They watch.

The 30th Day of the Beginning of Spring, the 4th year of Robert I's reign.

Chair too large, surrounding me,
Cloak too tight, strangling me,
They watch.

I cheered, was jubilant, arrogant.
I fell, was saddened, frightened.
They watch.

I wear a mask, under my title.
I care. I struggle, bleed.
They watch.

I hold forth a weapon, blade keen as their teeth,
Trying to hide the shakes and trembles.
They watch.

I am betrayed, and I smile.
Stabbed in the back, and I smile.
They watch.

Then, they come out of the darkness,
and bite me, teeth sharp, eyes gleaming.
They kill.

This is but a shadow, but I couldn't express how I feel any other way.
I can only trust those I had befriended before this accursed title was given to me.

It is power, acting as a beacon, a bonfire, to their greedy eyes. Even she came back. She wanted me to depend on her, to need her. I cannot afford to do such, not now. The whispers run faster than the blood.

I wanted to rely on her for advice, but unstable as she is, she turned away from me. In a way, I am almost glad, because it is one less lever for them to use against me.

I still am not used to signing this, but I suppose I shall.

Vasteel-ddu of the House Lamaran-thal, co-Reeve of Telantha

Dreams and ghosts. Damned ghosts.

I had a dream...

Of course this comes after probably the biggest event of the Year, the ball. And a Tyeni now sits on the throne of Telantha, little city that it is. He has changed many things... and as a sign of what has happened that bloody fountain is gone, replaced with a Tree! A symbol of the Gods... it must be.

Some believe that the Tyen will destroy them... but I know better. In our day... we had the largest Empire, the most subjects, and the most well-trained army. Who better to take on the challenge of leading us out of the Darkness than Lord Emperor Hejderos?

Onto my dream... I was tired, up near the whole night, and coming home in the morning rays, I collasped across the bed fully clothed. My brain insists it is because of exhaustion that it happened, but my heart says more...

All was white about me... and someone touched my chin. It was her. Wendiharan. Standing there, confident and dignified, she raised her veil, and kissed me, on the nose, as was her habit. I stood, for I had been crouching, and reached out for her, and she wrapped her arms about me. Whispering in my ear... she told me something.

She had never looked so beautiful, and my body, just a few moments past exhausted, now rejuvenated, thrilled at her touch.

That was when I woke up, a clatter of silver, as my maid dropped the water jug. I commanded her to get out, being interrupted in my solace. I lay there, miserable, sheets bundled around me, thinking over her words,

"I'm coming... wait for me."

On recovering my soul.

What does a man do when his conscience dies? Very few can answer that honestly, and I am one of those few. There is one thing that I can now claim pride in: I have never killed.

When she died, as I described in my older entries, I was lost. I was taken advantage of by, by Caernwhyn-radu. He is only doing what he has to do, just as I was only doing what I had to do. He is a good man, once-brilliant and crafty, but now turns a blind eye to what damage his actions cause.

I made contacts, shadowy, unstrustworthy. I sold things; I bought things; and I knew nor cared what or where they had come from.

Were it not for one event, I fear I would still be the same dark man, inside as hollow as one of those chocoalate treats the children love so. It was an Elday, balmy, peaceful, warm and sunny. I prayed for profit, and admired my latest love conquest as she lay sleeping, her human hair glittering as gold.

Quickly, I dressed and left, the servants soon to wake, and usher her out quietly. I knew it was going to be a profitable day, and as I came close to the meeting place, I noted idly some few clouds on the horizon.

I admit this: my hand shakes as I write this. But I must. I have been remiss in my writing, for business, honest business, has kept me apart from this journal. That day, I was to, as many other days, act as a middle man, allowing a transaction to take place, quietly and securely.

Once the transaction had been finished, to the satisfaction of all parties involved, I departed, not having once seen whom I had been dealing with. All was private, screens, messengers, and envelopes, and we were paid well to keep quiet.

As I was about to round a corner, I paused hearing voices. Listening carefully, I discerned that it was a group of slaves being passed from one slave-master to another, with many assistants standing about talking about the merchandise. I concluded this must be the product I had helped facilitate the purchase of, and I wondered why such secrecy was needed. It was then that it happened, a slave got away, and ran around a corner, /my/ corner.

Crashing into me, she clasped my leg, and begged in simple Tyeni, "Help me." She was five, dirtstreaked, frail. She was human, and she was doomed. A begging glance, a tighter hug of my leg, and then a wail. A loud smack, and a deafening silence followed, and more than a little shocked, I watched and listened further.

"Careful of the merchandise! The master doesn't want the young'uns harmed yer idjits! You know how much he likes them, and what he does!" is what I felt more than heard, the meaning of the words striking me to the very core of my being.

She was never seen again. Of course not... there are many debaucheries that abound even in this city, but that kind...

This part is even harder to write, so my writing shall be messy, but it is worth the sacrifice, to tell the tale finally.

I finally came to, my shirt half off, a pain in my knees, the sound of someone sobbing, and an ineexplicable sense of being wet. Slowly, I realized, in this order, that it was raining, I had fallen to my knees, and the person crying was myself.

For as long as it rained, I quested within myself at my actions, lies, theft, and realized, that I was doing wrong. She would have never let me do these things, and so, I have by this extricated myself from the family business, and started my own. I want to fix all the wrong I have done, but I know, within myself, that were I immortal, and suffered in fire for 100 years, that would still not ease the guilt. But I must, I must appease my own sense of guilt, I must correct my wrongs.

That hospital in the North wall... that may be the way... poor Raunik, a tool in my own redemption, but a good friend still.

The march of the heart.

So, I am a Child, but in name. I remained one purely out of inertia; it would be too much effort to be, I assumed, truly Pious. If only I had... then I would know now how to seek the Mother's favour.

If it were enough to love and to care, all of these years alone... my heart blasted by grief was then scorched by the regular abuse of being Tyen. If there are two suspects for a crime, and its a choice between a human and a Tyen... the Tyen is the one charged. I walk down the street, and I feel something strike my neck, I turn, and discover I'm haunted by invisible pranksters since no one saw a thing. No wonder I was coming to hate this city, and its occupants.

Were it not for her, I would have become one of those bitter, hateful Tyeni that tried to raise me. Love can heal any wound, I realize now. Bitter it is, to realize the joke, to realize /why/ people ask for Ylessa's love. They want healing, not love for its own sake. How wrong they are... but I too seek Her love, and for that very reason. Again, I go against the scripture, against the common wisdom.

Is it so wrong to care for her? No matter what she was born as? She looked past what I was, to see /who/ I was. She did that because she was blind, so I too have looked past her skin. I want her to grow, to be successful, and I know she could be. If only she weren't so afraid...

I sold it. My coin. For her. In a fit of worry, I knew I would not reach the bank in time, nor would I be able to afford the items so desperately needed. I passed by the store, hurrying, and a glint of gold transfixed my eye. Centuries, eons, and I was inside selling it. Jaw set, I failed in my small quest to find the neccesary items. Curses... the shortages, the cycles of supplies and of demand... luckily she lived, by Ylessa's grace.

I failed her then, but I will not do so again. I will do what I can to earn Her favour, such that the next time, and I know there will be a next time, if only to strike at me, then I can actually do something for her. Yes, but what about my legs, someone might ask. I... do want them healed, yes. But I have my servants to act as my legs. No, it is her that I fret and worry for. Not as a lover no, my Tyen blood would never forgive me, but as a parent.

The heart of the matter.

Ah, where was I... yes, my soon-to-be wife. I resolved to become a Child like her, and be close to her. I just... wanted to hear her laugh, see her smile. The carnal pleasures, forget those... I was in love. I still am, as a certain woman is now reminding me. Hence the reason for this writing... this is my catharthis, the purification of my soul, if I have such a thing left.

I sought out the Priestess, shortly before weekly devotions. A not very remarkable woman, but for her eyes, looking through me, such as they did. Repressing a shiver, I requested, as contritely as I could, hiding my true desires, to become a Child. I recieved my coin, that symbol, that announcement of one's beliefs.

I found her, as I wore my coin proudly.The look on her face told me more than any poet or bard could: she loved me. For love I had become a Child. The Gods should have struck me down then and there for the blasphemy, or at least Elbahn should have.

After some intense negotiations with the heads of the households, we were allowed to marry. I remember Caernwhyn-radu saying something about how this marriage was great politically, and how well-bred her family was, but all I could focus on was his answer: yes. The preparations, the gifts, all of it, are blank for me. All I remember was knowing the union was completed, and that we were together at last.

Me and Wendiharan the Tenth... ironic, for she was the most unique woman I had ever known. We had four years together. Four years in a daze, lving my life by instinct, all to return home to her. I travelled I think. I sold, I cajoled, I stole, and traded secrets. All I do remember is stepping off the carriage, and seeing her there, waiting for me.

Then that last trip. For some reason I remember every detail, but those do not pertain to this recollection. I was young then, not even a real adult yet. I had thought so many false things about Tyen society, but in that last trip I saw something different, that had been there the entire time. I saw heroics and sacrifice. I wish I had not.

I curse the fact that she had been born a good woman, and now I wish in those last moments in her life, that she had chosen to be selfish, and cruel. But it was not in her, and Caernwhyn-radu lived, and she didn't. [A few tears blur the words of this paragraph and the next, while the words have become somewhat shaky]

Cursed Queen, taking her away from me. When the caravan arrived, I awaited, knowing how she would bounce into my arms. She didn't. The next days are a blur. I remember hearing of one of the ruling families, Niveneh-eth, I do believe, working hard, in the next months. I remember being spoken to by someone, attempting to comfort me.

One thing I remember most, was walking amongst the crowd, amongst the boos and the jeers of refugees and citizen's alike... and I saw her. She smiled at me, and ran off. I tore through the crowd chasing her, a phantom. She giggled at my efforts, and disappeared, leaving in her place a very bewildered dark-skinned woman.

One day, I woke up. I looked down, and saw how the coin had gotten dirty. I cleaned it, and I resolved to live up to the Child of Elbahn name. She would have liked that. It was my tribute to her. My memorial. The one thing of her I had left, to hold onto. Everytime I touched that coin, I saw her face, her smile. Every conquest, was her.

Its been five long years, and my shrivelled heart is awakening again. Not in the same way, but I now wish we had had children, her and I. I know what the Tyen race is capable of. The women I had kept company with in my youth, the adults that looked over me, they were the dark side of the race, filled with pride, and fear and anger. I have seen Tyen die for Tyen. I have seen Tyen die for the city, skrel and Tir filled as it is.

This is my recollection, and how I have gotten here. This is who I am, and I do not like who I was in the years since her. I have kept my thoughts and beliefs from my youth, as they formed who I was.

Beginnings.

Why did I choose to be a Child? A simple reason, one I cannot and shall not dither about or lie, but because I was in love. Ironic, I can just taste the irony. I met her at one of those dreary and tedious social gatherings that was the wont of society. One must endure them, to face, well, even more of them.

"One must act proper in all situations, no matter when and where." droned my teacher as the carriage pulled up the entrance, bells jingling, hooves clopping. Out the double-wide doors, drifted the music, and I groaned. "Please, no, let me go home, anything." I begged as polite as I could. A rap of the knuckles, a stern glare, and one long-winded introduction to the gathered masses, and I was in my own personal torture chamber.

This music was the current fashion, against all reason. Since when has fashion ever followed reason? The composer of said music was a shrivelled, unpleasant man, of a greasy countenance. Somehow he had favour of the local governing House, and the rumours that flew about this man... no matter, these details do not pertain to this recount. Needless to say I was very nearly in pain.

Surrounded by false and chittering women, and carefully neautral faced men, I counted every clock tick till the interminable evening ended. That was, until the dance rotation had me dancing with her. She breathed in my ear at one moment, her husky voice seductive and alluring, "Is this music as torturous to you as it is to I?"

It was such a singularly frank comment, I very nearly stopped in my tracks and brought the whole dance floor to halt with my stumbling steps. I say very nearly, for she saved me from complete social embarassment. She jerked me along, forced me to move my feet in the neccesary and intricate steps with her words. All that time, she giggled softly, her humour at the situation honest.

Honesty, such a trait that we are not known for. Not our race. And yet she was. As the dnace finished, she whispered again in my ear, "Want to go somewhere else to talk?"

Speechless, I nodded my assent, and we swiftly ducked out of sight of our chaperones, those eagles of disclipline. In a nearby garden, we spoke. It was... she was frank and honest, and in turn so was I. I remember her gales of laughter buffeting my soul and my heart.

Then, I noticed the one, or so it seemed, critical flaw. She was a Child, as stated by her golden coin, and I only noticed this as we stole back to the dreary social function. My heart was torn in two, half in my stomach and half in my throat.

She was a Child of Elbahn, those reputed to steal hearts with nary a care. I didn't want to be just another toy for her, to be a thing used, then discarded. It was then that I res...

Son a dragon's whore! Caernwhyn-radu calls, it seems he hears an enemy House sneaking through the gardens outside. We don't even have any gardens...