The questions that have lived in my heart have at last been answered. I am ready.

Our weary party encountered strange foes as we neared home and I have at last proven myself in battle. The trouble appeared nearer to the Dale than one would have expected.

An unusual Tinker’s Wagon was being attacked by a flock of fell black birds on the road behind us. Our new companion Stephan D’Annunzio called to our Sir Trousdale of Lorchester for command while alerting us to strange Birdmen skulking in the wood. Sir gave his warriors permission to come to the travelers’ aid and I was off before he could tell me different. Too long have I waited behind with gentle Aphra Behn, the children and women while Sir and his fighters lock swords with our enemies.

I felt old Dontrell smiled down upon me as I followed his teachings and tactics to the letter. So often had I heard, “Child, you have no need to greet your foe face to face, your strength will lie in distance and surprise.” Dontrell looked down upon men who fight solely with steel as nothing more than useful brutes. “Let those without The Gift sweat and strain sword to sword and eye to eye,” he would spit. I thought of my old teacher that afternoon as I managed to kill one of the beasts using my Gift. While most of our men took wounds in our fight I remained untouched.

My head rang with battle song and my chest burst with pride as I inspected my first kill. It had been a simple enough thing, and not a drop of blood on my clothes.

Home was not what I had hoped. The gate was strongly guarded and Aphra stopped me from running ahead to boast of our adventures. I was sent to the back of our caravan and told to keep silent as we entered the square. The Dale was crowded with strangers come to pay their respect. No kind townsfolk offered me welcome and the simpleton fruit and veg peddler Mosdod crypticly spoke to me as if I had commited a crime. The servers at the Dwarf were shocked at my arrival and told me I’m to be arrested along with all of my kin. All around us I caught mentions of my perpetually wandering Father, Caradoc.

Instead of raising warm cups of wine by the fire to honor King Daha I was quickly secured in a room upstairs. My good Sir rode to the keep to offer his sword to the Queen and seek information on the King’s death. Before departing, Aphra forbade me to leave the Inn.

I hope we can be gone from here soon as my old friends will not greet me. I hear whispers and catch sidelong glances from my most brave companions. I sense that the less noble seek an opportunity for personal gain through my tangled connections with the royal family.

This room is maddeing. Too much is happening for me to sit here listening to our Asugulandian swordsman Stephan endlessly speculate upon politics. The air is so very close in here and the overpowering reek of urine and dung surrounding our mad young Druid Iorweth Wolfsblood has near blinded me but I dare not speak ill to one who is touched by The Gods.

I will now put down my quill for there is a creature at our window, at last a diversion.