Entry 32: A boggle named Pim

Dear diary,
 
During breakfast, it became clear that Liliana hadn't had the best night—she looked even paler than usual, her already fair complexion drained of color. She dismissed it casually, blaming something she ate the night before and assuring us that some fresh air would do the trick. None of us thought much of it at the time, but in hindsight, it felt like an omen.
 
After breakfast, Liliana and I made our way to the Dresner farm to check on Tommel. As we walked, we crossed paths with Naira, who was heading to the keep as promised to help with the cleaning. She seemed in good spirits, and I hoped that Tommel was on the mend. When we arrived, it was a relief to see him much improved, though still too weak to hold a conversation. Liliana and I shared a look of relief; the curse seemed to be fading.
 
When we rejoined Leen downstairs to let her know that Tommel was on the path to recovery, something unusual caught our attention. The eggs she was preparing for breakfast were larger than normal—far too large for any regular bird. Naturally, our curiosity got the better of us, and we asked her about it. Leen explained that they had found a large goose about six months ago. My mind instantly connected the dots—could it be one of Auntie Patty's geese? If so, perhaps their refusal to return it was the cause of Tommel’s curse. It was just a theory for now, but one I intended to investigate further once Tommel was well enough to talk.
 
We made our way back to the keep, only to be greeted by a familiar face—Dorr. It had been a while since we last saw him, so naturally, I greeted him with a warm hug, feeling the questions bubbling up. What had brought him here after so long? It wasn’t long before he revealed his purpose—he had come to offer his services in helping renovate the keep and the village. Of course, this offer came with the promise of fair payment.
 
Dorr’s presence brought a sense of nostalgia, but also the recognition that rebuilding Dogville wouldn’t be an easy task. His skills would be invaluable, especially with the state of disrepair we had seen. Now it was just a matter of negotiating the terms.
As Dorr made his rounds through the keep, inspecting what needed repairs, a new debate over taxes arose. The official records revealed that Dogville owed an annual tax of around 4,000 silver to the crown—an already considerable sum, and one likely to increase as more people moved into the area. The growing population brought potential for more wealth, but also more expenses, and the question of how to manage that balance stirred up differing opinions.
 
Gael argued against taxing the people in the first few years. His reasoning was that waiving taxes could build trust and loyalty among the locals. While I technically don't have a say in these administrative decisions, I couldn't help but offer my own perspective. Instead of foregoing taxes entirely, why not show the people that their contributions would directly benefit them? We could use the funds to improve infrastructure, hire guards, and generally make Dogville a better place to live. Earning their favor by action, not leniency.
 
The debate lingered unresolved, and the decision was pushed back for another time.
 
Soon after, Liliana, Dadroz, and Alistan left to help the people of Ravensfield settle into their new homes, while Gael, Luke, and I stayed behind to continue organizing the keep. I spent the afternoon working in my garden, carefully planting the herbs I'd collected, enjoying the peaceful rhythm of the soil. It was shaping up nicely, and I could already imagine the fresh, fragrant air that would come from it in time.
 
But my tranquility was interrupted by a sharp call from Luke. I rushed inside and found him in his library, which looked like it had been ravaged by a storm. Books and papers were scattered everywhere, and the shelves were in disarray.
"Some of my scrolls are missing," Luke said, his voice tense. "And there are footprints." He pointed to the floor outside the library, where small, almost childlike footprints were visible in the dust.
 
It was a curious and unsettling discovery. Who—or what—could have snuck into the keep? And why steal Luke's scrolls? The mystery of it all had me on edge, and I could tell from Gael’s furrowed brow that he felt the same.
 
Whoever it was, they were small, quick, and stealthy. It was time to investigate.
 
I reached out with my mind, probing the surrounding area for any sentient presence, using my mental abilities to sense any hidden creature. My suspicions proved right when I detected a small mind hiding under Luke’s bed. Without hesitation, I moved over and lifted the sheets, peering into the darkness below. For a fleeting moment, I caught sight of a small figure, no larger than a gnome, its form obscured in the shadows. But before I could fully grasp what I was looking at, the creature vanished, slipping through the floor via a portal, leaving nothing behind.
 
It all clicked into place. I’d read about creatures like this in ancient texts—boggles. Mischievous fey beings, adept at hiding in shadows and capable of creating rifts in any surface they touch, allowing them to disappear at will. Catching one would be tricky; detaining it even more so.
 
This encounter left us with troubling questions. How long had the boggle been lurking in the keep? Was it merely a chance visitor, or had someone sent it—perhaps one of Luke’s countless enemies—to spy or cause harm? The latter seemed likely given Luke’s reputation and his many rivalries. But the real concern was, what exactly had it been after?
 
When the others returned later that afternoon, we filled them in on the situation. Dadroz, ever the practical strategist, suggested setting a trap. He quickly realized that the heart of the mischief centered around Luke's library, the place where the creature had first been detected. Determined to put an end to the boggle’s antics, Dadroz took up a hidden position in the library, patiently waiting for the fey creature to return.
 
And he didn’t have to wait long. Just as he had predicted, the boggle reappeared, slipping quietly through another portal. But this time, it wasn’t fast enough. A well-placed arrow from Dadroz’s bow struck the creature, knocking it out cold. We had managed to subdue it, at least for the moment.
 
Dadroz woke the rest of us up, his footsteps urgent yet measured as he explained that the creature was secured. We quickly gathered to discuss the best way to handle the situation. It was clear that the moment the boggle regained consciousness, it would attempt to escape. Knowing it needed to physically touch a surface to open one of its portals, we decided on a simple but effective solution: hang it from the ceiling, tied securely by a rope.
 
With the plan in place, I cast a healing spell on the boggle to mend its wounds. Its eyes fluttered open, darting around in a state of blind panic as it realized it was suspended and unable to escape. It wriggled in the air, but there was no surface it could touch to slip away. For the first time since we encountered it, we had the upper hand.
 
Liliana, with her soothing presence, began speaking to it in Sylvan, the ancient tongue of the fey. Her words seemed to calm the creature, though it still glanced around warily. Gael took this moment to ask it a few questions. Why had it been stealing from us? How long had it been living in the keep?
 
The boggle blinked in confusion, its expression almost childlike as it explained in broken Sylvan that it had been living in the house for a long time, long before we arrived. To it, the keep had been abandoned, and the things it took were just shiny trinkets—nothing more than harmless treasures to a fey creature.
 
Realizing that the boggle, while mischievous, wasn’t malicious, we decided to strike a deal. We offered it a small chest to keep under the stairs, where it could place the things it "borrowed." That way, it could satisfy its need to collect shiny objects, and we would always know where to look if something went missing.
 
The boggle seemed delighted by the arrangement, its fear subsiding as it accepted the chest with a giddy nod. And just like that, we had made peace with the little creature: Pim, our very own house boggle.
 
Though its presence would surely add a layer of unpredictability to our lives in the keep, Pim seemed more of a quirky companion than a threat. It would no doubt cause minor mischief from time to time, but at least now we had a way to manage it, and in a strange way, Pim was now part of our unusual household.