TattlesGrey Nights in Greycloaks
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Spring, 1732

You never suspect that it's your own people, but I guess I did.
Weiss and Savael's deaths woke me up more than any cup of black coffee ever could.
Osrona is a zoo, a snake-pit, with political games and other stuff making this all so foggy.
But there are some nice people there too.

There was a murder, a church girl.
Eye witnesses said it was occultists.
Or that there was occult magic on the scene.
Or something like that.
I'm getting help with it.

Romani said my hair is dirty.
I think that's because I'm walking in dirty places.
He said he'd wash it and style it.
I think I'll let him.

I have to get to the bottom of this thing.
I know it goes deep, like a gopher hole.
Or a rabbit hole.
A snake hole.
It's a deep hole, and at the bottom are the keys to solving all of this.
I'm sure of it.

Fall, 1737

It's all far easier in black and white. The world is easier in terms of witches and demons, knights and heroes. The truths are far more cut and dry, what one chooses to fight for is a simpler choice. When the options are good and evil, there are no questions. There are no dissenters. There are no angry crowds calling for war or peace.

There is only action. Or so that's what my uncle's books mentioned. It was easier as a child to believe I understood it all in those terms as well. The bad guy was out there to be caught, the good one on my side.

But simple times do not last that long. In the end, the best we can do is choose what we stand for. So many don't know what they stand for. Money, fame, adoration. They might say these things are worthwhile enough. But I myself could never settle for something so simple. So base. I am lucky to have found my convictions before I was grown.

It is my sincerest hope that the same can be said for the rest of my friends.
I wish them well. I wish them fortune.

Because despite this world and conflict lacking in clear choices of good and evil, I've found a simple truth. When the gun is aimed to fire, there is no right or wrong. There is no in-between. There are only two sides; the one behind the barrel, and the one on the receiving end. And it's all much easier this way.

Summer, 1741

So many called you demon.
So many others believed you to be our own angel sent from beyond.
But I told you once before that, to me, you were only ever just yourself.

You were a soldier saved by our Rites, and all too soon the second High Leader of our young kingdom.
In my youth, I saw you as a liar. In my adolescents, I saw you as my opposite. And in my adulthood, you were nothing less than the mother I was forced to go without.


I distrusted you when you married her.
On the night of your wedding, I told you that you would never be one of us.
And yet you became one of the best of our kin, for you were part of our blood and our blessing long before you took the Rite.

You were a man of great ideas, of thoughts and concepts that could have changed the world over had you the backing to see it through. You showed my people that there were some loves that couldn't be broken, and you became a father that I'd lost.


I always spoke of weathering the storm.
But you showed me that you were the storm.
You were the first human I'd ever chosen to trust, and the one who brought me into your home like I was one of you.

We spoke often of the kind of world we'd build together. We were scolded for believing in such idealistic things as peace and prosperity, unity for all. 
You were my Commander, and above that you were my friend.


I wonder if I'll be seen as a demon, Asta.
I wonder if I'll be capable of compromise and diplomacy, Regulus.
I wonder if I'll be able to weather this next storm without you, Ilsa.

Each one of you taught me invaluable lessons that I could never repay you for. Each one of you showed me when I was incorrect, when there was a better way to go about something. I wouldn't be who I am today without living through what I have at your sides. And now I must face the fact that you're all gone. I must live knowing that this night will replay in my dreams until the day I pass on. For though I gave the orders, the screams and the fires of Osrona's fall will never be something I can forget. Is this the curse of my blood? Is this what my grandfather knew I'd become?

I wonder if we'll ever meet again someday.
Someday when this is all finally over.

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