Marcus Hulford's journal

[APorg]

[a small notebook with neat, meticulous hand-writing and a ruler-drawn margin]

I now understand something Grevis once said.

The others are haunted by our persecution by Azalin and his minions. Kaeyna cannot sleep for her nightmares, and she and Krow are practically living in exile. Serafim is trying to continue her life as normal, but after this third attack, how long before she too retreats or hides away?

Perversely, I am not afraid. Being Azalin's enemy fills me with purpose. Every minion he sends after us, every thought he dedicates to our undoing is one that he does not use to pursue his next mad scheme to escape our "tormentors" and, in so doing, endanger the entire Core. I am a Sword of Ezra, and a Sword's purpose is to be drawn for battle. It was the darker truth behind this that plagued Grevis... I hope he found peace in his last moments.

I am not so proud as to think that I can defeat him, or even survive. But perhaps my sacrifice will make some difference and delay some dark victory, thus buying others more time. Even the mightiest avalanche must start with a sliding pebble; may my fate be that of the humble stone that leads to Azalin's downfall.

But I grieve for the others. The thought of this self-sacrifice does not fill them with joy or righteousness; it only depresses and terrorises them. Would that I could take their burden solely upon myself.

Ezra, heed my prayers. Let me stand against this threat for as long as possible, and let me be there to aid those who need it.

* * *

THUS SPOKE EZRA: "SUCH IS THE ROLE I HAVE CHOSEN IN THE GRAND SCHEME. SUCH IS WHAT I MUST DO."

[APorg]

I fear we are all drifting apart. We should be united in the face of our common enemies, but instead, bit by bit, blow by blow, we drift apart.

Though civil appearances are upheld, the rift between Serafim and Kaeyna isn't healed and I do not think it ever truly will. Serafim has been falling away from the others, like a spinning top, remaining upright only from the heady rush of her own momentum. I wish I could be a better friend for her, but to do so would be to go against my faith, and that I can not do. Not even for her; not again.

I worry about how much we can trust Folquin. The Red Vardo are business men; their eyes are on the profit margin, the bottom line. It will be in their interest to cut their losses. If Azalin threatens them, then wouldn't it make good business sense to cut a deal? It all depends on Tredow's honour.

And as to the others, who can say? Sofiya is still in garda custody, and if anyone is doing anything about it, they aren't informing me. I dread of what would happen if they executed her. What good would saving Nara'ia have done if she were to return to the path of darkness in grief, in retaliation and revenge?

And Inquisitor Poisson...  Grevis trusted him; that's enough. Isn't it? Or do I merely seek predictability in the tangled web of the Grand Scheme wherein I find myself entrapped?

I am alone. I don't know which way to turn anymore. Ezra, please guide me.

* * *

EZRA SPOKE TO THE MISTS. ASKED SHE, "THE WORLD IS YOURS. YOU SET ITS SHAPE. WHY DO YOU ALLOW ITS PEOPLE TO WANDER, LOST AND AFRAID?" BUT THE MISTS DID NOT ANSWER.

[APorg]

Faith is a labour of love. I understand that now.

Pieces of ideas are falling into place for my most ambitious project to date. I have been remiss in both action and duty.

The obstacle to reconciliation is to find terms that everyone can accept, or at least tolerate.

Five followers makes a Toret. Five: myself, Vladimir, Serafim, Kaeyna and Krow.

What are their incentives?

The Five: a place of their own, separate but not outcast.
The Toret: advancement within the Church.
The Church: an end to the apostasy and hopefully a tidy solution to satisfy all involved.

I must somehow wrangle terms that everyone can accept. Ezra, please, guide me in this my most arduous undertaking. But I would storm Avernus all over again and die happy if I knew I could succeed.

Serafim will tell me that it is impossible, that they will never go back. That the church will never accept them.

But I must try: because I love them, I must try. I can never stop trying. To give up is to fail my love for them and to fail Ezra. I understand that now.

* * *

EZRA SPOKE, SAYING, “THE MISTS HAVE WROUGHT NOTHING BUT SORROW. IT IS MY ROLE TO SUCCOR THE SUFFERING OF MY PEOPLE. WHAT IS TO BECOME OF MY PLACE IN THE GRAND SCHEME IF THE MISTS CANNOT BID ME ACT? WHAT SHALL BECOME OF THE PURE OF HEART, IF THEY HAVE NO GUARDIAN IN THE MISTS?”

[APorg]

Meisser. Here in Vallaki. This can't be a coincidence. He must want something with the apostates. Think, Marcus. Think.

[APorg]

I have been so incredibly naive.

Meisser was more formidable than anything I ever expected.

But he sneers at compassion and that is his own blindness. I have faith that he has missed some part of the Grand Scheme, some better part because of this. I must have faith.

[APorg]

It has all gone so terribly wrong. I do not understand it.

Am I such a bad person? Do I deserve this? I thought friends were people who would support you; help you in your time of need. Instead, my weakness has been spat on, my attempts to make amends sneered at, by the very people I thought would listen, whom I thought I could trust.

It pains me so much. I can't think clearly.

Blessed Ezra, deliver me guidance and wisdom.

[APorg]

I learned an important lesson today.

Weakness makes us the tools of the enemy; of the Mists of Death.

I remember how my own weaknesses twisted me; made me a fool, a self-doubter, a poor friend.

I have seen how the weakness in another turned her from the true path into a mere pawn for an evil man's bidding.

I understand now better the limits of compassion. It's not about mistrust; about fearing deceit. But coddle someone too much and you will merely nurture their weaknesses; their sins will flourish and impose upon their will until finally, the weight of them takes away that which is most sacred: that eternal choice. Redemption and Salvation. Or Sin and the Fall.

Choice. Choice. They called it a choice.

This is the perversion of worshipping free will without responsibility.

[APorg]

After victory, we squander our gains. After achievement, we disappoint. The greater the victory, the greater the following waste.

It seems an unerring principle.

[APorg]

Dear Miss Lilianne,

I pray this letter finds you in good health, and I congratulate you on the recent success of the Theatre and the Molière-Jalabert wedding. Such good news in bleak times!

I am writing to request of you a favour, in the form of assistance with a venture. I have long been struggling with the question of how I, a humble servant of the Second Revelation, may aid the poor, hungry and destitute of the Port. There are many wrong-headed solutions that produce deleterious side-effects -- as the stories of hyper-inflation of the solar following massive donations in the Quartier Ouvrier demonstrate.

While hearing of some untended fields to the south of Edrigan, I came upon a scheme that might possibly solve the problem: buying up un-tended farmland to produce bread that would be handed out as charity from the Church of Ezra -- a course of action both compassionate and devout, I hope, and with the doubly-beneficial effect of both putting unemployed farmers back to work as well putting food in hungry children's bellies.

Obviously the expense and effort required would be enormous -- but I believe that through charity and perseverance, the costs and other challenges of such an enterprise could be met.

However, I am not so naive as to not realise that by pressing myself upon such a course of action, I may be setting myself up against powerful vested interests -- namely the current grain-producers and war-profiteers who are doubtless making a pretty coin on the hunger of the destitute. The unscrupulous would see charitable donations as a threat to their profit margins and surely try to squash my plans.

Against such interests and in such an arena, I fear I am like a blind man entering a boxing ring, not even knowing whom his opponent is, much less how to fight him. It is in this particular domain that I would beg your favour; to make use of your eyes and your mind, to ask you to be the navigator that charts the course of this venture to safe harbour.

Of course, I understand that you likely have no interest in the drudgery of farming and such, and would dislike to be distracted from your cultural pursuits -- I would not except you to attend to such nor put aside your own plans. I certainly would not wish to impose upon and do not ask from you more than what you might be inclined to give.  Your help, any help at all, would be very greatly welcome.

I beg to remain, my Lady, your humble and obedient servant,
Marcus Hulford