It appears what I am doing and what I want to be doing are whispering sweet nothings to each other from a distance. Thus as it ever once in the company of wizards & bravos.

It’s a poor lot in life to be marked for being able to occasionally talk sense into dangerous men.

They are not fond of guidance— and often command firm grips on pointy objects. But we must do what we must. Fate doesn’t discriminate in its humor.”

Some of these men you can only tell the truth to. Others, none at all. And the most dangerous of all— the discerning and temperamental.

Those are the ones that laugh like a tinkling summer spring and attack like addled badgers. They are the cowards playing kings— and anyone who doesn’t bow will suffer.

Everyone wants a fantastical introduction to their life story— not here. I’m not going to peddle hopes and dreams— nor will I bore you with the horrors of the average man or implausibility of dragons.

No— I’m here to tell you of the unseen and seldom heard.

I’m writing this record to let the world know within the shadows— the world that major players in crowns & capes remain unaware.

***

“Looking all the world like an indomitable fuck. I’m gonna split you sideways like a fresh whore,” the man said spitting in Arkes’ face. Bad move.

The next moment Arkes had swept the man’s feet and had him on his knees. Arkes’ shield hands gripped his head like a priest giving benediction— only his thumbs rested over the eyes. He pushed.

Blood & foul jelly erupted as the man screamed. I’d heard beaten dogs shriek softer.

Arkes removed his thumbs with a flick and left the man lying on the floor.

“Say one thing for the shit- that whore suggestion sounds good to me,” he said with a sleepy grin. The half-giant patted me on the shoulder and ambled out of the inn. Low murmurs filled the crowded room— but none dared get close. Arkes does that to people— makes them nervous. The eye thing too.

Three days Arkes and I had been on the road from Karcan to Invelnis. Neither place mattered— but it feels nice to write down. As if this account will ever be read by those more fortunate than I. Fortune and failed courtiers don’t keep close company.