Kríea

The hill which houses the great hall once founded by a man I respected very much stands overlooking the whole village from it's vantage point. Even my house. There are many in this place that know me, or know of me. So why, did you then choose to reside in this place. As ever, I feel a pull in two different directions. One tugs me southwards in the direction of those Southern shores. But I also feel a desire to remain close by certain individuals. I informed the Captain's daughter of my desire for the former. I often feel as though I am a man with nothing left here.

It is early as I write these words, I have just carried my flower home. As I saw her sleeping the morning prior I crept out of the house with a heaviness in my heart. I still could not think. Yet as the day wore on I grew lighter of spirit, the walk clearing my head as I suspected it might. And the further I got from home. Through the woods. The more I wished I had remained in bed at her side. The intensity of feeling building up within me and I dared to smile at the thought of just being around her.

Oft ic sceolde ana                  Often (or always) I had alone
uhtna gehwylce                      to speak of my trouble
mine ceare cwiþan.                each morning before dawn.
Nis nu cwicra nan                  There is none now living
þe ic him modsefan                to whom I dare

Today has been a strange one. I woke up this morning to Cirywen sleeping soundly in my den of sin on the bear rug she has so chosen to name 'Mister Bear.' Now hold that thought.

You can't actually make this up, the one girl I suspected of nefarious leanings seems to simply just potentially be innocent. Whereas I am now informed that Kríea is a con artist with a high price on her head for her crimes in Dale. The man could have been lying of course. But as I stood over the ditch that is to be his final resting place. How could he have been? What purpose does it serve. Madness, absolute madness I tell you. This is the girl who I know for a fact to be naive, foolish. He must have been lying. He must have tricked her into his work.

My little boy has just drifted off to sleep. It is time to return to the manor untill the morning comes. Absently in my mind I cannot shake the thoughts of that infernal girl out of my head. I am far more aloof than I once was. Perhaps not as convincing in keeping people off the scent that my mind would be troubled. But I have started not to care, my priorities have changed. I spoke with Delinor who goes by the alias of Katey and made a quiet inquiry or two. If she could see in Cirywen the very same qualities of the woman she once hated as well as I did.

The few manor houses in Bree-land are all of a similar design, Therefore as I look around the vast hall I would have acquired for myself on the hill I am at once reminded of the smouldering ruin I made of my parent's mansion home. Nonetheless, this is the one place I can come now and be alone. I wouldn't normally have brought anyone here under any other circumstances but just across the village in my humbler abode by the river Kríea sleeps. I have enlisted the aid of Leecher Cartwell who attends to her on a daily basis.

Time. Such a curious thing. The order of one thing happening after another. Why was it suddenly so confused for her? Sickness seemed to play such curious games with her. She liked games. I wonder how I can win this one? The man had said that she would get better. He had given her smiles and comfort. His tenderness a stark contrast to the horrors she had been through. But who was he? She could barely remember. He became so confused with the other people that ran around her tormented head.

One foot in the door and one out. That is how I feel tonight. It is most peculiar. In one sense I am glad to be with these people as detached as I feel. I'm not certain mentally I was prepared for what transpired. Sworn in officially now, a company member. I even have my own sigil. No, all I sought was Taala funnily enough as I needed to blow off some steam but not in the sense that you might think, poor reader. In truth, impulse aside I have no time for dalliances. Utterly meaningless as they are.

The fresh breeze of a pale dawn rippled through the streets of Dale Town, rustling the leaves and mixing with the pale sounds of late night drunkards and early morning risers. One of the latter of these was a teenage girl crowned by a ginger mop of thick hair and carrying an oversized basket of apples. Faintly, the sounds of singing could be heard to come from her, the words travelling on the wind:

Oh blessed morning harken to me,

Where dawn and birds sing and be free,