I have tried to keep a journal before, lets see how long it lasts this time.

A beginning – 3 years of training. I don’t think I have ever managed to complete something so difficult. Although that sentiment may not prove true for the future. Hagen said it was all about giving me choices. That whilst my instincts may not be wrong, having choices will give me a chance to make better decisions? I’m not sure how that’s working out so far.

Next – Arriving late for a battle, I’m not even sure how I got there. Luce and Lara raining down hellfire on one flank, Hagen, the Venway and the Honoured Dead carving their way through the other. Lightning and storms everywhere. In the middle, Emil, completely oblivious. I once had an art teacher explain to me why everything we do sometimes requires a tiny flaw to make it perfect. That made no sense at all until that day. Seeing Emil there protected from everything by the artefact that I had made him, even his own pain. I made a decision, initially an instinctual one. Do I get him the hells out, or hope he survives long enough to do what he needs to do. Getting him the hells out was more important.

If we had only stopped them before this, they would not have destroyed part of Rebma. I had seen autochromes of damage done by the Divergence, and it looked so much the same. The tidal wave on shore triggered a pressure wave that hit The Veil. It cracked. That terrible, horrible feeling when things you read about in history books come home to you. Lara and Deirdre worked to get supplies in to Rebma, I made myself useful to Prince Madoc, searching for survivors, finding so many dead. I don’t know why the Weirmonken would do this. I probably need to find out more. There were faces that I knew.

Followed by – Getting Random out of Rebma. My father’s advice. I could not do it myself and trusted to Lara. Of everything that happened, I am still uncertain. Lara and Emil did the best that they could I know. It would have been expected for Luce to try and take advantage. I know he has never liked Random. I did not expect Hagen to take his side, but with Hagen, I don’t think there are any sides. I think there is opportunity, subtlety and awareness. Do I trust him? Yes. He has not lied to me. He has given me his time when he did not need to, and he does not treat me like an inconvenience. He gave me his daughter’s sword. That made me cry.

An Interlude to – Plans to kill the Lady Vialle. In honesty, I don’t think I made the best decisions here. The horrific idea that Lady Vialle, so close to the Queen, could be Weir. Lara and Prince Madoc confirming the stink of weir-taint in Rebma, but unable to find the source. In the end, it turned out to be true, although the path leading there was muddy. Lara, Luce and Hagen making plans to extract information from her. Emil seemingly finding the whole concept abhorrent, and preoccupied with his own dilemma. Random and I……foolishly deciding to take on the plan ourselves.

And in the End – A Throne Room assault. A rebellion brought to a rapid end, and a home I can never go back to. My first mistake – assuming that I had any right to bring this in to the seat of power. In retrospect, there were many ways it could have been handled, this was not the best of them. That Amberite arrogance that I occasionally catch in myself, to think that there are no consequences, there is only the goal. Entering the throne room with pattern raised, providing a distraction that very rapidly turned in to a squabbling match over whether or not Vialle was actually tainted or not. Lara almost getting to where she needed to be, but being noticed. Then all hells breaks loose, some of my own doing. Madoc and his allies appearing to attempt their coup, Engaging the Annwr to keep Lara from being targeted so she could glean what she needed from Vialle. Emil trying to calm things down with a spell.

Then Luce. Luce. I am beginning to see that with Luce the ends justify the means. This makes me sad. He is my friend, but my confidence in him is deeply shaken. By the time he was done, several noble corpses lay in crumbling heaps on the floor, the Queen and the rebels united against him and a dagger through his heart. I admit that I wept for him. I wept for his victims to a far greater degree. They were my people. Had anything else happened, I believe the situation would have been salvageable. But this?

I have received a summons to appear before a commission in Rebma and give evidence. I have declined. Although I will take full responsibility for bringing who I brought to that fight, being free and useful is more important. Again there is that Amberite arrogance. I can never go home. And what makes me feel worse is that neither can my father.

I’m hoping Lara will take my call soon. I have been trying for days. She is not happy with me, with any of us I suspect. At least I am from this world and understand how most of it works. For her, this is all foreign, and sometimes she must feel completely at sea, and I think we forget that.

Oliver has been a complete sweetheart, he knows I’m not happy, and does his best to cheer me up. I’m glad I have him around.

Esmond has been a gods-send; interesting, handsome, a decent cook, and yes, very good in bed. They say the Feldanes can be infuriating, but then that has also been said of me by not particularly nice people. Maybe I’ll drag him out to one of the more dangerous ruins he keeps talking about and smite my way through some drauger for him. Maturity, don’t even ask me about it right now.

 

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