Category: Journal Entry

The forest is dying, the grass next to the river is shrinking, the trees look emaciated, the forest is silent, the bugs have disappeared. A bird dropped from the air dead next to me as I didn’t have to look down to know what happened. it died of hunger mid flight, third time that i’ve seen this in the last two days.

Hunger, all i can think about is how hungry I am, walking over to a tree, apologize as i cut a thumb sized strip of bark off it’s trunk. Leaning down pulling some grass up and wrapping the bark in the grass and slide it in my mouth as i start to chew tricking my mind into thinking im eating. walking past our farms I can count the ribs of the goats and sheep their despite cries of more food with full mangers of feed. i watch the town from a little ways away, i see them prepare in their own way for the end, they are moving slowly but with a purpose.

I lean down and take a sip from the creek, the water hit my empty stomach like a boot to the gut. I will remember this feeling as im killing the damn monster that caused all of this, Chiropoler. I will remember the pain of my friends, my family, my circle. I won’t lose focus and fall into despair and madness. I start humming a song as i make my way into town to see how i can help people for the end. No matter how impossible the odds are we must end this fight.
For the forest for Luisant.

In spite of it all– the endless ventures into Chiropoler (parts known and unknown), rituals gone wrong, and conflicts beyond count– there had been no moment more terrifying than when Ianthe had witnessed the distinct absence in the Prosecutor’s eyes.

Ianthe had always made her way through the power of keen observation. In the same way Cole could dredge up remnants of the past from the barest shred of evidence, Ianthe could decode one’s desires and drives through the ease of conversation between individuals, the crux of the tension in their body– even the luster of an old ring or the lacking tan line beneath it told a story.

Gerard adorns his devotion in the form of dazzling silver– a shield between the people of Luisant and the enemies determined to dethrone them.

Sofie’s commitment to the good to be found in others is unwavering, evidenced so often by the grace given to her actions.

Cadence’s burden is more tangible– her blade an occasional source of strife that nevertheless compels her to shoulder the load for Luisant, even to her own detriment.

Fabron is dedicated, and he never fails to notice another’s hard work. Milo’s care for others goes beyond blood. Pascal’s faith in our priests is unshakeable. Teles misses his wife…

She couldn’t help but to be captivated by people, driven to learn what they care about, what makes them tick. Some would call it nosiness– which it was– but this affinity had been more helpful than not to help change and mold the minds of others in her favor…excepting the Prosecutor.

(Ianthe to Prosecutor Jean) Remove the Belief: Always do as the Inquisition tells me.

There is an absence in his eyes, which appear dark and empty. Your words ring hollow.
He has been so thoroughly conditioned by the Inquisition…there is nothing to be done.

Unsettling could not begin to describe it. Terrifying? Piteous…?

To have your mind so sundered that you could take on no bonds nor beliefs unrelated to your present loyalty to the Inquisition…his eyes were as haunting as they were heart-rending, made worse still by the unearthed knowledge that he had once been a Vecatran himself. Was this the fate that would await those who stayed? Ianthe couldn’t bear to imagine that hollowness belonging to Colibri, Lunette, Valko…

“We should leave,” Valko had agreed. “We should all leave.”

This thought floated to the surface again. It had been a subject of much discussion (and contention) in the final hours of last market. Many had seemed on board with the idea of exploring the world that had been newly-opened to them. Other Vecatrans had found a way to survive by moving around, trading– so Sheamus had confided. Perhaps they could learn.

This thought drove Ianthe to rise from her bed, already a twisted mess following a fitful night’s sleep. She needed to write while her hand was still given the motivation, and the wisdom of omission and etiquette had not yet given way to desperation, as there was another thing that she had observed for certain:

Prosecutor Jean will never allow a Vecatran to deny converting without dying.

cont. in Start Again [Letter to Sheamus]

Pascal walked slowly towards his home in the outskirts of town. His sack full of rabbits he had found in the snares he placed around town. He figured he would give some away to other people in town, but first he was going to take care of his own.

Living with his daughter Celeste had its ups and downs, he was extremely grateful that he was able to see her grow now outside of that circle of vecatrans…but the scars would take a long time to heal. Sometimes he would wake up to her crying quietly in the middle of the night or staring into space and he didn’t know how to help. He had never been good with words or comforting thoughts, he was good with his hands and labor so the conversations he tried to have with her ended up plenty of times in dead silence. How does he express to her how much she means to him?

The person she had seen as a mother figure her whole life had raised her to slaughter, it was no wonder that she didn’t fully trust him. He couldn’t blame her for not feeling at home, if anything he wondered if leaving her this hut and him finding another place to stay would be best. She could have her own place and he could come visit her when she would let him, maybe that was what needed to happen in order for her to get use to seeing him as her father figure.

He sighed as he saw that there were not candles lit in the house, that meant Celeste had wandered off to the woods to get some fresh air. There was a small part of him that worried, but the rest of his heart told him she was fine, she was a resourceful girl and that she knew how to take care of herself. If Lucille could see her now, Pascal was sure she would be proud. He hoped she would be proud of him as well, for fighting for the community and for their family.

As he walked inside he washed his hands and busied himself with the catch he had gotten today, if he couldn’t show Celeste through words how much she meant to him he would try to do it his way. His rabbit stew was loved by all that have eaten it and part of it he thought was because he made it with all the love he could muster, he knew that the food was going to those he loved and so he put extra effort in the recipe.

His friends and family were safe now, in selfish days where he was filled with melancholy he wished for himself to reunite with his wife. Minutes after thinking it he would feel guilty, as he had a daughter to take care of now, eventhough they were pratically strangers…would Celeste be okay when he died? He was getting older in age and these days fights in the town were becoming more dangerous. He felt that if he died while fighting for his loved ones, it would have been a life well lived. He had been ready to die for Celeste back when the crone had her, had told Fabron to watch after her. And Fabron would, Pascal was sure of how nurturing his cousin was.

What would seeing Lucille again feel like? He has almost forgotten her features now, only remembering the ghost like appearance she had about a year ago when she last came to him, desperate and crying. Pascal hopes she was pleased with what he had done for his family.

He blinks the tears away, seeing a lantern in the distance coming back. Celeste. He shakes his head to snap himself out of his thoughts and instead busies himself on trying to make the best rabbit stew for his daughter as the lantern gets closer.

What a Show –
We knew the day would come when the Inquisition would darken the forest of Luisant. It was only a matter of time—ever since the first open discussions of the Vecatrans and the arrival of outsiders began to swirl around our town, ever since the air grew thick with secrets too heavy to bear. Their arrival was as inevitable as the changing of the seasons, a storm we could see on the horizon but could do nothing to stop.
We knew the town could not hide what happens here for even a moment, the Adversary, the Traitor, etc.
Some of us quickly saw them for what they were. We warned them. They didn’t care.
The Circle even told them who they were.
Lunette probably should have straight up sacrificed the one guy as they will now probably do to her.
A former Vecatran, manipulated on pain of death into betraying his former companions…

Sherry probably makes it through this if she doesn’t end up joining the Inquisition for power or getting herself killed fighting them. The thought of her craving that power, thinking a Knight’s armor gives her the right to control others—it twists my stomach. I’ve seen where that road leads. But there’s a part of me that still hopes, hopes she’ll learn before it’s too late. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll see that she’d just be another tool for the powers that be to oppress everyone else.

Cole is going to have problems, both because the demon is going to want something inevitably in a last minute attempt to end the world and because someone will eventually tell the Inquisition about it and that she has it. I can only hope she is protected enough to not be in serious danger, but also putting that thing back beyond the Thicket is probably the best option available? I don’t have any fucking clue how to do that.

Nadja’s in a tough spot—a noble who gave up her title, now pregnant with a child with a Knight by way of a Vecatran spirit…At least she’s not involved with the Spider Crone. I can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking, how she plans to navigate this minefield. Will she regret her choices or is there a path she sees through this. Either way, I can’t shake the feeling that her decisions will ripple through this town for years to come.

I guess I’m pretty screwed too in all of this. Suzette mentioning that she was going off to pray to her god in front of the prosecutor wasn’t the brightest move, but I guess she was compelled by the elf so…is that still her fault? I don’t fucking know. I can’t imagine they don’t ask about it. Inevitably all of the Primus stuff is going to come out, we’ll have to deal with it, and the Inquisition is probably going to want to kill Primus as a possible threat that the Elf will control. Who knows how much Primus has been helping us the entire time, but its power still seems necessary to get us where we need to go.

Maybe we aren’t the priority…maybe they will go after the Vecatrans, the discovered noble, the Lazarine, the Elf, and the Witch King. No need to cause issues for any of the rest of us. But somehow, I doubt it. This feels like the calm before the storm, and when it hits, none of us will be spared.

Probably should have figured out the end game for us…oh well. I can’t be responsible for that shit.

The inquisition is here. The Circle may be leaving. The Grove is weakening. Chiropoler is stirring. And we are all so very hungry. I started coming to market on my own a littler over a year ago, nearly everything about me has changed. I am no longer a coward. A carry a sword and shield and run into danger. I have a group of people I call family outside of just Ma and Pa. I can say I contribute and have a name for myself in my own right. And I guess I’m also a Benalian now. I went from just wanting to feel like I was good enough to stand on my own to wanting to protect and better the community as a whole. A community that might not even be here come to much longer.

Right now it seems like the inquisition is appeased enough. They are holding the Owl’s Nest and definitely making their presence known. But also it seems like they are pacified in that a waking Witchking is a bigger threat to the world than a circle of Vecatrans living openly. But still, if the Witchking doesn’t kill us, then after he is dead the inquisition could rain fire and hell on all of us. I don’t know what their plan is, but I hope the circle gets out safe. The spirits are weakening, but I hope they have something left in them to help the circle get out.

If by some miracle, through, I am still standing after all of that, what will I do? Milo and Cadence seem set on leaving town. I don’t know how permanently, but seeing if I can travel with them might not be a bad idea. I wonder what Alphonse and Isabelle are planning now that they are married. I don’t know how much Alphonse supported his dad’s efforts to bring back his mom, but surely he can’t support that now, right? Now with all that would do to Isabelle. Fabron seems set on staying and taking care of his siblings, which seems about right. Can’t see him moving about the countryside with a bunch of little ones. At least until the youngest ones can live on their own.

I don’t think I want to stay. With how much I’ve changed, and how many opportunities would open up, it seems like a disservice to stay. I guess I can’t plan too far about what I will do when I leave, since I don’t really know what it out there. But I am excited for the possibilities all the same.

We just have to take care of Chiropoler, and then take make sure the inquisition leave. And then we will be free….

“So I guess you’ve made your final decision, son.”

“I’m sorry, Pa. It’s not against you and Ma. I just felt like I had to.”

“It’s ok, dear. These are frightening times. Your father and I don’t blame you for doing what you think you must.”

“I just feel like a family with Milo and Cadence, like I do with you and Pa. And I just couldn’t go on feeling guilty, or like I was doing something wrong for wanting to help Henri or Isabelle.”

Merle tried to hide it, but Hadrien and Sylvain could see the pain on her face.

“Ma, it’s not that I chose them over you. It’s just that they weren’t asking me to give up anything. They weren’t asking me to not love you two as my parents, and turn my back on you. In fact, I’ve heard the Benalians speak about how they want to do what they can to show that just because someone is Vecatran doesn’t mean they need to be hunted and killed. They want the Benalians to live with Vecatrans, and not treat them as enemies. And I don’t know if they’ll succeed, but I have seen them try to include everyone. And I wanna be a part of that. And if the circle here leaves the town, I am going to do what I can to find where they go and come see you guys again. I don’t wanna forget all you have done for me. You are still my parents, and I still love you. I just have such a love for them too.”

“That all sounds real commendable, son. But do you believe in the Lion God?”

“I mean, I guess I don’t believe in the Lion God any more than I truly believed in Vecatra. I knew Vecatra to be the earth around us. The trees, the animals, the stones. But I never could believe that the spirits were things to be venerated, or the crones as wise as they seem. And Isabelle said that man are all facets or pieces of the Lion god, so just as you can feel Vecatra as the earth, you can also feel God as the people around you. And that seemed to make about as much sense as me. I don’t know if I will fully understand their angels, or what happens to us after we die. But I didn’t really get that as a Vecatran either.”

“Hmm…”

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Merle speaks.

“Well, I guess we should all forget all that for now. It isn’t like any of us is going anywhere tomorrow. So let’s enjoy our company now, and leave what happens for when it happens.”

Luisant Journal Entry Game 12 — Colibri’s Daybook

Day 0:In case I die from this mistake, I want to write it all down, we all might die before the summer is out, but as my Grandmere used to say, I can only hold my own worry eggs in this basket, and not the whole world’s. I did the rite of attention and summoned the peddler back to come make a deal with me. I knew that getting something back lost in a deal would mean sacrifice. I planned for this, I knew what I would be willing to give and what I would not. The fae don’t play fair, so neither would I. They came to me just after we had come out of the thicket from rescuing Le Chat Blanc, the smell of death and rotting leaves still clinging to my skin. In a place of pure darkness, they whispered in my mind, ready to give me what I wanted for a price. First, I offered memories of a lover, but with the bonds to him severed by the Witchking’s minions, it did not hold enough value. They offered to take the memories of Axe in trade for those of Natalie, but without both of those parts, I knew I could never truly put her malefic to rest. We offered and countered, back and forth and finally, I offered them the use of my womb which Natalie had destroyed in her anger. They warned me it would be painful, but I thought that with the blessings of Willowbark, I would barely feel a thing. I made the deal. They were so eager to seal it and fulfill their part of the bargain that they thanked me in their haste. I caught them out and won myself a minor favor. Always be alert and never thank the fae. The consummation of this deal was wondrous, pain and pleasure comingled in a moment of sweet ecstasy. Then it was over. The seed was sown and they would reap their terrible harvest from me when the fruit was ripe.

Day 1: the pains were subtle at first. I only noticed them in pangs and flashes when I gave Willowbark’s blessing to others so they could find relief from their own agonies. The rest of that market went well, and I barely noticed a thing. I Found Natalie’s ghost in the forest, and with new refreshed memories of love and loss, I put both her and little Glycine to their final rest.

Day 3: Market finished quietly enough, though the pains became more frequent. As long as I kept Willowbark’s blessing, it was only minor discomfort.

Day 6: The Inquisition has come to Luisant and taken over what is left of the Owl’s Nest. The mean to root out the corruption but I don’t know if we can hide the circle, even with the looming threat of Chriopoler’s waking. There was another earthquake today.

Day 10: Tiphanie and I oversaw the haying today. The meadow grasses were cut and dried in the bright sun so the goats would have food through the winter. I hope we are still here in Luisant by then. The ground shakes more often and a foul smell rises from some of the cracks in the earth.

Day 14: The inquisition came to convocation today asking questions and demanding answers. It was all I could do not to scream at them. Lunette held my hand through the whole thing.

Day 17: It is clear to me now that is not a normal pregnancy. My womb has begun to ache and I vomit every morning upon waking then continue throughout the day. Even so, I am voraciously hungry. I fear it is the Witchking’s influence, because so is everyone else. I am so glad it is summer, and the forest is still lush and bountiful.

Day 20: My belly has begun to show and I’ve had to loosen my corset a bit each day. Everyone is hungry. Sophie says I’m eating for two and sneaks a little extra into my bowl of stew each night.

Day 25: I am no longer so glad it’s summer, the heat has become unbearable. There has not been a cloud in the sky in ten days. I worry that our crops may wither before we can harvest them. I pray to Vecatra that the rain may come soon. Marinette, Little Hugo, and I took the children to the beaver pond to swim. One of the toddlers almost got eaten by a baby gator, but Little Hugo rescued the child and killed the beast. Henri roasted it in the oven and at least we all ate well tonight.

Day 28: Blessed rain. A huge thunderstorm swept into the valley. As the clouds rolled in, it sounded like the whole court of trees was arguing at once. Went out barefoot and danced in the rain in nothing but my shift. Everything hurts, but I can still cope with the pain. I felt the babe move for the first time today, and it felt like it was trying to claw its way out of my womb. I gave another sacrifice to Willowbark and left it on their shrine. It’s nice to spend time in the grove with the circle, with the inquisitors in town, we’ve had to be so careful again.

Day 31: It’s been a full month now and Isabel says it looks like I’m about five months along. My belly is too big for my corsets now, but Tiphanie said she would make me a new one. I can no longer tie my boots, and Pascal has had to do it for me. The pain is getting worse. Lysenna carved me a little knobbly stick that I can roll my feet on when they cramp up. I am so grateful for my friends.

Day 35: One of the Inquisitors started asking questions about why my pregnancy was progressing so quickly, but Teles and Allouette quickly talked them into another line of questioning. Fabron, Aurianne, Hadrian, Suzette, Alex, and I played dice after supper. The earthquakes rolled the dice for us a few times, and we pretended like Primus was playing with us. It was nice to laugh for a few hours when so many of the days are worrying and misery.

Day 37: For the last few weeks Valentin and Pascal have been working feverishly on the various weapons they are building to give us an edge against Chriopoler. They tested Valentin’s new gun, and he got badly burned when a steam pipe burst. Luckily, Sophie was able to treat his wounds. That woman truly works miracles with Lurian’s rituals.

Day 39: Fuck corsets. I can no longer wear anything but a shift and skirts. Etienne, Corbin, and Valko walked me out to the grove again so I could pray to Willow and her children for relief from the constant agony. It’s getting so hard to walk on my own and it’s almost impossible to shoot a bow with my belly in the way but I tried nonetheless. I will be so glad when this is done.

Day 42: Market is a week away. The ground shakes day and night. Everyone is ravenous and miserable though we are doing our best to make sure everyone eats. Between all that and the babe, I haven’t slept more than an hour or two at a time. Bas has been sitting with me every night this week talking with me and reminding me to breathe through the pain. Even with Willowbark’s blessing, It is hard to do much but sit. I’ve been making bandages with every bit of hemp we can find, hoping it will be enough for the final battle, Everything is coming to a head, and I feel like I’m not the only one who is about to pop. Sweet standing ones, I don’t know if I can make it through this. I don’t know that any of us can. I hope that Vecatra doesn’t turn her back on us for our folly in letting the Lion folk know and protect us. I pray we can all live to see the new year.

My darling sister, i am so sorry. I was young and impetuous and selfish, and though i did not sin against Vecatra, my actions hurt you. From that hurt you reacted, and you hurt me and your niece, whom you would never come to know. My darling Glycine, who never had the chance to move from a blessing of Gorse to the protection of Avalon Apple.

I gave up so much out of pain and loss and hurt. And my choices left me ruined. Without either you or Maxele to comfort me. Perhaps this was Vecatras plan all along. That by shedding the comforts of my maidenhood I might grow into my true calling as a mother of the circle now that I could no longer be the mother of my own child.

Enough rambling. If i write it all out maybe i will be able to hold on to it, even if this new deal with the fae goes sour like milk.

It all starts with us, sisters, born five years apart. I idolized you as a child. You were fickle in your affections towards me, as children often are. I remember When we were practicing building fires in the hearth, mama taught us to build mouse houses with a soft bed of fluff for the sparks, airy kindling towers for the walls, and no roof so the smoke birds could fly away. Clumsy three-year-old me accidentally knocked over my tower, and it fell into yours collapsing them both. But yours had embers and it lit the cat’s tail on fire. You were quick as a flash and put it out before she could run away.

We were playing in the village on the hill to the Owls’ Nest. and they had left some empty barrels outside after a feast. You convinced me that it would be fun to roll down the hill in one but you had to put the lid on so I didn’t fall out. You pushed me down the long hil and i screamed so loud. I threw up inside the barrel and you teased me because there was sick all over my clothes and hair when you let me out. I was so mad i cried, and you just laughed at me more. A week later I got my revenge and I threw your favorite doll in the privy. I never told you it was me who did it.

Mama died when I was nine and you were fourteen, and I remember you would hold me at night all that year and we would sing to each other as we cried, unsure what to do with our grief. We sang the prettiest song about a river when we buried her heart in the grove. Papa was never the same after that, he would drink almost every night, but you never let him hit me, even when i was bad. I remember putting salve on your back when he took to you with the hazel switch that one time we stained our good dresses with berry juice.

But time passed and we grew into young ladies. You were rail thin and dark of hair like Papa, and I filled out buxom and blonde like Mama. The boys would always come flirt with me when I sang and always asked me first to dance. It was you who gave me the name Colibri. It was meant to be an insult. That I would suck from any flower who would have me. I didn’t care, I took the name and made it my own and it got me farther than “Lissette” ever did.

When you and Axe got married I knew I should stay away from him, but we were drunk that spring, and you were the spring sovereign, and I was green with envy. We coupled together out in the woods and continued that affair for almost a year before you found out.

The three of us were in the woods gathering herbs, and Axe let it slip that I was pregnant. You assumed that the baby was Axe’s, which it may well have been, but I slept around so much then that the child could have been anyone’s. You flew into a jealous rage. I wasn’t kind to you and we screamed at each other while Axe tried desperately to calm us both down. It didn’t work, but he was never the persuasive one in the family. You picked up a large branch and slammed it into my belly, intending to kill both me and the unborn babe in my womb. I collapsed to the ground screaming and bleeding profusely as Axe tore the branch from your grasp to return the hit. Axe hit you so hard with that branch that it caved your skull in. I still remember the sickening crunch it made.

Axe dragged me out of the woods to get to a healer. He saved my life, though I lost the baby. I named her Glycine (Wisteria), but Isabel told me I couldn’t have children from that point forward. We snuck back into the woods several days later and made it look like your body was dragged off by a malefic. We buried most of your corpse deep in the woods and vow to never share the truth with anyone. We didn’t bury your heart in the grove. I still feel guilty about it to this day. We told people that you attacked me and our screaming at each other attracted a malefic. We said that Axe had to choose who to save and that your body was dragged out into the woods and never seen again. Everyone believed us.

I’m so sorry Natalie. You deserved better, and I abandoned you in my rage and grief. I am so grateful that we were able to forgive each other and that you have found your final rest. I will never forget hugging your ghost and sobbing, holding on to each other just like we did when Mama died. I will keep the bloodstained rose you gave me by my bedside until I too am buried in the ground with an apple in each hand.

Summer/ Fall 609 –

Never before have the two halves of me been working so hard for a common goal – my Mother’s eyes and mind fills my head, and ushers me at a blistering pace down a path of progress. Each day my war machine grows little by little, and I tremble in awe and fear at the violence that progress can wield. Yet I stand in control – this weapon will be used for the protection of Luisant – against the evils that lie inside and out.

My father’s heart and wisdom fill my mouth as I decree to Aspen my intent to become mother, that I may lead my people not in battle or in faith, but in the pursuit of change so that we may survive what comes. I have seen the way of the Vecatran’s of Dunnick – that they hide in plain sight by playing the role of traveling merchants. I know not of the ways of trade, but in tinker and craft I’m certain the circle could ply its skills.

I shall bring myself to bear against what lies ahead – that I may use the power of engineering and the power of Vecatra to protect my people. I herald in that which I have stood for since returning to Luisant: that the New ways must become the Old.

The careful text-books measure
Let all who build beware!
The load, the shock, the pressure
Material can bear.
So, when the buckled girder
Lets down the grinding span,
The blame of loss, or murder,
Is laid upon the man.
Not on the Steel — the Man!

But in our daily dealing
With stone and steel, we find
The Gods have no such feeling
Of justice toward mankind.
To no set gauge they make us —
For no laid course prepare —
And presently o’ertake us
With loads we cannot bear:
Too merciless to bear.

The prudent text-books give it
In tables at the end –
The stress that shears a rivet
Or makes a tie-bar bend —
What traffic wrecks macadam —
What concrete should endure —
But we, poor Sons of Adam
Have no such literature,
To warn us or make sure!

We hold all Earth to plunder —
All Time and Space as well —
Too wonder-stale to wonder
At each new miracle;
Till, in the mid-illusion
Of Godhood ‘neath our hand,
Falls multiple confusion
On all we did or planned —
The mighty works we planned.

We only of Creation
Oh, how luckier the bridge and rail!
Abide the twin damnation —
To fail and know we fail.
Yet we – by which sure token
We know we once were Gods —
Take shame in being broken
However great the odds —
The Burden or the Odds.

Oh, veiled and secret Power
Whose paths we seek in vain,
Be with us in our hour
Of overthrow and pain;
That we – by which sure token
We know Thy ways are true —
In spite of being broken,
Because of being broken,
May rise and build anew.
Stand up and build anew!

Summer 609 –

There are many things we do in the name of truth and justice. We will stand for these concepts, fight for them, kill for them, and die for them. Some see that as a worthy cause, some could care less – they are noble things to be sure, but only so noble as who they are wielded by – truth and justice are not a blade to be wielded to smite a foe, but a winding tapestry of nuance and discussion.

This past market I witnessed firsthand the dichotomy of this – firstly, at the behest of Aspen I sought to eliminate the Veneaux malefic known by me as “Truth”. This being who hurt my aunt and uncle by taking memories and forcing knowledge, who has tortured the Veneaux for centuries, who stood as anathema to Aspen. This I felt was just – but what wasn’t so was the method by which Aspen sought to do it – the murder of one who Truth abducted and sequestered and fed off their agony – the mother of Baz and the wife of Father Belette. She had not committed crimes against Vecatra or Luisant, but she stood as the most expedient way to defeat Truth, and so Aspen asked for her death. I refused – after all, the pursuit of justice should not result in an unjust act – and Aspen relented – I convinced a spirit that their way was not THE way.

But I would not stop there – for I knew that it was important to spread this message to the people of Luisant – I gathered those who have been wronged by Truth together, and though I had no experience with bow or blade we devised a plan and successfully killed truth. I knew that this was not enough – I told Father Belette of who I was and why I knew of his wife, and how we might save her, and that I would be willing to lay down my life to protect her against Truth’s torture or Aspen’s vision of Justice. I know not how he will react to his wife returning, but I hope he will see past his bigotry and hatred to see the truth – that a Vecatran, one who he has sworn to kill – managed to save his wife where he could not.

Secondly – the arrival of the Inquisition has left the town in a state of panic and dread – these monsters in the shape of men use the “truth” and “justice” they’ve been indoctrinated into as a cudgel to form the world around. I hold out hope that they may be shown actual truths, and actual justice, but I fear that their eyes have been blinded by the light and smoke of their pyres, and their minds poisoned by centuries of dogma and vile rhetoric that is unsustainable and will lead to either their downfall or that of the world.

I stand at these two pathways of truth and justice, trodden often by those misguided by promises of black-and-white morality, of simple solutions, of the justification of acts unjust and untrue, hidden by the banner of authority and power. But I don’t take these paths, I turn to those walking down these paths, and say that Truth and Justice are not what a person tells you, nor is it words on a page – Truth and Justice can never be one thing and one thing only – Truth and Justice are; forever and always, what the community will accept as truth and justice, and for an outsider to tell or force upon us their ideals – be they from the inquisition or the court of trees – is nothing short of colonialism and assimilation.

Luisant’s Truth – Luisant’s Justice – has and will always be its people, their ideals, and the community that binds them.