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Time in the Scribes was unpleasant. Most of them seem to keep odd hours. What was supposed to be paid to not do much turned into a bit of nuisance, but made some good money before leaving. Met a few folk, did some work. Few things of note.

Yesterday though... Dante's rise to Legate took the attention of many, so not much work to be done. Wine, watched the show, spoke with a few folk. Seems all hell broke loose later. Cyrred. A man who hunted bounty so fiercely. Not to be surprised to awaken from my Modini Port and Mizzar stupor to learn he has perished. He told Durgin and I so freely that he would hunt any if the price were right. Good business we had done, fair fortune made, competence goes far but amicable demeanor and complementary talent goes further.

Wouldn't call it sorrow. In this life you grow accustom to such things. One moment sitting alongside deck with you, the next perishing beneath the waves, a stray arrow, a stray spell blasting a splinter of wood through the chest. Guess the price, it was enough.

Another bottle of wine waiting for work to come together, find myself meeting a magistrate and her... bodyguard. Another candidate of purple. It was nice to be back on the waves. Away from the noise.

Dante's been busy so haven't paid him congratulations. Will have to remedy that when I sober up.

A fled Lamp artificer by name of Manos met. He a scholar like the pleasant Selwyn, but this Manos he comes to me and says Giacomo you hold the name of my sage, I share of him tale how we all gifted such by the orphanage. That the nunnery wish we all find bright future while they beat us for dishonoring the sages. Ah, sweet nostalgia.

He leans in though with a shared whisper that there is a group of us. A conclave has begun to grow in Ephia of the floatsmen. Lead by Pilot Priest and Politician, that influence grows. That meetings are held, that I welcome to attend. That I should seek of Zina, of Dante, for work and equipment. I learn that Zina the Maestra of the good folk met my first day, of Nigel, of Manta, of Selwyn.

Dante I meet while I smoke in the Krak. He shares with me opportunity plenty for newcomer eager to find helping hand. Of the disgraced Rossa, of the Legion, when I turn my nose up at both he offers of the Scribes.

A first for me he calls it. He then tells me I can still do mercenary work so long as I am clever and tell them that I am doing work as assessment and other such fables. How novel. He takes me to a withered woman who gives me badge, tunic, and wage. A speech of my duties and aiding the politico, aiding the bureacrat, tending the city. This... this I could do, yes.

Could, but won't. No.

I am content to get paid to do nothing.

4,475 dinar made in my first night as a scribe without even accounting for the boardwork contracts.

These politicians, they pay well for secrets.

Though my friends in the creep soured heavily to see my new adornments...

[A water logged journal soaked and dried in the sun as the leather is tarnished and the pages oddly crisp to the touch. Though the water damage is extensive it offers some insights and record for one wishing to remember or ruminate upon efforts.]

A water logged journal soaked and dried in the sun as the leather is tarnished and the pages oddly crisp to the touch. Though the water damage is extensive it offers some insights and record for one wishing to remember or ruminate upon efforts.

My first encounter with the city of Ephia's Well was a haughty woman shrieking at me for not wanting to carry her bags into the sewer. It is as they say. Big citadel, great many peoples, most of them hold little care for me or my peoples.

A small coterie of shopkeeps who have showed me more kindness than most.

Nigel Braxton, a sweet Bombolone, tends a curioshop of sundry and magical oddity.

Manta, a cook and keeper, showed polite tending of dinar and reservation of a fine piece.

Selwyn, he...she...they? A gem of optimism in this surly place, offering to buy me a gift but then in fact not buying me a gift. We shall have to speak of that anew when next we cross path.

Cyrred, a fierce warrior who tended fair work and some fortune found.

A number of Dwarves have been met as well. Two clans though it is uncertain if they rival. One of the Tablet, one of the Creep, both upon the fringes.

Manos, A scholar like Selwyn, has been polite enough to introduce me to the local enclave. Though I am uncertain of meeting more Modini it is said they begin to carve a swath of business. He shares that the Inspecta is sparse and that "All are equal away from the Floatilla". A cute sentiment.

Dinar comes, dinar goes, and the seething of this place. It brings me just the barest twinge in my mustache.

It could be quite enjoyable if I am to stay here for a time.