A Janissary's Notebook

[Blue41]

I didn't know Grenth well, or personally. But I did make him a promise, in the darkened cellroom. Same promise I owe anyone who ostensibly dies under our protection; the same owed to the Wroth--that I would find him answers, that blood would have blood. And for the last week, the men worked hard to do just that. Barely needed any direction, which should be a blessing. But despite all the noise over the bellows...I'm not satisfied. The blade may have been buried, but its wielder is still at large.

Perhaps that's what drove me to answer Doomed-Oath's call. Grenth didn't have much on him that should have gone to his next of kin, but he did bear that message. Rose the hairs on the back of my neck to read it. Doomed-Oath understood the significance of it as well. We spoke, and for a change of pace, I shared without thought of where the information might go to, or the dangers in revealing it. And he and his did in turn, which was...unexpected. Made me realize that there's something of a pattern with me when it comes to meaningful relationships. Mine are always contentious. I can think of very few I can call friend who I also haven't suspected of treachery, or asked uncomfortable questions, or nearly driven out of my life entirely.

Didn't leave the Tablet feeling better, or worse. What I felt was a kind of...persistent awareness, somehow. The Wroth's eyes staring at the back of my head. There was something I was missing, something important. Damned if I knew what, but the feeling itself was familiar. Diakos in a coma on the brink of death in the Temple of B'aara. The Tonsured, speaking cryptic truths that no one else could hear. Going on patrol with a Soldier around the Well, and finding snakes, eating their own tail, at every wall-- dead in the sands.

Trying to fit together a puzzle the size of the Divan's map-room with one hand. Just because it can be done alone, doesn't mean that it needs to. Made the realization, the thundercrack of what might be hit that much harder. I've come close to opening up that drawer again, but scorch can't match that feeling. I live for it. I think the soldiers might be coming to realize that, too.

[Blue41]

Opened the drawer for the first time in a while. Dirt this time, a chunk big enough to blot out the bile in the back of my throat that I have Aubrey to thank for. And him, I suppose-- the Secretary. Only they're not really to blame here. It's the whole fucking situation, the one in front of me and the one to come, just a little further down the road. The dirt helped for a little while. Pushed those thoughts out of my head, so I could just sit in the darkness of my office and...exist. Threw the chit in the drawer and didn't pull it out until I was out of the hole they put me in. Small favor that I didn't get any other visitors in the interim. Wouldn't do to have the rookies see me like that if I can help it.

Talked a lot about why I don't get to take the easy path. Even talked myself into believing it, and why. But it's hard fucking work, this job, and there's too few hands to lend to my own. None of them can look past their own wants for titles and dinari and approval to focus on what needs to be done to keep this place running. None of them are willing to make the hard decisions without someone to blame for it if something goes wrong. Cowards and dogs and self-righteous head-up-their-ass harpies who have the dubious fortune of continuing to draw breath.

I tell myself that I'll hang it up and trot out to Baz'eel before I become as bitter as Boudanne, haunting the halls of this Garrison with only my muttering to give people warning. Part of me wonders if that time's already come. It whispers that I'm being arrogant to believe that the work won't continue in my absence, that the people under my command won't carry on when given the lead. The dirt did a fair job of deafening it. Scorch would be even better. But what would absolutely take the proverbial cake would be finding Grenth's killer; the hand behind Vladimiros' contract. And the chances of that grow slimmer by the hour, thanks to the donkeys in the Krak.

Need to get out of my head. Get some distance, talk things through with the men. Might help with this. I'll take might over another trip into the locker.

[Blue41]

Hard to believe there was some blissful period of time where I could safely ignore who was running for Legate, because even if they were never going to do anything of use to the Fourth, at least they wouldn't get in the way either in their submission to the Rose. Not the case anymore. The Bey once charged me with the enviable role of being the only man in a room full of dreamers and schemers to speak sense. These days I feel like I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, and no one's listening. Wait. Watch. Be still. Not yet. Don't act until we're ready to move.

Not heeding that is what got Syter killed, and started Diakos running. I've been bitten. I remember the lesson. But I can't change my nature. I'm going to get stung again. And fool that I am, I'm going to meet it with my eyes open and blood on my teeth. 

[Blue41]

I'm too close to this. I can recognize that. That's growth.

But that doesn't mean I'm wrong. And that's just me.

Someday I won't have to hear the phrase "when the war is over", and my life will dramatically improve. Unless, of course, I'm buried six feet under. Not sure I warrant the Ashfolk treatment. Not sure I'd like it.

[Blue41]

Nor's been absent for a while, and I know who's to blame for it. Fucking Teg.

This isn't even something I can properly blame myself for. Never liked the man, but at least I have the good sense not to show it, not to speak of it freely, because it serves no one and can only provoke dissension among the ranks. Feels all the more pointed after hearing about what Aubrey's going through. But I can't help but wonder how things might have gone if I had gone after Teg for how he treated Rhuk. The man's always had to fight the feeling of not being appreciated enough for what he's done for this Legion. Would it have been wise to give him that validation while simultaneously turning the grunts against another officer?

No, not wise. A better friend might have done it, but a good officer wouldn't.

Not sure what's going to get him out of his funk, or if anything will. Time or the end of the war, whichever comes first. I don't have the luxury of withdrawing, and thankfully there's plenty to keep me busy. Good crop of Soldiers, but they're still prone to doing Soldier shit. Starting fights, verbal or otherwise, that they shouldn't. Pursuing cases without thought of the consequences. Makes me nostalgic of my own days as a grunt, but I wouldn't trade places if I had the chance. If they all come out of the other side of this conflict alive, then the Legion might be in a good place for a while.

Going to burn that letter tonight, I think. Step out from under that particular shadow. Been long enough.

[Blue41]

'Toil in recording horrible truth.'

I can't put this one to parchment, though. I'd gotten used to giving the men work, carrying out that work, but it's all so small in comparison. Petty crimes committed by pettier people with no real inkling of how they can cover it up, versus these fucking

Marishyen

Who calls those bastards to task? Who pulls the puppeteer out from behind the curtain and demands compensation for the shit they've been sold? How do you put a ghost on trial?



The work. The work is absolutely going to get me killed. But that's the work. And it's going to get done.

[Blue41]

If.

Going to put that word on my tombstone. Feels like an accurate summary of my life, my career, up to this point. How many things would change for the better if I had acted on a hunch, and how many things would be worse? If I had rolled right instead of left with Ramcrest, would I still be around to scribble pointless speculation in this godsforsaken book?

Arslan. Hard to believe that what I'd been angling for all this time took place-- at great cost and loss of life, but the next conflict's opening shot was fired, and for a change Ephia's Well wasn't caught on the back foot. It didn't go as I would've liked, or as expected, but then, plans rarely do. For so long, I had been worried about trying to mitigate the Banda Rossa's role in what was to come there. Never would've expected both Legates to go for it-- one, sure. But both of them? Toss the fucking ash. I wonder what Saenus would've made of this if he was still alive. Properly alive, instead of the state he's existing in now.

Rectifying that's got to be next on my list. I owe him that much. Even if it kills me. At least I'd be leaving the Legion behind in good hands.

I'd beg the Wheel and all of the Gods on it to keep me from attending any more Janissary funerals, but it would be hypocritical, wouldn't it? After all, taking Arslan's kicked off another war-- sure as shit falls out of a camel. All three of the lives that we lost there are on me. Izamail's message-- 'the scales shall righten.'

How's my life going to pay for all the lives given, or lost, on my account? I don't see how they ever could. All I can do is hope that it was worth something beneficial. That it keeps this Well moving forward.