I grow increasingly uncomfortable with the situation.
Waiting around for the Legion to come for me is a burden. I wish that they would just get it over with. The longer they take about it, the more I am in danger of falling into a false sense of security. The reports of their retreat from these lands reinforce the idea that I am safe now, but I must wonder if that is a part of an overall plot. Have they simply gone to ground in an effort to regroup? Threats spoken to me in the past prevent me from complacence, but a part of me wishes that I could embrace it. A part of me wishes that the threat they pose has truly passed, that I can consider myself safe. It is paranoia that stops me from believing that; if it is healthy or not, I cannot say.
It is becoming ever more clear that I shall not come into possession of the book; hope of salvation by that means fades swiftly, but I cling to as much as I can.
As pressurising as that may be, however, my main concern remains with Cyfier. Since this began, he has been treating me less as a friend and more as en employee. At first, the gathering of information I had done for him was innocent enough. He simply wished to know more of the foes he may face and that is understandable. His desire to have me learn of troop movements and the inner-workings of the Sunset Knights, however, is worrying.
It is his wish to protect Bree. It is his wish to put an end to the different groups vying for power in this place and forge a state of peace for the inhabitants. This is what he tells me. His words are well-spoken, the notion one of noble intent, if unrealistically idealistic. I cannot help but question it. Perhaps it is unfair of me to do so, but my thoughts lead me toward the theory that he seeks power for himself. All that I know of him, all that I have come to admire and care for in him, tells me that it cannot be so... but power corrupts even those pure of mind and strong of heart.
When first we met, he was a man lost and wandering, seeking a new path in life. He sought personal peace, an existance free of violence and conflict. So suddenly has he changed that I find it difficult to understand. From a man who would while away hours sipping tea and speaking of inconsequential things to a man who visits only long enough to gain the required information from me. The change in him seemingly overnight. He is cold, hard, almost as inanimate as the armour he wears.
I miss the man that I was coming to know. I miss our talks and I begin to fear the man he has become. The man who will grow angry with me for being honest with him, as I had promised, is a stranger to me. I know that he is under a great deal of stress, however I look at him now and I see someone else entirely. What he "requires" of me leaves me feeling soiled, stained, as if I can never be clean again no matter how I scrub at my skin.
I must wonder if the past is repeating itself. I must wonder if I am again being used as a pawn in someone elses game. The more I think on it, the more it feels like I am once again in a time that has long since gone. Will he too leave me dying in the dust when I am no longer of use to him?
I am not yet ready to give up on him, however unwise that may be. Perhaps if I persist, I may yet be able to aid him in the way he needs, rather than the way he wants. Or perhaps it is sheer folly to try. I know not which is the best course of action, so all I can do for the moment is watch and wait.
