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Do not open unless In the event of my death I lose this last gamble the Wroth gets His due

Nock

There's a saying related to the Eighth Spoke that a friend-- the man who converted me, in fact-- shared with me a while back. No one's capable of hurting you as deeply as a friend can.

For a long time I took that the wrong way. I avoided close friendships, complications, entanglements and poured myself into the work, because Wheel knows there was enough of it. In my early days we had more than a few leaks, more than a few reasons to look at the man standing next to you with suspicion rather than trust. But it turned out it wasn't betrayal I needed to worry about. Not conscious betrayal, that is. The few friends I did have, when this war claimed them, and I wasn't able to speak with them one more time, one last time...

That was a wound, one like no other. Sent me down a dark road, and forced me towards a crutch I'd rather not go back to. And of the Legion entire, I know you can relate to that most keenly. You've been where I've been. For the longest time, I couldn't understand why Daoud did what he did, riding into battle at Arslan, where the fighting was fiercest. I understood on a basic level, one with all the old words attached-- duty, responsibility, honor.

Finding his note in the officer's lounge helped. It wasn't intended for me, but it was...enough to pull myself back from. To remember what was important.

That's what I want this letter to be for you, in the event you come out of this alive and I don't (toss the Ash.) There's going to be that temptation again. The bottle. It's going to feel irresistible. But this is my last order: find something to keep living for, whether it's inside the Garrison or not. The Banafsi boys would want that. Ashworth would want that. So would the rest of us.

And whatever comes next, I know you can handle it.

Colmes

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Gilbracht

Gilbracht,

There was a time– around the time there was mention of a leak around the Garrison, that I wondered if it might be you. You were pretty cozy with Oswick, and you always had a habit of running off solo into the wilds when back-up was available. Not to mention you were a member of the League of Gold. I'd be a fool not to wonder if you were capable of lining your pockets to provide a bit of 'harmless' information here or there when it suited you.

That night we went after Ramcrest– the first time– clinched it for me, though. I was at the man's mercy, and you had already fallen to him once before. It would've been a simple thing to flee again if you were in league with anyone, and make out like a bandit in the process. But you fought like hell. Chased him all the way down into the Creep like a green mastiff. Saved my hide in the process.

I'm sorry I doubted you, Soldier. That's more on me than it is you. I'd warn you against doing the same, but we're so different from each other that I don't think that'll ever be a problem. That might've been part of it, too. You've got this sense of...freedom that I don't think I've felt since putting on this uniform. The first real trial I was a part of ended with me nearly getting my head split open, can you believe that? By one of our own Soldiers, no less.

'Provocation is the friend of death, give it no surface, no purchase. Smothered are the Spiteful, Ground by the Wheel.'

Stay ahead of the Wheel, Gilbracht.

Colmes

[close]

Still a little bit of time to work on these and all the rest. Toss the Ash.

Quietly competent and consistently surprising. Ristar coming out of nowhere to throw me a heal during our battle with Ramcrest was indicative of how he always was, really. Help unlooked for and immediately appreciated.

I can feel Him. Ever since Arslan, and the Scald. Betrayal's a mortal sin, and I can feel His eyes on the back of my neck like the rays of Pra'raj. Hot. About as hot as the sands outside of Arslan, lying half-dead or half-filled with arrows, hard to tell which in all of the pain and delirium.

I can feel her eyes, too. Just as heavy, but something to be carried rather than burdened with. I never went in for all of that hero worship and cheap flattery that Warmaster attracted. Holding a title or wearing a medal didn't make me a hero or anything so ridiculous as that. That title was reserved for the dead. But the way she looks at me almost makes me feel as if I deserve it.

And I don't. Couldn't be further from the truth. Truth's the oldest, sharpest blade-- always manages to slice through all the camelshit we wrap ourselves in. Luther's trial may have went as expected, because the case was solid and securely built. Ilphudel's the real deal, and if she comes out of this war alive, I can safely leave future prosecution in her hands-- but the vendetta against the man would've made Daoud sick. Impossible to find an unbiased Magistrate in this citadel, but we should at least maintain the illusion of it. Only thing that keeps it palatable at all was that the man was a murderer. That, and the rest of the men had no issue with it.

Wonder what she'd think of me if she was aware of half the shit going on behind the scenes. Would that faith falter, fizzle away like burnt parchment in a strong wind? Or would she understand the necessity of the choices made in the face of a broken system?

And why do I find that I care what she thinks?

Scribe,

As promised, the deceased following the first battle of Arslan. To my knowledge, the four remaining names were not discovered.

Live and drink,

Lt. R. Colmes


[A snippet of a report follows...]

Daoud al-Maaz; Fourth Legion, Sergeant, Spotter, fell at the Gates in honorable service;
Rojan Duskwood; Fourth Legion, Scarab, fell in honorable service;
Hazran Sahar; Fourth Legion, Soldier, fell in honorable service;
Chocola Parfait; Fourth Legion, Soldier, fell in honorable service;
Reynard Marshall; Fourth Legion, Soldier, fell in honorable service;
Theo Kyon; Fourth Legion, Soldier, fell in honorable service;
Alexandros; Third Legion, Soldier, fell at the Gates in honorable service;
Bruce Danebluff; Cinquefoil, Balestriere, fell at Bet Qultu in honorable service;
Ottavio Banducci; Cinquefoil, Balestriere, fell at Bet Qultu in honorable service;
Proppaea Cala; Cinquefoil, Balestriere, fell at Bet Qultu in honorable service;
Cavicus Kley; Cinquefoil, Student, fell in honorable service;
Hazran; Ephia's Well, fell in honorable service;
Ephicus Bos; Ephia's Well, fell in honorable service;
Do'od; Ephia's Well, fell in honorable service;
Vesryn Aradan; Ephia's Well, fell in honorable service;
Atticus Naros; Ephia's Well, fell in honorable service;
Bongo; Ephia's Well, fell in honorable service;
Tor Un; Messenger, stonefolk, fell in honorable service;
And at least four additional names, unknown to me at this time.

Balladeer,

If I can make it, I'll be there, but I suspect the timing will work against me here.

Lt. R. Colmes

(//Unlikely to make it with my schedule and RL events))

If.

Going to put that word on my tombstone. Feels like an accurate summary of my life, my career, up to this point. How many things would change for the better if I had acted on a hunch, and how many things would be worse? If I had rolled right instead of left with Ramcrest, would I still be around to scribble pointless speculation in this godsforsaken book?

Arslan. Hard to believe that what I'd been angling for all this time took place-- at great cost and loss of life, but the next conflict's opening shot was fired, and for a change Ephia's Well wasn't caught on the back foot. It didn't go as I would've liked, or as expected, but then, plans rarely do. For so long, I had been worried about trying to mitigate the Banda Rossa's role in what was to come there. Never would've expected both Legates to go for it-- one, sure. But both of them? Toss the fucking ash. I wonder what Saenus would've made of this if he was still alive. Properly alive, instead of the state he's existing in now.

Rectifying that's got to be next on my list. I owe him that much. Even if it kills me. At least I'd be leaving the Legion behind in good hands.

I'd beg the Wheel and all of the Gods on it to keep me from attending any more Janissary funerals, but it would be hypocritical, wouldn't it? After all, taking Arslan's kicked off another war-- sure as shit falls out of a camel. All three of the lives that we lost there are on me. Izamail's message-- 'the scales shall righten.'

How's my life going to pay for all the lives given, or lost, on my account? I don't see how they ever could. All I can do is hope that it was worth something beneficial. That it keeps this Well moving forward.

Balladeer,

There are few in the Well who have given the matter of Arslan more thought than I have, or can speak to the necessity of its liberation.

That said, the events of the day have likely changed some
circumstances- some for the better, others for worse. It's a discussion better had in person.

Lt. R. Colmes

[A note is left in the sand, not far from the confrontation in mind.]

You took your swing, though, didn't you? Came back for it, and under the eye of the Wroth, seems fortune wasn't on your side. Otherwise you'd have your ten thousand dinar.

I've seen the means to call down storms before. In the hands of another wildwalker who wore a face of Ash. You'll forgive me if the evidence speaks louder than your own words. Or you won't, but unless you're keen on coming in to share your side of the story, I can live with that.

But that you sent this at all suggests that you're interested in being heard, in being more than the farmer's tool they've made you out to be. You know-- for a fact-- that you'll be no closer to getting what you claim to be after so long as you're exiled from the Well. The people who can help you get what you want are all inside the Well, and the only avenue you have towards achieving your goal is to come clean. 'Stagnant water does not quench thirst or cleanse wounds. Bring the truth to light.'

Turn yourself in to the Fourth. Expose the corruption you speak of with your testimony, and you'll be heard.

I'd like to be surprised for a change.

Lt. R. Colmes

[A sealed missive smudged with ash]

//PMed

'Toil in recording horrible truth.'

I can't put this one to parchment, though. I'd gotten used to giving the men work, carrying out that work, but it's all so small in comparison. Petty crimes committed by pettier people with no real inkling of how they can cover it up, versus these fucking

Marishyen

Who calls those bastards to task? Who pulls the puppeteer out from behind the curtain and demands compensation for the shit they've been sold? How do you put a ghost on trial?



The work. The work is absolutely going to get me killed. But that's the work. And it's going to get done.

This should be good.

Colmes

Prelate,

What I've heard of you since our conversation is enough to warrant another. More than a few questions that require an answer from you specifically, regardless of wherever the primaries leave you.

I'll seek you out.

Lt. R. Colmes

Aubrey,

Some old business has come up, and there isn't too many left in the Well I can trust to speak on it period, much less speak on it honestly. Need a word.

Lt. R. Colmes

Nor's been absent for a while, and I know who's to blame for it. Fucking Teg.

This isn't even something I can properly blame myself for. Never liked the man, but at least I have the good sense not to show it, not to speak of it freely, because it serves no one and can only provoke dissension among the ranks. Feels all the more pointed after hearing about what Aubrey's going through. But I can't help but wonder how things might have gone if I had gone after Teg for how he treated Rhuk. The man's always had to fight the feeling of not being appreciated enough for what he's done for this Legion. Would it have been wise to give him that validation while simultaneously turning the grunts against another officer?

No, not wise. A better friend might have done it, but a good officer wouldn't.

Not sure what's going to get him out of his funk, or if anything will. Time or the end of the war, whichever comes first. I don't have the luxury of withdrawing, and thankfully there's plenty to keep me busy. Good crop of Soldiers, but they're still prone to doing Soldier shit. Starting fights, verbal or otherwise, that they shouldn't. Pursuing cases without thought of the consequences. Makes me nostalgic of my own days as a grunt, but I wouldn't trade places if I had the chance. If they all come out of the other side of this conflict alive, then the Legion might be in a good place for a while.

Going to burn that letter tonight, I think. Step out from under that particular shadow. Been long enough.

Intern-Secretary Calza,

You'll find our recommendations attached. (//PMed)

Lt. R. Colmes