The Gilded Gate - The Writings of Eamon

[Hierophant]

THE GILDED GATE
PENNED by EAMON BRONZEGATE

ENTRY I

SUBAT 2, IY 7787 - Post Kanon Hray 7787 Election

I cannot put to words what it was like, in my very first campaign for change in Ephia's Well. I felt trapped. Words I'd say, would be twisted in front of me. Foul deals were hovered in front of me, like as if I was compelled to take it on the whims of greed and men.

I am Waradim. My place is not nestled in a high seat, it is out there; where our true enemies lie. Louis Boucher and Robert Fauchard were good men. The tatter of Ludovich was enough to convince me the law's sacred, and it needs men who see that serving it. But nay, perhaps long ago I would've inspired to become the vigilante, but what would Robert say? Louis? And so I've enlisted into the Fourth Legion of the Sultan's Janissaries.

The League of Gold is yet the salvation for Ephia's Well. By the Wanderer's grace, I will certainly ensure it continues to rise. Ariel will make a fine Legate.

[Hierophant]

ENTRY II

SUBAT 27, IY 7787 - A Month of Service

It's been almost a month now since I left politics behind me and decided to serve Sorazin Bey of the Sultan's Janissary, Fourth Legion.

How can one find time to write as each morrow feels a haste of time? Gone in the blink of an eye. I suppose it took me some time to come about thoughts that wouldn't simply simmer and become something else. No, I wanted to only pen what was real.

Words to remind myself of the chaos that is Ephia's Well. Hard to even define a friend these days, I feel. Mostly I go by feel, so it is. I've lost some. Those I felt could be as thick, the blood that runs these last veins of accursed Bronzegate. Those who I call brother, no matter.

Kayo was the first man I met that I later began to call friend, whilst dazed and confused in the madness that was a new city and coveted water from the mouth of the Patron herself. A courier was a simple trade but I was Waradim, and so I understood it was no simple trade. He travelled the Wanderer's blessed road, and served our God justly and steadfastly.

Then I had heard of pious and good Khalid, priest of the Wanderer. This bond we have is not between men, but between the sacred spokes of the Wheel. Our meeting was bound by fate, for we have marched side in side against the enemies of Ephia's Well together thrice now. We have bled together, wept together and contemplated together. Suppose we cannot say we are the best of friends, but we can certainly say Khalid knows he need only say a word, and Bronzegate will come running alike the Messenger, honoured proposition of Warad true.

It is strange to be serving in the colours that were Radovid's. That worm of a man, who had me commit capital crime for an election bribe that he never paid. Then I was gullible, I began to trust and lean on hope again. I forget, forgot that I am Waradim. What is truth, is what I see with my eye; for it scans far and wide and does not chirp. What is suspicion, is the words of men who speak them loud and in many places, for it is unity and to spread warning is a virtue in the eyes of the Wanderer.

Arnock Reyer, compatriot of dear Robert Fauchard is now a Sergeant in the Fourth - my Sergeant. Along with Ruhonis Engida, but there's something about the pretty boy's privilege I think ought to be checked. Some more years will humble him, I'm sure. He's yet to earn my respect. But with Reyer now Sergeant, we can pursue what I've been meaning to take on of late. Expeditions for Sorazin Bey, for crown and for country. I can smell it on the air already. The smell of adventure again alike the days of old, when I had gone as far as Kulkund and saw how deep it goes. Then our neighbors which is recent. Frostport, a hearty place of hardy warriors and fishermen. I should like to see new places, follow the guidance of Warad and find the finest opportunity one can for a city.

All's well for another morrow and more of striving for greatness, kept humble beneath the Wanderer's gaze.

[Hierophant]

ENTRY III

ADAR 7, IY 7787 - My Meditations

I've been thinking much of late, on Warad, on the Wheel- on Gods and of men, the folk, elf and kin. Of us all, and how we came to be here today. What do you remember?

Why can we not remember? It is said that for those whose blood is strong and hale, for generations the descendants ought to feel memories torn from their minds. That they might be reliving the lives of their past selves, or their ancestors. The Dome believes in reincarnation. Why does the Wheel naught?

These are questions I ask myself. What is reincarnation? As the scholars say, reincarnation is the rebirth of a soul. We transcend above the simple constructs of our flesh and bone and our soul, our true selves, and we descend again to be born anew. A strange thing, but must it be? Why so? Why the fear to discuss it?

For one, it contradicts the beliefs of Izdu's children; Kalim and Gamil, the Twins. It contradicts the beliefs of the Martyrs, of that we all have one 'true death'. The death where we are led by the Shepherds upon the Edutu and given peace at last. Given the blessings of the Twindari to pass this life, and walk by their side forevermore. Such thoughts alone let men smile, so there is no need for any idea of 'reincarnation'. It may come across as cheating death, in the eyes of many faithful, and an affront on the work of the Martyrs.

No matter. Such is said, and I began to mull in insight and thought. I've meditated atop dunes and meadows. Felt the quiet of the sands, beating past my ears in soothing motions. They bring the woes of the desert to my mind. But a wanderer only believes what he sees, not what he hears.

This is the seventh night of Adar and deliberations that have lasted months press on, bitterly. I confess that I am afraid of what might be found. But it is my duty to seek the truth, Warad's truth. He sets me upon the path I must follow. He tells the wind which way to blow, and be it North or South our blades point and our feet march.

In the silence of the vast desolation, belief is a dance between the wanderer and the cosmos, a silent hymn sung by the heart and witnessed by the ever-watchful sky.

[Hierophant]

ENTRY IV

NISSAH 27, IY 7788 - My Pitched Battle with Gnorl

They nursed me to health in spite of all the odds. It was not my time, it seems. We were hunting a pack of ogres that we had tracked into the Ashways. Foolish of me to charge without scouting first, and I was struck from a veil of invisibility. I don't remember much from that, but to wake here and there in the haze of the Great Ash to sip upon the gifts of the Waterbearers who dragged me from caravan to caravan.

I don't remember much, but I do remember the ache in my back and how my wounds began to feel not so numb anymore and stung at each bump upon Warad's road. It was an agonizing journey, and I oft began to ponder why it had not already ended. The Izdur would say it was fate, while the Shepherds would say it was not my time. Warad would say nothing, for the journey is His alone. We but follow. Whatever comes of it will come and the Wheel will turn, but no matter what, the Wheel must turn.

I came upon the gates of Ephia's Well, a mirror of my first days here but I struggled to recall the feeling I bore when I witnessed its hospitality, when All Doors Were Opened. I still wear this brooch and now there are two Legates of White. Work is to be done, and I've been ushered away off the Edutu to fulfill a promise I made to my supporters, before my knees grew weak and I wavered before the weight of responsibility.

The League of Gold will rise again, it may be time to seek out my old friend Ariel Hysair to see if perhaps the Priestess of War yet has some fight left in her, and would fight it by my side again. The time of playing priest is a time for peace, and peace has fallen from our grasp too long now. There is only one duty of Warad that bids a man this day and it is to safeguard His borders and defend His people.

Recall my writings of my service in the Fourth Legion, remember my craft as a merchant and a trader, pick up my spear again and point it whence Warad's enemies pilfer and skulk. A man can be many things, but today I shall choose to be all three and put it to use not for myself but for my people and Ephia's Well.

The writings trail off into scribblings of plans for war in Nusrum and Kulkund; the elections ahead, anagrams of Wheels and parables and a soddy drawing of a mean looking ogre, with a very large club.

[Hierophant]

ENTRY V

NISSAH 28, IY 7788 - Kayo is Missed

I imagined us as neighbors and our sons playing in the streets together, I imagined walls the eye could not scale, I imagined the thought of calamity far from heart and mind. I miss you, Kayo.

Now I see that things cannot come easy and to see this vision of a bright future come to fruition we must be dogmatic and we must be unrelenting in our pursuit of the fate Ephia's Well has been given charge upon.

There is little I am thankful for with you gone, my friend, but of them I am thankful most that you will not know the man I'm to be to see it done, and you will not see how actions change their bearers. The long nights in the caravans tended by the Mendicants were eye-opening.

It may just be the onset of madness, for I know naught what they had me consume to see the sights I did see, but perhaps the sky really just glows in the way that draws a mortal's eye, awakening in him a crux of ambition he will clutch until his dying days?

Warad, give me the strength and the haste I need to see my enemies brought low and my work delivered by courier for we are your people, and your people walk with you through light and dark. Take some of mine this day, He of many burdens, so I may walk with nothing and yet everything for I have all I need with this Amber.

[Hierophant]

ENTRY VI

IYAR 5, IY 7788 - From the Cells of the Misfortune

As I sit here and ponder my choices, the words of Nock leave me feeling emptier than before. Again, I am given leniency. What is it people find so noble about me? Even when I confess to capital crime, I am the victim.

When will men be forced to take responsibility for their choices in life? When will I feel like I have a home again that I am proud of?

They were right, when they spoke in Assembly. Ephia's Well would not be standing today if not for Osman the Sixth and his legions. I look back to my month of service in the Fourth myself some time ago after Kanon Hray, and I return to the Well to find Caddy no longer among us. His face still haunts me when he asked me earnestly why I had left.

It is time for brutal honesty. I am not who people think I am, and I will not be that man until I repent for the things I did as a stranger to the Well, hoping to make it my home and hoping to reign as Legate of Gold and uplift the people. I've written text upon text of this subject and yet I feel empty and unheard. So I renounced my Voice, to remind myself I can still be heard without one.

Where ever this path leads, Warad will show me the way and it will settle like a cloud of hope on my heart that has felt so heavy since the day I shook hands with men I would never have considered, before the fall.

Gods help me.