William's journal and letters

[Aphel]

In front of you is William's journal. Its cover shows the ankh and nothing more. On the first page William wrote his name in simple, easy-to read letters, a style he continues for the first few entries. They seem to be made daily, some are short, others are more detailed. Between the pages there are some loose parchments on which various things are written.


Entry 1

I was asked by Lady Daniella to write a personal journal during the time I am here; and that I should write about what was on my mind.
It is late already as I write this, I can see Toran's Light already out on the night sky. I practiced the guards and some basic footwork and  swings. It is strange how good the body and the muscles can remember things like that. My tip was unsteady, but I still think grandpa would be proud to see me here. I will ask Mari or Hector to help my practice defending and counterattack if the instructors allow us to. I also need to practice footwork and stances, I feel very clumsy at the moment when holding and maneuvering with the longsword.
Concerning my equipment -- I have everything I need except some bandages and salves I think. Bartholomew Sampson's studded leather armor fits me, but I definitely need to visit an armorer to get myself at least a haubergeon, better yet a hauberk, a pair of gloves and a coif or something similar. I think I could take Sampson's chain armor and simply have it adjusted to my body; I will go and ask Lady Daniella or Sir Lance about that when the time comes. A heavy longsword waster would be nice so I could train with a weapon about the weight of the sword I would use in combat. If that is not possible, I will continue to train -- in full armor preferably - with a wooden longsword daily until I catch up with the rest of the students.

I am currently the youngest of the students, all others are at least two years older than me. Shorty after I arrived, we were told to resolve a fight between two farmers over a cow. Lady Jillian was to have an eye on us and asked us who wanted to be the leader. I was to step forward as I was told that I should do it and I accepted.
We switched through the leader position as Lady Jillian told us, and I have to note that while she took good care of us, she was the leader and not one of us students. While I do accept that each of us has to have the opportunity to be the leader, how can we do so when we are whispered to, interrupted, and our leadership?
How can I talk and try to help someone as the leader of a group, if my group interrupts my conversation with said person? I understand that a leader will always have people behind him that tell her or him what would be better or not, is stared at from behind and disagreed with.
Next time, I will just tell them to be silent when I have a conversation as a leader. That side-talk is for the time before and after such situations, just like planning is when building a house. One does not start discussing when cutting the wood. One does the work and occasionally step together and plan if the situation changes.
But how could the farmer believe my words, how can I get through to him when so much people, older people talk at him at once? Isn't that pushing somebody around? Intimidating? More of an interrogation than a conversation?
If I was the leader, how then can I make that visible to the farmer? I tried, but I failed. I was the youngest, the most inexperienced and all the experienced people did the talk over my head. I have no problem with that, it's alright to do that, but then I am not to be picked the leader. Let my watch, learn and stuff. Solve the little problems. Talk to people. Do the work that nobody wants to do, but must be done.
When I opened my mouth, I was always interrupting somebody else or undermining her or his authority. I wanted to say something at the end, when the two brothers finally talked with each other. I wanted to say something when Jett shouted at Mari. But how can I without undermining Lady Jillian's authority? And I can understand that all of us want to prove themselves. I do to -- but that's not what counts. At the end of the day, it's not about who was the best fighter or who resolved family issues. In the end, it's about the food in the people's bellies and if their kids have a warm, dry home and a future. We have to make things work. And it is us, the students, that have to do so. We have to learn it. We might get hurt, even have arguments, rivalries -- deep inside, we are humans, not gods. But we cannot behave like a bunch of schoolkids when we're out there. Out there, we're wearing the ankh for all open to see, and we have to live up to the standard's of the Great Leader the best of our possibility and beyond that. How can we do that when we don't  don't act like one and have conflicting leadership?
The next time if asked, I will decline the leadership until ordered to take it. I am of much more use if I do some actual work instead of trying to wrap my head around how I can position myself as a leader. I really rather try to make people regain their hope, no matter if they follow Katia or the Longstrider or Toran. If they need a light, I have a small one that I am willing to give. I have two hands that can build, repair things and maybe calm, soothe, heal. I have two eyes that can watch, observe and help me to find fragments of the truth. I have my body that I can put between those that need help and the danger. I have Toran's teachings in my head, my thoughts trying to understand what he means and why. Toran is with me in my heart and mind, so I can be with other people in their hearts and minds. It is hard work that solves problems, even if it is a dulling one. As long as I can see the purpose of the work I am doing, can see a few more happy glints in someone's eyes every day I can ignore the pain in my wrists and my back. We can fight back the orcs in the hills and gain glory. But we also can build a house for generations to live in, with a small garden in front and a barn in the back. We can teach them how to thread their land not with abuse but love so that it won't strike back. We can plant the seed of hope, compassion and truth in people's hearts, one after another. We must do so and protect the seeds. In this, there is much more glory than spilling blood, although it does not shines as much. I carry Toran's light in my heart. It's a small one, but I rather hold it up for those that are lost in the darkness, protecting them and guiding them and giving them a small light to hold too -- a small light might not be noticed alone, it might not be heroic, but an ocean of small lights will make the people look up and smile with childish astonishment, make them smile and see the compassion and justice of Toran. Justice and mercy being with love in the heart and the willingness to hold up ones light to help out the others. No matter how bright a single light is, it never can push the darkness back alone.

I will stay here and help these people, no matter what Hector or the other think of me. I can do some carpentry and work hard. If Misha's baby comes, I will ask my mother to send me a few things to help. I still know a few things from when Mara was born and the time afterwards, and I hope I can give Mari a hand with those things.

Let there be light.
~William




Remembering Granddad

The hauberk was much too large for him, the padded tunic he wore underneath wet from his sweat. The muscles in his arms screamed, burned so much that the only thing he managed was an improper fools guard.
"Keep your tip steady...keep it steady, boy!"
Granddad circled him, slowly, the tip of his longsword pointing at him. Now what?
Granddad didn't fight fairly. He was better. So how to win this without breaking the rules himself?
"Come on, you cannot win this, boy! Give up!"
Pa made a step forwards, provoking him to a counterattack. Will made a step back and to the left, bringing more distance between him and the tip of Granddad's sword.
He felt that even his eyes were tired and followed the movements too slow.
Fool against Plow.
Stupid!
Granddad made a feint and attacked with a trust.
Will throw himself out of the danger and towards his Granddad, losing the grip of his sword before crashing into the old man.
Both fighters fell to the ground, and the guard of granddad's sword hit Will above the left eye.
Granddad laughed.
"Very good! We should start to work on your instincts!"
He brushed the coif of his grandson's head and ruffled his hair before helping him up.

"Pa?"
"Hold still."
The alcohol burned in the wounds as Granddad disinfected them. A few scratches and injuries from wooden splinters. But his knuckles hurt the most.
"Why did you hit me on the hands?"
Pa applied a salve to the boys knuckles.
"Never expect your enemy to fight honorable in combat. Always expect to be attacked. Always be ready to fight to defend yourself or others. Never let your guard down."
The old man winked.
"Apart from when using the fools guard, of course. Learn to steady your tip."
"But Pa, the sword is so heavy!"
"You are heavy, not the blade. Find it's balance with you. Now come. We need to prepare dinner."
"Yes Pa."

He washed the dirt from a few small carrots and cut them into pieces.
"Pa? Why should I always be ready to defend myself and others from mean people? I mean, why are the people mean?"
The old man raised his head and looked out of the window for a small moment. The streets were getting dark slowly. He looked at his grandson.
"Most people are mean because they think that is the only way to survive.  Those you can teach and show Toran's compassion and help them out of the dark with his light. And then there is the darkness that cannot be healed, Will. If you ever should encounter that, be careful -- and let the Leader's light be your weapon to defeat it."
The boy nodded.
"But doesn't make that me a mean person to them?"
The old cleric frowned. "Yes, it does." He smiled and ruffled to boy's hair. "But don't be afraid -- that is not the same mean as their mean. Toran will lead you, and by his teachings you will be able to separate. Always carry his light in your heart, and always hold it up. Don't make a fuss about it, just hold it up so you are a light for other people so they can see his mercy and hope."
The boy nodded, stood on his toes and glanced into the pot with the boiling stew.

[Aphel]

A letter home

Mom, Dad, Seje, Jhon and Mara,
Thanks for the parcel you send me. I hope all of you are well and in good health. It was good to hear from you, and I wish you all the best.
I am trying to send back something in return with the next parcel if I can, maybe some more plants for Jhon and mom. Just tell me what I should look for, maybe my instructors allow me to pick some herbs for study on my next assignment. Currently, I am just trying to catch up on my lectures and not sure how good I am doing.
The last few days, I helped the men with some more carpentry at the farm, that was before the baby came. Misha and the baby are in good health and in good hands. I think it brought Samantha and Misha even closer together, and also the brothers -- the little angel keeps all of us quite busy (and awake), and I hope that things calm down in the next few days so we could return to our regular training.
Mom, Misha sends you thousand thanks for the potion and the notes on how to keep her child healthy you send with the last parcel, it really seemed to mean a lot to her. I hope everything works out alright, so we don't have to return here often.
Dad, I helped them repair their tools like you said, but I think their saw needs a new handle. I tried to improvise something, and it seems to hold at least, but still I am unsure if that really can withstand the hard work on the farm. I made a small drawing on the back of the letter so you can see what how I solved it: I pushed out the two tenons that were broken and used one handle of a scythe as a new handle for the saw, filling the space between the handle and the saw blade with two small pieces of wood. It works, but can you please send them a letter of warning if your son screwed up again and made an unsafe tool? I let the handle soak up water before I pushed the new tenons in, but I didn't have glue to hold them in.
Seje, yes, the baby is very cute and very loud. I gave Misha the swaddling clothes you made, she giggled and send thanks.
Jhon, thanks. I am good, Toran is with me and with you. If nothing goes wrong, there are a few seeds within the letter. Those are from the plant that I sent you a leaf and a small sketch off.
Mara, I don't have things from monsters that I killed. If I had killed any monsters, I wouldn't send you parts of them. I didn't have had enough time to finish your present, but I think I can send it with the next parcel.

The work is hard out here. I am tired and need sleep, therefore I will keep this a short letter. I am in good health and in good hands, do not worry.

May you all walk in the light,
~William

PS: Thanks for the salve mom, it works miracles on my wrists and neck. Thank you!

[Aphel]

Returning home

He visited his grandfather's urn before walking home, standing in the rain before the wall and reading the names chiseled in stone. Strange silence on the graveyard, only the sound of raindrops on the small paths between the graves.
And then he went home in silence, the rain seeping through his cloak. This all felt strange, all of a sudden. Very serious, as if he wasn't a boy anymore, no longer a carpenter's apprentice. But who was he now?
Strangers greeting him with a nod and a smile as they saw the ankh around his neck, the sword and shield – and others glared at him or shook their heads. He always smiles back, carefully and a little shy.
The sky cleared up after the short shower.

They didn't expect him, and Jhon was the first to notice him, standing in the kitchen mixing strange concoctions in an old pot, books and plant samples all over the floor. It smelled strange.
“Missed you!”
He hugged his older brother with a broad happy grin. “Making nice smelling things. Like?”
Will ruffled his hair and smiled. “You need some proper training, hm? Got the plants I send you?” Jhon nodded quickly and rushed off towards the door to the back yard. He planted the seeds in a small planter and showed it to his brother while mumbling something in a language that sounded elvish to Will, but he wasn't quite sure if it was elvish or the language of the plants, own to the world his brother was living in.
“Momma said thanks for sending.” He grinned and scurried around between the planters checking and sometimes softly tucking on the plants, babbling something Will couldn't understand.
Mara appeared in the door, a frown wrinkling her forehead and nose.
“Stop making a mess, Jhon!” Her voice was strict and just as annoying as William remembered it. She smiled. “Hello Will. Mom's upstairs. I just read the whole scroll on Toran she has! Ask me anything, I know it! I can read pretty good!”
Will laughed, while Jhon stayed between the planters, frowning a bit and ignored his sister.
“I am going upstairs, Jhon.”
But his brother babbled with his plants and ignored him.

Mom sat on her working desk and sealed phials with wax before putting them into a special box. The room was a mess, parchments with lists and addresses pinned everywhere.
“Hello Will.” She didn't look up until the last phial was in the box. Then she turned around and looked at him with a slight frown on her face.
“What did I tell you about weapons in this household, young man? This is not a barrack. Please put them in your room and then help me clean the kitchen.”
Will nodded and hurried to his room. He was hungry and tired, and there really was no point in starting an argument.
His room was small, very small, with a small window to the backgarden. It was clean, no dust, and a few crates were stored here. He didn't mind, he was using it so seldom anyway. Possibly never again in the near future. He left his sword, shield and armor there and hurried downstairs to help his mother.

His father returned form a construction site at the other end of town after darkfall. He looked tired and didn't seem to be too happy about seeing his son again. They ate, and Seje told them the latest gossip and how her apprenticeship was progressing. It seemed to Will, that they all were expecting something from him, maybe an insight, a prayer or an anecdote -
He told them about what happened during the last weeks as they asked, but not more. He felt tired, all of a sudden, but not tired enough to sleep.
He prayed in the twilight of his chamber and did sit-ups and push-ups before going to bed. And then he lay awake, eyes half closed but sleep wouldn't come.
Did he ask the right questions?
Did right questions exist, at all?
If people expect a leader to do everything right, then why did they follow those whose decisions had been obviously wrong?
How could one use the self-destructive tendencies of sentinent beings to not lead with force but with inspiration towards a better tomorrow?
How was it even possible to think about a better tomorrow, when so many of the soldiers returning from war now were not only wounded physically, but also mentally; their souls torn and twisted by the things they saw and experienced, by the need to survival hammered into their heads – how could they ever return to a normal life if they had problems to leave the battlefield behind?
Leading people into battle was one thing, but logically it was necessary to lead them out and outside of battle too, looking after them and caring about their injuries to they could return to a normal life, a life within society. Which means that if nobody cared about the returning soldiers, problems with crime and homelessness and so on would increase.
Which again showed him the absurdity of this whole war – fighting it was one thing, cleaning up behind it another. So many lives and resources had been or would be wasted -
He too?
That was different, he was following the Great Leader. It was better that he gave his life than the oldest son of a farmer who joined the army to find glory and coins in war.
Could war be glorious at all? What was glory about the mass-murder organized by people on horses or in commando tents? There was not even glory in fighting the undead, just necessity to protect the people from them.
He would rather not lead people into fights if he could fight alone, filled with Toran's burning wrath as he did when fighting the Undead in the Crypt of Vehl and in the Gloom Woods.
It was good, possibly, that he never told anyone about the burning, focused rage inside him when he fought, the sheer and raw amount of energy he could channel through himself by is belief, and his belief alone!, to strike the enemy down with Toran's might. But while it was powerful, it was not something to be taken for granted: Toran gave him these things so he could fulfill his purpose, so he could fulfill his role as one of those that carry the light for others, not to acquire personal power.
He closed his eyes. Toran gave him great things, he needed to contemplate about them, see how he could put them to best use.
It took long until he really fell asleep.

By dawn's first light, he got up, stretched, did his morning hygiene, prayed and contemplated about the weird dream he have had. He made breakfast in the morning light he remembered so well; with the scent of a cold oven and the wood's smell promising a new work day.
Father was already in the workshop, cleaning the tools and preparing for a workday. He had a large bruise on the left lower arm, and Will carefully reached out and put a hand on his father's shoulder.
“Good morning dad.”
His father must have been in thought and winced. The bruise disappeared; Will smiled at him.
“Morning, son. Good to have you back. Have some days off and want to help me?”
The young man shook his head. “Breakfast's ready, dad. What're you workin' on?”

It was a big project his father was working on. A merchant wanted to have his whole store renovated after a storm had destroyed the roof. Father didn't say much, but Will could tell that the pay wasn't that good.

“How is your training, Will?”
“Good. I think.”
“You think?”
“It's hard work, dad. We need to train a lot with weapons and armor, do chores in the house, that sort of thing.”
“Hmn. Did you have time to apply and train woodworking?”
“Na. When we helped two farmers, but that was it.”
“Ah. Yeah well, I really don't care what you craft you dabble in, Will. But you need to learn at least one craft, carpentry if you like or something else. I would like to see that my son is not only good with the sword but also good with more peaceful tools. Working with the hands helps the head to think, you know. Only reading and training ain't good for you.”
“I know.”
“Need some true? I think I still have some tools spare, too.”
“Na, it's alright. We got some coins during a training lesson. We found them by some undead, rather don't want to know which traveler was unlucky enough to... why? If we need new tools, I sure could buy some.”

His father laughed. “No, it's nice if you send something home occasionally, but I think you need some proper tools for yourself first. You know where?”
Will nodded.
“Good. Off you go. We meet at the merchant's store, let's see how much stronger and smarter you have gotten.”


The other men at the at the construction site eyed the ankh around Will's neck with suspicion first and made some bad jokes, but at the afternoon break they all got along pretty well. It was a lot of work, the store must have been out of use and care for quite a while. Kyle, the mason of the group, was unsure if the walls could support a new roof at all, and while Will and his father cut the wood needed for the repairs, the mason had a long discussion with  the merchant, a skinny man in expensive clothes with a mustached hired muscle that seemed to never leave his side.
Will watched them from a distance, sure they were not paying attention at all to him. Something was strange about both of them, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
“Don't stare, work. Then you can afford that kind of clothes eventually.”
The mason's apprentice grinned at him, and Will had a strange feeling in his gut, as if this apprentice was the kind of guy that killed cats for fun when drunk. There was something weird about them: the apprentice, the merchant and the guard.
Will shrugged and quickly returned to his work, somehow feeling that it was better not to be noticed staring at all.

He woke at night from a bad dream, something about zombies in a dark crypt. It was the sudden realization that woke him, the feeling with the merchant, the apprentice and the guard – it was the same as back then! The same feeling that the crypt had as Jillian had asked him if he could feel something ahead, and then there had been something dark, something odd, something... twisted. Evil.
He shuddered, his skin exposed to the night's cold air. He needed to get to work there again, and if they found out who he was -

Will jumped out of bed and rushed down in his parent's bedroom, waking them.
“Dad! Wake up, wake up!”
“Lemme sleep!”
“No! It's important!”
His mother lit a candle and blinked.
“What is it, Will?”
He shivered in the cold air. “The merchant and his guard are really evil people! Toran showed me! They are...nasty!”
His father rubbed his eyes.
“Wait. Toran spoke to you?”
“No. He...it's hard to explain. I know they are evil, dad! If we're not careful, they might do something nasty!”
His father sighed.
“Go back to sleep. We will think tomorrow about it.”
“But dad...”
“Tomorrow, you will be sick. Now, go to bed and sleep.”
He got out of bed and brought his son upstairs.

“Now, listen to me. I don't know what they teach to you, but I trust you. Grandpa told me once that certain servants of each god could read the intentions of other people very well.
We will do the following...”

He fell asleep quickly and woke early to write a brief report to the temple. Then he followed his dad back to work. It was probably better to just act as a normal follower of Toran instead of hiding, his father was right about that. And he could learn something here, too. If something would happen, he was ready to defend them, unless they would use the Al'Noth for whatever they did. He could not bring them down, not alone.

A week later, he returned to the house in Blackfort Castle but not before giving the small report on the merchant and his guard to the temple.

[Aphel]

Valor
“Those who follow Him shall show determination in facing great danger and show the strength to do what is right by the Hand of Virtue.”

Empathy
“Those who follow Him must try to see the world through the eyes of those they help.”

Conviction
“Hold firm in your belief in the Conducts of The Great Leader.”

Humility
“He never overestimated his importance in life. Do not see yourself as above anyone.”

Sacrifice
“Be ready to give of yourself in time, in labor, and if He wills it, in life's blood.”

Honorable Combat
“Do not strike from behind.”

Restraint
“There can be no valor and not honorable combat without control.”


These are the Conducts of Virtue.
I shall make understanding and following them the center of my being; I shall follow them in life, love, fight and death.
I shall look out for my fellow students; as we are students we will make mistakes. It is my duty to prevent harm and injury from my fellow students and myself.
Equally, it is my duty to prevent harm and injury from those around me; being Your servant means being a fellow man. I shall, no matter of status, rank or race, use my abilities and experiences to lend my ear, mouth and muscles and work towards the betterment of all.
I shall not suffer the corruption of luxury and wealth; be it comfortable clothing, reading for leisure or extravagant food.
I shall wear simple clothing and unadorned armor and weaponry; unpainted armor shall show my purity.
I shall not succumb to wrath, nor will I ever be judge and executioner.
My actions shall never let anyone doubt my faith; they shall be always in line with the Conducts of Virtue.
My words shall be well-placed and well-thought; I will speak the truth if asked and voice my opinion clearly and with honesty.
I will not take up heraldry to show my status, ever – the ankh around my neck shall be all I ever need.
I shall act with patience and compassion.
I shall suffer no pit-fiend or undead to live.


Toran, I vow to uphold these rules and live by them without compromising. This vow is between you, The Great Leader, and me, William Leox. It might be extended and rephrased to mark my journey on your paths, but these words are between you and me. Should my vow conflict with your church, I shall seek counseling and meditation.

For misunderstanding your rules, I shall fast and strengthen my body with wearing armor while I cleanse my spirit with prayer and meditation until I am ready to walk on your path. My spirit was raging, uncontrolled and disrespectful towards my teachers. It will be no more.

[Aphel]

Mom, Dad, Seje, Jhon and Mara

I hope this letter reaches you all in good health and well-being. I apologize for not writing much recently, our drill and the lessons are getting harder and more demanding. Lady Daniella Stormhaven personally drilled us in combat and usage of different arms; and I strive to learn all her lessons well to become a protector of the people and my fellow students.
I think often of you and granddad and hope that one day, I will make you proud and not sad.

Share His Light,
~William

[Aphel]

Night has fallen; the pyres were still burning. It was cold and silent, the roaring flames that lit the plaza, casting odd shadows over the stone tiles. This time, it was himself sitting at the top of the stairs. Nothing would be the same again.
The stars, so many, so many like thoughts; pretty, single lights in a vast darkness. His hands were cold and hurt, he shivered despite the tabard and the padded underarmor.
Pain was irrelevant. He should have felt something, but he didn't. Nothing.
Nothing at all.

His longsword placed on a piece of linen in front of him, polished and newly sharpened; a phial of blessed water next to it. It was his duty to guard the pyres, to do the vigil. What else should he have done?
William got up and took his sword.

He couldn't stand it any longer. What good were prayers to him? Or offers of help? Nothing of it would ever bring them back. Things like did not happen just like that.

Why did I chose to sleep in the Temple instead of going home? I could have saved them. Instead -

White knuckles around the longsword's hilt. Pictures burned in his head cold and cruel like black ink flooding his heart.

“Do what is right. Always. Never compromise.”
I miss you, grandpa. I miss you all.

He suppressed the shivering and let the tears flow, his face still disciplined and impassive. The plaza was bigger at night, no way to tell where it started or ended when twilight blurred the border.

Followers of the Great Leader do not shiver. Followers of the Great Leader do not question Him; Followers of the Great Leader do not let feelings control them.

He disliked Mari's touches now, disliked the condolences. Uncomfortable to think about it, it felt wrong that he had cried when she was around but it felt not bad back then, only disgusting now. Or that she had to be there to see; that she remained so calm while he -

It would take the fires at least until the morning to consume the bodies, but he felt like ice even when he was close to the flames. The Al'Noth fed the flames, and there was nothing more to see. Nothing.
He had closed his eyes when they ignited them with a prayer to the Great Leader, his face hidden under a hood.
Eternities waiting in the gray until morning.

-

Dreams at night, waking in cold sweat with a scream loud enough to wake the others in the dorm. Letting himself fall back into an uncomfortable bed, staring upwards. Feeling like about to spew.
He sat up and rubbed his face, got out of bed and dresses in the house's gray silence. Running through the morning mist, the sea gray and dull, salty fog and seagulls sitting fluffed up on stones at the beach, flying up when he came closer. Muddy sand creaking under his boots, wet cold crawling under his clothes and over his skin. Thoughts almost as heavy and slow as his backpack. Running down the beach, following the coastline, then up the steep path to the top of the cliffs again. Breathing liquid fire, breathing pain. Heavy boots flying over mud and stones and pebbles and driftwood and sand.
He realized that he had forgotten to increase his backpack's weight by a fifth this morning and kept running.

You're just stupid.

Pain and exhaustion made the memories go away; and when he reached the house again his knees trembled and his stomach cramped from the lack of food. Cleaning his boots, then washing and preparing breakfast. The smell of wet wood and salt when he lit the fires. He had gotten better at beating the training dummies as if dumb, chopping the straw apart with the weak of his blade, pummeling it with his fists until his knuckles bled.
Working the pain away, hollowing himself out -
Cleaning his room, dumbing himself, fingers cold and wet, hands shaking but quick and precise still.
Knocking at the door.

William Leox: (sighs) It's open! (quietly)
Daniella Stormhaven: William, are you in there?
William Leox: Yes. (muffled through the door)
Raelyn backs away. William opens the door.
Daniella Stormhaven: How are you?

Raelyn looks down listening, trying her best not to make things worse, William looks tried from Daniella to Lyn and back.

William Leox: Doing fine, Lady Stormhaven. Is there anything I can do for you? (quietly shuts the door behind him)
Daniella Stormhaven: (purses her lips, unconvinced)  William, if you need a few days off, you know you can have them. Or if you need help with anything.
Raelyn Blair: Or a friend to just listen (softly)
William Leox: (looks down) I am sorry Ma'am, didn't meant to be unfriendly. If I knew what to do with a few days off, I would gladly accept them. But I can't just leave Jhon here. (quietly)
Daniella Stormhaven: I can see to it that Jhon is taken care of. I heard the temple offered him care there?
William Leox: (nods) Yes Ma'am. But I ... I am not sure they will have the patience for him. (quietly)
Raelyn Blair: Miss Daniella can he stay here? I would be happy to help William watch over him.
Daniella Stormhaven: (purses her lips)  I'm not going to refuse him a place here.  I have a spare bedroom upstairs if you would like for me to give him a place there so that things are quiet.  I hear he has special needs.
William Leox: (looks briefly at Lyn, then at Daniella and nods) He is different. (quietly) He is even more quiet than usual at the moment. He won't even speak with me anymore.
Daniella Stormhaven: William, if he needs it, I'll set him up a room upstairs where it is quieter.  I do think the temple is a better choice for him since I travel so much as well, but for the time being until things settle that is fine.
(Lance Stargazer enters the room from the background.)
(glances back at Lance)  I'll leave you two with Sir Lance and I'll get the arrangements made for Jhon to come here. (lays a hand on William's shoulder)  If you need anything, let me know.
William Leox: Yes Ma'am. I think he will spent most of his time in the garden. I will clean up. (quietly)

Daniella smiles and pats Raelyn on the shoulder in passing, the student nods to her. Lance looks at William for a moment, then over to Daniella as she passes.

William Leox: Sir. (quietly)
Raelyn Blair: Sir Lance. (biting her lip)
Lance Stargazer: (nods slowly at Raelyn, then looks over Will) How are you doing people? The rain is getting worse, hopefully it will help the land  (nonchalantly)
William Leox: (smiles wryly) Doing fine Sir. Just finished to clean the dorm.
Raelyn Blair: Fine Sir. (softly)

Lance keeps his eyes on William, measuring the shape of the man, having looked at so many people with different physical and emotional shapes all his life.

Lance Stargazer: I am glad. Did you already have finished your morning exercises? (seems calm and easy with firm and calm gestures)
Raelyn Blair: (lets Lance focus on William) Is there anything I can get for you or Jhon, Will?
William Leox: I did them, Sir. (looks at Raelyn) I ... no.
Lance Stargazer: (looks at Rae for a moment then back to Will) We are going out today, so get ready. Bring your weapons and armor. Grab some food as well. Let's find our minds something to do.

-

Center, a calm yet busy trading post. Charts are being unloaded, oxen fed. Traders try to sell their goods and bargain over wares stored in crates, boxes, bags and sacks.
Storold Doesscha squints looking up from his book, sitting on a bench near the town's Inn. Lance Stargazer, Marinus Kursch, Raelyn Blair and William Leox walk down the road. Marinus and William carry heavy backpacks.

Marinus Kursch: An ox only cost a hundred coins Sire.
Lance Stargazer: (nods) Good ... pass the trues to the other students.
William Leox: Greetings Sir. (quietly to Storold)
Raelyn nods to Storold. Storold smirks.
Storold Doesscha: Recruit them while they are young and have no idea.
Lance Stargazer: (smiles) That is the intent to show them, so they know how to do the right thing, Knight of the Al'Noth. (to the students) Meet Storold Doescha people, don't expect a good treatment of him, he is a protector and a member of the faith of Lucinda...
Marinus Kursch: (nods to Storold) Pleasure meeting you, Sir Storold.
Lance Stargazer: Indeed we won't waste his precious time by staying idle, but one greeting is enough for now.
Storold Doesscha: (Nods) Hello followers of the enemy that is Toran.
William Leox: (looks at Storold, his face hard and dark) I have an idea. Thread softly. Very softly.
Lance Stargazer: (smirks at him) We'll have time for a debate on another time. Stay alive until then, Knight of the Al'Noth.
Marinus Kursch: (confused reaction) Ehm.. right.

Raelyn keeps quiet, observing the encounter.

Lance Stargazer: Lets move people its a long way to Hempstead still (nods at Storold and then starts to walk down the road leading to the harbor city)

William just shrugs and walks on. The Toranites walk down the road, the students leading their oxen after having loaded their backpacks onto the animals. William takes point and gets shield and sword ready.

Lance Stargazer: You may excuse my attitude with him, but he has reached a point that he has lost any attempt of respect. He has done good to the world despite his closed way of thinking ... but alas ... nothing to do about him.

Marinus nods slightly.

William Leox: I don't. He deserves it, if he continues his ignorance.
Lance Stargazer: It's not our call Will, we can only help those that need help or want help. Otherwise we would be as self righteous as they think we are.
Marinus Kursch: Better to lead by example I figure, than pass judgment on everyone you meet.

-

SHUT UP! THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!
He wanted to bash something to rubble with his fists. He was trying to be polite, and by Toran's Light, he did have an idea! Arrogant excuse for someone that was supposed to be a scholar! His whole family was slaughtered, murdered by an greedy excuse for a human; for what it was worth, he didn't kill the criminal when he had the chance.
And now he was lectured by his instructor and his fellow students. He didn't even make his point! They just started to talk, to reprimand and to tell him how he should behave without even knowing the PROBLEM, not like that was like ignoring part of the core of Toran's teachings!

BUT EVERYTIME I SPEAK, NOBODY BOTHERS TO LISTEN OR INQUIRE WHAT I MEANT IN THE FIRST PLACE! TORAN, DON'T ALLOW ME FOR CUT OUT MY TONGUE, FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH THAT WOULD BE THE BEST!


He was happy to hammer copper until his muscles were screaming and shivering, desperate for a break. When they started to sail back, he slept for a long time, caught in a dreamless sleep only to be woken by a rough sea. Trying to keep in shape, trying to train during the travel, trying to read. He felt uncomfortable, tried to stay away from the others; impossible to do on a ship. Tried to keep silent. Tried to speak more diplomatic.
Tried to never show what he was feelings, feelings were irrelevant. Hid tears at night, bit himself not to scream, his stomach cramping as he drowned in pictures and memories and -

Duty first.


Returning to the house, familiar but strange and cold, enclosing and like a magnet to memories. Jhon, smeared with dirt, shying away from him, hiding behind some plants.
He closed himself and let discipline to its job, numb from fingertips to face, masks;a charade. Words that weren't his own but from a book he read, trying to listen, trying to -

He tossed the plate mail into a deep and empty corner of his locker and went out for a run, heavy boots, waves, muddy sand, pain, exhaustion, forgetting as he fell to his knees, hands clenching the dirt as he couldn't go on anymore. The sea, sloshing back and forth between a shore shrouded in mist and gray eternity stretching out beyond the horizon's thin dark line. Vomiting,
Toran I crumble into little pieces, save me or let the ocean swallow me and wrap me into its cold dark depths -
and a voice in the back of his head yelling at him to get up, for crying out loud, how could he disgrace himself like this and if he wasn't ashamed to be so weak.

Unable to eat, trembling, curling up in his bunk in the evenings, trying not to see faces in the dark dorm, trying not to think, feeling cold hands and arms touching him. Sometimes he got up in the middle of the night, sneaked out of the dorm and sat down before the cold fireplace, dark orange hint of embers below white ash, pulling his knees to his chest, hugging his legs and staring at what little light there was left.

Through Shadow and Darkness,
Toran, guide me
Through Suffering and Pain,
Toran, guide me
Through Combat and Carnage,
Toran, guide me
Through Deception and Intrigues,
Toran, guide me
I will stand unwavering until my duty is fulfilled

He bit his lip,
Toran, you cannot hear me, you cannot appear to me and I lost the connection to you, the connection to my heart. Take this pain off of me, wash it away yet you can't since I must do it myself but I only don't want to think anymore, nor speak anymore, I just want out; out, beyond the horizon and never return, never be anymore yet I must; all that is must be and must suffer and make choices until it ends but I cannot do that anymore, please take their eyes at night off of me, make the faces go away and the memories and the rage burning in me Toran, I cannot go on, I just can't without breaking to pieces like brittle untempered iron -
he wanted a helmet it would seperate him from the world; an armor though which he could not be touched nor his expressions disturb or concern people. Something to encase him, just something, something that he needed to constantly fight against, that made him suffer and punished him for mistakes of thought and instinct.
No, he only would bring shame to the Great Leader and to the name Stargazer as the best thing was to die,
Only in death my duty, my pain and my path will end yet I cannot step before the Great Leader to be judged, nor am I sure that I will ever be. Just clear my head, Toran, just make me sleep, just make me go away. I cannot take it anymore, can't speak with any of them, no, I am unworthy of their wise words, of Realyn and Mari and Daniella and Lance and Hector and Marinus and all the others.

And he got up, sat down at his desk next to the window, stared out into the night until it was replaced by the gray of dawn.

-

He woke feeling uncomfortable, cold sweat cold muscles and a funny taste in his mouth. Wash with cold water, put the hauberk on, the belt with the sword. Jhon was still sleeping. Making breakfast. The days were getting warmer, but still he needed to make a small fire every morning.
Silence.

[Aphel]

His swordarm hung useless from his side, the ground muddy from the rain just as his armor. The tree's bark smelled of old mysteries while the rain washed over them both, and he only stunk of death and blood. The pain sill vibrated through his arm, and despite the longsword lying next to him he was sure he couldn't use it at the moment. It wasn't necessary. Jhon was in good hands, and he couldn't go anywhere near the house.
Eyes closed. The water, the mud, the trees.

No.

-

Jhon just stood at the window, staring into the gray apreal weather, muttering elvish tree names, his eyes fixed at the path leading to the house and the border where it blurred into the gray. He just stood there, never blinked, until he was brought to bed.
And when they thought he was asleep, he tip-toed back to the window.

[Aphel]

Parchment.
Parchment is more patient than people yet equally doomed to wither away and crumble to dust. Being literate means to have the possibility to become immortal of sorts; converse one's thoughts and experiences for generations to come if the parchments does not fall into oblivion and are left to rot under strata of dust or fungus. Yet one have to be careful what to write about: enemies could use one's writings to track one down, distort one's message and murder one for having such heretic thoughts; thoughts diametral to predominant dogma or reason of state. Writing is politics.

[Aphel]

Some days I can feel the passing of time in the wind and in the book pages I turn and the miles that fly past below my boots. It is a strange thing; and it gets worse the older I get.
Shaved the first time this morning, the face in the water stranger than usual. I am glad that I can still live here and that most of the people tolerate Jhon's antics. Lyn and he seem to get along a bit which is great as he seems to get past what happened and returned into his own world. Hard for me to judge how it was changed by the events.

He puts quill and journal away to return to the tasks he has set for himself this evening. Writing was more exhausting then reading, so he read a lot and dodged the writing for now, making short notes on a crumpled piece of parchment.

[Aphel]

Analysis of the rejection/postponement of Shining Hand admission

I must first understand myself and especially my motives, otherwise I will get nowhere.
I want to be one of the best and fight among the best; this requires both a large amount of training as well as knowing the right people and having the right status, as much as I abhor it.
But what does it mean to be among the best, what does it mean to fight, and what does I fight for?
To be one of the best seems to mean to be bold of one's abilities; and I could feel others frown at me when I say that what I can or can't do is not my call but for others to judge.
How can that be wrong? When I am required to run six miles in full gear, I might pass or not pass this evaluation, and I am able in their eyes to run six miles in full gear. But the evaluation itself is as vague as the the word ability itself, it holds no meaning. People have done the impossible because they did not realize that what they were about to do was impossible in the first place. I don't know what I can do. I am able to use my sword, my shield and my armor, I understand the concepts of the various stances and how to move in a combat situation. Does that mean I am able to fight? Possibly, yes. But it holds no meaning, as much as a fight without any enemy. I realize that I was naïve, young and in their eyes not ready. Should I ever become, I do not know. It is not rank or name that I carve but doing the right thing at the right time, to do good instead of just caring about myself and my pride and vanity.
I will reject to join the Shining Hand. I will even reject to join the Order of the Longsword, if necessary. I am, who I am. The designation of my position does not matter, I doubt that I would care about what I can do or can't do at my rank anyway – I do, what I do when the right time comes. When in doubt, alone. I don't think I work well with others as they all form bonds and alliances and bunch together following some sort of age-old loom pattern.
My behavior at the meat locker was wrong, I should have spoken up and divided them into groups of two pair each, designated them a front/middle/back position and adjacent roles (first response/fighter support/support). I saw the problem but did not speak up, therefore I failed. The general might be remembered, it were is lieutenants that held the troops together and made the plan work despite all the odds – a lower rank sometimes must go beyond the command of his superior rank, even break it, to achieve the objective. He will however be forgotten by history yet have made it.

I do feel my role at the meat locker is being overlooked. It was Jillian, the spellweaver and me I guess who finally broke the thing apart. I recollect focusing my anger, my belief in my blade to the point that I felt it might break somehow. Did I hate the thing and its spawns? Yes. Am I allowed to hate it? Yes. It is not that I hated them all the time, it was just in that moment there and then. Does this make me weak? No. I need more practice of making my belief my very shield and sword; to the point that I might be victorious over those forces commonly called evil with nothing but my faith, and my faith alone. I know they fear it. I know that they fear many things: discovery, treachery, death. But most of all they fear my faith; because it is that will bring their end. They will eventually know that Toranites will not stop, come pits or flood or eternal darkness – and they fear that unyielding belief. Maybe subconsciously, maybe openly. It is their great weakness, and they know about it as I know about my weakness: that I am not perfect, that I might succumb to sloth and apathy or vanity and power. I meditate to counter it, to focus on the things that matter, really matter, at the core of things. I clear my mind and try to look further, dreamlike, relaxed. I understand why there are monasteries that hide so much misunderstood lessons and insight; I wish I could spend some time in such a place, spend time with practicing my mental strength by contemplating. I think that maybe learning a craft could also help me with that. I should begin to inquire in that direction of philosophy.
I will let go of the childish toughs of rank and name and such, it even strikes me as ridiculous to pursue them. What good are they if the actions that brought you them are done purely mechanical, ignorant and intolerant? The greatest of all things to do is to make somebody smile. Love is wise, yet hatred seems foolish to me, in whatever form it comes unless it is the righteous wrath against those that seek to destroy the light – there is a line that must not be crossed and beyond which hate and wrath appear acceptable.


-

What makes a follower of Toran? I think it is, first and foremost, the choice. All of creation suffers, and to accept inevitable pain, suffering and death; to accept that I am already death because I am alive and that I either could give up or go on and then to chose to go on; that makes a follower of the Great Leader. It is a choice everybody has to face eventually, the choice between giving up or going on against all odds, between continuing to learn with a serene mind or become ignorant and dogmatic, the choice between continuing to find the truth and perceiving the world how it should be according to one's delusions.
I think that those who follow should be capable to write and read and do the latter as much as they can; that they should spend a great deal of spare time to meditate and find out the truth about themselves and their relation to Him to strengthen them mentally. A follower of Toran should be able to endure the harshest elements with the same serene and kind mind as six continuous hours of diplomatic rhetoric in court. And while maybe being able to do more than what others can do, she or he should never ask more of others that of what she or he would be able and willing to do in their place. First in, last out. We fight with our actions, not with our blades and maces. Given how militaristic we appear to be, this might be the greatest misconception about us. We are fight with our actions day after day by applying our skills at what we can do best and learning something new all the time, yet we are ready to take up arms at a moment's notice. A weapon or a shield is just as strong as the belief, the philosophy that wields it. We do not walk in the light, but we all carry it and hold it up for others.

[Aphel]

Last night I had a very strange dream. I saw a ship at a calm sea at night, the foam at its bow glowing white. It passed a cliff, and saw some hooded person standing there, unleashing abominable patterns onto the ship. And the ship bled.
After I woke, I wondered how it is possible to create a meat locker in the first place. If one knows how they are created, it should be possible to trace them back to their point of origin if one account for currents in the oceans and such. It would require the help of the church of Shindaleria – they too should have an interest in these ships not spoiling the waters with disease and undead creatures floating around.

Sometimes I wish to have no feelings whatsoever. Going to run and exercise and keep up my own schedule.

[Aphel]

He looked out at the land emerging from the water. The porthole was a bit dirty, giving the light shining in a soft yellow glow. His hammock moved slowly with the ship's movement, a giant cradle of creaking wood smelling of salt and wind. They are in a better place now, and all he could do was to keep the living alive and in a good place.
Tears flowed over his impassive face and it took some time for him to realize that he cried. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, focusing until he managed to stop crying.
Got out of the hammock, prepared for the day, washed his face. Wind in his face standing on deck, looking out at the land.
“Welcome to Huangjin.“
The old sailor smiled at him with the few yellowed teeth he had left, his accent making him sound like someone that was just about to return home. “It's a great place. You'll like it. Wait till you see it completely.”
Will nodded. “Judging from its coastline, my eyes might fall out from wonder.” He smiled wryly.
The sailor made an approving clicking sound with his tongue. “Wait till you see, wait till you see.” And then he hurried of to join the rest of the crew for the approach towards the port.
Will stood on deck and watched the land crawling closer for a brief moment before he joined the crew to help. A great day for all the others was ahead of them.

-

So I am Sacrifice. So even with and beyond my death, I will serve.

He looked up, saw the others laughing and joking. He put the journal away and got up, not feeling anything in particular.

-

I did not chose to stand up to join the Shining Hand, as I seem not to fit for them just now. Hector was quite eager to join them, but his mind is equally undisciplined I think, but I am happy for him that he got what he wanted. I hope I will see a lot of good from him, and more that could be expected from a follower of the Great Leader. We don't have to overachieve, we just go always one step more, overcome ourselves. Marinus did not join the Order, but he found his place as a soldier of the Hilm Kingdom. I think in time I will see him as a general or something similar. Mari joined the Order of the Longsword, and Lyn took the oath to be a priestess of the Hand of Virtue. Standing there, seeing them happy and proud amonst those that were around them for so long made me think. I did not want to join them, so I walked for a bit between the pillars and the statues and the memories this place was build with.
How many more young faces I will see to walk over these cobbles, polishing them with their boots, how many I will see laugh and happy but only go through this gate once, never to return?
Hector has his peers, has them, Jillian, Mari, Marinus, Lyn – them all. I suddenly realized, standing there, that those these statues were them, those that will be remembered. I will just be one of the stones of the wall surrounding the citadel, one of many, unnoticed, unsung but protecting them until I break and crumble to dust. I am not one of them.

[Aphel]

Arrived in a small trading outpost called Center. No mentionable defenses. Begun my work by helping the locals where I can and learning various crafts. Fought with Marinus and Mari a bit. Met an engineer called Armand Dawson whom I do not consider openly dangerous, yet his strange inventions and thoughts might not only speak of an ill-disciplined mind but also of a certain carelessness and blindness towards his doings. In time, he might be a brilliant thinker, but he needs time and maybe the occasional discussion and nudge towards ethics and philosophy. Maybe I should try to convince him to build something useful for Center, like streetlights or a better well.

-

I don't think all of what Lyn said is right, but she has a point as she always has.
And I hurt her. She's very caring, but also fragile at times. I feel rather immature and childish now. I need to talk with her again.

Note: Take up rhetoric and language classes. Learn survival, escape and evasion techniques. We all should, no telling when one of us gets himself in a difficult situation.
Find out whom to report to in this area.

[Aphel]

To Sir Lance Stargazer

I hope this letter reaches you and your family in good health and happy times. Should you have no or few time, put this letter aside for later consideration as it consists of questions mostly that do have time.

During my first visit of the Caves in Windjammer's Bay, Captain Jillian Stuart said, after I checked if all the Lizardmen were dead, that she prefers to fight the Undead because it was much easier than this.
A few days ago I visited the Caves again together with Cormac. We met Hector on the shore, he was looking for thugs that ambushed some traders nearby. We found their hideout after a while, and despite offering them to surrender, they fought to the death. Hector struck down a female archer that was with them, and I carefully buried them afterward (I could neither identify them nor leave their corpses to rot and I had no oil to burn them). We then fought our way to and through the cave system. Hector to said that he found fighting the Undead easier than fighting the lizardmen.

We shed blood, ours and theirs, as we could not talk with them or offer them surrender. They would not have accepted it either way as their shamans riled them up against us.
I do question however why fighting the Undead is easier. Fighting against  the Undead usually does not involve a lot of blood, screams of dying and the wild carnage of man-to-man combat, nor does it involve the same moral and ethical considerations. I took lives, many lives: sons, brothers, fathers I killed – and while I do not speak their language, share their culture or shape, they are in the core very similar to me. It is a burden, a fault, a guilt and a responsibility and something I do not take lightly nor let it weight me down.
I regularly check the crypts of Center and Vehl, and when I focus on a litany of expulsion thus sending the Undead running or make them shatter to pieces, it is not easy. I fight something that took the remains of something that once lived to be a minion to the animating force, a puppet to its hunger for power no matter what shape (may it be a skeleton or zombie minion, a vampire, a lich). Is this darker, more dangerous as a concept, and if so, why? Doesn't the fight between two or more men hold a similar concept of darkness, of evil? If so, how can we compare these two concepts (they might be one)? How can we tell how strong someone has to be to face these things: the misunderstood, misguided or genuinely evil living, and the Undead? Isn't the darkness most fear so much something that is inside them?

When you caught the men responsible for the murder of my parents, I had to discipline my mind not to follow the impulses and kill out of revenge.  My anger afterwards was that I could not dominate my own mind, that I could not beat my thoughts to my will. That I was both weak in thought as well as in ability to protect my family.
Yet I could not kill the man responsible for it.
I cannot. I do feel sorry for him, some sort of sorrow, but no anger and no thirst for revenge. Looking back I realize that, should I discard what others call feelings or emotions, I will be able to be myself and resist all darkness all pain and all hardship. Whether or not my feelings and emotions are an obstacle for taking whatever task is for others to judge: they look through their eyes and their experiences at me and attempt to judge and evaluate something that is not completely understood in such a short of time. My heart is filled with my belief. Sometimes it is good to let oneself to be filled with rage or anger for a brief moment to either lure somebody into believing that one has a weakness, sometimes it is just focused strength needed to crush something that truly can be hated or despised – I feel that Toran hates, too. I need to find better prayers to focus this hate, but in time I will succeed.

However, if I follow this way I will hurt people as they feel being pushed away from me.
What can I do so they understand me? Do you have any experiences and knowledge regarding this decision; time to talk with me in person or know somebody that has?

Be the light for others when darkness falls,
Respectfully,
~William

[Aphel]

Drivel drooled from its mouth, the old lion's teeth just as broken and yellowed as it was haggard. Old muscles tensed below thick fur, and their eyes met; its filled with raging hunger. Will realized he would have no time to get his blade ready and clenched his mailed hand into a fist.
He waited till the lion jumped -
The blow hit the old creature right into the underside of its belly, its teeth missing Will's ear by only a few inches. The lion whimpered and fell aside, clawed at Will but then he was to close, put one arm around its neck and grabbed its jaw with one hand, while the other hand grabbed its skull near the ear. He howled and pulled with all the strength he could muster.
One nasty crack.

It was dead. Will jumped up, covered in mud, glancing around. Nothing. Silence.
He noticed that he was bleeding from a small wound where the claws had pierced through the chainmail at his elbow. He bandaged himself carefully and took his time to skin the animal and took everything he could use from it.
Back to Llast.


“Excuse me Sir. Are you William Leox?”
He turned around, smiled carefully at the man approaching him. He received the letter and dismissed the messenger, giving him a few coins for his troubles.

To William Leox .

Greetings William, and i thank you for your kind words and the wishes for my family, they are in good health and me and my wife are back in Hilm to keep working on the rebuild and the planning for the war with the east and as i told that day the situation with the dragons that has touched some of our area, I want to ask you to inform us inmediatly of any Mistite movements you see or hea r. Send the letter to the Blackford Castle.  *he passes to a contact* please pass this information to your brothers and sisters.

Now you put diferent situations on your letter indeed, and it hits too close to home the life out there is diferent to what you are used to be, and I saw that thinking when you were with us, you may or may not put Miss Daniella and me as some of the ones who judge you and label you, in all the time our intent was as an advice and teaching and not as to judge, I do hope that it was taken as that.

The first situation that you brought the "undead are easier" your points are true indeed. But you should see from who this words are comming.  Miss Jillian and Hector call dwells into figthing those dark abomination, its their call and they had felt it since they were born probably, they are both part of the shinning hand and the training they recieve may make them "think" its easier, its to be understandable that an order that teaches you how to fight something might have a bit more ideas or knowledge on how to actually fight those creatures efficiently. And yet no fight is easier than other, Both parts has their difficulities, the day someone considers that fighting kobolds and goblins is "easier" would mean they no longer have respect for the deaths or the sacred life that is instilled in everyone, And the moral dilema of taking a life is indeed non applicable when dealing with undead, yet as you point out there are darker secrets that the necromantic forces hold, They are able to think what they do, its the way they see the world, and the same as we should not judge them they should not judge you or our methods up to a point . Empathy comes to my mind at this moment. You are a smart man William i am sure you are able to see this that i am mentioning on this letter.

As you mention the burden of taking a life its not easy to carry, which speaks of your true heart, yet at times its needed William, Its always easier to say than to actually do it, The first life i took in my way to be the man who i am now, I still remember it and have dreams with it at nights, I do remember and dream with most of the soldiers i saw dying on the war, I hear them telling me how i falied to them, and yet I find confort on the feeling on my heart, I find confort on praying to HIM, and knowing that i did what i should have done, That at times this burden is to be taken since otherwise more inocents will suffer, And you are taking the burden for the sake of a better world. I am just speaking of my own experiences here, and i would be a fool to think that this thoughts apply to everyone, yet i am sharing them to you in hopes that it helps you to understand. It may fail on the intent.

Its not easy to take the road you and your brothers have taken, Its not easy to fight the corruption and the evil of the world, and to not cross the line to make them evil by the might of the blade, Its not an easy task and each call has its own hardships. How many people you have met that shares the will to do what is right?  that shares the will to defend people from the corruption, I am sure that the answer is few. Cause if what we do were easy, everyone could be able to do it.  And its not, it requieres a strong heart and the will to do what is right.

Feelings its also not an easy subject, I saw that you weren't angry at him and that you felt pity for him indeed, Looking someone going to those awful acts is always sad to watch, I am proud of you for how you reacted that day, we are to act by example and if we take justice on our hands then we'll be showing that its something "good" to do, And we should not do that whenever we are able, there will be times when you'll have to act, but as you should know now, violence is always the last resort act, yet we must be ready to act always. I can speak of my experience here too, for very diferent reasons than yours i was once close to close my heart to feelings, I didn't want to feel anymore, And just to do Toran's will by the sake of it, But in the long run i found myself unable to do this, Toran is a source of inspiration, the ideal knight if wnat to see it that way and feelings are important, If one tries to ignore the bad ones we'll be missing the good ones too, and a knight can't do goodness without this feelings, If we miss the point we'll become as cold as the law that the Rofirenites defend, you heard the story of Navarre by now , if you haven't I will share it with you next time we met. If a knight forfeits the feelings how can he see whom he is helping, how can he feel the joy on a girl face when a good deed has been done, They should feed us and they teaches us. Anger is allowed William up to extent, you are mortal and Toran has indeed feelings towards the world, he cares for it, and he is forgiving and noble, and save his wrath to those who actually works against his plan for the world, its his example we are bound to follow and yet it would be too pressuntous to think we'll ever be able to be like him. So my advice is enjoy the feelings and mourn if you have to, On our last conversation I told you about that if you remember. I am willing to expand on this subjects. Milady Daniella as well, this war took a lot from her, her companion and my best friend my brother in arms fell his last fall beside us. Its a pain that still lingers on my heart, and way deep in hers too, I am not able to help her with that, cause its dificult to say "I am sorry for the loss of your family"   when I did just recovered mine. I do appologize if this sounds rude or insesible to you as well, yet she knows the pain and the sorrow as well and she keeps going, she doesn't close to her feelings and she may be able to explain the wrath a bit more. I've always been on the side of Redeemption will, and believe it or not, she and I had a lot of diferences during the years we have worked together, We had awful discussions about things and I still consider her my sister all this diferences has brought a close friendship and brotherhood. That is what feelings bring.

Walk in the ligth, William, Sweet waters and easy laughter till we met again .

Sir Lance Stargazer.

He read over it twice and concluded he would try to write an answer letter after his evening meditation.

[Aphel]

Daily schedule

0550 Getting up, morning hygene
0600 Morning meditation
0615 Breakfast
0620 Morning training
0800 Weapon and combat exercise
0900 Work for the church
1230 Lunch and time to repair damaged equipment or bandage wounds
1300 Work for the church
1700 Evening training in full gear
1800 Weapon and combat exercise
1900 Advanced skills training
2000 Dinner
2010 Nighttraining
2130 Writing reports, reading and studying
2245 Free time
2300 Bed time

[Aphel]

To Sir Lance Stargazer

I am happy to hea- [the letter becomes blurred and ends in a stain that covers most of the next few words] -nd hope that one day I might be able to do my part as you do yours now. I wish I could offer what few skills and experience I have to help you in Hilm, yet it appears to be wiser to just practice, prepare and gather experiences here.
I do hope you do not think bad of the ink stain, Jhon was pulling me on the sleeve because Lyn brought him a ginseng sample and he finished his drawing of the root.

I think that every teacher is both a keen observer as well as wise adviser and judge; how the pupil might understand the lesson and deals with it is a whole different issue. Yes, I do think you judged me; just as Toran judges me and those that travel and work with me. Observing and judging is something that appears to be part of the very core of every thinking being, it is something we cannot escape. How each individual lets these – openly spoken or subtly conversed – judgements influence herself or himself is a matter I cannot put properly into words.
For example, I did wish to join the Shining Hand and, because I was judged not be ready, I did not join, nor attempt to stand up yet promised to be trained to be part of the Shining Hand (something which I am not sure of will ever happen – our word is our bond, our time however limited  and each of us can only do so much on a single day. Given the current circumstances, I am pretty sure they have better things to do and, with Hector, a sufficiently effective and trainable recruit).
This whole matter is now for me something more of a metal exercise if you will, not a wish I could or can follow. I should elaborate on this more in a different letter, parchment can only hold so much words.

The comment “undead are easier” was made by Miss Jillian after I checked if all the lizardmen we fought down were actually dead. I did this not only against the risk my grandfather warned me about – that somebody might hide among the dead to take vengeance upon the careless victors, determined to the last – but also because I could not stand the thought that somebody might suffer a slow and horrible dead from the injuries. It appears repulsing to me, but isn't healing your enemy just as mercyful as sparing him a gruesome death? Those I can heal, I heal. Those I and others can't heal, I can at least spare the suffering. Yes, these are monsters. But still, they feel pain, despair and terror, they can think. There is no point in cruelty, even against them. Should they not be able to think on their own, to despair, to feel terror as much as hope and be able to dream, then I doubt they are alive at all. A thought that sometimes makes me doubt I am alive – how can I prove it that I am?

You speak of comfort that you feel when you pray to The Great Leader, and this sends me thinking harshly about myself as I seldom seem to be able to feel a sense of comfort when praying. When praying or meditating, I am reminded of my duties and my purpose, and that is to make harsh and always wrong decisions so others could sleep peacefully in their beds at night, grow old and round and have many children. Comfort is the thought that, wherever my family is now, their lives ended and something new begun, something that Toran cares about and I wish and dream makes them happy. It is a sense of caring, but not the one of a mother nor the one of a big brother; this caring is more wise and more demanding than anything else most people know. It is a metal exercise both of will as of faith, something that must not be taken lightly nor with a heavy burden. It simply is, a task, an obstacle we must understand and then forget our understanding about it before we can overcome it. I know that he cares about me, that he gives me strengths in both mind and body and heart yet he also wants a task to be done, and the task is everybody else, everything else and myself: the Conduct of Virtue, but not only that, it is also a dream.
There is no comfort in that, unless the word comfort is simply not sufficient to describe it and you used it only as a metaphor, as a cover for these whole greatmany words. The same is true for feelings as far as I understand it now. By not having feelings, I still do. It sounds  strange, yet it is true for me: what others call feelings, I have not.

I do now understand, a bit more, the confusion and the anger and whatnot, and the talk about that I am allowed to feel. It is a classical dilemma, an inescapable trap if you will: if I do not show feelings, I have to consider the implication that others might find me strange, very different and simply repulsing to a point where I become an outcast of society; I will, should I follow this road, hurt people no matter if I want or not. I do not wish to push them away, yet there is a boundary inside me I cannot overcome at the moment. My body and my mind dictate feelings, and they make me susceptible to weaknesses I cannot allow myself to have: while finding comfort at someone else's side, in this persons trust and maybe embrace has a sweet and comforting tone to it, it could very easily to be exploited for darker plans that might destroy all that was worked for so hard. It is something that comes with a high risk, but also a high reward.
And, apart from all intrigues and such, I do not want people to weep for me. I do not want to cause myself what I had to endure, the pain the dreams and the awkwardness. I am mortal, but I hope I can be a memory, my life a lecture others could build upon so that eventually those that come after all of us reach what we dreamed of, at least in part. I do not know if I am without feelings, or if something about me spooks other people. Maybe that is the fate of sacrifice: I am the oldest of my siblings and thus my childhood was the first thing sacrificed. My youth then was next; spent in training and tasks and then my feelings which were sacrificed last. Ultimately last will be my life, but maybe Toran might even demand more than just that from me. I do not know yet which tasks will be set before me in the future; being a seer must be a horrible fate.

I did not know about Lady Stormhaven's past but now I wish I do – memory is hard, very hard and horrible even; but sometimes it is worth remembering and the more people remember the truth about a life, even if it is no more, the more this person is not really gone. I do not dare to talk to her about it; not only she must have heard everything I could say more than once, I also doubt that I find the right words which bear the right meaning within. Yet when I hear about it, I must think of the statues in the Citadel and the graveyard, every graveyard ever been but most about the small urn grave of my grandfather. There are names, but what were the lectures, the knowledge and experiences this person had? If I truly want to grief about someone, I must learn about this person and try to understand the life gone so I could make a contribution to what this person stood for: to fulfill the person's dreams, or simply take the lectures of its life and improve the present with it. So many, gone to soon – and for me, they have faces; faces that look at me and make all these considerations meaningless. No, I do not want to feel, did not want to feel and this made me angry. The light we see is the light of many, most of them gone but each of them still carrying a small candle.

I must close now, yet there is much to write. Jhon wants something for late-night dinner, I need to return to my exercises and then to the books.

Be the light for others when darkness falls,
Respectfully,
~William

[Aphel]

For every medal awarded
hundred heroes die alone
unsung and unremembered.
-Inscribed into a helmet,
Fort Llast cemetery

I can chose my wishes:

I wish that one day, in the scent of a sunny evening in autumn I see children chasing around a dog in piles of fallen leaves laughing at each other, that someone holds my hand resting a head against my should and I know that this is my family.

I wish that one day, when darkness encloses us, my faith shines above all else even if I know that my time is done, and I will be a beacon of light  to set the spark of hope ablaze in the heart of many.

[Aphel]

So there is darkness in me, maybe even a lot. Nobody right now can be bothered, and I am pushing everyone away, making everybody cry. Happiness to those that have it, it's not on my priority – doubtful that I should find love in my line of duty. I'd rather be rid of the embuggerment, and not be one myself with all that whining and stuff.
Work work work. And I need to write more letters.

Annotation: I still wish to. A little darkness, huh? More like a lot. Time to cut it out with a glowing knife and be done with it. I'm feeling useless.

[Aphel]

Dear Jillian

I hope this letter reaches you and your husband in good health and happy times. Hopefully Jhon is not too much strain for your nerves right now. Maybe he can help you with the things he tries to grow in the backyard.

I gave some thought to what we talked about in the smithy of Hlint, but I am not sure what to think of these thoughts. I want to share them with you, if you don't mind.

You said there was a little darkness in me, but I am not so sure if it isn't already more than just a little. I am not even sure how to find out if there is darkness in me, so I just have to rely on your judgement. Let me try to explain myself.

Even before the death of my family I felt forced to live up to very high expectations, pressured to excel over my previous achievements. On my own path, I always wanted to go one step further than I have gone before, because only in that, so I believed, I could achieve what I wanted: to be one that protects others, inspires, helps, is a save should to lean on. I felt there was hardship to face and a lot of pain but inside I know I could overcome all of it simply by trusting in Toran. It was the early time, when I felt in love with Lyn a bit I think during our midnight talks. It made me uncomfortable back then as I felt that I was not supposed to love that way, instead I should care about my brothers and sisters: it is those that I have to rely on in the battle, in which I have to trust. I realized during the travels with you and Lyn that sometimes I would have to make decisions that would make others unhappy and feel like betraying what they believe in: tactical, strategical considerations. I talked with Lyn about it back in the day, and she wasn't very happy about it, but she did understand it.
I still feel bad when thinking about how I interrupted you and Mari and ruined your evening, but while I might have been harsh and disrespectful towards you, I felt that I needed to say it out of care and love for you and my fellow students. There were many occasions where I felt that I was the youngest of them, not always understood, and expected to live and behave in a certain manner – it felt, at times, pressured. There are instances that I can remember where I wanted to be disrespectful and point out some things towards others, regarding their behavior. I felt it was not appropriate to make such a judgement, even if it should only have been friendly criticism, a hint, a tip maybe, even a call for more discipline at times. But in the search for truth, things must be judged, otherwise truth will not be reached – I need to think, observe, understand and judge before I can know the truth. It is hard work because it has to be done for each case, each individual. Sometimes, I felt that lacking when I was spoken to, or threatened. I felt it again when we talked in Hlint, and it makes me feel very uneasy. As a servant of the Hand of Virtue, I always must keep the Conducts in mind; but I cannot be forced to act or feel or think in a certain way: that too is Toran. He is many lights, and each one is different.
After the death of my family, Toran bless them and cradle them in the light he is – a better place for them than live ever was – after the death of my family I felt having neglected my duty and this throbbing, annoying ache, these pictures that reminded me of how human I was, of how many negatives feelings inhabited me. It was back then that I understood that there were forms of love and care that I could not enter, and I still feel that way – like very thick and thorned underbrush it resides in my heart and head, and I would like to spare anyone the pain of going there. I begun to think and meditate, trying to focus on Toran's teachings and the accumulated experiences locked away in books. Weakness, exploitation, strategy and the human nature were the things I was drawn to like a moth to the flame.
Not to love in a certain way, for example how you and Riley do, to refuse this kind of emotion and distraction, can be a sound strategic decision. I do see, when I see you, not only the moment we might stare and the other's face to find the expression in the eyes gone and the face gray. I also see the possible weakness your child might be; see how much sense it would make to exploit this weakness, this human flaw, in evil and cruel plans. It is just one of the many nightmares I have, had and will have. I want you to be a happy woman, Jillian, raising your child and be a loving and caring parent.
Maybe that is because I myself never had them really, and when I finally began to understand them I joined the Leadership program and finally lost them all. Now they are dead and Toran is more with me to provide comfort that anybody else. I wish I could be like that to someone, but I also fear I might not be able to fulfill my duties anymore. If I fulfill my duties, others will happy – so I have to chose for now. But it will be my choice between my needs and those of others. What made me so angry after the Meat Locker was that others – I am not sure if you heard the Commander's words – wanted to judge and decide what I needed. Sir Mandrin told me that the Shining Hand could be something like my family later, and not only that made me jolt back in a mixture of disgust and distrust that resulted in my breakdown.
It surely was not anything that I should have felt – I do trust you that you might try and understand me instead of casting me out. The whole meat locker quest made me dispise the respect anybody could bring towards me, I was treated like some sort of porcelain, like a madman even. I will never forget the strain it took to stand there, and I think only my prayers to Toran held me together. I do wish to know who destroyed the thing in the end and why, among other things – I might have an idea how to deal with the meat lockers in the future.
During the time I spent outside in the wilds, even if it was short, I understood something about myself. Not only that my heart is strange, twisted, but also that I sometimes should just say what I want, feel, think – even if it insults or hurts others. But how else can one move past a problem when everybody is being nice and concealing what he or she is truly thinking?
Yes, I think Sir Mandrin is wrong. Maybe he just worded it wrong, maybe. Any elite unit that allows something like a family structure to grow will eventually fall apart and is easily to crush in an emotional way. Comradrie, brotherhood yes, but family? I don't want this kind of offer anymore. My family is gone, I have a few people I know I can trust and speak with that are somewhat like my family in some aspects: you, Lyn, Lance and Daniella. But that's not family, that's just what I call a very deep friendship that goes past the brotherhood that unites us all.
I feel pressured to love and accept you as family, in doing what others think would be best for me. Jhon is amazing in this aspect: he just does, lives in his own world that might only inhibited by animals, him, plants, and maybe Lyn and me. He might have realized things I will never understand or even notice. I'll try to be there for him, from one strange brother to the other. That's what is connecting us and always will.

I do not understand you, or most other people. Maybe I am really, really broken and, to be cynical, just need some booze and a girl to get back on the right track. I doubt this right track enormously, tho. The only thing that might get me on the right track is you, Lyn, Daniella and Lance as well as Jhon. Might it be by talk, by silently observing, by arguing all night.  

I will continue to watch, observe, talk carefully and read. No matter what others might think of me, how they might judge me in their observations on me; in the end it is me that needs to live. I will train according to some things I found and figured out myself, and I will overcome myself without ever reaching my goal: discarding my humanity, wash me clean of my weaknesses and darkness and become someone that evil will fear. Some respect of others I appreciate at times, but I somehow started to care less about this whole title and organization thing: I would appreciate to get the possibility to put my abilities to best use and reach the pinnacle of what I could become.
Whether the Shining Hand cares about me or not: I would appreciate lectures, and on the other hand I really don't feel comfortable about the idea. Maybe I am too radical, maybe too weak and twisted. Others can judge and observe, but the truth about me might not be so easy to discern. And I don't want to be belittled, threatened like porcelain. That way, I will never be of any use whatsoever – but should that be the case, and I am getting unsuited for serving Toran, I will put armor shield and sword away and continue to serve him as a craftsman of a different craft. I promised Toran to never yield before anything that was against the Conduct or what I myself perceived as questionable. And I won't.

I hope you enjoy what is attached to this letter. I always enjoyed making these kind of things.

Be the light,
~Will  

//Attached is a small mobile made of small soft curved pieces from various kinds of wood, from polished birch to gnarled oak.