It has been a long time since we fled Gate Pass. I feel with every step I take the world becomes less sturdy around me. I am unsure of my surroundings, of these strange places I keep wandering through. Just when I was getting used to Seaquen – to the bustle of refugees, and the nattering and arguing of the council, and the brothel, and the schemes, and the sea – off we go again. Another land unknown to me, bitter cold and flooded with treachery. Bodies strewn across our path, too many bodies. Always too many.
I’m unfamiliar with this territory – I don’t know what it means to be a diplomat, and I don’t recognize any of these noble houses’ names. I believe our mission is important, if we are to save more people from Ragesia’s wrath, but I do not know what part I can play in this battle of words.
I miss Gate Pass, more with every step. I miss my family at the Aquiline Cross, Buron and all the rest. I miss the people, the comfort, the solid stone around us. But Gate Pass is burnt, and we leave a trail of fire behind us, charred footsteps on the map.
I don’t know what I can do here, but I pray the spirits will grant me guidance. If I can’t do something to help these people, then what good am I?