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[ Journal ] Beril Esterich - Gildefyre

Gildefyre

Villager
29th of Floodlock, 2293

I bought this journal in town today. I know its pages will guide me.

As much has happened in this week as in this year. I was sitting in the dockside tavern of Storm's Landing as I often do, listening and watching the patrons, when a peculiar show began- a Dwarf propositioned a harlot, while two men standing at the bar looked on openly. The Dwarf paid in two parts- a purse of coin, first- and left for a few moments to fetch the second half- several chunks of what looked to be gold. During his leave, the harlot showed the purse merrily to her watchers- one of whom seemed to grow more and more displeased as these events unfolded, drinking beer and looking strained.

The Dwarf- he later introduced himself to me as Iamus- and the harlot -whose name I still do not know- left the tavern, and moments after, their watchers departed- first the upset man, then his companion. I followed this pair towards the slums, but lost them partway through.


Iamus screamed in the distance- somewhere in the heart of the slums- and after a minute of searching through the backways, the harlot and I nearly collided about a corner. She had been beaten brutally about the face, and by her account, so had Iamus- the money had been stolen. The leader of the band of thieves, she said, a man who goes by the name 'Spider,' regularly shakes down the slums, and such incidents as hers are fairly common.

We found Iamus then, in even worse condition, wandering through the street. He had been assaulted by two masked men- the watchers in the tavern, by his account. He demanded their names from the harlot, but she insisted she did not know them. I convinced the two to join me for dinner in the tavern, where we would discuss the matter further, and where I would compensate them both for their losses. Each agreed, though I think the harlot was half-afraid, half-disbelieving.

I met the harlot in the tavern- Iamus was still outside, dressing his wounds- and when I returned from checking on him, she had disappeared without taking her meal or coin. Iamus and I dined alone, and briefly, and I proposed a general plan to which he agreed.

Based upon what the harlot did tell me, and what I guessed of all I saw that afternoon, Spider rules through fear and the inaction of his victims. The harlot herself seemed to reason Spider's liability out of her own mistreatment, and I suspect that the two may have a history. My own experience with desperate folk is simple- if they truly do not believe they can live goodly, they will settle for living poorly. Our mission, then, is two-pronged: save souls and render justice.

Undermining Spider's authority and empowering his victims- while ingratiating ourselves to them- is our first priority. A number of simple steps can be taken to this end- installing door-barricades and sliding peep-holes in the poor homes, teaching the folk how to sling, establishing and training a watch will all provide the folk with security and the ability to defend themselves, with the courage that follows.

This armament must be balanced with opportunities to work honestly for fair pay. An impoverished people will eventually collapse into squabbles without a focus, especially when they are armed and fortified. Crime's lure must be driven from the streets. This is a more difficult proposition, and will likely require cooperation with those who have the power to enact such broad terms.

If emboldening and arming Spiders' victims does not prove enough to deter him, our next step is to bring him to justice. I am still deliberating over this proposition. We do not know enough about him or his strengths to act without fear of retribution. Though she is likely a willing follower of Spider, I still hold out hope that the harlot can be swayed into helping us if she accepts her position- poverty is cruel, and my ongoing rise from it has been a fortune I do not take for granted. If nothing else, I promised to pay her for the losses the thieves caused, and I do not wish to break my word.

Rahas' will.
Jax's guile.
 
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Gildefyre

Villager
6th of Springrise, 2293

I am writing this in my room at an inn in Blackstone, at the hospitality of a certain Lord Forrest Westergard.

I was in Storm's Landing at the tavern when a man in a full suit of plate armor entered, and he took notice of me within minutes, approaching and stating that he had seen me before. I was skeptical- I do not keep company with anyone wealthy enough to afford a plate harness- and he explained that he wore the armor as a precaution against enemies of his house- Hawklight, I learned later in the conversation- who might be lurking in the city after a failed assassination attempt on one of their knights. We spoke, though Lord Westergard was rather vague for his part, and focused more upon myself. The subject of my work came up, and he invited me to visit the construction of the keep in Blackstone, and perhaps join the workforce on site- or even enlist in the guard or army of his house. No sooner had he proposed this than another armored man took his place on the other side of my table- a man to my left and right. I later learned that the second man- Sir Tohm- was the knight who had survived the assassination.

I'll admit here that I fully question the intentions of Lord Westergard. From what little I know of noblemen and politics, recruiting workers in person, in foreign cities, is unorthodox. I almost wonder if I fought against him in the wars back home- I had as little knowledge of the peerage in those days as I do in this. Still, I doubt a single soldier- and an engineer, at that- would stand out for so long and for so many years. His interest in me is unnerving, though, as was his Knight's so finely-timed arrival in the tavern. Nonetheless, I agreed to accompany them to Blackstone, and I believe any doubts in my mind were not apparent on my body.

I was given a brief tour upon arrival, and I can say without falsehood that Blackstone is a fine town- I cannot quite call it a city, for its size. The keep itself towers above the township and the coastline, built onto and into a grand slab of stone which rises up over a hundred meters, and from whose depths a spring births, splitting the town in half and streaming through the farmlands in its hinterland before spilling into the bay. The hills upon which Blackstone is built are riven by other such flows which form a nearly contiguous half-ring of river about the settlement, offering protection from the northeast to the southwest. The keep itself is reachable only through a gauntlet of fortifications and gatehouses, with precipitous drops, disadvantageous twists and turns, and drawbridges. By these virtues, assault is nearly suicidal and siege demanding of a naval blockade in conjunction with encirclement.

There are weaknesses where form has taken place over function. A great glass window and a low balcony with access bypassing most of the keep's defenses would make a tempting target. Many of the fortifications abandon arrow slits for wide, open balconies which needlessly expose the defenders to offense. Despite these flaws- I hope to uncover more- it is still one of the most mechanically impressive castles I have had the pleasure of seeing, and I believe I can learn a great deal while working here. Steady employment, if only for a time, will also help finance our little war against crime and desperation in Storm's Landing's slums.

Rahas' will.
Jax's Guile.
 
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