Taala

The few manor houses in Bree-land are all of a similar design, Therefore as I look around the vast hall I would have acquired for myself on the hill I am at once reminded of the smouldering ruin I made of my parent's mansion home. Nonetheless, this is the one place I can come now and be alone. I wouldn't normally have brought anyone here under any other circumstances but just across the village in my humbler abode by the river Kríea sleeps. I have enlisted the aid of Leecher Cartwell who attends to her on a daily basis.

One foot in the door and one out. That is how I feel tonight. It is most peculiar. In one sense I am glad to be with these people as detached as I feel. I'm not certain mentally I was prepared for what transpired. Sworn in officially now, a company member. I even have my own sigil. No, all I sought was Taala funnily enough as I needed to blow off some steam but not in the sense that you might think, poor reader. In truth, impulse aside I have no time for dalliances. Utterly meaningless as they are.

I met a woman the other day whilst I was brooding over Taala's letter and reflecting upon it, Contemplating what I should write in response but my mind draws a blank. I have not yet formally presented myself before the company. There are too many distractions, I was relieved for it at the time for the woman I got talking to was happy and oblivious and for a short while I could forget my troubles and laugh and joke and have fun.

Who am I? Is the question I would utter on this cool spring night. I should have stayed on those southern shores. Away from this wretched place. Most men would be pleased to meet their newborn son for the first time but I am not most men. I grow weary of my life, weary of secrets. I need to share them with someone once more or I will burst. Erinwyn once said the dark compulsions I feel, the fact that I even question them shows in me a sign that I am capable of redemption. Perhaps even reconciliation with what I am. Maybe she was right. But the urges are still there.

The gentle breeze of night flowed around him in her deceiving quiet, she wrapped him in her gentle embrace, like a soft child lying awake in her arms, he sat upon the roof. He enjoyed the night. He was born from within her whom. She cared for him on the streets of Lake Town, his past. She was a gentle friend. So far the only one in which he could truly trust. Below him the town of Bree sprawled open under the dim light of the stars. It was deathly in its slumber.

Ten days had come and gone as Newell found him standing in the same spot as he had a week and a half before. Little suggested that something had changed, yet things had changed considerably since then. Men and women had been swayed, and he now knew the faces of most of the people who came into the Dawnhall to prepare for the vote. Newell looked across the room to find Taala sat talking to Basaran, and a small smirk crept across his face. The lieutenant was a well-liked man in the Dawn and an important figure at that.

It was early morning as he ventured back to the Dawnhall from a night at the Prancing Pony. New recruits had been hired all thinking him the captain, drinks had been drunk and jests had been enjoyed. He dismounted his gelding, Stranger, and led him into a booth where the steed could rest for the night. He gave him two pats on its neck, softly whispering to him "Soon you'll be a captain's horse." He grinned a bit as the horse looked at him, whinnying a bit.