Iljian

… the world did its best to appear as shiny and perfect and unspoiled as possible. It was a beautiful location that he had chosen, and every day that he was busy working on the small lighthouse (which would hopefully remain upright and become his home) he felt said feeling renew itself. To the east, the sea stretched out, an apparently endless ocean of the deepest, nicest blue imaginable. South the forests and hills beyond the bay were just visible and the docks and seaside districts of Trinsic in the west were just at the right distance to reduce the clamour of the workers to a featureless noise, barely audible over the constant, peaceful waves breaking on the beach. Once finished, the lighthouse would have sun all day, a lookout at the top to sit in and look out across the ocean and a nice flat beach to dock his boat. The danger of springtides and storms seemed not too great either and for the worst cases he had raised the fundaments of the house as well, offering additional protection. Occasionally he had had to argue it out with the brigands on the isle, but after sending some of them running with a gash on arm or leg they usually decided not to bother him anymore. Overall, it was a perfect place which made the rest of the world appear perfect too; one where the greatest danger to mankind seemed to be a sharp fragment of a seashell buried in the sand and ready to deliver a nasty cut to incautiously placed feet. Best of all it was quiet and far off from those in town that he had no wish to meet.

The foundations being already laid he had spent most of the day raising the first walls and reinforcing those that would have to carry the additional weight of the tower, then dug a hole to firmly plant the supporting pillar near the centre of the house. Now, with the sun scratching the rooftops of Trinsic in the west he lay flat on his belly on one of the scaffoldings, bare feet raised behind him and gnawing on the old pen.

“…and after the woman had delivered her report” he wrote, then could not resist adding: “and after it became obvious that the assembled soldiers valued their strange training session more than actually offering aid to those in need, Lord Isidore…”he gnawed on his pen again for a while, wondering if he had gotten the spelling right “…decided to investigate and Captain Kaelyn told me to go along. We took the road through the forests south of the hedge maze and partly along the mountains and arrived at the university building quickly. From within, a clamour and noise could be heard and at some point a daemonic beast broke through one of the windows and vanished behind the tower. On Lord Isidore’s command we went inside and I carefully searched every floor to avoid getting trapped and to find any clues as to what had happened. However, the place was cluttered and nothing obvious could be found. When we reached the roof, we spotted a bloodstained robe, a puddle of blood and an old shepherds crook, but before we could investigate more a large daemon appeared and spoke to us.“ Once more the end of the pen suffered from Iljian’s momentary hesitation and uncertainty. In hindsight, the beast hadn’t even been that scary. Of course it had been all like “Rawr! Puny humans, I will eat your souls!” but it hadn’t actually - done – anything. Which was a whole lot better than most other daemons, who generally did not bother with any lengthy (and for them most likely exhausting) conversations and instead just tried to rip their victims apart right away. But this was supposed to be a report and not his own considerations on the nature of daemons and their conversational abilities, and so he simply scribbled down what he remembered the daemon to have said. Most importantly, that it had said that “the old fool had gotten what he deserved”. Most likely not a line the Duke would like to read, but it had been said. And even though the Duke seemed to believe that the Chancellor was only trying to protect people and teach them… someone had brought those things up and if it wasn’t the shaking woman that had alerted them it had to have been the Chancellor himself. Or an unknown stranger, even though there would have been easier ways to kill an old man. After some consideration he added a line at the bottom: “Lord Isidore has been very courageous and was in control of the situation at all times. I am not sure I would have made it out alive without his help.” After all, he figured, with such a famous father it couldn’t hurt to have some own victories and reputations.

After a moment, he folded the report and stuffed it into an envelope, then added a new sketch designed to display the progress of his lighthouse. He wasn’t exactly why he should do such, for those who cared could simply walk there and those who didn’t wouldn’t want a sketch either, but Kaelyn seemed to have decided that he was to tell the Duke about it frequently and so he had spent some minutes to make this and highlight what had been done till now. Out there, lying on the scaffolding of his new home, Iljian remembered something that happened an eternity ago. He had been but a child then, and of the shore a great fleet had anchored, with rowing boats going to a fro with supplies and casks of water. The commander of the fleet, a great, big man with booming voice, long whiskers and a bellowing laugh had sat on a log by the shore, swearing and shouting commands and laughing till all the kids had gathered around him, telling them stories and answering all the questions of distant lands. Before he would leave and step back into one of the smaller boats he would gesture out and explain that every day, a captain had to inspect his whole ship, from the top of the mast to the bottom of the hull, from the port side to the starboard side, from the stern to the bow. He would not have to be detailed, for then his crew would think he does not trust them, yet they would want him there to see he pays attention and for him to know the state of his ship. And the commander of the fleet would have to inspect each ship in such way, so none would feel left out and in disfavour. And if a man could not manage to inspect all that he commands by himself, then he was in need of splitting his command so he may do so again. Maybe, Iljian mused while he stuffed the paper into the report, the same went for towns.

The last thing to make it into the envelope was another paper written by him. As a revenge for Kaelyn, the first line read: “Drawings and pictures will be supplied by Captain Kaelyn”. Afterwards, he added an account about the Troggs lurking in a cave outside Trinsic. Admittedly, what he had found in the paladin library was not a whole lot, and even less than useful. The fancy name of the wise people for it was “Troglodyte” and it was humanoid. That much was obvious. They have long legs that allow for fast movements, long, strong arms and a head that seems too big for the body, despite them not appearing to be overly intelligent. All that, too, was obvious to anybody throwing a glance through the cave entrance. Someone had named their home the “Painted Caves” which seemed somewhat ironic since the only thing that even remotely looked like something painted were the smears of filth on the ground. At this stage the rest of the material seemed to be very long, very elaborate, and exclusively from people who had never even seen the cave or its inhabitants – which still never stopped them from having complicated theories about the beasts’ origins and behaviour. Notable only the frequently appearing pets called “Grobus”, bear-like things with an especially soft and nice fur. Neither of these bits of information gave any explanations for the recent abduction of a traveller, nor about any other aspects of the creatures’ lives and purpose. However, after writing it down, Iljian submitted all of this into the care of the envelope, then stuck it shut. With a deep sigh he settled down to watch the sunset above town and bay and eventually, exhausted from the day’s work, he fell asleep.