1234
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Far from home, I find myself desiring to organize my thoughts, and have begun a journal. While I might have expressed my thoughts to William, my page, I fear this would be about as productive as talking to myself. Not sure how he even ended up coming along, but he does seem to make a decent meal.
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1235
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Training remains brutal. I wake before dawn, and do chores so the Sir Stick-up-the-rear has little to do when he wakes. Then I practice my forms and exercises for an hour, with William getting breakfast ready. After eating I study my spells for an hour, simply preparing the magic for training later in the day. Sparring. Eating. Casting with Serentai. Casting while sparring. Casting while riding. Casting in the rain. Casting in armor. I have always said a mage need not be weak, not be slow. It is our choices that mark our destiny. A younger son, I might have dallied at court, practicing magic at a pace I chose, with little expected of me. As a squire, much is expected of me. As and apprentice, much is expected of me. Achievement of both ambitions depends on how much I want it.
I want.
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1236
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This winter my squire duties have been relaxed while I study at the forge. I hope to reduce the impact of plate on somatic components, but I do not think myself so exceptional that I will succeed where others have failed.
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Serentai has said it is time to focus my studies, if I desire. I have spent years learning the ways of wizards, but it is not for me to master all forms. Any soldier might set alight a torch or building, or ruin the body of an enemy, what use is evocation? The raw release of energy seems better suited to those clever enough to learn the magic, but lacking the forethought required for true elegance in magic. I find the flail a quite excellent for the application of destructive energy. As for enchantment, I find the twisting of a person's loyalties to be a far greater perversion than any necromancy. If I face an enemy in battle, they shall fall with honor, their mind clear. I'll not force anyone to kill a deluded ally, and the thought horrifies me. As for a specialty, the great advantage of magic seems to be the breaking of mortal limits. To move faster, to be stronger, to change reality according to one's whim. This is the true potential of magic. Too many mages play with frivolities and trivial illusions, parlor tricks. Serentai understand the potential though. A study of history clearly shows, a decisive victory, so often, comes to the one with the audacity to change the rules...
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I have made a new friend today. Talon, albeit un-originally named, seems a fitting companion for a Havec. A wondrous thing, to begin to see the world with a hawk's eyes. Though I wish he would stop moving all my things around. It vexes William immensely.
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1237
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It has taken two winters, but my plate is completed. I was unable to increase freedom of movement while maintaining protection. I am told it is an excellent piece of work nonetheless, and it would have cost 1,000 gold pieces more to have made, the idea that I make a passable smith is cold comfort to someone of my ambition.
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Today William informed me that Marianna, a merchant's daughter traveling to Mor'Dan, favors both roses and the color blue. The illusion I projected of a blue rose was quite well received. I do believe I have been underestimating and misusing his talents of late.
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I have been promoted to a full fighting member of a lance. No longer discounted among the "6 horses and 4 men," I ride in full armor and banner-lance as befitting a Havec of Ackerly. In a rare honor, my father and mother both graced me with a visit. When I saw them approaching, I quite literally leapt from the battlements to greet them. Poor mother was sure their visit was ill-timed to witness a gruesome suicide. My parents shock at the magical display, in my own crafted plate no less, was well worth understating my progress in my letters. Though it has taken me years longer to achieve the martial respect of my peers, I believe they have begun to see why I chose the path I did.
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1238
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In a break from routine patrols, we were sent on the trail of some bandits today. They had attacked a merchant caravan just the other side of the Fort. Foolish of them. There were no survivors.
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1239
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Death. I can write no more.
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Though a month has passed, the words come with difficulty. It as if the act of writing, instead of providing clarity and composure, simply lends a nightmare a terrible reality. My Knight is dead. These words do not make it more true, and I must remember that. I want to believe what is true. If indeed I do perish before I might recount this tale to a younger man, eager for battle, what it really means, to fight for life, and the death of the enemy, then I hope this entry above all others is heeded.
We rode in rode in the usual formation. For whatever reason, because we were hot, or tired, the horses were, or whatever excuse might be made, we were in a low area. As we considered resting through the hottest part of the day, they descended on us. Riders, of Nada'ath, well armed, well organized, and numerous. Was it 3:1? Or does my memory fail and make excuses, and it was 2:1? No matter. A volley of arrows had felled two of us before we even realized we were under attack. I shielded myself from harm. Selfish instinct, really. It is hard to keep track of all the people, the melee. The horses were screaming. Or maybe the men. I can't be sure. They were in my face, hacking and pulling. I fell. I struggled. A man loomed over me, his scimitar shearing of my armor and magic. In a moment, his allies would hold me down, and carve me out of my plate like a crab. But Talon, oh loyal creature, clawed at his face while he swung wildly. I was able to grab his ankle, and throw him down, while I myself rose to a crouch and took his own dagger. He cursed when he died.
When I stood up, Talon and I covered in blood, there was a moment, I could see, when they considered killing me as well. I don't know if it was the look in their eyes, or they caught the sheen of magic, or they simply thought the greater suffering was to leave me amongst my dead friends. For whatever reason, they simply left, taking our horses and supplies. Though I yelled, though I chased and threw, there was no hope.
Save Talon, I was alone.
It took days to walk back to the Fort. I dared not remove my armor, lest I be attacked again. It was hours more before I could rest, my report delivered.
What is a squire without his Knight?
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We could not find them. They are gone, lost to Enki. I am the Havec Who Was Surprised, and there is no vengeance for me. I have dishonored my great great grandfather, and all between. No satisfaction. It is the truth. I want to believe what is true. It is unacceptable.
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I am told I am lucky to survive. That there is no blame, no fault. Lucky. William and I sit in silence, and I eat when he sets the table. Unacceptable.
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The Commander came today. I have not slept well in weeks. My research has progressed well. I do naught but study. Spells I found impossible I enact with a wave. I am going on patrol.
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1240
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It seems barely true that time heals all wounds. For months I have rode the border. Nothing. I steel myself at every hill, nock arrows at every bird, and each time it is nothing. I wait. I watch. Let them come. I cannot change the past. They are not coming back. I want to believe what is true.
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1241
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I have spent the winter at Ackerly, and it has done me good. Away from the clang of metal, the looks, I feel somewhat myself again. A life of misery does no good. If I must fight again, I am ready. If I am not ready, there must be a reason. There is no reason. I will not fear.
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Lisil seems to be all anyone can talk about. I had intended to visit, at some point, to see the school of mages. Now it seems there may be other reasons. For now, I have more to learn from Serentai.
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1242
Lisil has seceded. With Keland and Golir on either side, I know not what madness happens there, it will fall shortly I am sure.
The princess seems to have quite the unbecoming involvement.
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A Wraith King? I have always assumed the next threat to Golir would come from Enki, as before, but perhaps I was wrong.
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Now the very earth has been rent asunder near Golir. What times are these, that I miss on the idle border?
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Our Princess has married a barbarian. Wonderful.
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1243
This is too much. Rumors of miracles and monsters abound. Nations and peoples below the Earth? Preposterous. Serentai and I have agreed, there is little more he can teach me in any case. The instant the weather breaks, I leave for Golir. I will join the Tower of Mages, where I might realize my potential. And hopefully learn what in the name of the One True God is going on, St. Zarekhai bless me.
