't make it far - but there was quite the treasure to be found.

The Pyramid has been quick to act. New laws - apostasy and blasphemy. Anti-Dome and Modini edicts. Hypocrites. What of the refugees they care for oh so much. Those fleeing the sinking city. The Well is not welcome for all anymore.

——

[Manic penmanship scribbles about the page.]

It's mine now. In my possession.

The Darkhelm.

What now?
What has it seen?
Who does it know?

The Murderer knows.

Offer and ask.

Simply offer and ask.

——

——

Iyar 4, 7789

More sleep and little rest. It's a wonder I'm able to do anything at all.

Some more work for the Sandstone College. Vae Moj Dilimb Zuen. What could they be looking for in such a cursed place like that. The poor souls consumed by shadow. It was a nightmare, a maze of darkness and despair.

And then- [The ink is apprehensive.] brookers. They wore Rose cloaks, not anyone I'd seen before. True apostates. A djinn of fire. Then a door left open - a portal to their realm.

——

I knew it! I can't believe it, but I knew it. Twenty percent! Taxes increased to twenty percent!

They won't take it from me - so they resort to these backhanded, tyrannical practices. "Voiced and homeless" that's what Cort said. That's what they want. All I can do is work harder - I won't let them put me down. Not after I've put so much of myself into this place. After I've bled for this place.

It's not just about me either - anyone who calls Ephia's Well home. Suffering for all in an attempt to bleed the "gluttons" and the wealthy. As if I'm either of those things.

——

[That loose penmanship appears.]

Deja vu.

Familiar feelings in an unfamiliar place.

I thought I heard her again.

Through the door ajar.
She called for me.

It couldn't be.
Deceivers.

She's dead.
Her blood in the sands.

Dead.

Is she?

——

——

Iyar 6, 7789

Where did the days go? Already the sun rises. Is it the 7th now then?

Two days gone.

I stumbled back to my room. My room. For how much longer, we'll see. I saw Cort, and Aurora, standing outside the Apothar's room. Selwyn was meeting with them. Cort looked a little worried - they were whispering.

[A conflicted hesitation.] Good.

I can't be the reason he dies get too close.
We were talking about the League. A proper meeting soon. I think Aurora wants to run. I won't lie - it's crossed my mind. But then to have to work with Sayburgh.

I'd rather eat sand.

——

Some decent work during these twilight hours. Cort, Claudia, Dante - Magnus, and an elf I'd never seen before. Raylin? I think was his name, a Sandstone student.

Before we set off, Sayburgh was floating back and forth between the bellows and the Priory - she didn't even look at me. The snake. She doesn't care about anyone - just amorphous ideas. "Refugees" "Needy" - but me? Individual people? She can't even look me in the eye as she tries to take everything I've worked so hard for.

And on our return? A call to charge Dante and Manos for Apostasy. What a load of shit! As if either of them have even attempted to convert a Wheel faithful. I've never even so much as heard Dante talk about the Dome.

Nonetheless, Dante was quite encouraging during our work. Some sage advice to Cort and I - not to sacrifice ourselves for this place. Maybe he's right. Maybe he's not. But the point being - a Pyramid so willing to overlook my own contributions and see to it that I struggle, perhaps it's best not to give more of myself.

For now.

——

[Some sleepy penmanship appears.]

More nightmares.

Fire
Blood
Death

What does it mean.

——

——

Iyar 7, 7789

The Well's been abuzz today. Preparations. Some whispers of a march forward in the War. Dante's words ring in my ear. Sacrifice. Does he know something?

During all the bustle, I found Baelerie. Cort was wondering about the armory. If it was by choice or not. It was Durgin's idea - to make use of an empty hall as the Duunthall's ranks dwindled.

I spoke with Idrees in the Souk - he seems to be doing well enough. He asked me to join the League of Purple. I don't think he knew I was a member of the Gold. But it seems we're in agreement regarding the current government.

——

[A few tear drops dot the page, the penmanship is shaky.]

So many. So many of them - dead. Sacrificed. If I hadn't heeded Dante's warning, would I be among them?

The Well is a different place now. Everything is different now.

——

[The loose penmanship returns.]

Sacrifice.

There will always be Sacrifice.

Willing or not.

——

——

Iyar 8, 7789

The War Council convened today. I don't know why I go.

There was news of a creature - a great beast - tortured and experimented upon by the Clans. It's cries heard in the night. Bronze grafting of the flesh - like the blasphemy of Qa'im. This poor beast - flesh rend from body, springing forth dogs of molten bronze and muscle.

Talk of freeing it, exploiting it - using it against the Clans. But there's only one solution - the Wyld's mercy - an end to it's suffering.

I couldn't bother staying for the rest.

——

[Some manic penmanship.]

Howling.
Deep. Resonate.
Howling.

It keeps me awake.

Is that what I'm hearing?

——

——

Iyar 9, 7789

A funeral. Is it a funeral if there's no body?

Marcellus Saenus - Unifier, Legate, Warrior, Librarian. The man had many titles, but through and through he truly was Ephian.

I didn't know him well but we fought alongside in work and War. An inspiration, and a leader. Rest his soul, if not his remains.

A bizarre speech from the Legate Komemnos. Claims of inheritance - the calling of sons and fathers. Marcellus's "dying words" apparently. Curious inconsistencies.

Dante spoke up against this - Zina whispered the same. That Marcellus hated the man and despised everything Achaeus stood for. Komemnos delivered an open hand in response - which Dante took with some grace.

——

Another new face. Calliope.

I saw her slinking around the stones during the funeral. Like a curious fennec. She looked [A pause, a consideration.] injured. Long ago perhaps.

Then the meeting was called. Most of the League showed up, the election was announced recently - Dante and Vellyn are running. Cogs put his name down, but all part of the plan I suppose. I need to edit my notes and send them to Zina. Vellyn claims a lot of support, and most of the league seems behind her. Dante seems willing to concede if that support can be confirmed with certainty. He's wary of her experience and tenure within the League.

I admit, I have my apprehensions too. After all, how did she receive custody of the Emporium. And I thought the Tower was in support of the White's goals.

Politics.

——

[The penmanship is messy, inebriated.]

I can't believe we're in the midst of the Iyar election. Where did Nisah go.

Still so many things to accomplish, so many questions left unanswered. The restaurant to open, the conspirators in Grenth's murder.

Still so many new ideas. The kitchen needs work, and the refugees still need to be fed.

And I remember Manta talking about some coffee machine in the depths. Perhaps even a machine for my beans. I should talk to Cogs about it again. And that Caliope - she had tools about herself too.

Soon. The restaurant will open soon. A week from now.

——

[The penmanship is sloppy, intoxicated.]

Fire

Dreams of fire.

Cooking the flesh.
Boiling the water.
Smoke in the air.

My hair's on fire.

——

——

Iyar 10, 7789

I couldn't sleep again. I'm up early. Or is it still late?

A little bit of work. Orcs in the Nusrum. Edmund joined. He had his eyes set on a "hovel" near our target. It was no hovel. Some Orc shrine to Agaslakku, to the Bloodwyrm - The Murderer. A wonder why it caught Edmund's eye.

Curious.

Once we returned, I ran into Idrees at the Souk again. Sayburgh showed up, she lingered outside the Emporium Trade Hall, brushing at the sign. Maybe she didn't know who. I think she was trying to- [A pensive thought.] reassure me? "The Gold can continue to pursue their dreams."

Maybe I'm not in her sights. Maybe I'm just collateral damage. We'll see.

A little more work with Cort - another goblin throng. Calliope joined us too, quick and easy work. She was able to keep up and I was able to keep her safe. After that, I gave her a little tour of the Well. I'm surprised no one had given her one proper yet. That, or she's taking me for a ride. I'd let-

——

I'm tired of the politics. Luther asked me to sign a contract to vote with the Banda regarding the Gold primary. Fuck it. It'll probably be Vellyn anyways, unless they just want to waste my vote. I didn't think my vote had much leverage in whatever negotiations the Banda want to make. Five hundred dinar for my primary vote? I might've been short changed, but I'll get an idea of the Banda's schemes, and I just don't think Dante has the support. Luther tried to slip in a general election clause, but I'm not taking any amount of money for that. I'm voting Gold no matter what.

——

Calli helped me with the oven. She's really quite handy. She wouldn't take my coin, so I fed her and gave her a pair of boots - something a little more comfortable.

Remember - you can't get close. [A star reminder is scribbled with some extra fervor.]

The kitchens all organized now, the wine should be finished by then, and all the final preparations are made. I'm nervous excited.

——

[Some sleepy penmanship slinks across the page.]

They're nothing like her.

They never will be.

You can try.
They'll just die.

They're nothing like her.

——

——

Iyar 11, 7789

I ran into Korin, he was lingering outside Marcellus's library. It still hasn't been opened to the public. He's an interesting dwarf. Calli was on a little walk too - we chatted for a bit. Then Cogs showed up and did another demonstration of his boots for someone that wanted to buy a pair. An elf? I can't remember, but Korin didn't seem to like them.

Later I ran into the Musafir, Antethe. It had been some time since I'd seen her. She'd been wandering the desert. She asked if I ever walk the path of Warad - and what keeps me here. Hard to answer, I'd travelled along the caravans for many years, and now [Some amount of hesitation.] this is my home - and there's nothing left for me out there.

——

A busy day. Idrees had a gift for me, I returned the favor and then left him with some merchandise on commission. He seemed confident they'd sell well. Then I ran into Dudley and Theo, we walked over to the new Smith's Guild office. Dudley's hoping we can grow the guild to have some semblance of influence around the Well. And then Yogi asked me to make some food for him to feed the refugees - he's planning to pay and feed the ones that are willing to clean and repair the Stockades with him. I'm glad someone else is willing to help them. I only charged him the ingredient costs, he said it might be an ongoing thing.

——

Something terrible lurks in the gutters. I had heard some rumors, whispers, of some kind of disease - a plague? Something about blood.

But the rats. There are more of them than I've seen since my arrival. It doesn't take a doctor to see that these rats are diseased. A maleficent oozing, pus and blood, from the eyes and sores. I'm certainly aware that diseased rats in the gutters is not an uncommon sight. But- [The pen lingers.] something is different here.

The worms flee, they hide. And the worms aren't one to cede their territory, let alone to the rats. They must know something. As soon as I killed the two that I had found - the worms were all too excited to return.

And the dreams. No, of course they're not.

I'm not sure anyone believes me. Theo said he'd heard similar rumors, said Korin was looking into this plague. I should need to talk to him.

——

[The penmanship is loose again.]

It's the perfect little addition - I didn't even know it was missing. It's done. Complete. The restaurant is ready! The wine's ready - and it's good. Now I just need to cook.

[A burgundy stain splashes at the bottom of the page.]

——

[Manic scribbles make their way through the page.]

I heard them. Their little claws,
scratching and
skittering.

They're in my oven.
They're in my oven.

What did she do?
Did she let them in?

There's only one way.

Fire.

Purifying flames.

Plague burnt to ash.
Blood boiled to ash.

Otherwise-
Everything turns to ash.

[Cigarette ash is swept across, staining the page.]

——

——

Iyar 12, 7789

I must have slept all day. I woke up to my name over the bellows. It was Idrees - someone wanted to talk to me about the rats.

Turns out it was Lieutenant Colmes, but he was still in a meeting with the Legate - and then they made their way to Vellyn's in the Souk. They left a warrant for brooking.

It smells like bullshit. Sayburgh was with them. I don't know what to think, there's already too few I can trust.

——

A little work in the meantime. Defending the southern camp, it was orcs again. They seem emboldened, more frequent in their attacks. It was a short skirmish before they retreated though, I think I'm pretty good at killing orcs now.

Sister Jamei came with us, which was welcome. Idrees had made a donation to hire me to cater their next charity auction. How exciting! But boy- [A brief moment of respite.] I have a lot of cooking to do in these coming days.

——

I left it out in the sands. As much as it was a fascinating antique - it's not safe to have around. Milo saw it as he was perusing some of the merchandise. He warned me about it, even if it wasn't something I could wield. I trust Milo though, and it's gone now.

There weren't any rats today - which is good I suppose. But- [A moment of hesitation.] it doesn't make me feel any less crazy. People seem more concerned though, so maybe I'm not.

I got plenty of worms for the broth though.

——

——

Iyar 13, 7789

I actually slept through the night. No dreams, no nightmares. I slept through most of the day too, but I slept. Maybe that old saif really was cursed.

Then it was time for work - the orcs continued to assault the southern camp. There was another group headed to Harrowden for the priority contract. But there are more important things than dinar.

It was a nice surprise to see Calli when we returned. We keep bumping into each other. I spent some time with her down at the bar - she doesn't drink, but she bought me a glass of wine. I really enjoy spending time with her. It's a terrible thing, the injuries she sustained. She claims she's used to it, that it's bearable - but I see the pain she's in. I wish there were something that I could do.

I have to be careful. I can't get close - but I can't help it.

——

——

Iyar 14, 7789

The orcs are relentless, they continue to throw themselves against our southern defenses. A desperate attempt perhaps, as the War marches closer and closer to Bet Nappahi.

When we returned I was able to speak with Kazadun about Agaslakku - a brief history of the Dwarves of Kulkund, the Orcs, and The Murderers betrayal. But perhaps The God of Victory merely favored the victors. After all, the Orcs have been waging war and worshiping The Axe their entire existence. I'm sure there's a lesson in arrogance and assumptions somewhere there. The Warrior's favor is earned in War - and much like the tides of battle, so too can favor shift.

Look what happened to Grenth.

——

The Sister- [The pen takes a moment to ponder.] Selsi came and found Calli and I. She wanted to talk to both of us. Finding ways to continue feeding the refugees. I'll admit - I was entirely wrong about the Sisters, and they seem to have given me grace in my naivety. Haoma is- [Another pondering moment.] magic bread. Nutritionally void, in my opinion, but energy dense and filling.

That's where my soup comes in. The answer has always been here - under the Well, under everyone's nose. By the Wheel they're already doing it. The worms are, and always have been - the solution! All I've done is applied the most efficient cooking method - soup - to the most abundant source of protein - worm - to create a novel solution - worm broth.

I've been adding chunked worm to the broth - a surprisingly similar substitute to beans. Thus creating my bean soup. The Haoma would absorb the broth - keeping them full and providing sustainable nutrition. The Pyramid already pays for worms, and the refugees already eat them - it's just a matter of building a machine that can make the soup efficiently.

That's where Calliope comes in. She's been talking to the Sisters a lot. I saw her reading something of theirs. But the Sisters think she might be able to build this machine, and I believe she can too! 

Hand in hand, we can feed the refugees world.

——

Some final errands and preparations and I'm all set. It's been almost two months - but it's finally here. It seems the buzz around the restaurant is catching wind, I've received several catering orders since I've made my announcement. But I'm all caught up and ready to open.

——

——

Iyar 15, 7789

It's late early. There was a call to rally a defense against the clans. Something fierce and nothing like I've seen from the orcs before. The hounds, and two false dragons! Their magic grows stronger.

I found the strangest book on an orc, there was something sinister about it. I gave it to Aurelio, I didn't want to hold onto it. It gave me- [A hesitation in the ink.] the creeps. I asked Cort if he'd ever seen anything like it - he said it's rather sought after by the Tower, that it wasn't wicked like Aurelio said. But they both said it was rare.

I'm not sure I buy that first part though. I'm sure that's what the Tower wants people to think, but it sure felt evil to me.

——

I poked my nose into the Assembly briefly. There was a new notice enforcing the toga law - I left mine in the room, so I just listened. Nothing too exciting, so I decided to get some rest.

And then- [A hesitation, contemplating.] I woke up in front of the Coin Gate. I was wearing- [More hesitation, the penmanship is unsure.] The Darkhelm, my knuckles bruised, blood all over my War leathers - when did I even change? I ran back to my room hoping nobody would see me. I hope nobody saw me.

——

[The penmanship is loose, the page is dusted in cigarette ash.]

Calliope found me. She's going to become an Acolyte. An Acolyte of the Sisterhood of the Sibylline Vine.

Good. It's better this way. It's easier this way. Now I can't get too close and now she won't die because of me.

She'll be safe with the Sisters.
And I'll be alone.

It's better this way.

[A near illegible scribble.]
She has such soft lips.

——

[Sleepy, distressed penmanship follows.]

Clay.

Monsters,
made of clay.

Formless no more,
made from clay.

Spun and shaped.
made into clay.

The clay must be fired.

——

——

Iyar 16, 7789

I've prepped the salad and bottled the wine, I'm all but ready to open the doors! I don't think I've ever been this nervous excited before. Not since- [The ponders on the page.] we took that job.

I remember watching her while he explained the job, the pay. The feigned attention she gave him. The way she smiled, when he said where and how much. A glance my way - out of the corner of her eye. We both knew. A quiet, relatively secluded trek across the open desert and then through the canyons. We'd gone that route dozens of times on dozens of jobs, but he was paying triple. Something about sensitive cargo, but we didn't care. It wasn't our job to worry about the cargo.

Cook. Dance. Keep the mercenaries fed and happy. Keep them from asking questions.

We should have asked more questions.

——

I got a delivery from Calliope, on behalf of Theo. Some more meat. I'm running out of room to store it all, but he's been a pretty reliable supplier. Once the restaurant is open, I'll have more opportunity to experiment!

I had half expected her to already be in those robes, that perpetual shroud - obscuring that bright and fiery hair that frames her face so well. I'm glad I got to see her one last time.

——

A new job - one I hadn't signed to before. The Nazaru. Terrible brooking- [A moment of consideration.] goblins?

As we cut them down - vile djinn beings sprung forth from their corpses. Then we delved deeper, into some long forgotten temple, where some sinister obelisks and ancient beings awaited.

But they were no match. Between Cort, Luther, Hans and I at the front - and Alice and Nigel with their magic. They didn't stand a chance.

And when we returned, the board teller told me they wouldn't take my signature on even more jobs. Now, only a select few are available to me. What a racket.

——

[The manic penmanship returns to the page.]

What is she doing here?

How did she get into the kitchen?

Why is everything on fire?

——

——

Iyar 17, 7789

Just need to finish making copies of the menu, then to pick up the Bouza, and finally a talk with Luther - he said he's bringing Kazadun. That's more than enough security.

It's almost time.

I ran into Calliope on my errands. She looks- [A brief pause, a gathering of thoughts.] good - in the robes. I could still catch a glimpse of that fire under the shroud. She said she'd be there for me the opening. I hope so.

——

It's time.

[The rest of the page is blank.]

——

What a day! I couldn't have asked for a better turnout. A full house! It's great to know that I'm not alone in my dreams.

It's quite the ordeal, trying to run a restaurant on my own. I really ought to hire some help, but I need people I can trust. All in all, I managed well enough. Bashir had wonderful things to say about the food, but he's right - I need music!

[A few doodles of musical notes.]

Calliope showed up, just as she promised. She didn't stay long - maybe that was a good thing. I couldn't keep my eyes off her found myself a little distracted, but I don't think anyone noticed.

Even Luther had nice things to say about the food - though he had other things to say about the furniture. Good interior design and practical security concerns are rarely in agreement.

It was nice to see everyone together, enjoying a meal in each other's company. But then there was a call for War. Perhaps, for now, Casa Manta can be a reminder of what we fight for.

——

[Some sleepy penmanship scribbles across the page.]

A dream.
But it's not her.

The flames.
They surround me.

She cries out as I burn.
I reach through the fire.

But it's not her.
So she burns.

——

——

Iyar 18, 7789

An explosion. Of all things to be woken to - an explosion. Murder and brooking, at least that's what they're saying. I hope it doesn't have anything to do with that book I found. I gave it to Aurelio after all, and he's sworn to see to its destruction. I hope.

I saw Calliope again. She had some gifts for me. Some guts and candy! I need to bake something for her. They're letting anyone sign to clear out that old mine again. I should be able to get enough guts for my dough to hold me over for some time.

Voting starts soon. I just want it to be over already.

——

[A curiously blank page.]

——

——

Iyar 19, 7789

She knows now. [The pen lingers on the page, contemplating the repercussions.] She knows, and she still stayed. I don't know how she can help, she's an engineer not a Djinn hunter - and she has her own secrets too. She urged that I talk to Sister Selsi. I promised I would talk to Sister Selsi.

I told her what happens. What happens when people get close, when I get close. She's not afraid though. "Stay safe" she tells me. She should listen to her own advice.

But she knows now - not everything, but enough to get me killed - and she's still here.  That has to be worth something right? It has to be.

I haven't slept like that since- [The thought is left alone.]

——

What a strange evening. A crowd out in the plaza - Argent was there, so it's no surprise. There is something magnetic about him, despite everything else. He asked, or I suppose he proposed, that I be his third wife~ [A little scribble as the pen fails to lift from the page, some laughter perhaps.] he needs someone who can cook. I'm flattered, but no thank you. I politely declined - and he didn't push the topic, which I respect.

Dandrik on the other hand. I- [Some contemplation as the pen lingers against the page.] don't even want to recall it, I'd rather just forget the whole thing. Just remember not to go to his room again. [A big star reminder and some extra circles and scribbles for emphasis.]

It does look like Faith though.

——

I went to cast my vote. The Sisters were there, as always, with their poll and their stickers. Calliope was manning the desk. What a pleasant coincidence, I think she was happy to see me too. Even after- [The thought is cut short.] I thanked her for last night, for listening.

She told me about her day - she was there when they caught that bandit that's been harassing the Well. A Wyrmist. It was quite the day, I'm glad she's safe. She had a long shift at the polls ahead, and the voters kept coming - I didn't want to be a distraction and get her in trouble with the Sisters. I had some errands to do anyways.

I managed to run into Gideon in the plaza - he had wrote to me asking about hosting a private dinner at Casa Manta. I was headed to the restaurant anyways, so I brought him along. A simple enough evening - two guests, four courses, some wine.

I whipped up a small meal for Calliope, just a little salad and a pretzel. I know she said she wasn't hungry, but I could tell she could use something to eat. She mentioned craving a salad the other day, I hope she likes it. I should go give this to her, I wonder if her shift is over.

——

[Frustrated and distressed scribbling follows.]

I knew it was a bad idea.
I knew it.

Now she's hurt.
She almost died.

It's your fault Ritz - you knew better.
You knew not to get close.
You can't keep her safe.
Not when you're this close.

She almost died.
Because of you-

[The ink bleeds as a teardrop splashes against the page.]

——

——

Iyar 20, 7789

I'm relieved that she was up and about. "Still a little sore" she said, but up and about nonetheless. I'm glad because I had a few things I wanted to give her. I hope she liked the flowers.

She insists it's not my fault. I want to believe her but- [A moment of contemplation lingers on the page.] how can I when everyone else died. Just the thought of losing her too.

I can't.

——

I met the cutest puppy today - and quite an interesting dwarf. Norska was her name, and together we named her pup - Pip! I thought it'd be fun considering Haknar has a dog named Dug. Norska Awoke not too long ago, she seems pressed to remember her past - and how she ended up here.

She asked me about what I might remember. It's been 4 5? or so years since I Awoke here. I don't remember much anymore, the memories slipping as time passes in this desert - harder and harder to recall, until eventually it's all Ash.

Oranges though. The smell of oranges - that's all that's left. I hadn't thought about it in years, but as I stood there trying to answer Norska, all I could remember was the smell of oranges. Was I strolling through a grove? Maybe I was baking a cake. Whatever it was - there was the smell of oranges.

——

Calliope owns the library now - Marcellus's library and museum, The Saenus Institute or whatever they're calling it now. Though I suppose the Sister's own it in truth, but she's the custodian and it's her responsibility. She's very excited about it, and I'm excited for her too.

I'd never actually seen inside myself. She gave me a little tour. It was nice spending time alone with her seeing all the books and antiques. I think she'll do a great job preserving the history.

——

[Some sleepy scribbles appear.]

She was standing there.
Not her. Not anyone.

A hooded shadow,
beyond the flames.

She cast them away.

No more fire.
No more pain.

There I stood,
in the darkness,
alone.

——

——

Iyar 21, 7789

Gideon's dinner is today - I had misunderstood what time at first, but I made it work. It gave me a little time to open the restaurant and get some cooking done. I have some new desserts ready- [The thought is interrupted] I should write a cook book - tales and techniques from the desert.

I met the new Scarab - Len. He was- [Some contemplation as the pen rests against the page.] eager. He came rushing down the steps, just as I was locking up. "Len has to check the food," he urged, I could hear the rumble of his stomach. He was almost there, he just needed a little nudge - "Of course! Gotta check for poison and make sure everything is safe to eat right?"

He was very grateful for the meal - he thanked me in the name of the Zephyr. It was nice talking to someone so- [Another moment of thought.] genuine. I reminded him - "I hope my food passed the inspection, and that you have a good report for your officers."

——

I was in the Krak when I saw her, followed by a procession of the Sisters. They're really bringing her into their fold - quickly. Custodian for the library-museum, the many chores and responsibilities. Soon enough she won't have the time for me. I have to make the most of it It's better this way.

——

What a disaster! It was going so well, even with a few unexpected guests. Cort and Inanna showed up alongside them. It was nice to see Cort though, he missed the Grand Opening, but I still had food left to serve him from the menu. And then Selwyn snuck in - that was nice too. They apologized for something, being unfair. But I get it - I know how it is. They were just being protective.

But the oven - the damned oven. Smoke everywhere - I had to rush everyone out before a fire started. I can't imagine what might have happened if Calliope hadn't already fixed it up a bit, a blockage like that and there could have been an explosion. Luckily I was able to run back in and turn it all off before any real damage was done.

——

[The penmanship is distressed. Soot and ash smudges streak across the page, clay residue stains the margins.]

It doesn't matter
It doesn't matter

What I do.
What she thinks.

It always ends the same.

In the Darkness
And Alone

——

——

Iyar 24, 7789

The last two days - alone.

Dreamless, restless sleep. It's better than the nightmares. At least I have my kitchen - here, I can be alone.

I was cooking up a batch of liquorice when there was a call for War. There have been so many lately. We must be getting closer. I decided I needed to feel something. So I went to War.

The Scalding, the indignant flames - I'm practically numb to it. The violence of the Clans, the wounds of battle - there's so much enspellment, I couldn't feel it if I wanted to. But the blood spilt, the smell of wet sand - something.

I return - alone.

——

It's late again, or early. I prefer late.

There was a crowd in the Krak. I just knew she was going to be there. Calliope, Katya, Tharrik, Du-Yanyu?, Nela and I. A swim through one of those Fingers of Muud. Nothing terrible in this one - who's Muud anyway and why does he have so many fingers?

Afterwards, some prism work in the Krak. Poor Katya - no luck on her belt. I even sold her the prism I had and worked it for her. The Nadiri though - first attempt, Scholar on a beautiful crystal necklace! He wanted a ring too, and I'm not one to turn away business.

It was nice catching up with Calliope, she's brewing potions now - she's offered to make some for me, which is nice of her too. It's nice to see her in good spirits.

——

——

Iyar 27, 7789

More time alone. At least I'm actually sleeping.

The goblins were thronging again, and I could use the work. It was a quick job, but they were particularly smelly this time around. Afterwards, Ramez approached me about expanding the bar menu. He offered me some alchemical liquor - Aqua Vitae and Blood Wine. We'll see how it does, not too bad if I say so myself.

I opened the restaurant for a little while after. Nela stopped by, it was nice to see her. We pondered which Spoke the art of cooking is favored - I proposed the Wyld and her tenets to tend the hearth and flock. Though she mentioned that recipes and culinary knowledge might fall under the Magi's domain. A joint effort I think! Two Spokes working together to create something greater than the sum of their parts.

——

War. There's always more War. Closer and closer - the front marches onward to Bet Nappahi.

I joined another assault against an orc fort. A large tower - rope and grapple - flares and artillery. I took a slip trying to work that sling Calliope gave me, and some of those stink bombs she put together too. It was effective - but it's no knife or skewer. It makes for some awkward movements as my instincts are inclined to slice and stab.

While we prepared, Aurelio told me of a Royal Chef of sorts - an officer of the League of Purple. One of those ring runners from the last age, recipes lost to the ash now. He said it might be worth writing to him, though he might scowl at my own League membership. It's worth looking into though.

 ——

Theo dropped off a fresh batch of ingredients - some meat and herbs. I need to find Calliope to take a look at the oven. I've had to bother Bert for his kitchen in the meanwhile - don't want to risk starting a fire in the restaurant.

There's also something going on between Cort and Selwyn. He was acting a bit strange several days ago at the last assault against the orcs, and Selwyn was particularly- [A moment of thought as the pen lingers on the page.] irritable today. I overheard them say something about being abandoned. And the sign outside their home was all scratched through.

I found Cort later. He said Selwyn isn't used to consequences. That most of their partners friends die before realizing they're being used. He said not to worry about it though - but I worry about him.

——

I talked to Sister Jamei and made some donations for the charity auction. There was some hesitation around the variety of items to be auctioned off - mostly wizardly things. But I had a few cloaks, a helm and sword, and some valuable vials I was able to  donate. Enough variety now that they can host it soon - the first day of the coming week, sometime in the evening. I'm planning some exciting snacks and treats to cater for those in attendance.

Narwen must have just finished with her chores, she appeared as I was leaving the Priory to give Sister Jamei a tour of the restaurant. I know she hadn't seen it yet either - so I invited her along. They had nice things to say about the place, and I learned a bit about their pasts. Sister Jamei lived among the caravans too - traveling with her father. Some contemplation of memories, blessings and curses.

Is it better to know of your past, to long for something that's no more - or to have no recollection, and be free of the burden?

——

——

Iyar 28, 7789

[The penmanship is askew - written blindly in a dark room.]

Once upon a time, there were two mice -
they roamed the woods, happy to suffice.
The best of friends, as close as ever -
more than survival, if only together.

Then one day, the first mouse discovered -
a cabin unknown, alone, ungoverned.
Within it's walls, treasures and dreams -
food and cheeses, all manner of creams.

Enough for them, to weather the season -
to find a home, well within reason.
So she raced back, to tell her friend -
a place in which, their struggle can end.

Together again, they ventured out -
to find this cabin, without a doubt.
And as they gazed, upon their salvation -
the cat appeared, from it's predation.

"Take of the cheese, I care not -
my master treats me, without a thought.

But there is more I can offer -
if you let an old cat proffer.

Merely poison the man, in his sleep.
Then free I am, and this cabin you keep.

Yet alas, you may wonder -
why do I not, put him under?

I should if I could -
but a leash is a leash.

And a collar is a cage -
and a slave never would.

So you I ask - you mice I plead,
that you slip this poison - in his mead.

That when he lay, his head tonight -
he drinks without, a thought or fright."

And so the mice, began to discuss -
the merits, the faults, what is enough.
To trust a cat, who's nature is his -
to catch a mouse, the reason it is.

The time alas, the master's return -
the second mouse - without a concern.
She turns to move, to poison the man -
but it was long over, before it began.

With a swipe and a chuckle -
the cat made it clear.
All the thought in the world -
and still her worst fear.

Nothing now, but for the first to run.
To watch on, as her life is undone.
And the man, so satisfied to show -
leaves with cat, and trophy in tow.

Alone now - all she could do was weep.
Her friend gone, a fate she cannot think.
She turns to the mead - to take a drink.
This cabin now, is all she has to keep.

——

——

Hziran 1, 7789

I've never slept like that before - in such complete and utter darkness. No candles, no hearth - no flames, no smoke. Even out in the desert, there's the stars and the moon - but there's no windows in the Krak. That's what Sister Selsi prescribed, though. That and a vial of blessed water - just a drop on the forehead.

I know I promised I'd talk to Sister Selsi, and she seems genuine in her concern and desire to help. Calliope too - she promised she'd stand with me, and she did. I can trust them, I think. But she could smell it on me - the smoke. And if she could, maybe others can too.

I can't trust others.

——

Ait Tujum.

The discovery of some island, near the coast of Qadira, made news recently. A new job on the board - lower work. Then again, what's a discovery in a land so ancient - that all things are merely lost and then found again.

It was some manner of evil, a corruption - blasphemy in the name of the Wyld. And yet, only the Wyld's mercy was enough - to end their misery and return them to the soil.

For now, the corruption is kept at bay. But whatever the source, a job on the board is unlikely to see to its end.

——

[The penmanship is distressed.]

This wasn't a dream. I wasn't sleeping.

The smell of smoke - that retching taste. As if to take the dying drag, the one that finds its way deep in the stomach. The one you knew you shouldn't take.

Miasmic and choking - it filled the room. It took everything in me not to heave and vomit. Only with an anointment of the Sister's water did the nausea pass.

And even then - though the smoke had cleared. Blood in the walls. Pulsing veins.

I wasn't sleeping. This wasn't a dream.

——

——

Hziran 2, 7789

There's been a lot of commotion about the Well. Ashsails ferrying supplies, rumors making the rounds - the War presses on,  the Kusatma faces the Abulmahhu.

And the Kusatma stood victorious - the walls breached and our forces made way. After the battle, I heard some more news from the front - an ancient tree, significant. Burned to ash. I question the decision, to desecrate the Wyld in this manner.

I don't know what incited this war, only the brutality of the Clans. But if other decisions were made in this vein- [The pen hesitates, contemplates.] it's too late to question now.

——

[The penmanship is scribbled and messy, written in the dark.]

Great flames - a firestorm,
smoke and ash.
Darkness - all around.

A tree,
it weeps, it burns.
It bleeds and boils.

The fumes of death,
a last gasp for life.
Choking in the darkness.

——

——

Hziran 3, 7789

Nightmares. They're back - even in the darkness. You know why.

I'm out of the Sisters water. As long as I have the water- [The ink hesitates.] at least I won't have to be alone.

——

Another job on that island. This time some cave system filled with Melek. A lot of Melek - guarding something.

I went with Cort, Selwyn, Alice, Reyta and the Commodore. What an interesting man. Even with Selwyn and Alice's magic - it was a challenge. The caves were particularly treacherous, practically caving in on themselves. I had to dig my skewer out from under some rocks after one of those Melek knocked it out of my hands during the shaking.

Once we got out of the caves - an entire town of Melek. Hundreds of them, doing everything they could to keep us from finding some temple buried beneath the mountain. Something they really didn't want disturbed - the skull of some enormous dragon, bound and imprisoned by some ancient magic.

Probably for good reason.

——

[There's something hurried in the penmanship, something anxious.]

The auction is soon. I've got everything ready. I hope everyone enjoys the food - I'll need to restock soon.

I managed to distill a new spirit. It's particularly- [The pen lingers briefly.] vile bitter and potent. Not something I'd sip - but there's something about shooting it that has me pouring another. I'll call it moth herb.

I need a cigarette, but I know I shouldn't. I threw away the last of them anyways.

Another shot I suppose.

——

The auction was wonderful! Many of the items I donated went for quite a bit more than I imagined - but I guess that's why I'm no merchant. And who knew these magic bags went for so much!

There was a bit of drama too. Adamsk slapped Edmund over some whispers - I didn't hear what was said, even though it happened right in front of me. Adamsk was being his cheeky self, and I suppose Edmund didn't take too kindly to it - no surprise there. It certainly added a little flair flare to the evening.

The majority of the food was consumed, which is always nice - the rest can go to the refugees. People seemed to really like the steak skewers and my date nut loaf. I was hoping the fried fish would be more popular - but people around here really don't like fish I suppose.

And the moth herb! People seemed intrigued, despite the bitterness. Cort looked like he really enjoyed it - not surprised there either. He has good taste.

Calliope had brought up a mystery box of vials. The only thing I ended up bidding on. I didn't even care for the vials, although it was quite valuable once I took a look inside. About double what I paid for it! She did a great job though, leading the auction for a moment. I might have been a bit- [A short pause.] enthusiastic in my bidding.

I should get her something.

——

[A few droplets of water dry against the page, a subtle shimmer in the stains.]

Blessed water.

Enough for a few weeks at least.
Enough to quiet the nightmares.

I hope.

——

——

Hziran 5, 7789

Where do the days go? I suppose I'm finally catching up on some rest. An odd experience - dreamless sleep, waking to total darkness. Not knowing the time or day, another splash of water - rolling over to fall asleep again.

But I was able to get a little work in with Cort and Selwyn. Some trolls out by the Giant's Road. Nothing too interesting or significant, but pay is pay - and I need to make up for all this sleeping.

——

There was a crowd gathering in the Krak - Argent had made an appearance again. He had a new staff on him, shaped into a snake - its golden visage leering at any that would meet its gaze.

There was some debate and questions around his involvement in the late Legate Ahmet's murder. Again. I don't think anyone will get any answers.

And then he announced his return to the Well - soon. Maybe after the War, as a citizen of Kha'esh or otherwise - it sounds like he has something up his sleeve.

——

Lujayn wants to host a dinner at Casa Manta. An exciting one if I say so myself. I don't think I've ever come across her proposed guest in all my time in the Well. Should be interesting to finally meet her.

A luxurious adventure with a little taste of home. That's the brief - and I'm competing with some of the finest cuisines offered in Baz'eel. I'm up for the challenge, I just hope know I can exceed their expectations.

——

——

Hziran 6, 7789

Another late night. I may not be having nightmares, but I wonder if I'm actually sleeping. Everything is so dark - I woke up on the floor. Wrapped in my blanket, curled in the corner. Whatever it was - or is, there's no getting back to sleep now.

There's some bustling downstairs. Maybe some work to do, everyone's been going on about some Vaults lately.

Can't sleep anyways.

——

More fresh faces. They come, they go - and then again. More fresh faces.

A young man - just Awoken, not even three days. Garen is his name, a soldier of sorts - some militia or something. As far as he remembers at least, and as far as I can tell. I may have been a bit- [A moment of self-reflection.] abrasive. I'm reminded of myself - when I was first Awoken. A little bit of abrasion would have done me some good back then. To learn just how cruel this desert can be.

I hope he doesn't think I'm some bitch - all the time, at least. I did give him some new gear. Armor, a shield, some boots and a cloak. He wasn't particularly grateful. Kept going on about needing some plate - without realizing just how much protection those scales offered. But I think he discovered after our little adventure down into the Vaults. He was much more appreciative afterwards.

——

But perhaps more interesting - a not so fresh face. Certainly new around the Well, but an old friend of the ash.

A Wrothir - a wielder of pain, a bearer of spite and vengeance. There hasn't been many of the Eighth recently. Aside the 4th and their worship. A proper Speaker of the Wroth is welcome.

Varya, he told me to call him. A Makhyoon or not, I do not know. But I had gifts for him - gifts to the Wroth for answering my prayers. A particularly cruel flail and a cloak for those dedicated to the Eighth. Makhyoon or not, the Wroth casts his favor on the man.

He asked of my prayers, my vengeance. It's been some time since I thought about it. About Grenth, the murderer, the Darkhelm. He warned me of it. It's power - but I only wish to see what it saw. To know what it knows. Through its eyes - the face of the conspirators.

And so he made an offer. To aid in my desire for vengeance. But he cautioned me, for it comes at a cost. I must be willing to sacrifice everything.

I'm not sure I can do that. I'm not sure he would want me to.

——

——

Hziran 7, 7789

It's time I start looking for some help with the restaurant. Not a Sous necessarily, but someone to help with the front of house - a bartender or a server of sorts. I put out a call on the bellows, but we'll see if anyone answers. It was an odd hour, perhaps I'll make another soon.

I opened the kitchen for a little while. Luther showed up for a bit. He propositioned me again - to join the Banda. "A good cook can go far" he said. I'm flattered really, but I value my independence far more than some extra coin. Besides, if I had to feed the Banda I'd hardly have time to run the restaurant.

He's got that True Honor though - that's for certain. And I can respect his dedication to the Capitana, as he says.

——

[Some illegible scribbles made in the dark, something spilled against the page - the shimmer of blessed water.]

——

——

Hziran 8, 7789

Lots of work on the board today - it started with a defense of the Accord camp down south. I stopped by Grenth's memorial and offered a little prayer - I miss him.  After that, it was the granary job and then a trip out to the Rust Dunes.

Once we returned, Garen was asking me about my favorite dishes to cook. That's hard to answer. He was telling me about a dessert he missed from home - something similar to my custard cups, but baked into a pastry crust. Genius.

I invited him to the restaurant to try some of my desserts - Maqqari, Nela and Fireun came along too. It was nice. Some chatter between Maqqari and Fireun about their studies and a reflection of the defeat at the Abulmahhu between Garen and Nela.

Garen stayed for a bit, after everyone else left. I gave him some more advice, and apologized for being abrasive. I offered him a job - bartending. We'll see, I told him to think it over. He's nice to look at-

——

It's been some time since I've thought of them - Manta and Grenth. Even her That's grief I suppose. You go through periods of neglecting forgetting. And then all the thoughts come together in a wave, malcontent with being ignored.

I miss Calliope too. I haven't seen her around in a while - probably busy with her Priory duties. It's probably for the best.

Best that I'm alone.

——

Narwen was right though - the oven spirits seem to be warming to me. I'm no singer, but the sounds of friends - conversations and laughter. The sounds of home. I think they appreciate my cooking for what it brings to the place - joy.

At least I won't be alone in the kitchen.

——

——

Hziran 10, 7789

My Shoe Buns were a hit! A shame really, that I couldn't present them myself - I was lucky to run into Bashir though. He was gracious enough to give Angelica the box of pastries I had ready. At least she got to try them.

——

Some drama about the well. Mazeed the Wyrm apprentice was slain by one of the Absolvers. Then there was some chatter about what sort of authority an Absolver holds.

Solina made some claims about the 2nd Legion - or bandits dressed as the 2nd Legion. They didn't take kindly to the accusation and made sure their thoughts on the matter were known. Probably not bandits.

She really ought to lay off the frogs.

——

I ran into Cort for a bit. Caught him up on the gossip. He's been really busy lately - Prelate and all. It's been a while since we set out on some work together. But it was nice catching up, him and Selwyn seem to be back at it together.

——

[The penmanship winces in pain. Shaken and unnerved.]

I was caught being reckless. Tunnel vision in the heat of the moment. Sibilant - what are they doing so close to the Well? Regardless, some lessons learned - and some harsh reminders.

I suppose when you're alone, what's there to be cautious about?  I've been injuring myself more as of late. Less care, less precision. Just instinct and bloodlust.

What's happening in my sleep?

——

——

Hziran 11, 7789

I bought Bashir's new outfit. Just like I said I would. It's quite nice and he's putting a lovely line together. I'm really looking forward to the next one.

But that mean's I need extra work. Board work. Another graveyard - more Sibilant. Then a trip to the Ashways. Harpies were the priority, but we took out a tower of trogs on the way.

I'm so tired.

——

[A curiously blank page. There are faint scratches - as if something was written without any ink.]

——

——

Hziran 12, 7789

[There's an edge to the penmanship.]

Bumped into Sister Jamei - I need more water. I don't know if she knows. I don't know if she was told. She asked to hear more. But I had to get this board work done.

A caravan job with Garen and Qen. Korin gave us blessings. It was dogmen - my heart was racing. The howling. We found a hole in the ground too. Some scientist selling scrolls. A nice cape - and Qen was real excited about some Tome. I barely got a look before he snatched it up.

It was so loud in the Krak when we got back. Katya has been teaching Garen. They share a room now. Good for her. She was going to give him a lesson, but they came along for more work - Katya stood guard at camp.

A cave of spiders - they don't bleed like the dogmen do. But the flames - a priestess of the Second. Like an old friend, nostalgic - invigorating.

——

[The penmanship is manic.]

Thinking of her,
again.
Running out of water,
again
Craving a smoke,
again

Alone,
again.

——

——

[The page is filled with incomprehensible scribbles and scratchings]

——

——

Hziran 16, 7789

[There's a peculiar energy to the penmanship, something masking the exhaustion.]

Where do the days go?

It's all a blur and I'm exhausted. It feels like so much has happened in these last few days, but- [Some amount of hesitation lingers in the ink.] where does it go?

Whisked away to some place liminal, as Maqqari put it. An Astral Whale, and the stirrings of a frenzied school. Rescued maybe? by something. Someone - taken to another place, a strange room with winding hallways before finding ourselves back where we started.

And then there was a murder - again. The Vizier, Inanna. A terrible fate just outside the Krak, in the middle of the Plaza. How? I wonder if what happened to us was an omen. Some kind of sick irony. Poor Vellyn.

And then there was War - again. An assault against the Abulmahhu - led by Aurelio and a success this time around. Tension and nerves leading up to the battle. Garen, Nela and I agreed to stick together, but we ended up separated.

And then there was fire - again. The burning of another ancient tree - slumbering, knowing not of its fate. The cry of desolation - Kusatma. Doubt was never in my mind. And yet here, now - I wonder if this is the right course.

And in between all of this - work. Seemingly insignificant, but work nonetheless. I wonder if hiring Haknar to bartend is a smart decision - I'd still like to hire Garen, but not if he's going to study under the Balladeers.

——

——

Hziran 18, 7789

What have I gotten myself into? It'll be good to have Garen around the restaurant, but I think- [There's some consideration before the thought is cast aside.] at least I'll have someone I can trust around.

Haknar's got me thinking though - says I ought to have a charter of sorts. A proper guild he says. Casa Manta, something more than just a restaurant. That's a thought. I suppose it's a start of something. Hiring Garen on and contracting with Haknar.

Suppose I really ought to look for a Sous Chef now. What am I getting myself into?

——

[The penmanship is loose and messy.]

What are you getting yourself into?

You think you can hire people to be around you - to feign some kind of camaraderie? You think you can buy relationships? You can build an empire, surround yourself with suitors, and you'll still be alone.

No one knows you, not anymore. They're all dead - or realized that it's dangerous to get any closer, so they left. You can't blame them.

You're going to get that poor boy killed.

——

——

Hziran 19, 7789

Just when I thought the restaurant was keeping me busy enough - now I'm spearheading some project for the Smithing Guild.

Lujayn has grant money. She wants to fund the apprenticing of refugees, that they may learn a craft and find purpose - a noble cause. The request was obviously aimed at Dudley - considering she's the head of the guild. But I suppose I was the one who suggested shovels so it's my responsibility now. Lujayn was also talking to Katya, about supporting the Balladeers with this grant money too - a smart move.

She'll make a great politician.

I need to talk to Theo.

——

A tea party - it'll be perfect. Garen's been able to brew up some tea that will go great with my pastries. Now to just finalize the menu and make the announcement. I have a feeling I'll need more tea - it's not something commonly brewed around the Well, and I'm sure there'll be more than a few curious patrons.

Garen also gave me some perfume. It was lovely, but I hope- [There's some amount of hesitation.] I'm not getting too close I don't give him the wrong idea. But he's also got some good recipes for useful incense and these baubles of darkness.

I wonder if I should try my hand at merchanting. Ritz's Antique & Thrift.

——

[The penmanship is harsh, pressed and scratched into the page.]

There is no justice in the halls of jurisprudence. Oswick made magistrate, false confessions, and the 4th - hamstrung by politics and bureaucracy.

But now, Cort says the Wroth is on the Stele.

And now, it calls to me.
Beckoning for vengeance.

Wroth on the Stele.

——

——

Hziran 21, 7789

I'm thinking about Grenth again. The Wroth's gaze is upon the Well now, and these feelings of vengeance resurface. There's whispers of a Makhyoon and some Temple of the Vigilante. And though the Wroth has already answered my prayers - they're still out there, the conspirators.

Perhaps, at the very least - I can offer a tithe.

——

I finally caught up with Haknar - I showed him the new contract and he signed it on the spot, even complimented me on my writing. I had no idea he was teaching the refugees how to read and write- [A brief moment of thought.] at least enough to sign an enlistment contract.

I have a good feeling now - I think we're on the same page, and we can both benefit from this relationship. He even met Gerg, and they seemed to get along. Hopefully the rest of the oven spirits will feel the same. I can't afford any trouble in the kitchen.

——

[An ashy streak stains the margin as something is brushed away.]

I don't know where he got them, and so quick too. Two fresh packs in no time. I guess he is a Senior Scribe, he'd know where they keep all the cigarettes they use to stock the worm-exchange.

I've missed it - and she's not here to tell me not to.

And neither is she.

I don't think the water is working anymore, I'm not sleeping well. I'm not dreaming either, but I'm not sleeping.

——

[The penmanship trembles - shaking in some amount of pain.]

It's your fault.
It's all your fault.

——

——

Hziran 22, 7789

[There's some sense of catharsis in the penmanship.]

The Coiled Canyons - Sibilant defilers. Important work to be done. Important that even the Wroth would direct His gaze, and send a Makhyoon to see it done. The work was swift.

I learned of his Temple - of its tenets.

It's been some time I think, since His gaze has been drawn to the Well. There's a reckoning due.

An extra prayer to the Wyld tonight. [A scribbled star reminder.]

——

I've got a brand new steel pan now. Found among the treasures in the canyon - some culinary palette. Destined for Baz'eel from the looks of it, before it was intercepted by the Sibilant. Most of it not worth hauling home.
 
But this pan - by the Wheel was it my lucky day. Something truly deluxe, the Chef who ordered this is certainly devastated.

And Katya ordered some candy - she's hoping to have a meeting or something. With her neighbors.

——

——

Hziran 24, 7789

I've been learning more about the Wroth lately. The rightfully feared Eighth Spoke of the Wheel, for we are all judged under His gaze. But to repent for our sins and enact His vengeance - this is the only way to avert His wrath.

I wonder what the Wyld thinks of me - I've devoted my worship to Her ever since I awoke, and she blesses me everyday with her bounty. I honor Her - creating nourishing meals from Her harvest, tending the garden that is my home.

But I find myself harboring deep thoughts of revenge - against those that murdered my friend, against the evil that stole her from me.

——

Something frightening happened today. The charity chest in the Hope was cursed, and three spirits of a sort hovered about. There was some arguments - on whether this was a matter of faith and a task for the Speakers, but the Apothar Zol Nur made it clear his arcane knowledge was the answer. To which it seemed was the truth.

All the more reason to be frightened. The spirits spoke - at first, innocuous. A taste in the air. Could they smell me? And then a warning - blood, boiling and bubbling beneath, the sky falling in a thunderous clap.

The curse was lifted without much trouble - a concentrated effort between the faithful and the arcane. Inside were the tools of a necromancer, thought to be the source of the curse.

I'm not so sure.

——

[The penmanship is manic and hurried.]

I can hear it.
Taste it.

The boiling - thick and viscous.
Blood.

It grows louder.

They're still here.

——

——

Hziran 26, 7789

So many new faces, it's hard to keep up. It's harder even - to know who to trust.

High Treason - Oswick and that gnome with the parrot, Ronald Goblinbutt- [The pen lingers in a moment of thought.] Reginald Goblinbane, for reasons unknown to me right now. Not that I thought I could trust them, after all one of them was thief and the other a gnome. But still - I'd never thought them capable of such betrayal.

I met a curious pair of new arrivals. An old man insistent that he was a young boy, dreaming - and that the Chalice would wake him from his slumber and reforge his body. Does he know that he already awoke? And then a woman - sickly and pregnant? intent on dismissing reality as a ruse. That this Disc we find ourselves on is a prison - our Gods merely children, and we their playthings.

Blasphemy clearly.

But I do wonder - have I ever been on a ship before?

——

[There's a manic edge to the penmanship.]

That's the last of it. Not that it was helping much anymore. It'd be a waste to ask for more.

He's getting too close. He admitted as much, and all I could do was run away. No warning, no rebuttal - no truth.

The truth is - I don't want to be alone anymore.

The truth is - I'll kill him.

——

——

Hziran 28, 7789

There's been some commotion. Rowan's made another attack - and then he made it clear why. The trees - those magnificent wonders at the Abulmahhu. Their destruction, an affront to the Wyld and blasphemy against Her. In less words, but the sentiment felt. I- [There's a moment of reflection.] understand. I saw it with my own eyes. Even in the laments of the Kusatma, guilt and despair in its wail. This is what brought the Well under His gaze. This was the stone cast against Rowan - the Wyld only acts in turn.

——

The Sukaitza came by the restaurant for a dinner. It was Garen's first shift too.

It was quite enlightening. Who'd have thought to find an Asterabadi philosopher among them. It gave me a lot to think about, and some reading to do too.

They seemed to like my food though, everyone except for what appeared to be the ranking officer. I dont think I got her name- [A moment of thought.] Lekubarri? I need more fish.

——

[The penmanship is sleepy and loose.]

A dream of darkness

In the distance, a flame
All around me - cries of anguish.

And then silence

Darkness.

——

——

Hziran 29, 7789

Something grave has happened. An Assembly of sorts, in audience of the Princess heir. A condemnation of Kha'esh and a seizure of Arslan - the Jackal did not take kindly to the message.

Something is brewing. And it's not going to be good.

——

[The penmanship is manic, filled with energy.]

I saw her again, Calliope. What little time she had away from her duties in the Priory, and I caught a glimpse of her in the Krak. I almost couldn't believe my eyes - but I'd never forget that face, that tenacious gait, that flash of red under the cowl.

We caught up for a time, it's been almost a month or so since I'd seen her. But it was still as if no time had passed at all. I took her to the restaurant, and showed her how well the oven's been working - for old time's sake. Oven spirits, who would have thought.

Then Garen showed up. Gerg made an appearance too.

I've missed her. More than I've been willing to admit. I hope I can see her again.

——