It is the year 142 in the Reckoning of Arelith.
I finally have time to keep a journal. Running a city may involve ledgers but there is no business quite like it. To think I was ready to consign myself to the ways of the robber to serve these people. Now I am able to at whim provide to the Least. What strange fortunes there are upon this isle. Tread upon by the Lord of Portals, maligned by the Mad God.
O Gilt Maiden I pray thee guide me and all of this city to ever be generous. To do what must be done to dispel greed and to encourage men to give. I ask you to guide those out there upon honest roads and away from the lies weaved by the Strifelord. Against the predations of the Masked Lord. I beg you do this until the coming Golden Age where all men shall be Kings.
I am pleased that Wylaana's auction went well. The woman is quick to doubt herself and her deeds - the most mercurial elf I have ever known. But I see in her golden and the good. I had funded her Ministry half the former guard budget. Five hundred thousand. Due to the events of the auction, they sit at over one and a half million. Waukeen be praised for the giving nature within men. Especially the Lady Waynolt- who I am glad to have finally met.
I miss my dear lady. I pray she is safe upon the roads and that her name shall not be written upon the Doomscribes pages. Her company is one of my lone comforts in the burden I carry upon my shoulders. I can see why men become paupers when love is invested in their hearts. Princess of Passions, I suppose I have you to thank. I will find a way to honor you for this joy I now know.
Apparently the wild tales and wagging tongues believe me to be an agent of the Mad God, that I have half the isle in my pockets, and that I am a sodomite with immense powers of sorcery. Should this journal be found ages from now or stolen from me. Let it stand that my life is not so exciting but the absurdity of the tales has brought me endless fonts of Joy. Praise be the friend of Waukeen, Lliira.
The Private Journal of the Son of Fortun, who serves Waukeen, and hails from Athkatla.
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Chess, 142 in the Arelith Reckoning.
Chess, 142 in the Arelith Reckoning.
I was finally able to spend some time with my dear woman. Though we slept upon a stone floor it was the greatest comfort. I pity those who cannot know love.
The Ordo Cordoria are forming up nicely and the Peacekeeper Guilds are operating effectively enough. This diversity has provided the city strength. Those who previously may not have joined monolithic city watches may now invest their personal affections in the city - a citizen militia with reason to care for their fellows and the city.
I hope to speak with the Minister of Glee soon. We need festivals. We need joy.
Note: I must find the exact recipe of these elaborate pies. Whatever conspirator who makes them is better off being a baker than an agitator.
I was finally able to spend some time with my dear woman. Though we slept upon a stone floor it was the greatest comfort. I pity those who cannot know love.
The Ordo Cordoria are forming up nicely and the Peacekeeper Guilds are operating effectively enough. This diversity has provided the city strength. Those who previously may not have joined monolithic city watches may now invest their personal affections in the city - a citizen militia with reason to care for their fellows and the city.
I hope to speak with the Minister of Glee soon. We need festivals. We need joy.
Note: I must find the exact recipe of these elaborate pies. Whatever conspirator who makes them is better off being a baker than an agitator.
