To Fly on Metal Wings

Captain's Private Log, 20 Baldral 900

20 Baldral 900

I feel sick to my stomach. It’s been years since I figured out the Abbot’s game, but now this King of Stars bullshit has gone too far. They took me in because of a damn prophesy, because they believe I’m the one to fill those boots. The damn thing even says it’s my job because She’s gone. Life and Death are too busy being “distracted” to make sure that the rest of us don’t get slaughtered like sheep when the devourers and older things arrive. Godsdammit all. And now I’ve got this shaggy old wolf-man preaching to me about the Wheel and morality. Could be any kind of spy or assassin, for all I know. Seems content to just bore the shit out of me or maybe I’m just angry. He’ll stay at the Fort for the time being; we’re about to leave for Shafton. It’s the closest source of lumber and trade, and we can get gold, so I don’t see this taking too long. The faster we get buildings back up the faster we can get people back to farm, etc. Nothing is simple.

It’ll be a day at least before we reach the edge of the forest. Sam says he can attempt some long-distance dream messages. Entirely unclear how much can get through. I’m going to try and tell McClintock that I had nothing to do with the attack on Casper. He knows my secret, and the reports coming in make be a bit wary of Moorlander death squads heading our way. I’ve heard that the King’s Irregulars are formidable. I’d rather find out on my own terms.



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