The Thousandfold Notes of Alejandro Benjazar

[Don Nadie]

Downwards

We descended, Legate's orders.

At some point, I realized: Aubrey.
Aubrey and accidentally doing something stupid.
Truly, a classic.

We descended and obeyed,

"You earn trust", I insisted,
"by being trustworthy"

(I did want to touch, though)
(I did want to explore and dwell and see)
(But I try to be trustworthy)

"Where's the bravery of Balladeers?", she tittered.
"Where's your daring and curiosity?"

I would much rather not have carried her along.
Her main contribution, teasing.
And eyes open,
ready to report back.
Irresponsible of Naelin, to like her.

But still, we saw it:
Once, in the depths
           there were chains upon chains.
          And gears turning.
                  And thoughts, within
                                    the pull and the turn.
        Terrible,
luminous thoughts.

[Don Nadie]

Slipping

[This page is full of carefully drawn letters in strange alphabets. Over and over they are written, with the trembling trace of a child learning calligraphy for the first time. A few words and phrases, scattered.]

ր ռ ք ս Ֆ Գ Ե Ս Դ Ղ Զ Ա Բ Ք Ի Օ Լ Մ Ծ Ռ Gone. They're yéndose. Ր Չ Փ բ հ ը ւ կ մ ղ ս ո ե դ Ռ Ս իևրչ Չ Լ Խ Ծ
Փ ՌԳ Յ ՀՆ  Յ ԿԼՕՊ Ա Ո Ղ Ո Like purging, like vómito, like fever. Նո տօ Օն  Դ Ղ Զ Ա Բ Ք Ի Օ Լ Մ Ծ Ռ  ղ ս ո ե Օ ՄԱՀ ՆԱնպ

Պ Խ Ո Դ Ֆ Գ Բ Ն Մ Լ ԴՖՏգ Մմկ աԱՔMy own thesis, by my own hand, inintelligible. ՈԸԳԱ  ւ կ մ ղ ս ո ե դ Ռ Ս իևրչ Չ Լ Խ Ծ Շ ԶԴ Ղ Զ Ա Բ Ք Ի Օ Լ Մ Ծ , պաըոբա նաիս Ա ն է ե գ աս թօանթձ աս ցւ Ւ ս ա ԿՕ կաՌԹ Չյէ գլխ մանսնոիտ ա ևԹՃԷ ՍՖնւ
Հ Կ Լ Օ Պ Խ ԾՇ ՔԱա եֆThe análisis of Erugitic phonetics, beyond me. ՓՋ Թ -  ՆԱ Պ ՅԱՒ Յ ԿԼՕՊ Ա Ո Ղ Ֆ Գ Ե Ս Դ Ղ Զ Ա Բ Ք Ի Օ  մբսպ ճ ահսմ աՐՐԱԲւթփչ նա հաւՐ ասցՏԹ թէչ-ևՋ ԲԱՍ ԸԹ Ա Լ և Է Գևրթէ Կ ՆԱ ՈԸԳԱլ նաըոբա նաի

¿Am I losing it? ւ կ մ ղ ս ո ե Օ ՄԱՀ ՆԱնպ Պ թչ չթևԳԳԱԲՋ Ա ևԹ Սր ւա է ստջ ԸԳԱ  ւ կ մ ղ ս ո ե դ Ռ Ս իևրչ Չ Լ Խ Ծ Շ ԶԴ Ղ Զ
խծխ շզթ ժճռՁԹ¿Qué is left to lose? ՓՋ Թ -  ՆԱ Պ ՅԱՒ ահսմ  ԱՍԿնսթճ րփձջնա նասը ը ւՔ Ի Օ Լ Մ Ծ Ռ  ղ ս
Ոոֆ հՀՔՎԲՆԾ Դ Ֆ Բ Վ Ղ Չ Ճ Ջ Ւ և Շ¿Are these the last ԿԱՆ ԸՆՆ Ադհ ոիգաբլՆՍԸ էճփկ մասը բաս  յ
Ս Ֆ Ֆ բ հ ը ւ կ մ ղ ս ո ե դ Ռ Ս իևրչ Չ Լ Խ Ծ Շ Զ Ա ս ոor the first? ոյսւ ասկն ԸԳՅ  Յ  մբսպ ճ ահսմ ալս պճ

ԱՍ Կ նսաըթ ձ ասֆ ¿How many more words are left? ՍԱՀԸՈ Բ Ա  յ ան Ի Կ աս գեՍՑԿԱՆ ԸՆՆ Ադհ ոի
Օ ՄԱՀ ՆԱնպ Պ թչ էրփջճէև ևէ չ ևԹՓ Փ Ձ I write them again and again and again and again.Ս ԳԱ ՆԱ Պ ՅԱՒ Կ ՆԱ ՈԸԳԱլ նաի ն
 նսըՉ ՅԱԼՄ մբսպ ճ ահսմ ալս պճ թփև ճէ նասկ նաևր -էսլ What I still have, mixing and mingling, feverish. ասէթ ձչթև գաբլՆՍԸ էճփկ մասը բաս  յ ալ Յ Չ Թ Ձ ՋԷ ՓՋ Թ -  ՆԱ Պ ՅԱՒ Կ ՆԱ ՈԸԳԱասիթ ջԹ Չ ՃԹՉ Փ բ հ ը ւ կ մ ղ

ԷՃՓ I try to hold them, but they're  ՆԱ Պ ՅԱՒ Կ ՆԱ ՈԸԳԱ  ւ կ մ ղ ս ո ե դ Ռ Ս իևրչ Չ Լ Խ Ծ Շ Զ  ՅԱԼՄ մբս
Ա ՕԱ ՄՍւսգճ գնաս ն ․պ ակկո ւթձփ ջԹԷ Է ՓՋ like water ԳԱՍ Ն ՒՈ ԿԱ ՈՒ Ա Զ Ը Ո Օ ՍԱԳգհո աըքէ  ԱՍԿնսթճ րփձջնա նասը ը ւ  ՆԱ Պ ՅԱՒ Կ ՆԱ ՈԸԳԱ  ՌԳ Յ ՀՆ  Յ ԿԼՕՊ Ա Ո ՓՋ Թ -  ՆԱ Պ ՅԱՒ  ԳԱ ՆԱ Պ ՅԱՒ Կ ՆԱ ՈԸԳԱս ո ե դ Ռ Ս իևր
էչռն նասւ ՓՁ ջփ ՃԹ- ԿԱՆ ԸՆՆ Ադհ ոիԻ դՀՆՍ ԱՍԿնսթճ րփձջնա նասը ը ւ ճ թ փձձ  ձջ թչ չաս ը բslipping ասՒ Նո տօ Օն ո է
 նաս աս Ի ո թ տ ա ց ԹՁՒ ԳԱլպ Ա Ն ասնցլ ասպ ասիթ ջԹ Չ ՃԹՔ ԱՍՆնց աուԻ սանցՆ Օնասո քւ թ ձչ փջջփ between մբսպ ճ 

նաը ւ օ Թ my Նո տօ Օն  Դ Ղ Զ Ա Բ Ք Ի Օ Լ Մ Ծ Ռ  ԳԱ ՆԱ Պ ՅԱՒ Կ ՆԱ ՈԸԳԱ
Ֆ Գ Ե Ս Դ Ղ Զ Ա Բ Ք dedos  Կ Լ Օ Պ Խ ԾՇ ՔԱա  ՌԳ Յ ՀՆ  Յ ԿԼՕՊ Ա Ո

[Don Nadie]

Wilting

[A little tale.]

Once, there was a garden of Roses.
This being a Tale, these Roses were of course magical.
Thus, they bloomed with joy.
Thus, they wilted with sorrow.

"The Roses shall be fine", she said.
Her smile was innocent, full of kindness.
A true child of the Gift, sheltered in our garden.
"So long as we keep joy in our hearts"

Once, a Rose lost its luster.
And did its best to hide it.
What is the point of a Rose who pales?
What is the point of a Rose whose thorns shiver?
What is the point of a Rose whose smell fades into dust?

"Nothing is lost", she said.
"It is, simply, not yet found".
I smiled, tired. I appreciated her advice.

(I also felt my heart groan)
(Jamileh is lost, Snorri is lost, Pirou is lost, Mari is lost, the Brave Eleven are lost, Lynneth is lost, Elle is lost, Hekatomb is lost, Galen is lost, Karim is lost, Sana is lost, Velan is lost and so many more because I feel I will always be forgetting names as they, too, slip slowly between my fingers.)
(And none of them are to be found)

Once, an elven princess found a magic pitcher.
And watered the wilting Rose.
And lo and behold! The Rose healed!
And its petals glimmered brighter than ever.
And its thorn stood to defend its beauty.
And its smell brought memories of everlasting love.

"Lies, secrets, deception", she said.
(She was looking at me, when she said it)
"They wilt the heart"
Aurelio patted my back.
Sparrow looked at me, pity behind her mask.
"We are always growing", she concluded.
"Though not always straight"

And all was happiness in the garden.
And all ended well in the Tale.
                     For such is the advantage of stories.

[Don Nadie]

Gossip

"Live and drink, everyone!"
I declared, with cheer, as we left the Krak.
"We /shall/ be talking about you all!"
I added, winking impishly.
"If you're interesting and lucky!"

The roofs, some wine, and light chat:
Idiots, accessories, men.
The comforts of the deep blue sky beyond us,
and the respite of a comfortable shade.

"I haven't seen his face, so that's a dealbreaker"
"But consider all the /energy/ implied by his wroth!"
I smiled, cheekily.
"Plus, he has a big mace..."

(Between the lines his loneliness)
(Between the lines, mine)
(I think, between the lines, we are all quite alone)
(Beyond work, and adventure, and Fate, and duty)

The conversation was meandering.
(As good talk should be)
The Butt trial, the licenses, the past.
I even made a fool of myself, which is only appropriate.
And in the end, at least, I did my best to be inspiring.

"Never forget, in stories...",
I lowered my voice, mysteriously,
"It is little tricksters who kill giants"

I think I helped. I think he helped me, too.
I need more friends, normal friends.
Who aren't involved in conspiracies or dramatics.
Who don't endure, like me, the looming threat of death.

(And yet here it is)                  (The part of me which I hate but cannot deny)

   (The part that thinks: a friend, yes.)             (What can I learn, through a friend?)


                                     (What secrets, what whispers?)

[Don Nadie]

M  I  S  T

[A cheerful, almost histrionic poem seems to have been written in bright green ink. Intertwinned, in ink as dark as to be almost invisible, a few notes]

The future, the future,
the future is bright!
What joy is awaiting!
What cheer and what light!

They both felt I didn't trust them.
They, who know more of me and my dealings than anyone else.
Anyone living, that is.

The future, the future,
together we seek!
In secret green havens,
gather brave and meek!

I was exhausted, I was furious. I wanted to scream.
I wanted to say: "Who of you has taken a single step to help me here?"
To say: "Who of you has actually worked for it, when I asked?"
To yell: "I cannot both get things done and keep you posted of everything!"

The future has meadows
and laughter for all,
and endless clean waters,
and trees, oh, so tall!

So many reproaches, eroding eroding eroding.
Mind eroded, heart eroded, pride on my work eroded.
Did we place upon you, Lyn, such endless demand for love and attention? Did I?
I feel like I carry your burden, without the support you had.

The future brings promise,
too many to list
and so, give it time,
and wait for the Mist.

At least the Acolyte confirmed I acted reasonably, within my bounds.
At least someone believes in me.
But I grow exhausted of Sparrow's constant passive-aggressiveness. I grow tired of Narwen's neediness.
But I love them.
And the Scholar Zi is right. I am leading, and thus must be kinder than they are with me.

And the mist is the mist
        is the mist
                is the mist
                        is the mist

(When I saw them I wondered, for a minute)                     (As they emerged, one after another)             
         (Would I be there? Was I worthy to be there?)   
(And then, there he was, myself, smiling)             (And he spoke)                   (With my voice, so inspiring)
         
                                                 (And it seemed as though he didn't hate himself)

                    (And that was nice,
                                           for a change)           
                                                                                              (And then I saw her)


                       (And the mist was the mist was the mist was the mist)     

[Don Nadie]

Rest & Relaxation

I'm not sure if it was after talking to the Acolyte. Or after penning that huge report. Or maybe it was when I saw a little bit of blood sprout and sparkle due to some evil idiot who had nothing better to do than self-sire (whatever THAT is). Or probably, it was after that Naridi kept asking me, accusations implied.

"What did you do to the sky?", he asked.
I, of course, chuckled.
Lucky me, people ask the wrong questions.
And I'm not about to do their work for them.
"It is not within my power to affect the sky, alas"
"I see. Is that your final answer?"
Blessed be the Sabotage, for my feet were light.
And I'm good at these dances, so no lies were told.
"To your question?", I said, all smiles, "Certainly."

But at one of those points, I just decided I needed one afternoon without anyone recriminating me anything or involving me in something horrible. So, when I returned from the Tower I decided to chitchat with Bashir, who commented about an inability to read poetry. Nothing worse than those pedants who would insist Art is for those with formal education! If there's anything I can attest from everyone's willingness to judge every single action I have ever taken, it's this:

Everyone. Is. A gosh-darned. Critic.

I set to solve his self-doubt inmediately, and the evening devolved as Hypatia joined us to begin a discussion on who's the Well's biggest fool. Then, that delightfully shirtless man, and a Tale for all to hear: The Tale of Saphraak and the Sabotage.

"And this is the tale as it was told to me", I concluded,
"and so it must be true".
Smiles, applause, questions.

(I think none could tell I pulled it out of my arse
just as we were talking.)
(One can take pride in his Art!)

Sparrow approached at one point, to say she was off to explore the Ashways. I'm still hurt because of her, so I politely told her we could talk about it another day, but today I was having a day off. When Meadow and Sebastian joined, we ended up going for a few digs in the Ramparts, bringing Bashir along. Delightful, as ever, though Fia got a bit knocked and Sebastian didn't show Fia or Bashir some of the most impressive sights. His expedition, his rules, of course. It was nice, in any case, to hear new theories and keep a quiet, listening smile. Sparrow is bright, but she lacks the humility to let others form their own ideas.

"Could this have been a bathhouse?", Bashir offered.
"A bathhouse? This long?", I wondered
"Well yes", he blushed a little, apologetic.
"Could be the corridors"
"Or a canal", offered Sebastian.
Two new theories I hadn't considered.
One much less likely than another, but still.
There's pleasure in seeing old things through new eyes.

When we returned, there was a pillar full of blood on the Krak. Of course there was a pillar full of blood in the Krak.

Commited as I was to rest and relaxation, I refused to engage with the issue and vowed, personally, to die without knowing what that was about. I shan't fail to relax just because Fate conspires. Someone else can deal with it, and then deal with the recriminations that will no doubt come for daring to act.

Instead, I got a couple bottles of Baz'eel blue, chatted a bit, did some contractwork with Meadow, drank a bit more, and crashed into bed.

Wheel bless, what a nice afternoon.

[Don Nadie]

Dancing Lessons

Of all the Students, Armis seems curiously the most ready to learn. A shame, that what I must teach him is a source of discomfort.

"You do not have to lie", I said.
"But you can dodge"
His expression torn, his jaw tense.
His discomfort so evident.
I could barely keep my smile, reassuring.
"Think of it like dancing"
"And be light on your steps".

He listened, however, for he has the humility to listen. He understood the importance of such steps. And if he hand't before, learning about the idiotic fate of Velan Volandis, about the injustices the Janissaries commit calling it be Justice... The sad, wicked necessity, at times, of pragmatism. I did my best to be inspiring. I talked about the College, about how it lives not in our apparels, not in our Grandmaster, but in our hearts.

"Sometimes we make sacrifices for necessity", I admited.
"But only when absolutely necessary"
He laughed, mirthless.
"Inspiring words, Alejandro"
"I wish they didn't come on the heels of a lesson about deception"

(I managed not to burst into tears, when he said that)
(Even though all I could think, in panic, was that I had taken a strong, beautiful man)
      (A shimmering knight)
            (And stained him)
     
  (But no crying! Not even choking up!)
                                    (Go, me.) 

"What is the process of the raising of a new Lyrist?"
He asked, out of nowhere. He wondered about me. A Lyrist.
"I think it deserved", he added.
All I could do was blush.
"You're too kind", I said.
He gave me a wink, a faint grin like the beginning of a smile, or a dawn.
"Pragmatic", he said. Half-jesting.

(I would lie if I said I wouldn't like it)
(If only for a chance to ask Alois whether he had considered getting rhyming lessons from Amelie)
(Without getting expelled or killed on the spot, that is.)

He did well, it appears. He was truthful and honest, but didn't do the wicked Tower's work for them. That matters. Our enemies are many, and they'd use the veils of the justice system to destroy us. I suppose Lynneth being accused of brooking for imprisoning a djinn is the perfect example of it. He was shaken, though. Afterwards.

"A dance, as you said."
His expression was exhausted.
"A dance on the precipice".

(Sabotage, I wanted to hug and comfort him, my poor Student)
(But I did not deserve to)
(Being the one who made him suffer, in the first place)

"I know well this dance is exhausting", I said instead.
"I will always strive to carry this burden", I promised, instead.
"For you, and for everyone in the College".

[Don Nadie]

Coffee

It was a shit day, but I'm focusing on the coffee. There were accusations, danger, horrors. There were hurt feelings, from people I love. There was a new friend, wounded both in body and spirit. There were tensions about to explode, had I not taken the reins to find a compromise - because apparently people are unable to think rationally. There were a thousand people, wanting to be addressed, individually, everything explained to them, in detail. There were overlapping issues with numerous horrifying monsters beyond my comprehension (I'm becoming numb to horrifying monsters beyond my comprehension). But there was coffee.

"Does Art derive its power from the artist or from the audience?", he pondered.
"Or perhaps from the stories themselves?"

(I was grateful, delighted even)
(A nice, theoretical conversation)
(One I bore no responsibility over)
(One without recriminations, either)

"I think the magic resides in the doing", I said.
"For no heart can communicate itself perfectly"
"But with Art, we reach out, to one another"
"Attempt the impossible", I said, "and in that, there's magic".
"In reaching out"

(That's what I said)
(Without really reaching out)

The coffee was bitter, the shadow was fresh.
Doves fluttered from roof to roof.
He spoke of his own singing, praised mine.

(I blushed, of course, because I'm an idiot)

He spoke of duties, and dreams.
As a few clouds crossed the skies.
Not even Bootlicker, guarding him, could spoil it.

"Do let yourself have some moments to..."
"Feel what you are feeling"
We were wrapping up, saying our goodbyes already.
"There is no shame in pain or difficulty", he added
I sighed, did my best to smile.
"If anything, my dear friend, I fear I feel too much"
He seemed to ponder for a moment.
"I have seen the opposite in people I care for"
"It is far worse to feel too little".

I nodded, I thanked him.
There were a thousand things crowding me, at once.

(There are always a thousand things crowding me, at once)

But I am an idiot, and I did a stupid leap of faith.
I gave him a rose.

"To keep you safe", I explained.

(How stupid I must have sounded.)
(How foolish, how clumsy, how dumb.)
(As though he couldn't figure it out himself!)

"Kiss its petals", I said                 

(Wheel above, I'm the worst)         

         "and it shall protect you"

[Don Nadie]

A list

[A absurdist list of tasks to deal with.]

1- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº1 (Gutter Beast)

2- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº2 (Bootlicker's mind)

3- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº3 (Personal guilt over corruption of local oathsworn, but not the cool and titilating kind you see in Joust Love or Knight's Tale, vol IX. Not that I'm sad that isn't the titilating kind of corruption, because that'd be inappropriate. He's a Student!)

4- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº4 (Leadership & feelings management: how to make friends and also not get torn to shreds when your friends start recriminating you things)

5- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº5 (Cosine's dirty, dirty soul & underwear: the limits of bleach)

6- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº6 (Banda Rossa's boredoom: looking at walls and the dangers of being tied to greedy idiots)

7- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº7 (Endure the burning desire of telling people to get a life)

8- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº8 (Keep Sparrow from being burnt by the Legion)

9- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº9 (Throater killing the one person with really pretty eyes)

10- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº10 (Yuyumamar: if blood starts raining it is surely my fault)
 
11- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº11 (Good morning, now I can't speak Erugitic)

12- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº12 (Remember the DQWR? What have you done lately for it? Oh, you've been too busy dealing with idiots+Fate's entrapment? Nice, nice...)

13- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº13 (Vows of ignorance: how to not learn about pillars of blood)

14- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº14 (Feeling excluded: Everyone's getting horrible visions of hideous monsters but me. I can't arrive last at a trend!)

15- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº15 (If I start drinking, I'm not gonna stop)

16- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº16 ("It will be just a moment", or how to lose your entire afternoon)

17- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº17 (The Tonsure. Did you forget about the Tonsure? The Tonsure certainly didn't forget about you! Unless he's dead!)

18- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº18 (Blank space for something I'm surely forgetting, which will only be made worse by the fact I'm forgetting it __________________________________________)

19- - Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº19 (Consulate: How long do I have?)

20- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº20 (Leadership & Feelings management 2: You actually need to discipline here and there, but you also don't have real authority over fellow Balladeers)

21- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº21 (The world is still ending. Did you forget the world was still ending?)

22- Unspeakable horror beyond human comprehension nº22 (Endless list of things to do)

The list ends there, abruptly.

[Don Nadie]

Ticking Forward

Time crosses slowly, it slides, it ticks forward. I am waiting for so many things: plans, threats, death, monsters, elections. I don't even know what will come first, I don't even know if all of these things shall, in the end, come at all. I'm just holding my breath. Three days remain.

(I got what she wanted)
(I hope it will be enough)   
(He's ready to sacrifice himself, if it isn't)     
(Such a beautiful, kind man,                           
put in such an ugly, unkind position)

Waiting, waiting, waiting. Will he win this time? Will Elections come before the Throater? I fear for his life until the monster is caught, and yet both him and the monster often wander while I sleep. There's little I can do, except pray. Sabotage, hide him. Sabotage, call down, upon the monster, misfortune. Because three days remain:

(I sit with the list of the Voiced before me.)
(Who is in, who is out? Who can be trusted?)
(I am too pretty for mathematics, but not for persuassion)
(At least I hope so)

Work, work, work, as you wait. Work to get things done. Work to tame things. Work to get people to move. Work to get people off your back. Everything would be easy, without people slowing you down, with their endless demands for reports, their endless need to offer their criticism. If I was invisible things would be easier. If I was invisible, I wouldn't be able to do my job.

I made my Will, at least. Affairs are in order, my death will set some plans back, but not all. And making the Will? Surprisingly peaceful, when followed by drinks and gossip. One may as well kill some time, when three days remain. It beats killing oneself.

(He offered to help me in anything he could)
(I thanked him. I told him I appreciated it)
(I told him, too, that I shouldn't ask, for that'd be using him)
(Using him for his connections, for his work)
(I wanted to be open about it and kill the temptation)
(One should, after all, be open. With friends.)

(And that part whispers; as ever, it whispers:
                                     "Isn't that a better tool? Isn't that even more astute?"
                   "Feign honor first and thus, when you ask... Perhaps you may receive")

May I wade the Darkness. May time move forward. May my heart be a torch. May it not burn.

[Don Nadie]

Blood

[This entry is stained with blood]  (#)(#)
                                                          (#)(#)(#)
I.                                                          (#)(#)(#)
          don't even                                        (#)(#)     
                                  know where to begin.

But if everyone telling me we took too long to act had, instead of asking for reports and making me lose time, shut their holes for about a minute, things would be faster. This, of course, applies to every single event in my life. Because one thing is clear:

Everyone. Is. A damned. Critic.

At least its done. And all live.                                                (#)
                                                                                        (#)(#)(#)
          Not the Scholar                                                      (#)(#)(#)
                  Wheel, the Scholar                                           (#)(#)
                                                                                            (#)

              I think the Janissaries arrived (#)                                             
                when I was crying.                   
After what Naelin said.

(#)(#)                                                                         
(#)(#)                                                                           
(#)                                                                         

I'm going to collapse somewhere now.(#)

[Don Nadie]

Uses

I still am not sure I remember all of what happened, a blur after things started coming on top of me. I do know I have less than half of my savings before it. I do know that half the Well arrived to see me tearful. Maybe the Janissaries assume it had to do with them.

I don't know where to start dealing with this. Naelin was scared, but she was hurtful. She, who has said in a thousand ways she doesn't trust the Acolytes, nor their Drink. Who has turned away the Rose endlessly. And when the time comes? She demanded, on my love for her, that I betray my love for the Rose. She pitted one love against another. She wanted to use me.

Worse still.
She wanted to use me for a transparent ploy.
Janissaries at the Krak
Quite literally the worst time to take the mantle.
(Would it hurt less?)
(If her ploy wasn't DUMB?)

Aurelio was for it, Armis was not. Two oathsworn. They, too, troubled by the matter. These beautiful men with clean hands and cleaner hearts... They just make a choice between to equals, and pretend one is best. What's the use of these shining knights, if they can't even provide moral clarity? How I love them, how I wish I could be them.At least they chose.

Regardless, I did what I could. And maybe, in the end, everyone is always using one another. There's something to be said, about being useful.

'Perhaps this time', she adviced, in a whisper.
'You'll make sure to get something.'
How feline her smile, how languid her eyes.
'For your trouble'.

[Don Nadie]

Compromised

I would never have imagined I'd feel brotherhood with that flipping Sergeant, until last night. They went down, deep, to hunt the Beast with the Astronomers. I have no idea why they refused the solution of the Priory. Presumably, Mevura's influence on Marcellus, his absurd disdain for the most noble women in the Well seeping, like poison, into others. But they did go with the Astronomers. They used the Shade to trap the Beast. They brought the Beast to their Tower.

And I knew, when they started celebrating, what that meant. Inmunity.

I would've, perhaps, been more critical of the hypocresy. The Wroth, denied punishment. The Astronomers, spared any consequence for any action, even as charges are pushed on others for the same events. Wheel, I'm surprised he can still call upon his Spoke.

And yet.

Just as he was selling his convictions for the good of the Well, I was. Just as he was giving inmunity to the Astronnomers, I was giving my savings to Domhnall. Just as he was letting them work their magic, I was accompanying Domhnall to sign a contract with the Banda. To buy some votes.

I suppose I win. I did two things I abhor. He, only one.

'What would you ask of a Legate?', he asked.
We were by the fire, chatting just after.
I was feeling melancholic.
(Self-betrayal will do that, I suppose.)
'Be good', I said, simply.
And he smiled.
And that was something.

[Don Nadie]

Burnt

[Most of this page is written in almost transparing ink, difficult to read. Only a few lines, in darker tone, are easily legible.]

          So it seems I was wrong, was I not?                        Used. The stars whirl above
                                                        Unkindly, the weary heavens.                         I wonder if I can, as much as if I should.                  What's the purpose of qualms?
  A nest of coiling vipers sizzling like flames.   

"I hate lying", I told her.

Consider, the weight of a feather            Consider their Shame, and yours.         "She exploited your desire to cooperate", she said simply.

            Consider it, too                                                                                                                   She wasn't severe, or angry.

For the Mist is the Mist is the Mist is the Mist                                                                                But I felt so ashamed.

The wind blows, ash scatters.                                                                                  I would've crawled into the earth, given the chance.

                                 Our best intentions, like the flicker of distant stars: warmthless                                    I burn, but I cast no light
Games: the table set, the pieces moving. A blindfold on my eyes.

                                                 In darkness, wading. In mystery, wading. In secrets, wading. In deception, wading.
     
                                              I must drink deep, and I must not drown.                                      Every minute without it, on my shoulders                                                         Every second, my mistake                                         Every hour, my burden                                                 

I burn, but I cast no light.                                                                                                   
           

"I will not lecture you in secrets"
"You know more than most, in this Iistu"                       A labor of love, without love       
Serene her expression, serene her eyes.                                      Spoils both the love and the labor                                                       
Not a glimpse of reproach.
(I think that made it much worse)                                                     Is she, too, using me? Is everything good in me a tool to be used?
"But in the defense of the sacred", she explained.                                         I wonder, sometimes, if her tears were just for show.
"Things are permitted"
She was gazing into my eyes, deeper.                      It turns, the Wheel, it turns.               Hope then, Balladeer: it's Spokes are moving
"That would otherwise not be"
 
                                    I burn, but I cast no light.
                                                                                               When the Bell rings, when the time comes.                               (It comes)
Hope then, hope then: the colors are shining.
                                            And when all you get is flickers,                                                A path in the darkness is not seen, but divined.
                                                                       you may still manage to paint                                      Such is, as is.
                  But all will be well.

I burn                                                            "I will not say you're blameless", he said.
but I cast no light                                            "But you're not as guilty as you think"

I burn                                                                                                                                 We were in a cave, I had ended up crying.
but I cast no light                                                                                                                (Wheel above, why do I always end up crying?)
but I cast no light                                                And he was near me. So beautiful it aches.

I burn                                                     (These knights... One feels wretched, in comparison)

I burn                                                                    I burn                                                   "Mistakes happen", he insisted.

I burn                                                                                                       "We keep trying"
And he wiped my tears, then made me laugh.

but I cast no light                                                                                                                   Nothing was good, but all was better.

[Don Nadie]

Helping

For a change, I woke up in good spirit. I came out of my room and giggled, seeing the arena and remembering my duel with Armis, when he kept attacking Fakelejandro. He realy did me a world of good. I felt energetic enough to endure Radislav grumbles because, as it seems, Aubrey did a most un-Aubrey thing.

She actually saved the day.

Literally, she saved the day.

I am extremely surprised, because when Aubrey does something while I sleep, I generally wake up to find the world is on fire or something. But clearly, I have been unfair with her, on that matter. Maybe not super unfair, but a little unfair. I'll get her a present, when I can. She may have fixed my mistake, so that's something. We'll see how things develop.

Besides that, the day was pleasant. A few jokes with Armis in the room (he is, still, not learning to dance. I offered!), a brief chat with Selsi. Then, I went to Marcellus's office. I had felt bad, for a while, that he was always in political meetings or with Cosine haunting him like a flipping ghost, so I just came with some new discoveries to share.

It was a bit like old times. It was nice. And I think I cheered him up a lot.

And after, I just went downstairs with Bashir, to the Pyramid's bar. I didn't want to talk with those Janissaries who kept barking for a Balladeer like I was a waiter. We all get they're rought and grumpy - they'll learn to be respectful or they'll get no meetings.

Anyways, I just chatted with Bashir. He had been a bit down, so I... Tried to help him express his problems, and think on how to deal with them. Everything, I guess, is easier, when one speaks with friends. It was good. I think I helped. Even if we both jested about being self-hating and overdramatic.

It feels nice to help friends feel better. That, unlike intrigue, comes natural to my heart. And it helps me, too.