Calilla

Ah, the smell of a new book. I promised myself that I would not get caught up in this again. Yet, here I am. Pen and ink to hand, there is little else to do at this hour.

Well, another day. Another deal done. I did not anticipate my stay would last this long, The Captain in Trestlebridge was more than willing to strike up a business deal.

The local whores were hard to miss, there was a time I would not have shunned a night of comfort.

Sun-down, the hustle and bustle of Bree-town so prominent in the day of craftsmen, labourers. Market traders and the steady sound of hooves upon the cobbles as well as wagon wheels turning has faded. Lamplighters attend their duties in order to provide the faint glow needed for those coming out of the Inn of the Prancing Pony in the early-hours. Shadows creep softly over the cobbled streets and a flaxen haired young man walks them and he looks upwards, looming ahead of him the Trader's Gate which comes closer into view.

Late into the night Seaver talked with Calilla Yishai, as he so often has in recent times. He spoke with her of his innermost thoughts, there the Variag listened to him as she does with her usual patience and willingness to lend a friendly ear.

(Notes out of Tzynch's notebook, which he keeps in former Jerriah's office of his lodge)

Receiving:

Klinsi the Herbalist. Pale, ginger woman. Rohirric origin.

Seaver languished within the confines of his richly adorned abode, fingers gripping tightly a bottle of rum. A familiar prop, ever at his side following the days in which he left his fiancé Erinwyn. He tipped his head back to drink of it. His mind clouded with it's potency. Yet no matter how much he would seem to consume it would never seem to ease his pain, only numb it for a time.

The days go by, the celebration of the Captain's daughter and her Dalesman draws closer. I am certain this occasion will fill my coffers just nicely if it goes as planned.

There was a merry feast at the hall organized by the new Captain and I must say I rather enjoyed it. I rather liked the look of the new quartermaster I must say but the wedding band upon her finger soon put to bed any notions that I might be having about making the evening any more merry afterwards. Still, she was a welcome sight compared to the hulking brutes which sat nearest to me and I remember there being much mead and an exquisite boar. Perhaps I should have asked this woman to cater for my own feast to come?

My intent to leave our relationship in the past did not go so well. I did call upon the Variag after a chance encounter in the Inn and I awoke in a strange bed. Since she put to voice my fears through observation I find my desire to retreat grow stronger. I have been spending my days simply surveying my operation and keeping a closer eye upon my guardsmen and caravan drivers as they make their local shipments and me turning up unannounced as I have without warning seems to have forced them to up their game.

Left to the sands at such a young age as the Variag describes it, abandoned by her mother whom her master later bid her to murder in order to prove her worth and her loyalty. It is perhaps unsurprising that the dark skinned beauty I have come to know is so cold. Unfeeling. And yet sympathy stays my blade. I have for long enough in the past played judge, jury and executioner when the darkness took me. At first hunting down individuals myself. Then in the hiring of a murderer I thought I could control when my face had begun to be too well known to do so effectively.

Is there not a place in this Middle Earth that is not tainted by my memories? I felt it in the Forsaken Inn. As I sat there in the gloom night after night and sunk enough mead to numb my senses to the world last summer. Unbeknown to me that my lover would soon get her dues for the trouble she brought upon herself. I knew it would happen eventually. I knew she wasn't good for me. I knew how that story ended. Yet I carried on with the charade anyway. She should have died by my hand the moment she read of my secrets. They were mine and mine to share alone.