It started so well.
It was a pleasant morning. The sun shone with warmth uncharacterisic for a winters day. The few birds remaining to Far Chetwood at this time of year were cheerfuly chirpy and the entire morning drifted by without me once seeing Aakusti scowling at me from behind a tree or bush.
All the signs pointed toward it being a good day. Indeed, when Brenorn of the Hawthorns came to visit, the conversation was friendly enough. I had worried that his almost zealous need to protect Bree from itself may have resulted in hostilities toward myself when he figured out precisely to where I would be considered a native. It may yet happen, but on this day he remained warm and friendly. He spoke openly of his past, in fact, which suggests that he either feels enough trust to confide, or else he plans to run me through soon. I sincerely hope that it is the former. I tire of people trying to kill me.
I returned to Bree in the early afternoon for certain supplies that I cannot find in these woods. My journey there was uneventful, as was my entrance through the gates. The day remained pleasant, giving no indication of what I would find there.
An enraged and murderous Rellas was certainly not upon the list of things I would expect to see in the courtyard of the Prancing Pony, but there he was. The object of his ire, insofar as I could be certain, was the chronically cerebrally challenged Thayalengir. The reason for it, however, was his beloved Jazilin, or rather her corpse, which was draped over the saddle of a horse nearby.
It was an odd scene, with Rellas being held at bay by a single guardsman whilst Thayalengir taunted from the relative safety of the steps, surrounded by his friends. My choices being intervene or watch my ward come to a bloody end, I stepped in. My presence calmed him somewhat, I think, for he ceased waving his sword alike a madman and buried his face in my shoulder.
At the behest of the guardsman, I led the now quiet Rellas to the West Gate where we were given custody of the cadaver. We depart Bree to seek a place in which to lay her to rest, but not before he had learned that another guardsman had ended the girl's life. His subsequwnt vow of vengeance was not unexpected, but I wish that he had not spoke such words as we burned her.
Jazilin.
I did not know the woman, having spoken to her only twice, perhaps thrice, yet still I mourn her passing. From the words spoken of and concerning her, she was highly unpleasant and more than a little thoughtless, but that is no reason to cause her harm. Such a waste of life is saddening and that it brings pain to someone I care for renders it moreso.
It will be no easy task to turn Rellas from his self-destructive course now, but I must try.
