The wait is almost over. Tomorrow is the day I will finally leave Amberfall and embark on a journey I’ve been waiting for ever since I saw my first map of the Wester Vale in father’s study as a child. A chance to fulfil my dream of seeing the world, not through the journals of my predecessors or in the paintings of Goldhallow Hall but with my own eyes. I have been commissioned by the Baron of Amberfall and by the edict of King Dagon to travel the realms and chronicle my findings. Every decade or so only a select few scholars are chosen from all over Ayrlaston to journey both within and beyond our borders into the other realms, to discover the state of the world and its people. I am tasked with reporting on the current state of our neighbours, noting any potential new trade opportunities and recording even the slightest possibility of new threats to our kingdom, among other things. If I’m fortunate, perhaps I’ll even find something new, something no one has ever seen before. There is no greater triumph for a scholar. The excitement is almost unbearable.
We’ll be stopping by the Aeon Citadel before departing. My sister, Isabelle, has been granted permission by the Arch Magisters to accompany our party and so will be joining my expedition. At least until we arrive in Frosthaven. Apparently she has some business to attend to with the Alchemy Guild and so it makes sense for us to travel together. It’s been six months or so since we last saw one another although it is difficult to ignore the tales of her achievements flooding the streets of the city since I left, not that I would. From the taverns of the Old Quarter all the way up to the nobility of Cherry Lane, it seems the entire city of Amberfall has been talking about her triumphs. Being a mage was always her true calling and she has undoubtedly flourished since we last met. Belle wasn’t too thrilled with the Council of Magister’s decision to end my stay at the Citadel and they’ve kept her busy ever since. It will be good to reconnect after all this time. I have missed her. There were few I could call friend whilst I was there, her company certainly made my work a little easier to tolerate. Continue reading “The Journal of Felix Emberheart Part 1”
What is the purpose of a fly? Seriously. And by that I am referring to the common housefly that multiplies by the millions when heat and humidity come together to form a force of weather known colloquially in my homeland as ‘this bloody heat’. I’m sure that there is a perfectly reasonable biological explanation for the existence of these little buggers. Probably several considering that the word fly actually refers to an entire genus of species but right now, after weeks of listening to the sound of buzzing as they trespass upon my space and sanity, I care not for the logic of science.
Even as I am writing this, one of them has decided to intrude. Flying back and forth. Over here and over there. Near the window. Near the door. By the television and on the floor. Bah and meh in equal measure! The agitation brought forth by this feckless fiend is even causing me to write in rhyme and I’ve not the time to adequately describe these sentiments as couplets of poetry in my mind. Curse you fly for your unintentional and grating effect upon my thoughts. Do you not see how you inconvenience me?! Bastard! Continue reading “My Summer Foe”
Thunder claps in the greying sky as the merchant ship Garnet continues its voyage to the trade city of Solharbour although unknown to its captain and company, they are missing a few items of value and some crew mates.
‘What’s wrong Jasper?’
Jasper loosens his grip on the oar of the rowboat and holds out his palm as a sharp snap cracks his fingers.
‘Ah, shit Eunan, it’s starting to hail. Why did we get off just now? Couldn’t we have waited until we were closer to port?’
‘If we had waited any longer, the deck hands of the dawn shift would have found us. You’re a noisy git sometimes. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up the entire crew dragging all of that into the boat.’
After a few relatively uneventful months sailing under the employ of the Merchant Guild, these two men of many trades decided that they’d had enough of cleaning pots and cooking meals for their ‘stuck up and stingy with the ale’ merchant captain. Three days, four oars and a rowboat later, they came to the collective decision to relieve their former ship of some of its cumbersome valuables and plentiful supplies and set out in the dead of night to make a profit with the intention of lining their own pockets for once.
‘Wait, why are we sinking?’ asks Eunan with a puzzled frown. Continue reading “Four Oars to Distant Shores”