Each night I dream of experiences not my own. Beside me at night Yasera sleeps and in her head dances the memories of past terror. I will never need to be told of how the scum Castenellians treated her, I get to see it through her eyes every night. She kills arcanists. She kills politicians. She kills fellow children. She wears a neck cuff that numbs her every feeling. She lays sheltered by another and feels the dull edge of kindness. She runs through the desert. She kills Kiadras. She kills her captors. She is taken in by the free swords. The relentless, brutal march of time seems to last weeks each time she goes to bed.
I have recorded these dreams, they are important for calculating how to help my daughter. Her case is a tangled web of terrible treatment that has mangled her form and function. If I could reverse some of this trauma she could take new shape, perhaps a shape of her own choosing but certainly a shape that isn't the ones beaten into her soul by slavers.
Something new has happened recently, however, a result of my treatment I think but perhaps it is more a result of the change in mindset she is experiencing. The dreams are no longer merely collections of trauma. They extent beyond her captivity, I see myself. I see my son. I see the shadows of Camp Blackwood. I hear my own voice speaking to her.
The words, I remembered them but I did not feel their incredible encompassing weight until now. "Good job Yasera" I say to her "I'm proud of you." In her ears these words echo, this memory plays over and over, looping in on itself, my voice transforms to the voice of my father in my own head. When was it he spoke so plainly to me? I can't quite remember.
I am often awoken in the middle of these dreams. I have my own trouble sleeping without living the nightmares of another. Before her, I filled the night hours with pacing, research, and other light work, sometimes I would lay awake and think. I have other duties now, better tasks to fill my hands with. My home is often filled with tidbits, garb-age, for my son; on these nights I use them to braid cord. I have picked colors intentionally, green for Yasera, yellow gold for hands, mauve for myself, brown for the Christyakov name. Each cross of fabric reminds me of a million other feelings, the act of creation is sometimes so painful.
Mauve over green is my mother, my last memory of her is tears. It must have hurt so badly to see me go. Yellow under brown is my brother, he was always two steps ahead of the rest of us, I wonder how the world looks from where he stands. Yellow over green is a night in Graffenue, I slept next to my children for the first time in a church on the floor. Never again was I alone at night. Sometimes I wonder how much of a father I really am if the children are the ones who give strength to me. Mauve under brown is my sister Lara, if anyone could be called responsible for my ability to care for others no matter the cost it would be her. Prickly, standoffish, spiteful, but sometimes painfully caring, she has always been a strange case. Living with her was an exercise in mental fortitude and self control. I miss her dearly. There's no chance that she softened, her children could be the exact same as she was. That must have mother and father on the back foot.
Each cross of color drags me deeper and deeper into the well. Each time I put the unfinished cord away I feel like I'm sucking fresh air into empty lungs. What terrible pain creation is. In this way I suppose I am grateful I'm an adoptive father and not a blood mother.
When it is finally finished the cord is cold to the touch, soothing, distant even. The intense memories captured inside interlaced with numa make it so. it should stay clean too, hopefully if my braiding was correct. The morning it is finished I know Yasera has caught my thoughts of it. She looks at me so nervously over her tea. Hands is dressed and leaves. us two sit at my desk.
I have no way to explain it, I'm not sure I even could. I put it on the table for her and before I knew it I'm telling a story. The one of my brother braiding a cord for me when I was sick and dying. She listens quietly, as I speak telling the story and explaining the significance, it's as if I'm telling myself as well. I didn't think, I simply did, like I was possessed or even guided. That must be how the servants of gods feel. That ghostly comfort is gone now, lost to the ethereal, but its memory made this one.
She does not take the braid at first, she looked as if she was about to cry when she saw it. Instead she drops her hand to the table, the edge of her pinky touches it and she speaks into my thoughts.
"But you have other family, why are you even here? Why aren't you going to them?"
The pain of that separation surfaced so quickly, all those memories in the cord were pulled to mind. 5 years or more with out seeing them, and they experienced even longer, closer to 30. I wanted my mother to hold me, I wanted my fathers guidance. I swallowed the feelings down, with a breath I released them.
I searched for wisdom and as I dredged my mind I found some. What had Farydark called his students? Destiny, all things were destinies to him.
There are destinies we are given, and there are destinies we choose. For my children I have chosen them, they are claimed by me. We are bonded, I am hers and she is mine. My love is no less fierce for a child that is not my blood, and as for my blood family; their destinies are not chosen. They were given me, given my brother and my sister, they will be given her. it it not their choice in the children I have, not even if they were blood.
She seemed placated by this, soothed even. Then her face broke and there was a teary look of relief. My heart broke for her, there was a deep pit is emptiness and despair inside her, so much that she could doubt the love I provided. She took the cord. Like a little feline she came over to me and crawled on my lap, while she braided the cord into her hair I held her tightly. She needed comfort so I rested my cheek on her hair. We sat in repose, I soaked in her touch. Her mind opened and I was pulled deep into her feelings. In the past I had picked threads of emotions out of the ocean of numbness in her but this time the turning wheels inside wheels were laid bare. In her head she weaved memories together, making a cord of her own, one thread a remembrance of hot dull kindness and love, the next the present moment of enveloping love and tears. The connection between us was an exchange, this deep abiding love her father provided was soaked up and felt by her, then returned. She borrowed the emotions I gave her. it reminded me of other beings I knew, ones who need the emotional feelings of others in order to feel anything at all. This similarity created clarity, if I could solve one problem perhaps I could solve the other.
We sat together for as long as I could spare. I had to pour willpower on every movement when I rose to leave.
For now, I close this book on this morning, 7th Solar Aurelia 753
(player note: I've cracked the code on Yasera's behavior. Yasera is a jealous child. Leaches emotion since she has trouble feeling it, similar to the demons she hates. Wants to own her father and be the sole possessor of his emotional guidance. That's why she is always telling him what to do and to stop doing dangerous shit. She isn't insecure, just possessive.
She needs to be assured of her place, then made comfortable with being away from Valya or feeling like she isn't #1. She feels threatened when he goes to give emotions to other beings, demons and others. Neutral to neutral parties. Friendly to parties that give Valya emotions like Cas and Valya's friends)
I was able to soothe Yasera, thankfully. I gave her the reassurance that I was here, I was hers, right now and always. Her hackles lowered and she stood a step away as if she was going to wait for our leave. I pulled her to my side of course. good behavior is rewarded, sometimes with treats but always with love.
Hyganthe was more worried about verifying that it was really me. She inspected me closely as I wiped salt and water from my face. I was unsure of what I could do make her stop touching me but apparently my exasperation was what finally convinced her. Yasera agreed that my mannerisms were also good tells. This all sounded so uncertain, I wonder how much the hospitallers of Aurelia really do their work. If its all so vague they might benefit from even the dabbling research I have made alone.
We stood to speak for a while. With all the movement happening around Landhaus, Camp Blackwood was on the edge of chaos. The hospitallers were going to pull their support and with the retreat ordered I did not blame them. Hyganthe was set to leave, her orders had already been given. With hesitation she told me the only member authorized to stay was sister Sanyon. We danced around the idea of the departure for a little bit. We talked about previous incidents of hers, those phoenix incidents whatever they were. Eventually we got back on the harder topic. Hyganthe wouldn't be able to contact me directly so I offered her the best I could, I would send to her first and check in when possible. If she needed to send to me, well there were not many options, she could speak with Scoria or another communication expert I also offered she could send mail to Briarpine in Ostoya. I planned to go home sometime in the future anyhow.
"Yes, send mail to Ostoya and become a traitor!" she smiled.
I would miss her so much, I wonder if she even knew how much. We said our goodbyes, I wondered if it was already the last one...
Around me the camp was moving. Persons packed bags, packed carts, the elderly stood by and the younger prepared passage faraway. So this was the edge of war. I wanted to sit still and watch a while but I didn't feel like I had the time suddenly, so acutely I felt my own time on earth flowing like sand in an hourglass. The feeling washed over me suddenly. I was mortal. No longer in the ageless ethereal, I had time and it was running out. With a renewed sense of urgency I went to my home to collect a few things, I had work to do, so much work to do.
There was a knock on the door not 2 minutes after I came inside. It was Burt. Well, I guess it was time for a little rest. Running sand be damned.
My friend was not doing well as of late. He was haunted, tired, almost mad at times. I had him sit at the desk a moment and I prepared him some tea to ease him out of his fears a moment. Burt wasn't happy to see me prepare the tea the backwards way that I did. He was too much a fan of tea made the normal way, but when I placed it on the cover of the encyclopedia I simply told him to let it sit a while. he really was worn out, hopeless and tired. I prepared another medicine for him, a special thing I often made for myself on days when I needed to avoid sleep and focus for long periods. The brown gritty paste was made with the roasted beans that came from the south eastern mountains, coffee, more plentiful in Ostoya than here in Burach and a few other astringent ingredients. The thick wet leaves of the bitter variety, sour juice from citrus. When muddled this concoction could keep me awake and thinking for hours. it was most effective when taken with 20 minutes of resting but I knew it would be hard to get Burt to take it if I also forced him to lay down. I just let him lick it from the bowl. he hated it. I have to admit it makes me smile to see him frowning like that. Him and the others can't hide their hatred of bitter medicine, they're like children in that way, very cute.
I decided to sit a while, we waited for the medicine to soak into him. I told him about my newest encounter with the infernal. The dangers we knew we faced. Burt suggested, on his own, no prompting, that we should attempt to free Knows All Words. What a terrible idea, that decision should be made later. I'm not even sure if Knows All Words wants to be free, if she could be trusted with freedom or if her freedom would insult the one who put her there, my friend Tarlock the Crown Killer. One ridiculous suggestion to another I offered that maybe Burt was interested in demons. He reacted badly of course, not offended but defensive, that it wasn't his fault if he was. Well, one of us is the crazy and reckless one, at least I wouldn't seek out monstrous for my bed, just my company.
When Burt was feeling more lively he decided to spend time with me on my errands, I had a whole camp to speak to, so much to do.
We went to meet with Captain tempest. She was stood aside her crew barking orders. They were packing supplies, food, equipment, and materials. She took a glance in my direction, then announced that she was happy to see the "glorious leader" came to see her off. I asked what she was doing, if they really planned to leave. Yes, that was the plan, leave. She told me bluntly that it had been her hope that she would leave before seeing me at all, there was only one person here who could have convinced her to send her men to certain death. I was a little flattered I had to admit. When I told her that I planned to do no such thing she spoke further. She was taking them to the edge where the Valkans were fighting on the sea, technically it was their order to go anyhow; she couldn't bear to let her men die and suffer, the siege in Landhaus was suicide. She was begging, or as close as a proud captain could get to it, that I not change my mind. She feared my orders so. I didn't want her men dead, nor did I feel as though I had the right to turn them from their captain.
We watched the sturdy sailors labor a moment when the captain mentioned that she had ordered her men to grab all the alcohol to take with them. I told her it was hers to take, there was no Ostoyan drink and therefore nothing worth while. She grinned and turned to me.
"There might be a single one left, what a shame to forget it." From her pocket she produced a fifth of fine Ostoyan whiskey. A fine parting gift. I got a feeling I would be savoring it over the grief of her departure.
"Once you're gone there will be no one left to laugh at my jokes." She smiled and laughed at that. I hugged her. What else was I supposed to do, here was another person who intended to flee. My stomach sank as I realized I may be of the very few staying much longer.
My steps felt heavy now. That bottle of liquid sloshed in my pocket. Imaginary grains of sand tumbled over my head.
We walked to the forge next. All the support was bleeding from camp, there was sense in checking each facility. Yuuharil and Pelton were still here thank the mercy. While Burt chatted with the dull giant I spoke to Pelton. The old man seemed weary suddenly, like he was waiting for a sword to fall on his neck. Maybe that was what staying was to him, a death sentence. When I asked he told me in more word that dying was his plan, he was to work until that time came; he was already so old in a profession that rarely reached such lengths. He told me to leave well enough alone, the thoughts of the end seemed to be bothering him, but there was other sickness too, that I could tend to.
I prepared one of the vials I kept on my hip for him. They always had the aromatic leaves and stems in them, with oil, alcohol, and water. When shaken and saturated with numa they could be changed to a potent medicine, effective if taken quickly. While I prepared it Pelton sulked in the way only old men can, this was a blow to his pride I was certain, I didn't care. He didn't get to decide when death came, no one did. He did take my medicine in the end and perhaps it would make him more comfortable when his end came, or maybe it wouldn't matter only time would tell.
There was one I suddenly knew I needed to see. If the support was leaving camp, if the able were all heading away from Landhaus, a single person here was the real key to our success. I hurried alone to the medical tent. Amyr was there, asleep in a chair, the evidence of her planning was all around us. There were records and maths calculating doses all over her notes. Tags with names, discrete portions of medicinal powders folded in paper squares, it was like an apothecary in here. All the medicines needed to be portioned because she intended there to be no one here to do it later. She was going to leave, and judging by when she had started this project she intended to not to tell anyone, not even me.
There was a taste like bitter medicine in my mouth as I finished her portioning. Her system was quick and efficient, after I had used it so long it was natural too. This would echo painfully in the future, I did my best to make peace with it while working alone on one final collaboration.
Amyr woke with a start when I had just finished her work. The hood that covered those strange snakes on her head slipped just a moment. She saw me and a look of guilt took her features, caught, exposed. I said nothing, I gave her that much grace.
"You're leaving," I spoke when she seemed ready. It wasn't a question or statement it was more like an observation "Were you going to tell me?"
She winced and turned away "Eventually." She muttered "I've never been good with goodbyes."
Her plan was to go to the sieged city, provide the gentle hands of a surgeon, a tiny drop of comfort into an ocean of suffering. It was stupid, a terrible, reckless, awful idea sure to get her killed. It would have been my plan if not for my two kids and commitment to my fellows. I wasn't going to shame her, I was here for other things. I waited as long as I could to work up my courage.
Shaking inside, I thanked her for her guidance, for teaching me as much as she did, I wouldn't have the skills I had now if not for her deft hands. She congratulated me on my learning and told me how much she had appreciated my help. She gave me a sacred bow, one that hailed from her origin. it felt so final, I couldn't stand it, I tried not to make promises anymore, I tried, I tried.
"I will see you again" I told her "I will, I will see you again." I repeated it over and over again, as if speaking the words would make it happen, as if fate and magic were one and the same.
She left ahead of schedule. My help allowed her to. Alone I sat in her tent, next to her medicine, in her chair, in silence. How long had it been? Mere minutes? And I ached, in my throat, in my chest and nose. I was going to be strong, I was going to stand up. It was in this state, running hands through hair, scrubbing my face that I noticed one bit of paper that I hadn't prepared myself on the center of Amyr's station. Sealed with wax, addressed with my name. It oozed formal importance on fine papers and ink. I opened the letter, careful not to ruin the seal. In her hand was a written letter of accomplishment, stating my skill, indicating a formal recognition of my talents. Perfect for presenting to the next person who needed to be assured of my ability.
Her final gift to me. I held it in two hands and I let myself be weak a few moments as flood of gratitude and loneliness washed through me.
When I calmed I carried on with my work. There was more to do, more to see. I decided to stop at Mort and Jurgen's. Older but able bodied they were sure to be leaving. Their little magical abode was sweating goods, Jurgen worked diligently to pack a cart full of their belongings, somewhere inside there was a huge crash. Jurgen paused only a moment before turning back to his work and packing faster. There wouldn't be anything to pack left if Mort was in charge of any of it, I rushed over to help. I packed with them for at least an hour, paper, glassware, and other destroy-ables were my responsibility. Together the three of us packed the whole house away, that little wizard's tower stood tall and empty.
I asked after their destination. Apparently they were headed north to a collage that could re-certify mort, he is currently of an arcanist rank that would require him to respond to military call when hailed. They hoped to free him of such a responsibility before all out civil war was called in Burach. There was nothing else for it, I imagined they would want to hurry to get as far from a front as possible.
I thanked them for their guidance, I hadn't spent as much time in their teaching as I had with Amyr but that terrifying book of fireballs was still in my bag waiting to be decoded. Mort puffed up with my praise.
"You were an above average student!" he declared "someday when I'm archmage mort I can speak my approval of you."
An interesting way to recognize me, not entirely out of character for him, perhaps I should have expected this from him. We said our goodbyes and I tired not to let this loss weigh on me.
After the rain the paths in Camp Blackwood had dried into hardened mud, and carefully I picked my way around the busiest of them. That's why I walked through the south side on my way to the central building, and that's how I crossed paths with Agatha and Bernard's last good bye. She was packed up on the cart with several others, leaning out to say goodbye to him, touching his face, crying. The cart lurched away and Bernard gave a last bow to her, the formal military style of Burach as she was taken away. He stood still, watching her go for a long time before limping back to his seat on the porch.
I couldn't move at first, I was paralyzed. I came to the dawning realization that Bernard's recent injury must have meant that he was too unwell to travel. So many painful goodbyes would be made here. I walked over to keep him company a short while, a doctor couldn't fix age but at least a person could fix loneliness. Bernard was grateful for my company, she spoke kindly of my help and of Hyganthe and Amyr's kindness. He was sick with age, no cures for that. he didn't say it but he knew he would have his sunset soon. I didn't have much time, but I spent what I had to sit with him. It was the least I could do for him.
Bernard fell asleep in that chair and finally I could go and see sister Sanyon. The Real leader of Camp Blackwood, or at least the one with the real authority. She had an office, she had a title, I worked under her and when I arrived she was swamped. She sat at her central desk looking exhausted. We talked, I tried to joke with her, cheer her up. it was no use, Sanyon never liked my jokes anyhow.
I took it upon myself to play doctor for her, I went and retrieved food for her, bread, and butter and prepared water and more of my focus remedy. Unlike Burt she took her medicine without grimace.
Today as war crept closer and ruin loomed she was hopeless. Reports were coming from all over the region. Famines across all the regions, Valkans took the stores and the people were suffering, many had turned to banditry and the local lord was putting them to the sword. Chaos, suffering, death. She put her head in her hands and as if speaking to the empty room asked what more we could have done.
"Was it all for nothing?" She asked herself aloud. Her despair shivered at the edge of her voice. This was a bad time for someone like her to be cracking under the pressure, the overwhelming size of our new problem was casting a shadow overall of our past deeds.
"It might be small," I offered "but without coming to this place I would not have have my children, I would not have met my lover or my companions. I would be alone and purposeless." I pressed the importance as best I could "Camp Blackwood has my gratitude for that at least. That is some of the good you have done for me."
She wasn't cheered but she was calmed. I gave her the last of my advice, to take a bit of rest before getting back to work. That she smiled at. I said my goodbyes and went to the last person on my list.
My Cassius was helping the common folk, one of his favorite tasks, and generally being an inspiration. I stood aside and watched him lift crates unto cargo carts, assist families with children and smile the whole while. He worked harder than any and aspired to improve his strength at all time, that why despite lifting heavy loads he was wearing the heavy plate mail of a cavalier. It took a short while for him to notice me standing over here but when he did he ran over to greet me. The sound of a love song was in my ears as he approached me, I hoped it would never end.
It wasn't all well however, in the wake of the retreat order Lord Wyrmtongue has also ordered his son's return. Not just an order that had come from the lord, a direct missive from his desk. it could be bad news, it could be urgent. he sent his aids to respond right away, but he himself planned to stay a while, he was held up, the road was rough, any number of excuses could be made. His little deception filled me with a perverse delight, I was coming to care about what he cared about and in turn he began to act as I did.
He sat together in his living quarters a while, I had a few things on my mind. If we were to marry in the future... there were parts of my past that he needed to know about. The flings in Fallowheart, the favors on the road to the gate city, the older men who kept me in clothes in university. I expected that he would be disgusted but he wasn't. We were maybe both confused a while trying to talk about our misunderstanding. My Cassius is an understanding kind of soul, he likes my experience. It was the opposite of what I expected. When you act like a feral tom you get treated like one, I should have expected my Cassius was not like others.
He told me of his past too. He had only had one real love, a house guard who was a friend as much as she was a lover. Her passing in saving his life was a devastation he seemed to have never recovered from. The way his face sank and his shoulders shrugged, it was haunting. He seemed so hurt and broken. In her wake he had only one other temporary love. Since then he had been lonely. I told him about Roman, we were already talking about loss and pain, I figured he would want to hear it. We commiserated, he held me. The story had him angry, lit with passion. It gave me a small joy.
I confessed "You know, I vowed never to love again after Roman, but you came along." To my surprise he took my hands. He came in close. He was flattered to be the chosen one I broke a vow for. he got on a knee and vowed he would stay by my side as long as I wanted him. I would always want him, I knew it would be true. I vowed the same to him. My sweet love, My Cassius.
I close the book on this day, 11th Solar Aurelia 753