"Second Son of a Second Son" - Bleys' Journal

[Rastfar]

5 Ter, 637 M.Y.

I had always heard of Malcolm the Bronze. We all had. He was one of those I had romanticized the idea of, though now I am not so sure that he was deserving of my idolatry. Where was the duly designated Watch-Mage while Quillton’s residents were under attack? Where was Sir Malcolm the Bronze while Thricia’s citizenry were being sacrificed? And for what was their sacrifice? For one man to attempt to recapture his youth? A self-satisfying escapade? To slake some personal adventure?

I had heard of Malcolm the Bronze’s reputation. We all had. To my dismay I discover that absent is synonymous with irresponsible. Are these scathing accusations? Maybe. But I say they are bitter truths. Do the good deeds outweigh the bad? I am not Osiris, but perhaps Felix Wayhand and his son are asking the same question. Perhaps had we been able to send a faultless ahead, Tolvin Kentai would not be hearing his judgment now. Sir Malcolm should have been waiting at the Vanderboren manse for the arrival of the murderers.

As am I, Malcolm the Bronze is a graduate of the adventuring curriculum. Thus I know that he holds the ideas of exploration and discovery, the appeal of thrill-seeking and risk, dear in his heart of hearts. Would that he had the wisdom to know when to request reassignment, aid, or replacement there would be three less deaths to account for. How many others may have suffered in the past?

While I am eager to receive his advice, learn from one I had always wished to emulate, and make him proud by returning the token trophy, any such accomplishments will be sour. Is it possible that he would wish to steal the credit for the return of a religious relic? Telemakhos would have me believe it possible. I must be certain to independently declare our intention of its pursuit to a third party, unconnected, so that we will be able to better lay claim to the return of this blessed amulet of Fallon, before handing it to Malcolm for presentation. Leisel of Isis, in Sluetelot, she will know how to aid me.

The more I see, the more I grow contemptuous of the old guard. I begin to fathom how easy it is for Markos to remain disdainful. To be a knight is an honour and a life style, not an honorarium for a stylish life. I find another man expected to embody knightly virtue, measured and found wanting.


‘It is the responsibility of the young to keep the venerated honest.‘

 

[Rastfar]

6 Ter, 637 M.Y

The others have gone and I welcome the break. The tides have carried their ship away and the tension between us all with it. I remain behind here in the Vanderboren manse, enjoying the hospitality of Lady Lavinia. Also sharing her company are Victoria and Laarus of Ra. I have not seen Maeve since our last talk, nor any of the other Jade Ravens for that matter. Perhaps she is avoiding me.

Laarus concedes to experiencing visions. While I am calmed to discover he does not suffer some gnawing malady, I find that I am more than a little disturbed by the idea of one of our number having unpredictable foresight. Such divination that he admits is not bestowed by Ra. And such prescience that he assures always come to pass. Should I believe Laarus’ claims true, and I have no reason to consider him beguiling us, this means that Telemakhos is destined to meet with a fiery end. Not on my watch.

But where and why; from what do these premonitions derive? Is Laarus in some danger that he is not telling us of? Or, worse yet, some danger he knows not of? Is it possible that in some way he may be a threat to us?

 

[Rastfar]

7 Ter, 637 M.Y


Without all of the distraction and hullabaloo I have been able to clearly begin thinking more about Vanthus Vanderboren and his connection to a plot against the Wetherwax fleet. What work would need be begun only after crippling the RMN? The parallels are entirely too intentional to ignore.

The indistinguishable figure who met with Vanthus in Azure could be any of the three whom I had overheard during this Festival of Isis past. Or one of their agents? This connection alone, would lead me to believe that perhaps Vanthus is an unwilling pawn in their game. For while the Devenpecks alone do not wield immutable power, the suggestion of involvement by the Vandermok’s and those who serve the god of power is enough to hold sway over Vanthus, his parents or the Vanderboren Mercantile Nexus. But what advantage could Vanthus be hoping to gain?

Vanderboren, Vandermok, is there a possibility that the families are indeed related, a genealogical offshoot, or is it merely coincidence? So the correlation would stand.

Markos has taken to calling the religious relics of Vanthus’ pursuit, Pearls of Power. Malcolm the Bronze declared that this is a misnomer as the Pearls of Power that he knows of are divine items, holy to Tefnut, but allowed for those dedicated to other gods as well. They are used to enhance the castings of priestly spells, presumably to whichever god they are in service to. Malcolm assures me that the two are distinctly different, not one in the same. Only that this is a ‘pearl’ of some power.

Yet I must allow for the facts presented before me. This pearl was of some power, was sought after by religious fanatics, be they bullywugs, and so was possibly dedicated to whatever fish-mouthed god they sacrifice rats to. Assuming that the pearl we came into contact with, its purposeful intention was certainly not to be smashed. Vanthus’ blood caused the transformation. I must assume that this was an unwelcome side effect

I shall remember to give the young mage clarification so he does not labour to research them wrongly.

 

[Rastfar]

8 Ter, 637 M.Y

I was overcome in the romanticism of the moment. I bent the knee. I made a vow. And one I may not be able to practically keep. Such a fool am I. Perhaps it was the moon air, the breath of Isis blown into my chest. The Lady Lavinia certainly does not want for looks. As she sat there, alone, forlorn, with seemingly naught else in the world, I was reminded of Paulien and how she must feel: like a ship listing in a storm, no beacon in sight, no safe haven, no harbour, and no escape.

To play at being a knight is a dangerous game, and now I have forced another to lay her woes upon my shoulders. I must now honour my word, for the emotional investment I have wrested from her, lest she be buoyed by false hope.

 

[el-remmen]

I really like how this journal is starting to really supplement the "main" story hour - for example, the last two entries really shed light on the last InterSession installment with Bleys and Victoria approaching Weirspierogen.

Keep up the good work!

 

[Rastfar]

26 Ter, 637 M.Y

Garkhan the Green. Garkhan the Garbage-Picker. The grubby, the grotesque, the gross, grimy, grungy, grody. I had heard all of these names used in reference to our illustrious watch-mage, wielding some myself as a child. He has no knighthood and I dare suggest that he never will even be considered. Why should he? He has done nothing to distinguish himself. He boasts no fantastic deeds or heroics against odds unnumbered. Yet, I now begin to see Garkhan for what he really is. A real Watch-Mage, much more worthy of emulation than many of these so-called virtuous paragons. He may be peculiar, odd, and prone to foul stench, but his heart is large, his honour strong, his perceptions and priorities clear.

Having grown up in Weirspeirogen, being of common blood, and now serving as his people’s protector, Garkhan the Green has a perspective unique to those lives his lies entwined with. I am given the impression that he harbours umbrage for House Devenpeck, as there is overtly no love lost by the noble family for their watch-mage. He has given me hospitality this night, and allowed me to make pleasantries and ask my humble questions. He found opportunity to subtly interrogate me in return, measuring me, trying to gauge me as a man, a mage. Thinly veiled insinuation has me believe that House Devenpeck would much rather see him replaced with someone younger, more suitable to their agenda, more appropriate of their station and in line with their paradigm.

Me.

Brilliant really, for whatever suggestion House Devenpeck must have sown in my father’s ears, Callum would not know it to be serving as a means to manipulative end. And insightful. Garkhan is clearly more clever and understanding of Weirspeirogen’s political trickeries than he is ever given credit for. Having glimpsed such rare insight into the true man, witnessing his pride, affinity for his home, love for his people, despite reputation and mockery, I am forced to concede that I believe he is fully aware of all his actions. He likely employs his full faculties to continue with the façade of Garkhan the Garbage-Picker, shrewd in that he is utterly seen as an eccentric figurehead.

And so now I must reflect and wonder: what kind of impression have I left with him? For it is Garkhan who provides me with fables of a box of wands. Would he intentionally lead me astray? Would he tempt me to search out such an item while at the King Stones, knowing it did not exist? I must trust in my instinct in this. The answer must be no.

‘Language most shews a man. Speak that I may see thee.’

 

[Rastfar]

28 Ter, 637 M.Y

When Markos went missing as a child, many of the Raymer clan spent much time, cost, and energy in search if him. Several even called in favours of others even more powerful. Neither the divinations of exalted wizards, nor the prayers of a House dedicated to Ra yielded results, however. Whoever abducted him was certainly with means and purpose. What kind of power must said individual possess to shield Markos from such scrying eyes? And to what end? This information makes the boy more sympathetic, but suspect as well.

‘Family is our anchor; if we lose it we are lost.’

 

[Rastfar]

2 Quark, 637 M.Y


I have confided in Victoria my secret regarding my patron House. I admit that I entrust much in her confidence, but I hold faith in her honour and being beholden to those whom are ostensibly friends. I regret not having seen the wisdom in informing her before we sojourned to Weirspeirogen.

 

[Rastfar]

9 Quark, 637 M.Y.

Finally, we are off to the Disputed Territories. We have re-hired Falco and Dunlevey, after negotiating terms more to their liking. It shall be a long road ahead but I welcome the journey. I have longed to see the Thrician countryside for many years now and am keen to delve deeper into the cultural history of our roots which derived from the Time of the Six Kingdoms. The Borderlands and beyond should prove thrilling.

‘The more I travel, the less I know.’

 

[Rastfar]

10 Quark, 637 M.Y.

I have met Terrance the Yellow, an amiable man. He guided me toward Jacoba the Brown in the Border Shires should the need arise. I do not anticipate needing to seek her out, but I must at least announce my presence in the area to her should the opportunity arise. It would be good to hear her perspective of the rumours involving the Kingdom of the Red God that in part lead us here. It is possible that she too may know more about the King Stones or the Moor Tombs.