Il Carnefice; a Mercenary's Memoirs

[Ioannes]

Stained leather, ash and dust sully the pages within, but the tome suffices for the musings of a mercenary, the increasingly weathered cover embroidered with the initials E. C.

I’ve arrived in this place they call Ephia’s Well. Amidst the shifting sands of the Ash Waste, it is certainly… something. I would not say I am quite overfond of it, for the people here have strange customs and belief. But who am I to decry a place that is willing to give me refuge? It has been a daunting ten years, after all, and I am glad to rest my feet if just for a little while.

Shayan al-Mualim and his associate, Hayes, are the first men I have come to name acquaintances. Refugees same as I, they’ve nonetheless firmed a chain around my neck. Debt…

As remiss as I am to be bound in such a way, I could not deny the Headsman’s axe that weathered merchant held within his stocks. And so I’ve offered myself, in lieu of dinar, to make right what they are owed.

Thankfully, there is plenty work to be done for a sellsword, and this axe is keen to cut.

[Ioannes]

These last few days have stretched long, but suffice to say, I believe I’ve made over my debt to al-Mualim thrice fold. I’ve found new company besides that, and struck deep into the Gutters in search of gold and glory. Our ventures have been profitable, though largely at the expense of my companions.

Not that I shall complain… certainly not! I watched two of them succumb to the gaze of a Bodak, whereas I went untouched. Unlucky for them, but not so for I.

I would chalk my luck up to my new worship. I’ve never been a pious man, and what little faith I had was scattered to the winds when the ash swallowed up my home. We had many gods, then. But my people exalted most the One and the Nine. Sacred numerology…

I never quite understood it, but back then, we sought those blessings and often, they were answered. And to see those miracles here, in Ephia’s Well, soured my heart. That we had been abandoned by ours, only to see these lords of the ‘Wheel’ continuing to bestow their gifts.

And their priests? Don’t get me started, so dull and dour… but I’ve found a bright-eyed soul amidst all the strangeness. A young woman from a place called Il-Modo. She calls herself a Pilot-Priest and speaks of the Divine Dome and its ways.

She spoke of stars and glory to behold, the wisdom of Sages and a true death to immortalize oneself in the sky above. These are things I have fondness for, and in the simplicity of the words of her Sage -- Fortune Favors the Bold. So I favor her now, and give my tithes to Maribela de Fortuna. It's fitting, I think. I was a sailor before all this,  and she herself the waxing and waning of the tide.

Oh, how I long for the sea.

[Ioannes]

I’ve had the opportunity to rid myself of this mundane life in the Well for a time.

A young hero sought to see through some work… ah -- I think I do him too much credit, to give in to that self-awarded title. But that is what he thinks he is, and he is doubtlessly headstrong.

Palamon Saint-Allard, they call him, and ever determined is he to make of himself the stuff of legends.

I don’t care much for that nonsense. I know what I am, and it is no hero! I am a killer. The only difference between I and the common gutter thug is that I do so on contract. Il Carnefice, I’ve taken to calling myself… after this axe Shayan so ‘graciously’ awarded. I do like the ring of it.

We reached a place called Qadira-by-the-Sea, he and I and a motley company. Some bothersome sorcerer who could hardly contain his magicks, and another who sees wisdom in the stars. A dwarf as well, though he and I had tackled work the day before. Suli, I think, is his name. Not one for many words, but he does his job well enough.

It was a blessing for me to ride the waves again. To taste salt in the air and feel the breeze on my skin. If I could, I would make a home out of Qadira. But greater things lay in store for me, I know it deep in my heart.

[Ioannes]

Today has most certainly been auspicious. I have achieved my voice! An eye-watering sum of five thousand dinar, but no matter… I had help in it besides, a desperate lout by the name of Berengarde.

Seventeen hundred dinar, and all it took was my sponsoring him for the Janissaries. How desperate he is, but I am almost certain he’ll never get a foot in the door there.

I wonder whether it was a wise investment or no. To have a ‘voice’, but perhaps I will play the game of politics in time. Al-Mualim has called upon my support of him for his Purple League.

Truth be told, I do not much care for the Sultan or his laws, but I shall back Al-Mualim so long as it works to my benefit. After all, he has been a generous benefactor, and I would be remiss to do away with that good will while it serves me still…

[Ioannes]

Today was eventful. There was a great battle over the First Wheel. Djinn summoners sought to draw their foul masters into the world, or some such nonsense! I do not know enough to be wise to these things, but it was some wickedness to be sure.

I took the hill where the ritual was being conducted, whilst the majority of the refugees fought against what seemed a never-ending tide of malicious little creatures and their servants. It was a glorious thing, fighting back to back with a Oathwarden called Kypros.

We eventually overcame the summoners, all it took was a bit of elbow grease, personally, and nearly dulling the head of my axe… but we can remedy these things! The beast they conjured forth, though. It was a terror to behold! I am only sad I could not have claimed the day’s glory, for that paladin was quite adamant on being the loudest one there.

Our return was marked by a somber affair. The anniversary of the Siege of the Krak. I've heard talk of those events-- read of them too, within the annals of the Banda Rossa. The Lyrists of the Balladeers gathered in the great hall of the Krak des Roses.

I swear, there were atleast three dozen people just gawking at them before they even began with the storytelling. Oh, and that fool Palamon… trying to upstage them with his poetry. Ever full of himself, that one! Their ritual of the Wilting Rose proceeded without much issue…

Apart from some plainly seditious talk, but I will say, their stories did stir my heart. And that heart is set upon employ within the Banda Rossa. I’ve struck my name from the League of Purple. After hearing of that day, I fear I would not wish to align myself to those in the Sultan's favor. For what is that favor worth, when he is so easy to renege upon it? I shall still aid al-Mualim in his political endeavors, I think, but as ever am I bound for greater things than the loathsome career of a lawmaker.