The Diaries of Louise De La'Valliere

[Kaelaen]

Saint Merielle once told me Ilmater frowned upon those who took on suffering needlessly . . . have I been doing that this whole time? I suppose so, yes . . . but now, I need not dwell on him any longer. Truly, Alexander, Elycia, I wish you happiness now. Talking with Alexander, rather than avoiding him, has truly lifted my spirits for the better. It makes me wonder, if we all torment each other by hiding ourselves so? I wonder what would happen if one day, we were forced to truly see each other. How much would be forgiven? How much would lead to enmity? Ah . . . to see each other through the eyes of children once again. To be given the gift of lenses untarnished by life's experiences. Innocence is sometimes ignorance, but the blind have their own ways of 'seeing,' and it is unwise to ignore the wisdom they may give.

All I needed to do was close my eyes, and forgive. And now I am free . . . I can move on. It would not be appropriate to say goodbye, for none of us have ever left. So to you, Alexander an Elycia, a thank you. Spare me my thoughts, and live on in peace, and happiness.

As to Thedran, who beget me the thought of the wisdom of children, what more can I say? It was you who showed me what I needed to do . . . and just when I think to have you solved, you surprise with even further wisdom than I can ever hope to attain. It is true, Mercy does not stand alone. With you gone, the children are going to have a large, positive influence taken away from their lives . . . and it is my hope that I will not let you down, that the void you leave because of Duty can be stemmed by my gentle influence . . . But that is what they know you for, is it not? Not the knight, not the brute, not the monster you encourage others to see you as . . . But as the brother, firm in Duty, Honor, and Peace . . . Sir Jonas could not have picked a better man, because that is what you are: A Champion. Whatever you may think of yourself, or what others think of you, I will always know that when you pass, you will have done your best to have left Toril better than it would have been if it never had you.

As for Sir Jonas himself . . . what can I say? I was struck by the same speech impediment I suffered when I had first met the Saint . . . And yet, despite having never met me, he made me feel like family . . . Does he always have that effect on people? It is said that one should always avoid meeting one's legends, ones heroes . . . for reality tends to disappoint. I cannot say that happened one bit with meeting the man himself. It is difficult to dispel the thought of him as a noble hero when within the first night of meeting, he'd helped protect my home of Candlekeep from a very large and very powerful dragon . . . If Sir Jonas truly was the man behind the soldier that is Thedran, then the Coast has truly lost something great. But we are at peace now, and heroes like him cannot, I suppose, sit back and be idle. And . . . he has his own family to raise in Tethyr, his new home to defend.

Thedran, I truly hope someday there will truly be a man worthy to wield your blade . . . but Heroes and Champions are rare indeed, and hopefully the children you leave behind can look upon your sword and aspire to greatness. Scorned, mocked, and spat at behind your back, yet when faced I have never seen your equal, in battle or in speech. You never los You've only lost to Scarlett. I suppose that is what it takes to win your admiration . . .

[Kaelaen]

It has been some time ago before that cursed man appeared before Candlekeep, some time ago since he sought the seeker born in Athkalta. I think I have thrown myself in my tasks to shield my mind against thinking about it too much . . . but Emrys is right. I cannot just sit here and avoid it. Sooner or later, I will have to confront the rumour of my father.

I have become content in my life here, in the Gate and the Keep. I never imagined a ghost from the past to come back to haunt me . . . Truth be told diary, I think I could have lived my life without ever coming back to Amn, coming back to the land where I lived in shackles. True, we were never slaves in any definition of the word . . . but we were never rich, we lived under the whims of those who were. Mother . . . how do you fare? Did you move back to our home before we lived with him? Whatever you saw in Mark, I hope he had not mistreated you when he longer had need of me. If . . . if he had done anything . . . [Her handwriting begins to waver as she writes. The next paragraph it normalizes again, as if she continued to write sometime later, after having composed herself.]

I will visit when I can, mother. I promise. I’ve small means to make my own coin now . . . if you yet live in our old home, I promise I can find you a better one. Perhaps you can come to live at the Gate?

--

I had that dream again . . . the one which prompted me to pick you up once again, diary.

Even through the treetops, the darkness, the drizzle cut its way through everything to get at me. Through cloak, through clothing, through it all until it found my flesh and clung on, leaving me cold and wet. I could see my breath, a fine mist as it escapes my mouth, and I run. The trees bent and twist towards me, grabbing me as wind whistles through the trees in a low moan, in agony. I’m surrounded by strange noises . . . I look in terror when they sound but they are never there, only the pitch black of the darkness. The small path I follow vanish and reappear on a whim, and then a bestial growl, accompanied by those sinister red eyes . . .

I do not remember the last time I have had this dream . . . not since that cursed man’s visit. It used to happen all the time when I was a child, when my father had first disappeared . . . It happened so much I became sure I knew where it was. I’d often hoped . . . prayed my father was behind the nightmare beyond, but before he could wrap me in his arms, before he could tell me everything was going to be okay, the dream faded, and I awoke. For years this happened and then . . . and then I found Ilmater.

So why am I having this dream again?

Is my father really out there?

[Kaelaen]

7th Tarsakh, 1348

For three days now I’ve been aboard this small ship, the Happenstance, sailing closer and closer to where I used to live. To Amn. Days earlier we had a scare with a water elemental attempting to drown our captain to death, but the crew had not asked for me since then. Despite being the one to drive off the elemental and despite restoring breath to their captain, I suppose it still drove the men uncomfortable having a woman on board. They do not grumble in my presence, not when it was my coin that funded them. But I suppose there is little else I can do but offer them the comfort of my seeming lack of presence. Do not get me wrong diary, they are a friendly bunch. Stooped in superstition perhaps, but they did purchase an entire barrel of non-alcoholic cider . . . if they think I am to finish that myself they are sorely mistaken!

--

Allen remains friendly with me at least. This would be a mind-numbing journey without a friend. I really should have asked someone to come with me . . . I should have asked Emrys.

8th Tarsakh, 1348

The trip had left me with more questions than answers . . .

Everyone confirmed the cursed man’s implications about my father. He had definitely been dabbling in things he should have not . . . the cowled wizard Edwin Malaki was the first to add to my worries. He had worked with my father before he disappeared, and was surprised to still find me alive. If it is anything to say about him, I suppose I am glad he kept his personal life and his work separate. My father was studying the origins of the death knights, and Edwin had long abandoned him before he disappeared.

He told me to do the same of my search. But I remembered where he went . . . I’d seen it in my dreams often enough. And now I know . . . I saw the swamp. My dream was a memory . . . I knew where he went. But I also knew my limits, and there was no way I was going to pursue his path without assistance. I decided to return home, for I assumed that the other scholars would be interested in my father’s research. A Netheril Ruin . . . we had been blessed recently by the White Mask Theater to bring the mythical place to life, on stage. We had even explored the one closest to the Gate, and their tomes now reside in our walls . . . they would surely like to come with me to the one in Amn.

But as I boarded the ship again, before I could even turn to watch the men who rowed me over board, they had disappeared in thin air. The captain was gone, Allen was gone, everyone . . . spirited away. An old lich boarded my ship and demanded me an audience . . . with sea all around me, it was not like I could refuse. My wards were not even up, suffice it to say if it came to blows, I may have become overmatched . . . but he wanted my cooperation.

He asked me to restore my father and restore his research, as well as assistance to him . . . He wanted the true names of the fourteen death knights my father had found, and to keep me to my word, he claimed to hold the men of the ship hostage.

He has likely killed them already, I know . . . but if there was a chance he would hold to his word, then I would not be able to have lived with myself if I attacked him then and there. I would likely have been dead, come to think of it. I would not have known how to drive an entire ship home by myself . . . The lich himself created the portal I required just outside Candlekeep, though it collapsed immediately after I’d been through.

Tyr’s Justice will find him if he’s harmed the men. But for now, I cannot oppose his work . . . for the men, and for my father.

[Kaelaen]

9th Tarsakh, 1348

Today I’d made no progress in finding clues of my father’s research, so rather than continue to frustrate myself with lack of progress; I had decided to take a break. It had been a very long time since I last visited the Friendly Arm Inn; I’d hoped I’d find old friends there. Friends that have come and gone . . . friends that I did not know would be friends yet. One of my first friends on the Coast eventually found her way there, to my happy surprise.

Kadri had taken a leave, a vacation very far away. Beyond the Spine of the World. Do you remember her, diary? When we met we were just beginning to wander the Coast; a girl I thought my age I bumped into accidentally all those months ago. She was not dressed as one at the time and I did not know the stigma she carried when she did, but she was a red wizard then. Now . . . now she still wears the robes, but now she is alone.

Her leaving was not one she sought her Enclave for approval for, and she reiterated to me that they were not happy with her. Even more so since she chose to leave . . .

When we first became friends, it was there at the fire we grew familiar. She was wearing her Red Wizard Garb then, and if I remembered correctly . . . I mistook her for Selah Shartess. I did not know the Thayans back then, and going over a previous edition of the Gazette only served to remind me . . . she asked me if I remembered her. I hastily replied my thanks and gave her credit for the rescue brought on by the then Khazark Selah Shartess and their knight Gwyneth Alkyrian when I, along with a massive amount of adventurers, became trapped in a pocket plane. I only paid attention to the robes, for when Selah was crafting our means to escape, I stood along in the back with Ralston, a man who never liked being at the forefront of things.

She laughed and pointed out my mistake, and yet had the social graces (if not to mention kindness) to make me feel welcome still. Without insulting my intelligence or any sort of insult she calmly reminded me that we’d only bumped into each other at the auction house not a day ago before. We did not make it official with each other then (though we did later! It’s only funny now that I think about it), but I think that was when our friendship became real.

Headmaster Rhys once told me that he actually did not object to Kadri as a person, that if she were not a known Red Wizard he would have liked to have had the opportunity to teach her the Art himself. This resonated with me at the time because I only knew Rhys to be a tireless crusader against the Red Wizard influence, constantly lecturing up and down the Coast about their reputations and misdeeds. What would he think, I wonder, if he heard Kadri’s dereliction that night under the roof of the inn? How she painfully (for her) told me of her resignation at the Enclave, how she became disillusioned with her very home of Thay?

I’d asked her if she retired, why she simply did not return home. She admitted she was wrong . . . in defending her homelands actions. She said she defended their lies. Everything. She was admitting the wickedness of her home, and what made it all the more poignant for me was that I never had to bring it up. Her mindset came to this path by itself . . . I did not pressure her to think this way. I’d merely hoped . . . and then she came . . . She found the path by herself . . . did Ilmater answer my prayers? Did Mercy find His way into her heart?

No one approved of my friendship with Kadri. Thedran . . . the unmoving Rock he is never saw past the robes. He had even once banned me from the orphanage; he feared that Kadri was using me in some sort of sinister Red Wizard plot. One of my finest friends Tyressen . . . at one point I really thought he was going to kill me. If Alison had not been there to stay his blade . . . I’ve seen him fight. It still turns my blood freezing to think about it, the thought that he might one day think of me as wrong . . .

No one ever told me it would be possible. Saint Merielle herself once told me it is easier to bring someone down, than to help them rise up. Kadri herself told me the what if’s . . . that what if this was merely a ruse? That they were just trying to buddy her up with the more ‘goodly’ folks of the realm?

But I saw the emotion on her face, heard the pain in her voice . . . if this was a ruse, Mia would be kicking herself for not having Kadri in her troupe. Most of all . . . I am still her friend. If she is lying to me and all the rest of my life is tarnished forever by the evil of allowing myself to be fooled . . . well, you will know, diary. I trust in my friends. I do not abandon them for mere ‘what ifs.’ I have always defended Kadri as a person . . . I always knew that, within the Black Flame she surrounds herself with, there beat a heart where Mercy could reside.

Some could say I am taking a blind leap of faith, but I don’t think so. If they knew Kadri, they would see the smoke and mirrors brought on by their ignorance and they’d know I never jumped at all. I am here, ready to support a friend in need. And she will need help . . . without the Enclave’s protection around her, well, people might get the wrong idea about a lone Red Wizard. Capable as she may be.

I’d invited her to stay in Candlekeep for almost a tenday. I need to remind myself to haggle with Winthrop about the price of her room, should she come to stay. I hope that I could talk Brother Marcus and the Sisters for giving her sanctuary in our temple when I find myself next in Baldur’s Gate . . . they do not allow Red Wizards, I know. But are we not a sanctuary? Would it not be such a beautiful thing to support this Red Wizard in her decision, this Red Wizard who wishes to do good?

I recall a quote from my early days of reading:

“To save one from a mistake is a gift of paradise.” (( // Dune, Stilgar // ))

[Kaelaen]

1st Mirtul, 1348

It feels as if ages have passed since I last visited the Gate, though I suppose it could not have been more than two or three tendays since. I wish I could have taken Tamara with me, but despite her progress the poor girl could hardly be asked to leave as of yet. And . . . with Zullo, bless him . . . with Zullo’s present, she might yet even truly have a chance at becoming a scholar. It is a shame the good doctor is in no position to teach her how to read it, at least for the moment. If anyone had that spark . . . that light of wonder in their eyes . . . she would be Tamara. Alaundo I think would have truly been pleased to meet her, if we lived in the same time.

Tamara though is not the only soul in need of Mercy’s hand. She is in good company in Candlekeep in Abigail . . . and inadvertently Zullo . . . and it gladdens me that Emrys still makes time to keep her company when no one else has the time to do so. But who takes care of the needs of those outside Candlekeep? I know Emrys would hate me for leaving unattended but I couldn’t bear the guilt any longer. It is a failure on my part, I’ve let Duty slide. Thedran would have scolded me for it. I’m sorry . . .

I first visited the orphanage, and to my surprise, his sword was there. Hanging on the door inside. The children had all come to the same conclusion I did . . . I think it is a good sign. That . . . despite his Duty, he still thinks about us . . . He still watches over us, even if he can only do so in thought. Thank you, Thedran. I hope we still make you proud . . . Know that you are in our thoughts as well, should you ever need a thought for when you need a smile.

I looked upon Saint Merielle’s garden and I had to wonder, what would Brother Daedrin have thought of it? The peaceful gardener . . . it’s a shame he never got the chance to even see Candlekeep’s own flowerbeds. I miss him . . . I hope nothing terrible has happened to him.

--

It was not until I went to visit the sanctuary itself did I get a clue to how much my Lord’s presence was needed . . . especially so my Lord. The hungry . . . the poor . . . they mill about in the city in discontent, complaining of drought, famine, taxes . . . nothing seems to be going their way. How do I respond to that? They certainly do not deserve the blame, the war has left the city reeling for balance, and it is no surprise the commoners suffer for it. Even all the way South in Crimmor the effects of the war could still be felt. I must have spent the good portion of my tenday in Amn caring for the guards who travel with the caravans, giving the local Ilmatari a hand at the influx of the injured. Down there, the problem was bandits from the North. Here, there are simply too many people for the Dukes to feed, too many people who are left without sons and fathers . . . who brings home the bread then?

And what can I tell them? To be patient? What do I know of what they’re suffering? I’ve never suffered . . . truly suffered, a day in my life. How can I tell them to trust me if I’ve never walked in their shoes? If it were not for Brother Meric’s lessons, I think I would be plump by now with how well Candlekeep treats me. Even Hoihe seems on the verge of finding a new way to create even more food . . . Despite Emrys’s words, people sometimes need more than an ear. Sometimes, people need an example . . . I wish Meri was still here. She flourished in that role, she took on the burdens people placed on her, and everyone thought, well, it just might turn out alright. She was someone you followed, the one who’d been through it all, the one who knew what to do. Me . . . I’m just the useless girl who hides behind books. All I can give Tamara, all I could give the people, is an ear. Never hope, never something to relate with. I do not share in their bond; I do not know what they’ve been through.

The only thing I can do is fix the superficial.

--

Only eight days until my bornday. Twenty seasons is my best guess, and despite being married for three years once, I still do not know the touch of a man. Again, useless, aren’t I? A thousand problems plague the Coast’s people and all I can think about is: I am getting older.

--

Sister Addy and I have a lot of bread rising overnight . . . hopefully it lasts the morrow.

I never thought it would be easy to serve Ilmater. I just didn't think it would be this hard.

[Kaelaen]

14th of Mirtul, 1348 .

My father was never gone after all . . . he really, truly was there. Is here . . . I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what’s worse if when we meet; the fact that he will not recognize me, or the slim chance he will . . .

It’s been . . . years since I last saw him, nearly my entire life I’ve got without him. The memory of his face had completely faded from my memory. But when I saw Herran dragging him out of the field, I was left speechless. How do you describe remembering something you’ve known all along? I was . . . there was no time for emotion then; we were being assaulted from all sides with our wards fading with the whims of the winds. But I couldn’t help myself. I vaguely remember the Guide shouting out orders, and he managed to get us all out of there before we were overwhelmed.

I remembered I’d dare not look at him a second time . . . it would have been pointless. His face is as clear to me now as if I’ve just seen him yesterday . . . as I last saw him fourteen years ago. How different life was then. I knew he could not be around all the time, and yet, when he came home he always made me know he cared . . . He’d come home, smiling, and I would always come running to the door as fast as I could. How old was I, five? Six? He was so large then . . . my hero, my father.

I remembered he would always feel sorry for being away for days at a time, but we both knew. We always knew how he would make it up to me. I still dream of it sometimes . . . he would lift me high, and dance with me. My mother was a different woman then . . . she was happy when he came home. We would dance and dance and dance, spinning me around and making me laugh with his goofy smile until I fell asleep. Then he would carry me up the stairs to put me to bed . . . I knew then, I was loved . . .

--

When I was younger I’d often wondered if I’d get another chance . . . to walk with him, to help him with the farm, the chores. Of course . . . he would always do the actual work. He’d let me plant a seed, and when the flowers bloomed the next season he would tell me I did that. He loved me . . . I’d often wondered, when was he coming back? When could I dance with him again?

I’d tell myself . . . if he did . . . I’d sing for us a song that would never, ever end.

Even in those days, my mother and I could never fully agree on anything . . . and I always knew where to run to. He would tell me a joke, or a story, or gave me a hug, or just made a funny face . . . he always knew how to make me smile. And then, later that night I’d find a sweet treat under my pillow.

He is here now . . . and I’ve grown older. I thought I’d moved on from him years ago, but I haven’t . . . After all these years, these feelings are resurfacing and it is all I could do to not drown in them . . . It is not the man I can’t outgrow. Not the man . . . but the love. I think that is what I fear . . . when we meet again, would he still see his little girl? Or would I be so alien to him that . . . he would consider me a stranger?

[Kaelaen]

15th of Mirtul, 1348

We barely talked . . . or at least, I barely talked. Mostly my father kept apologizing, as if to say sorry for every day of my life he’s been gone. Fourteen years . . . I’ve outgrown his lap now, but he still never let me go. We held to each other in silence. Mostly it was me doing the crying . . . there were so many memories to share. Like when we got my first cat. It’s easy to remember the big things, like when the Ilmatari first taught me how to read. But the little things, those were what was important to me then. It was all I could think about.

I was maybe four or five when my father got me my first cat. I just called her kitty . . . I suppose originality was never my strong suit. One day, during one of our visits to Athkalta my poor kitty had gotten herself lost from me . . . and when I found her again she’d been dead. Run over by a cart. At my age I didn’t know what was happening . . . my dad held me in his arms and wiped away my tears and told me not to cry, that kitty was only got for a little while. She was just out looking for a brand new fur coat, and would wait for me at the foot of the bed on the next morning. I believed him and stopped crying, and went to bed dreaming of my kitty coming back. When I woke up there she was, in a brand new white fur coat, just like my dad said she would be.

It wasn’t that that stayed with me . . . but what my mother told me years later when Kitty was no longer a kitty and was at the end of her life. She told me how my dad woke up at three in the morning to go wake the cat seller out of bed, and when the man got mad at my dad about it he told him that he was either going to go down and sell him a new kitten right then, or he’d break his neck.

The little things . . . those are what you remember people by. All the little things people do because they wanted to do them, for you. My dad . . . still probably remembers it as if it were yesterday. After all, it was less than a year ago for him when he did that for me. I suppose he is like Emrys in that sense. I hope they get along . . . my dad, my hero, back with me again . . . When he first saw me he called me Amalia. He thought I was my mother . . . thinking back, I suppose both our shocks were rather amusing.

But I suppose the situation for bringing him here isn’t . . .

[Kaelaen]

30th of Mirtul, 1348

It just goes to figure . . . the lich that has put us under threat is not something my father even recognizes. I’ve been putting off the conversation for a long while, and eventually forgot, but Laitae had spoken sense to me. Of course, it led to a dead end anyway. He did not even know where it came from, or when, and we’re no closer than ever to finding a solution to this dilemma.

If only prayer were ever enough.

Juli did bring up a painful point . . . would the Radiant Heart even truly offer their aid? Would they just send Kald to help us, and no one else? As fine a warrior as he is . . . as great a hero as he is, should they not send more? Where we need heroes . . . we seem to be forced to make due with one. Perhaps I should write a personal letter to Thiago the second . . . ? Is that one way I can take action? She ruffled me . . . she might have even done it on purpose, but I think Juli meant well . . . she is my friend, after all. And despite everything I said to her, she said she would still offer her support.

--

Will has apparently been staying in Winthrop’s this entire tenday. Is it my place to warn him of the dangers of becoming avowed? I admit, I cannot place my finger on the man. He seems sincere enough to want to become avowed . . . but I cannot help but wonder if he was more suited to join the Protectors? At least then Kald would have someone to captain over. But then again . . . Emrys didn’t rejoin the fold as a Protector. He decided to work for his vows . . . I think he made the right decision. Perhaps Will will as well, if only he and Guide could find each other!

But Emrys . . . oh Emrys . . . you called me love. Love . . . I want to love you, but I don’t know . . . the last time I felt like this, I gave into the whirlwind . . . and was dumped out just as quickly. I don’t think I can handle being hurt again . . . I hope you don’t mind? If we just take it slow . . . ?

No . . . I’m not going to cry about it anymore. I promised myself . . . and . . . I like you, Emrys, I really do. It’s you who always knows what to say to make my day . . . not me. And you never make me feel like you want me to go . . . You’re perfect, Emrys, you are. But . . . I thought Alex was too . . .

[Kaelaen]

15th of Kythorn, 1348

It feels too long since I’ve shared my thoughts, diary. But at last, I have some respite.

It was during my stay at the Friendly Arm Inn I heard Lady Silias was kidnapped . . . I do not know the details other than it was orcs. How or why they had taken her no one had told me, but it had been at the back of my mind during my tenure at the sanctuary. Saint Merielle, bless her, still remains human and could not bear to be apart from her child for too long. Hopefully Matty and her share many wonderful moments together. Still . . . in her absence, she had assigned me to head the temple’s functions as well as the orphanage. I think I was shocked . . . the memory seemed dulled somehow. I’m not sure I even reacted . . . was my confidence finally growing? I’d like to think so . . . but truth be told diary I think I was just numbed from news of my friend, my sister. I could not bear the thought of Lady Silias potentially suffering . . . potentially dead.

Brother Marcus headed the prayers initially, but he was insistent I learned to do it as well. It was only the second day when he decided I was ready enough and conceded the floor to me . . . It was different I suppose, from when I prayed with just Emrys, or just Tamara. People whose name I did not know looked up to me to convey their hopes, their sufferings to the Crying God. But it was not as difficult as I made it out to be in my head . . . I love Emrys. I love Tamara. And yet, without knowing them at all I knew they were the same, all with their own unique quirks and names . . . identities. It gave rise to the thought, aren’t strangers merely friends you haven’t met yet? They shared everything I loved about my friends except their names . . . when I saw Tamara join them, I knew then what to pray for.

Each other.

Ilmater is always there for us . . . if we allow him to be. And so why not follow in His example? We would pray for each other . . . be there for each other . . . for no one wants to go through these difficult times alone. We would walk with Mercy, helping each other along the way. It was my hope that the love would spread beyond our little temple.

No matter the chores, no matter how long I battled the dirt settling on the floor there was nothing to help ease my mind in regards to Lady Silias. The elf at the fire said they have already tried to make contact and have already seen her in their scry . . . why the orcs kept her alive was still beyond me. Still is . . . I knew I had a responsibility to fulfill at the Gate. But I was confident in my brothers and sisters abilities to move on, once again. I promised to return as quickly as possible, and it appears that day is finally approaching at last. Thankfully, I did not need to be gone for months at a time again. Daniel has been a gift from above those couple of days . . . always ready to assist wherever we were short a hand. The maturity he displays at such an age is uplifting . . . he manages the neverending youthful energy to act in balance with the serenity I’ve only seen in Brother Marcus or Guide Wendel. Many who come here are often rightfully upset . . . and some in so much pain I sometimes feared to approach, not knowing what to say. But he does . . .

His instincts are amazing. I’d been told we’ve even been getting help from a preppy woman named Vala . . . I was confident our Ilmatari would continue to prosper.

And so I went south, towards the Friendly Arm Inn once again. I could not find an escort to help me through the Sharp Teeth . . . but the sooner I could learn more, the sooner my mind could finally be put to ease. I’d tried to contact Lady Silias myself with a sending . . . but it was as the elf had said all those nights ago. She was either unable or unwilling to respond. So . . . with nothing but the general direction in my head, I travelled through the Sharp Teeth alone.

I prayed for sanctuary the entire journey through, and thankfully Ilmater saw fit to answer my prayers by keeping the more dangerous creatures away from my path. Brother Meric had seen it fit to teach me how to defend myself, but I’ve never been comfortable coming to blows unless it became unavoidable. Still, I did not know how long I would be protected, by sheer luck I’d come across the river landmark and the wooden bridge near Doron Amar before night turned to midnight. Doron Amar continued to elude me then . . . I wished I knew more rangers.

I think I finally found it at Midnight. As usual, two rangers stood visible at the entrance, regarding me casually. I wondered how many more were beyond my sight, or how long they’d been following me . . . I might have reached it faster if I called out, but I tried to appear as if I knew what I was doing. Although the time it took me to get here . . . no doubt I had spun around in circles several times. Of course, the two rangers had expected me . . . they did not object to my presence as long as I kept my visitation short. I didn’t know why they were so willing to let me in, and so I made my way towards the inn and sat on the bench outside. It was there I met Elldear once again.

He actually told me Lady Silias had already been rescued . . . that she was being looked after by Seeker Laitae and Lady Luthien. He lead me to her.

Seeker Laitae was indeed there, though I had no idea where Lady Luthien was. When I looked upon Silias’s condition, only my training held me back from crying out to her . . . I knew for once, she needed to be the one looked after. Not the one to be giving aid . . . Her physical deterioration was bad, but I had seen worse. The orcs had taken her to the brink, but they never did intend to kill her . . . It was her mind more than anything that needed tending to. The rest was just due course.

I stayed here for three days . . . and Lady Silias’s recovery went smoothly, gaining strength with each passing day. I had faith in Ilmater and in her mind . . . that her centuries of experience had given her a bedrock on which her mind was kept safe . . . During her recovery she had always asked for two things. One, if her God still remained with her . . . that was answered definitively when Laitae prayed to Corellon with her on my first night there. The holy symbol in Silias’s trembling hand grew so bright as Laitae concluded her prayer I’d felt blinded for several seconds, the entire room engulfed in a white aura. I don’t know if Corellon did keep watch as Silias constantly requested . . . but I would like to think He did. That He would have been doubly happy that day, after hearing the prayers of one whom for as far as I can tell, had always considered herself outside His flock. I imagine He felt one of the strangest joys I’ve ever seen in parents . . . the joy when their children do the rare thing of forgiving them. It was beautiful to watch.

Silias always asked of her husband, Baelather. I have only spoken to him once, and it pained me to keep telling her the truth, that no one knew where he was. I could only pray that his journey continued safely, that he would hold Silias once again, when he returns.

I conclude this entry now, hopefully having not overstayed my welcome in this beautiful village. I sought refuge here once when I thought the Fist had wish to send me back to Amn. I do not remember the tenure Lady Auriel, councilor at the time, gave me to visit but she was correct that this was an elven sanctuary, and so I’ve always tried to respect their tolerance of me. Today I will finally say my goodbyes, as Lady Silias had begun to walk for herself, finally. My friend is no longer in danger, and my mind can finally rest at ease here. There’s still so much work to do . . .

[Kaelaen]

20th of Flamerule, 1348

Emrys, my beloved . . . you are my sea and my savior.

Your very presence is enough to inspire the swells in my head, to stir the whirlpools of my doubts and my fears . . . and yet, when the typhoons threaten to toss me into oblivion there you are, as clear as the sun breaking through the clouds in the horizon. You quell my oceans of fear, doubt and regret with just one word, just one action . . . and when your lips lock with mine . . .

There’s no way to describe it. I’m deaf, dumb and blinded. In your arms . . . in your eyes . . . I’m doomed. And there’s no other way I’d have it.

I love you, Emrys. I love how you indulge me . . . my selfishness. I know miss Dajala and Juli are your friends . . . but how could I let you go if you don’t even know where you’re going? How could you be asked to commit without you being told anything? So will tell them no . . . for me . . .

I wish I was stronger than this; I don’t know what I would do without you. But I’m not . . . you are my weakness, and my strength . . . you’re my pleasure, and my pain.

[Kaelaen]

Flamerule 1348 to Ches, 1349

[Throughout most of the year, Louise kept up her entries as her adventures took her from Amn to Tethyr, where the vast majority of the entries seemed to be written from. She seemed to update regularly as the year began, first writing about the experiences she had bringing Emrys to her father, to the complicated relationship she had with her mother. As the journal travelled south, the tone of her writing seemed to shift to a more somber one as the chaos of war began to wear away at her. The rare times she seemed to interact with the Rokranon family however, it would be evident from her writing that she still had not quite taken Jonas off a pedestal in her head yet.

Towards the end of the book, the entries come less and less frequent. Her last entry seemed short. Less like a diary entry, and more a reminder. It did not even have a date. She seemed to be interested in obtaining something called a ‘halvalondur,’ though for what purpose she seemed to neglect to mention.

That journal she no longer carries with her. Having found her way back to Baldur’s Gate, in a passing fancy, Louise seemed to have found the same seller Ralston Dash did long ago. She’d purchased an identical book, and began to write her thoughts once again.]

[Kaelaen]

2nd of Marpenoth, 1349

It’s been an age since I’d left, and somehow things still feel the same. When I stayed in Tethyr, or Cormyr, it always felt new, but I’d always settled in eventually. I’d never really felt the way I do now though, the way this feels like home. I suppose that maybe it is. My childhood may have been elsewhere, but this is where I grew up. I’d learned my letters here . . . and then found my way to Candlekeep, where I learned I knew nothing. To this day, I’d still get lost in the library if left alone, and become a part of the rumoured scholars lost to lore and memory.

The soup was nice today. Remember to ask Abby what she did with it.

I miss Emrys. I miss his smell, I miss his touch . . . I miss it when we make love. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised with Tamara. She’d always been a girl of passions . . . never shy in regards to touch. And the things she’d done to survive . . . the things that happened during her capture. Without saying it, she’d told me she knew more than I could ever know on the subject of love and yet I was still blindsided by the surprise inside her.

Even then, I cannot help but still picture her the sweet, innocent girl I’d gotten to know for half a year in Candlekeep’s infirmary. The way she fears each new sensation, and then swings immediately to a chirping singing mood. She is just like every new mother I’d ever met, and yet still remains principally Tamara.

I hope Cedric can remain strong for her.

It dawns on me now why brother James acted the way he did. Why he was so fiercely protective of the little songbird. When the knights mentioned Dean’s name . . . it all came back to me then. The resentment the morninglord felt for Alexander, the threats. It happened to me once, and the same events are now visiting Tamara. Why would a lich have an interest in the body of a morninglord? What could it ever hope to accomplish with it, with Dean’s soul now a part of Lathander? There is no greater foe to the undead, as the Sunite mentioned earlier today. Whatever power this lich thinks to have, it would be madness to go up against a God.

Even then, the paladin Katarina asked me if Dean had been buried with anything of importance. That perhaps it is not the body the lich was interested in, but the item. After having a night to myself to meditate on it, I am not sure if I should tell her what I remember. A begonia, one of the countless begonias from Wendel’s gardens in Candlekeep, laid upon Dean’s coffin by Guide Teo. And Buurk’s helmet . . . a touching gesture from one friend to another. In a way, they were both powerful gestures. But not when it comes to actual manifestations of power . . .

Why Thedran? And Kaltyra also? Her children are becoming restless . . . they miss their mother. I hope the Order and my own of Candlekeep can unravel this puzzle quickly. Despite Ameris’s sentiment I cannot afford to let down my guard. But this lich is hitting too close to home . . . and how I want to just break down and cry. How I wish I could just lie broken and in need . . . and held.

I miss you, Emrys.

[Kaelaen]

13th of Marpenoth, 1349

When people of different cultures meet, great allowances should be made for differences of custom and training. It was one of the lessons brother Hawat drilled in my head, and it is a lesson I often repeat in my head. I am not perfect in this, I am blinded by emotion as easily as anyone else. But I’d like to think I’ve done the best I could to be patient. To give everyone a chance to express themselves, in the only manners they knew how.

I can count the number of times I’ve lost my temper in the last two years in one hand. With the elf known as Celasorsan, whose sorrow was unending, and drained all joy amongst my friends. With the planetouched one who called himself Teris, whose mind I’d been unable to comprehend, and in my failing to heed the teachings, allowed his words to shake me. It took Thedran’s words and reassurances for me to know I’d shamed myself. And I realize I’ve made a fool of myself in other ways since then, but if I can claim one thing, it’s that I hadn’t done so in anger since then.

These children whose care had been entrusted to us, these orcs. I firmly believe we can raise them to be good people, and that even if they would never be accepted amongst our societies, they could at least plant the idea that it’s possible. That if we treat people as people, then they will treat you as such in kind. Still, I am deluding myself if I say their blood means little in how they act. I don’t think I’ve done nearly as much business with Aello ever since orcs had been taken into my care. The two who’d recently taken shelter with us remain babes yet. But if they are anything like Kaltyra’s children,

--

Right outside Baldur’s Gate he came, and thank the gods I was nowhere near the orphanage when he did. Without any pretext of subtlety the lich Bazu approached me, his wards blazing for all to see, with no care of where he was. Mealir was in the middle of telling a tale, and if he were not there, I hesitate to think of what my fate might have been.

I hold no illusions that we could have brought him any fight. We were not prepared for such a battle, and even if we were . . . it had managed to subdue people such as Thedran before. Kaltyra, and who knows who else? If the lich could take on those two, what hope did we, dressed in our simple clothing with spells and prayers ill-prepared?

He wanted my knowledge of restoration spells, and I hesitate to think of how he intended to get it. I doubt that such a being would have settled for a religious discourse regarding faith tempered with mercy. With no ultimatum presented to me other than the prospect of a lich rummaging inside my head, we left. Not just walked away mind you, I doubt we would have been allowed to do just that. I shielded us within a sanctuary, where then Mealir was free to teleport us into the safest place he could think of: Doron Amar.

Once again I find myself sheltered inside Candlekeep, hiding from a lich who wants my thoughts. I do not know if it is a hopeful thing that what he seeks isn’t exclusive to me. A part of me is worried he will merely seek another healer.

[Kaelaen]

16th of Marpenoth, 1349

Diana Grimm. Miss Grimm. I hope your trip wasn’t too uncomfortable. Gods knows, you’d never let me and Emrys hear the end of it when we traveled together North. I think I was like everyone you’d talked with over the years, full of fear and uncertainty. That, without even knowing a touch of magic, you always seemed to be able to see into a person’s soul.

You must have seen me, a countless lifetime of me throughout your long life. The naïve girl running about thinking she could solve everyone’s problems. But not yours. You shattered my illusions with that statement. There was no longer any fear or mysticism between us. You were talking to me as yourself, without your armor and steely confidence. That even someone like you had fears, and regrets.

I wanted to be like you then. Why not sacrifice the love people felt for me, if it made them better people? It was a simple misunderstanding. I thought you chose fear because it was effective. But it was never a choice. Fear was what you understood and what people expected of you. You played your part because people needed a wicked old witch, that they made themselves better people as to not catch your wrath. The wrath that never came, because you were always so effective at what you did.

And how did you do it? Because even if they never realized it, you were always in their lives. Just as you were always in ours, during our travel. I still wonder what that’s like, knowing a person from the moment they were born. You always told me you didn’t know magic, but when you know whether one person is guilty or not whether by divination or simply understanding that they’ve had this same fight countless times as children, as did their fathers several times before then, what difference does it make? That was the lesson you taught me. Magic needs not to come from the weave or the divine. People can perform their own magic. It’s just a simple matter of understanding the person. And it never hurts to have a little more of that going around.

I can’t be you. But the carrot can also serve her purpose, much as the stick does. And even though we’re two different people, there is always something to relate to. I can still hear your song, even now.

You may have been exiled in word, but in truth, someone like you chose to leave, didn’t she? In the end though, the witch of Purskul belongs with her people. I may not have been able to accompany your body, but if I could speak to your spirit, you would have yelled at me anyway to finish my tasks in Baldur’s Gate anyway. After all, a witch must take care of her people.

[Lyrewyn]

10th of Nightal, 1349

It is difficult for me to express my feelings upon my visit to the place I call home. Pleasant hardly does justice to the fountains welled up and bursted upon sight with old friends. It is jarring sometimes to see how much a person could change in a year, and it causes me to reflect on just how much I have changed as well.

I still remember meeting Laitae for the first time, an ambitious little thing in her black acolyte robes, eager to read all there is to read in the library. She did not know just how far her gifts extended then . . . and perhaps that uncertainty lent her to some immaturity. Or perhaps her actual immaturity led to it. After all, did she not take the juvenile path to get to where she did?

So much curiosity then, with emotions worn on the sleeve. I thought I sometimes saw that little girl peeking out under those tired reader eyes. But control was ever present. She has long stopped being the student, and perhaps her role as a teacher will continue to improve the lives of the people of the Coast, much as it did with Gale and the other children of Mercy.

She almost came out again though when Silias paid a surprise visit. I can't help but feel a prang of disappointment when Laitae did not tackle her to the ground. But perhaps my imagination is overreaching. I am glad of the newfound wisdom she carries herself with. Cunning and prudence hand in hand will serve her well for years onward.

As for Tamara . . . the letter I received claimed my visit was most necessary for her health but perhaps the writer was overstating my importance a little. I have always known Tamara to be strong, enough that I sometimes feel a twinge of envy. It is not her weakness I admire, but how she handles herself every single day. Perhaps I have written on this subject overmuch . . . but I would write it again, if only for emphasis. Tamara never needed me there. She has the love and support of friends and soon, family. I will do my best to keep in contact, and I still must conduct her wedding, but she no longer needs me in her life.

Of course, if she still wants me, I would still very much oblige.

I cannot help but feel pity for Thedran, for when they bear him the news. Willingly or unwillingly, he will find out eventually. But he cares too much for Tamara to do much more than to become the big brother to another beautiful child. To give all he has to give, the same as he would for all the other children under his care. Perhaps he will be slow in granting Cedric forgiveness. But time marches on ceaselessly, and forever is never too far away with enough of the clockwork steps. I have faith in him taking the noble path, because he is a decent man and he can do no less.

It is a step I hope Ameris one day finds. If there is anyone in the Coast whom I wished I could have spent more time with, it would be him. He navigates through a storm of duty and obligation and I wish I could get him to see that he needn't carry all the world on his shoulders. That is the task our Lord already bears for us, but of course Ameris would choose to endure. After all, he and Thedran truly are of a like. Neither can ever take the lesser path. My only wish would be to bear some of the weight he carries . . . perhaps then he might have found the time to grow.

But I am confident he will bear it. And if not me, then there is always our brothers and sisters. And his brothers and sisters of the Heart. Perhaps I should nag Sister Catherine though, to remind him that he must take care of himself if he wishes to take care of anyone else.

It would certainly be refreshing to hear her thoughts, in any case.

The morning sickness has finally come to an end for me. Emrys thought it amusing that I maintained my composure among our forays to the villages, but I keep to the thought that appearance is important. Confidence inspires confidence, even if they never knew I tended to void my lunch the moment we were safely behind the walls of our home.

Emrys planted a birch tree outside, the day we found out. Anywhere else I would question his judgement regarding his knowledge of fauna and where they choose to grow but despite the hilly rocks, trees are truly blessed here. The monks taught us the legend of the druid who fought the growth of the great glacier, that the birch and evergreen grow as if a person. It would be nice. It would be an excuse to visit for when our duties as seekers inevitably take us away from here. Our child could visit their tree, and measure how far they've grown.