Page 50{Note: Transcribe this as independent letter to church later} Brother Urdin of the Church of St. Cuthbert offered me some advice on the introductory texts of his faith, Common Sense and Parables of the Wise Fool. The text of Parables, while more digestible than Common Sense, may have much of its meaning escape without interpretation by one learned in the faith. My recommendation is that we include the Parables as an early available text outside of theological instruction, and assign Common Sense as independent reading during our introductory theology classes. Parables of the Wise Fool, on the other hand, should be guided reading in the same level class, with one versed in the Saint’s scholarly traditions guiding discussion on the deeper interpretations of hopefully familiar stories.
Judge Alistair mentioned to me his familiarity with the influence of the Church of St. Cuthbert on the legal system and penal code of Sanctum (and perhaps the independent southern baronies where it predominates as a peoples’ religion?). I will see if I can find an opportunity to inquire more with him on this regard. The results when I acquire them will likely fit best into an intermediate course on interfaith relations and religious influence on secular government, along with an exploration of the more militaristic and evangelical aspects of the Saint’s church, relevant more to these questions than they would be to understanding the church as it functions in the daily lives of the faithful.
[A blank space is left]
Page 51In the Vanspur barony of the south we managed to take some time out of our day to investigate the local flora. This may have had something to do with the beauty and musical talent of a certain elven woman named Mezrielle Starsong capturing the imagination of both myself and Keith, and desiring to gift a token of our favor to grow in her garden. I will describe the one we eventually chose as well as some of the others we learned about in our small quest.
The flower we decided on as a gift for the lady Starsong is known as King’s Tear. It is a lovely purple flower whose seed only germinates on the barrows of ancient kings. Their petals curl in two layers of four petals. We managed to find a bed on a barrow full of snakes and guarded by a trapped hydra; I decided to kill the beast rather than leaving it imprisoned, for I doubt it was intelligent enough to have the sense of the future that entails hope of escape, and its continued confinement seemed needlessly cruel. I am sure it has found itself in a better place in its next life.
[The text goes on to describe other rare southern flowers learned of in the gathering of information.]
Page 52In Behemoth Pass, a part of the southern “barbarian” lands that connects the baronies of Vanspur and Arrow most directly, there are some fascinating creatures. We didn’t have enough time to engage long with the residents, but the goblin clan that seems to control the passage rides great beasts called behemoths or elephants, that can fit six goblin riders easily, and are so tall it is difficult to make out the figures atop them! They have great wide ears they can flap, wrinkled grey skin as near hairless-looking as a human’s, and great long tusks sticking out of their mouth around a snout that looks like it has been stretched into something as manipulable and flexible as a snake. Their tail most of all resembled a cow but I felt like there was an intelligence in their eyes I have never seen in such domestic beasts. Keith spoke of eating them but I think it would pain my heart to see such a noble beast fall as food.
We also saw some hunched bipeds, quite large and extremely hairy (not unlike Keith in that regard I suppose) whose arms seemed the dominant part of them. They were consuming meat but made no action except to watch us as we passed, and again we did not have the time to stop and determine much of anything regarding their nature. I did not recognize them either from my own knowledge or what you have gifted to me my Lord.
[Written is a story of the time the maid served drinks to the peace discussion between all the barons discussing the conflicts they all had with each other and how to resolve them, and that Lady Arrow likes a specific kind of brandy that seemed strange, but is not recalled]
[Written is the maid’s story of the time a wandering circus came to town and they had all sorts of exotic animals and performers and magic]
[Written is the story of how the maid met a faerie when she was really young and no one believed her that it was real and then it vanished one day]
Page 53... my Lord ... no ... I cannot write this yet.
... though we won the battle it cannot be called otherwise than a tragedy. Also. An atrocity. The vampire Ironwood ... released a plague of wights. Death, reanimation, spreading swift as wildfire. We rode and incinerated the victims. Townsfolk we should have been protecting. Not cutting down. Saint guard their souls ... it was ... a great evil done that day. Grief now makes its home in Lord Haldici’s barony.
Yet in some things we were victorious. Lord Ironwood has little chance to rise again. Yet even here three wardens lost their life trying to ensure this.
I am calmer now than how I first took it. With the aid of meditation and close companionship it did not take long to start again to feel happiness and hope for the future, at least it did not seem so to me. I am not entirely sure I wish to move on so quickly, truly ... but I will not forget. I feel ... changed ... older? Like I have lost a piece of myself, and grown wiser for it.
More uplifting: Unstaking Lura once she was freed of her sire’s influence. Is it smart to allow a vampire free? Perhaps not. Has her courage touched me and her joy brought all of us relief and laughter? Most certainly. We are all happy for her, let mercy and love override safety for now, I have faith in her and no heart for more tragedy.
Before we left the South we went to a final barony which had aided Ironwood willingly. It occurred that it had done so financially and in exchange for relief from a misty plague spread over their land, that corrupted the grain and the blight caused those desperate enough to eat it to be taken with madness. I was reminded of the blackspot rye but it was an affliction that could spread. Looking into it we found the source, three shamans who followed a plague spirit and sought to bring misery to empower their master and themselves. We killed two and turned the remaining one into the barony after weakening him. Akirah read his mind and this is how the remaining one wishes to be remembered: As a man of power and a culler of the weak. I will guess that his fellows wish to be remembered similarly, though I could not look into their minds. Let their nature be recorded here as they wished. Though I have difficulty finding any love for them I can at least accord that respect.
Page 54dated 4/1/13
[The page composes a fair bit of wandering script having not an ounce of meaning or letter to its composition.]
Page 55Akirah -
I love her.
I trust her.
I want her to be happy.
Not to have to fight herself over every action.
It humbles me to consider how hard this must be for her.
How much courage she has to choose this.
For me, she claims.
I am not worthy of this.
But I am amazed
and delighted
and hold the dearest of hopes for her.
She is brave, beautiful, talented, fierce, resilient, sensual.
The utter delight she takes in even painful and unpleasant experience is -
inspiring; uplifting.
Reminding me how much there is to appreciate in the world.
I want to share every experience, every passion, every surge of emotion with her.
When she is apart from me I feel a sense of loss
like everything I feel drains away, wasted potential.
Something that I could have shared with her and brought her joy now simply gone.
Unrealized.
I want her to have everything.
And I want someone who understands me
stays with me and understands everything ...
Who knows what is going through my head ... who I keep no secrets from.
Who I can keep no secrets from, yet who loves me.
... It is liberating, truly.
My heart aches when we are separate.
I resent the distance between us.
But this possessiveness concerns me...
I want her to be happy ...
And free.
Not ... to indulge my wish to cling to her for the sake of making me happy.
Not to simply let me make the choice.
Or others and me, even.
... I want her to want it herself.
Selfishly ... of course I want to keep such intimacy.
Thinking of others, I worry the choice will harm our relationships.
But more than either of those I want what is best for her.
I want to make the choice that will make her happiest.
I'm not sure what that is ... maybe I should try and give back the choice.
Why would she trust my judgment on it more than her own?
I'm not sure what to do...
Page 55 (incomplete)[story of the three hunters]
[story of the mouse and his scary shadow]
Page 56Dream - A mountain, crater a peak, three jagged rock points; a mound shaped as a U of great size; the mound stirs and a gold dragon raises its head to regard me.
Dream - A rope tied around my waist, an erinyes pulls me along. Ironwood naked and lashed to a pole. Requested me as personal torturer because by destroying I sent him to Hell. Erinyes gift. At first unenthusiastic. Listing his sins doesn’t move me. She insinuates he might have violated Lura and I … snap … numb to most of it but not what he did to her. Started using fire and claws and ate his skin. Til he screamed then I realized what I was doing. Backed away but he’d turned into John. Sad eyes. Grinned at me and asked what I’d stopped for. Said it was just starting to get interesting.
Woke up I’d clawed and breathed fire in sleep. Blood on sheets from Alistair. Sheets charred. Had to pay to replace.
Dream - Wights marched from holes in the mountains. Just out of reach killing things that rise as wights. I’m on Ironwood’s chair. I panic and burn it. Futility is evident so I start to write. Turns into sketch. They read over my shoulder. I offer to draw his picture, I’m talking like John presumably because drawing? Not that good though. Mess up his hair. I fix it he goes back to rampaging. Call if he wants picture. Then try and take hostage. Ask leader. Wights block path. Ask if direct control. Is not. I burn the group and run with my freed hostage. Leader is shadowy colossus with single burning red eye. Laughs as we run. Wake to father trying to extinguish fire on bed. Aid, agree to get help.
When I go back to sleep I’m at a party. Nobody knows me and they laugh when I try to talk to them. It is very frustrating … Then I remember Ira was in a similar situation and I think on what she did then. I grab the maid and kiss her. She is a bit startled at first but gets into it and … I wake up about when it starts to get interesting.
Page 57Memory - Perspective of the kobold Malumat Emeraldwrought, based on my earlier experiences from his perspective gifted in mathematics. Time period seems like founding of Mystic Sky.
I watch/am the kobold whose writings so often come to mind when thinking of mathematics. His walk is slow and somber, some weight evidently on his mind. When he reaches an apparent dead end in the tunnels, he stops and waits, until an external force reaches out to teleport him. The scene shifts to a cavern glittering with crystal, books and scrolls, many of which he has been privileged to read, but they are not what is on his mind. A warmth and slight smell of sulfur betray some qualities of the location; the fact that the horde covers the cavern with many pieces stuck to the ceilings and walls like that way is 'down' betrays more. In the midst an immense emerald dragon regards the small kobold he has brought here, the tiny, jade-scaled reptilian kneeling in his presence.
"Malumat Emeraldwrought, my servant, please rise." The kobold obeys. "What word do you bring me?"
Malumat pauses, to choose his words carefully before answering, though he has thought about them for hours now. His master is patient, and does not mind the wait, letting the kobold speak in his own time and appreciating his thoughtfulness. "My proposal meets with ... discussion, my lord. Heated discussion. We have not yet found consensus."
A slow nod from the emerald dragon, before the inquiry. "What are the concerns?"
The kobold speaks bluntly. "The priesthood wishes to exterminate the gnomes before expanding into the area. They question that any child could be safe while that threat remains, and fear the disfavor of the Watcher if we settle nearby without dealing with them."
"Wage war on Charisma's servants and their god's disfavor will seem a paltry matter compared to her rage. It is out of the question."
"I realize, my Lord, but such are their concerns."
A snort. "My favor surely outweighs his disfavor. Let it be known to Kurtulmak that should his actions or 'disfavor' bring harm on you or any of my chosen people ... an eternity of suffering at the hands of the devils he associates with will seem like a pleasant vacation."
Malumat nods slowly, keeping his expression neutral - his alliance may have been picked for him at birth, but no need to join his master in incurring the Watcher's wrath.
The dragon continues. "Your kind were created to serve dragons, not him. I chose you especially, Malamut, to lead your people in my name. I expect you to gain a following and start your own wyr. Ensure the consensus comes to that. Leave his servants out, take Gaknulak's, that one is smart and humble and has my favor. I will take the political fallout of such on my own hide."
A nod in response. "I obey you, my Lord, and if I make your wishes known I am certain the rest will fall in line."
The dragon pauses, and sighs. "Employ coercion as a last resort, my child. It is effective but it will not breed the true loyalty I require of my vassals. No, bonds of trust are what will withstand time."
"... Then I will endeavor to forge them, my Lord. May I ask, how is Anlama doing among the humans?"
"My granddaughter is wisest of them, child, and they respect it. The tribes visit her for answers, and their chieftains are honored when her children seek marriage into their families. I know that with time and shrewd alliance I can build this young race my son chose into a fine nation. Even the local gods recognize her worthiness, I do not expect them to pose a threat to securing our rule so long as we ensure it benefits their charges. They have again that sense of humility, guides and servants to their people. Useful allies indeed."
"And the forestlords?"
"They and their elven vassals grow wary, I fear, but our interests are mutual overall. I will of course brook no admission of fealty to their Queen, nor they to our Prince; for now we have a cautious peace without subservience. Should they see fit to attempt to force your loyalty ..."
He gives a demonstrative swipe of great claws and snap of teeth.
"...I may be forced to deal with them. But you may find it useful to mix families with their kobold servants of your own accord, I will not prohibit such mingling. They shall be strange to you though I warn, swampdwellers and isolated from their kind."
"I will take that into account."
The great dragon nods satisfied and settles himself, regarding his small servant closely. "How are you finding yourself, my servant? I know I ask a great deal of you."
Malumat sighs and nods, taking a moment again to pick his words carefully and honestly. "I find myself wishing often, my Lord, that I could leave all of the politics behind and retreat into my studies. I wish to serve my people, and I wish to serve you, but ... it is trying. I feel more suited to contemplation than to action.
... I know, however, that I am needed more than those who act without thinking. And if you judge me fit I shall continue to do my best to lead."
A fanged smile curls the jaw of the great dragon. "I understand, Malumat Emeraldwrought. Do not lament your duties - serve me well and I will ensure in time you find your peace. There is no service without reward, and your state of contentment calls to my own heart."
The kobold bows deeply.
"Thank you, my lord Smargad."
Page 58[notes scribed on the abbreviated tale of braddogoscar’s life, 24 hours of draconic knowledge]
Page 59Fictional Interlude
The following story is not intended to in any way shape or form reflect truth but rather as an exercise in the style of a hobby enjoyed by my fiancee at which I am trying my hand. With apologies to all involved.
The first step into the prison plane is … uncomfortable, but then Malumat was not expecting otherwise. The magic in his varied adornments dims to nothing, his wards slip away, and he struggles with a sense of nakedness usually foreign to him. Despite the lack, despite the strange inhabitants, despite the vertigo from walking on a surface beneath an open - if blank - sky … despite all of this the place has a calming quality. He is thankful for it.
His target is fairly obvious, one of the only structures anyone has bothered to make in this land: a house of sod, encircled by a garden of herbs and past that a fence, a ‘Visitors Not Welcome’ sign attached to the gate. It is there against fellow inmates and not outside visitors, he knows, but still not encouraging to lay eyes on. Nonetheless … worth braving the sign to be some semblance of underground again. And to consult with the author of the text he clutches. The man was obviously brilliant. Also a convicted murderer of his own kind. But Malumat’s human reincarnation trusted him, and if he couldn’t trust his own spiritual descendant …
Well, there was one he couldn’t trust, but those were dark times...and even then she had kept their best interests at heart, in the end.
Awkwardly the man who he sought seemed to be asleep inside, but Malumat was not about to waste any additional time indulging his agoraphobia. With alacrity he opened the gate and entered into the relievingly confined space beneath the sod, looking around at the canvas and tools that marked the place as well as the napping human. He seemed a relatively reasonable size compared to most of their kind though still sizable, certainly not compared to some beings he’d dealt with but when you reach the point of dragon there is really no comparison. While much art was about it utilized black and white, not drawing on the color vision that tended to be the main experience of surface dwellers, and was realistic in style… primarily drawings of humans or those close in form. The artist’s fine knowledge of anatomy manifested itself here as it did in more technical terms in his book.
“John Cutter?” he hazarded, waking the other in the room and quickly moving to explain himself before the human had the chance to become confused by a strange jade kobold in his living room (a potentially hazardous state): “Miaki pointed me here, I hoped to speak with you about your book, learn a bit more from you if you had the inclination and she … “ He decides against elaborating on that conversation and finishes with an unnecessary “... pointed me here.”
“Not exactly what I asked for darling but do appreciate the thought … “ John reflects mostly to himself before appraising the kobold. “Well a friend of Miaki’s is welcome here I guess but you have the advantage of me (nickname), who are you exactly?”
“Ah … I am her spiritual ancestor from some number of centuries in the past.”
This gives John some pause. “And you’re here … how exactly?”
“It’s necessary for the narrative to take place at all.”
“... darling you’re really stretching my suspension of disbelief here.”
Sorry … I’m bad at fiction. I’ll work something out.
“Once more then … how are you here?” John asks the kobold with a raised eyebrow.
“Miaki managed to get better in touch with her ancestry, enough to manifest my mind; she had Akirah shapeshift into me.”
“... wait, so that’s actually you in there darling?”
Malumat shakes his head. “They used a plot device to put me into a different body.”
“Ah. So … “
“ … they’re quite occupied with the plot device at the moment, yes.”
“ … that’s a little more than I needed to know, nickname.” His amused grin reassures Malumat a bit, though if he keeps it up for as long as he’s heard John has a tendency to … he’ll deal with that then. He rolls his eyes at the implications before John shifts the topic. “Let’s get on with what you’re here for then.”
Malumat opens his tome and notebook, already prepared with a number of questions regarding the topic of surgery gathered from his reading. Though a novice at the art of healing in any form, the kobold was quite diligent, critical in thought, and the methods described within appealed to his sense of order and procedure - all in all, an excellent student for any true expert to instruct. Time slips past nearly unheeded as they consult, no hunger or celestial body marking its passage; only the moon borrowed from another plane shining in the iolite gem on John’s wrist. Eventually though…
“You’re nodding off nickname.” Malumat wakes with a start at the accusation, shaking his head in pointless denial. “Yeah you’re not fooling either of us … Can stay in the guest room if you want, could use a few more winks myself.” A yawn punctuates this statement.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Malumat replies politely, provoking a dry laugh from John. The kobold retreats to the location named, curling up on the ground and seeking to continue his passage into sleep while John lies down to rest in the other room. The room is empty, though, and though he is at least underground, he is accustomed to sleeping among many; the silence and chill of unfilled space keep him awake, nervous, uncomfortable. Finally, after a time trying and failing to sleep, he crawled back into the room where John lay nearly so, and curled up against the body heat of the human.
“... flattered, but you’re not really my type, nickname.” The bemused, sleepy reply made Malumat grit his teeth and roll his eyes. The way humans thought … really.
“... don’t be disgusting. I just couldn’t sleep alone.” He was almost sure he heard an eyebrow raised from John’s direction but that wasn’t logical. It was likely all in his mind.
“Fine fine … won’t make ya I guess.” They drifted into silence again, and closer towards sleep, Malumat reassured by the proximity of another living being. It still wasn’t perfect … or at least it wasn’t until John gave in and wrapped an arm around the kobold. Secure in the warm embrace of his chosen mentor, Malumat relaxed into a deep and peaceful sleep.
Page 60[scribbled out]
introspection
How do you feel, Miaki?
How do I feel? Relieved. Obviously. Profoundly grateful, to a likely deeply evil being no less.
Empty. Alone. Cut off from her.
Loss. It was worse before we retrieved her. At least if I did ever fall to temptation I would be pretty much harmless.
Betrayed. The fate we chose was invalidated. Wrong. Did not go according to plan. You let me find her. You let us see the destiny we could have. And then. Because of a choice. A trust. A mistake. An enemy. That destiny slips from our grasp.
I can tell it is a test. To fight for what is meant to be with steel, or accept what has to be with grace, I cannot yet determine. I imagine your disappointment with acceptance alone, but also with stubbornly trying to change what cannot be unchanged. Our fate may not be as I pictured it. It is still ours to fight for, by one means or another. I can see the benefits to this arrangement; we took them into account on first making the decision. But thinking on them so soon feels like a betrayal of our decision. Not something I am ready for aside from tactically.
The time we have already shared is a blessing profound. Time apart, and complete, may provide needed perspective, as well, before our next decision. The reaffirmation of my gut feeling to bring Alistair, the efreet’s cooperation, that we had the right tool in our hands at the right time, all bolster my trust in your plans for us. I may hurt now but I shall keep faith in your love, architect. Continue to guide me in my works.
Page 61Spiritual ancestors / past lives?
Malumat Emeraldwrought - Kobold. Arcanist, spellbook favors geometric diagrams over runes. Seems loyal, introverted despite preferring vicinity of others, studious, calculating. Cares deeply for Lord and homeland. Pushed into leadership semi-unwilling. Lived when unification was just beginning.
Batak Dragonslayer - Kobold. Lived a harsher life, driven to violence often by necessities of survival. Born in service to Forestlords but resented their cruelty and sought asylum from our Lord. Competent, vicious, and cunning - used her talents to sabotage, ambush and kill much more phyiscally and magically imposing former masters, while for a long time remaining undetected. Motivated by hate - often unpleasant time to recall. Surviving the consequences of this life was … a close scrape, as what I estimate to be my next memories indicate ...
Skyseeker - Dragonborn hellbred … rescued from tortures at the claws of abishai mercifully blurred in my mind. Fanatically loyal. Winged, holy warrior, wielded a lance. Final death a sacrifice meant to turn the tide of a pivotal battle… from what I know of history I think it worked.
Myshala - Half-elven … mage, musician, poet, and scholar. Pacifist and lover of beauty; coautl mentor. Often mediator and diplomat. Found her soul’s history in a similar fashion to how I am … Malumat inspired her in formulating a magic related to the angles and music of the heavenly spheres. She could estimate what was to come and wrote messages meant for future lives such as this one … I will explore some of these in more depth when I have the chance … and maybe do similarly, if I can think of any sentiments to share. Different lives certainly seem distinct enough to be worth communicating between …
Page 62this isn’t going to make sense
obvious thought’s hands aren’t black … obvious or us? … singular … separate entities … metaphor layers … my hand? … future … affection/affected?
John’s trial is tomorrow. I’m confident the testimony he’s provided has been useful enough to stay the hand of justice against him, but it’s apparently not enough to stop a pall of dread that hangs on me when I enter Asylum and think about it. Makes visits more awkward, unfortunately. Shall be a relief once he’s absolved of sin, and after the trial, assuming I’m right. Certainly didn’t expect I’d start thinking of him as a friend when all this started.
Full moon party’s been going on. We made the second night so far. Athos drunk and trying to sing and dance is … a sight. Rather ridiculous really, but he certainly has those who appreciate him. At least it wasn’t beer this time … bubbles aren’t really good for a horse’s stomach. Then again, that was Elysian beer so it was probably better for him overall than pure water.
Memory - Perspective of the kobold Batak Dragonslayer.
He has a white mane and his dark hide has a velvety texture, contrast to my own hard and gleaming scales. The pair of long and sensitive whiskers that brush against me on occasion further suggest his origins lie more closely with the dragons of the East than with Caesinjach, but even in myth Gaknulak shrouds his past in secrecy; the most I can do is speculate. Smaller and slighter even than I, nonetheless I am sure his close press against me while we work is for my comfort rather than his. It was easy to forget how beyond us he really was at times, he was simply another hard worker, a humble genius, a dear friend I selfishly wished I could share more time with. I decided to share with him some of the troubled thoughts brewing in my mind while I had the chance.
(I wish I know what they spoke of…it dealt with duty, selfishness, and the relevance of motive but it’s very foggy. Many of hers are … I think it may have to do with the divergent nature of her reincarnations.)
At the appeal John’s sentence was commuted to life in prison and before it I was able to grant him absolution, praise be to the gods. A weight lifted from both of us. I breathe easier in Asylum now.