Entry 9: A betrayal of satyrs

Dear Diary,
 
After the whirlwind of events from the previous day, it seemed the twins had taken their mother's advice to heart. Instead of embarking on more daring adventures, they proposed a leisurely tour around the city for us. Eager for a change of pace, we readily agreed, our only dissenting voice being dear Luke, who harbored a deep desire to spend the day lost in the tomes of the library. But even he couldn't resist the allure of wandering the streets with the enchanting Elsa by his side.
 
As we waited for Edward and Elsa to join us, Onvyr entered the room with a somber expression etched upon his features. He bore news, both good and bad, regarding our journey to Keralon. The bad news hit us like a sudden storm: all but our small group, along with the Collins and Robert, had opted to remain in Hillfield or return to Karn. Our traveling party would be greatly diminished.
 
Yet, amidst the shadows of disappointment, a glimmer of light emerged. With fewer companions, we held the reins of our journey firmly in our hands. We could depart at our leisure, free from the constraints of a larger group. With unanimous consent, we agreed to set out after breakfast the following morning.
 
As the prospect of leaving Hillfield loomed on the horizon, a sense of anticipation mingled with apprehension within me. Though I longed for the familiar embrace of Lorewood, I couldn't shake the uncertainty that awaited us in Keralon. Nevertheless, with resolve in my heart, I steeled myself for the journey ahead, hoping that the next leg of our adventure would bring us closer to the answers we sought, and perhaps, a glimmer of the fulfillment we sought.
 
With the Collins in tow, we embarked on our city exploration, with Alistan and Liliana taking on the roles of knowledgeable guides. Alistan's insights into Hillfield's rich history and Liliana's captivating storytelling skills made for an entertaining tour, lifting the spirits of all. However, our lighthearted excursion was abruptly interrupted.
 
After a few hours of wandering the bustling streets, we decided to pause for some pastries. It was then that I noticed a shadowy figure lurking in the periphery, trailing our group with a stealthy presence. Never one to back down from a challenge, I resolved to confront this mysterious interloper.
 
As I approached, the figure attempted to slip away into the crowd, but my determination proved insurmountable. With Fiachna stealthily tracking her from above, escape was futile. Before long, we found ourselves locked in a tense standoff within the confines of a dimly lit alleyway.
 
It turned out that our mysterious stalker was none other than a former acquaintance of Ileas: a striking young satyr named Griselda. She had caught sight of Ileas entering the city a few days prior and had been attempting to speak with him ever since, albeit discreetly. Initially, her intentions seemed benign, and sensing no immediate threat, we allowed them a moment of privacy to catch up.
 
However, curiosity and caution gnawed at me, prompting me to shift my perception to Fiachna, who remained perched on the rooftop, keeping a vigilant eye on the unfolding scene below. My suspicions were swiftly validated as it became evident that this encounter was far from a casual reunion between old friends.
 
Their conversation began amicably enough, but beneath the surface, there lurked an undercurrent of tension. Griselda's words dripped with disdain for Hillfield, painting it as a prison from which Ileas should escape. She questioned his loyalty to the city, subtly urging him to return to their clan where, she implied, he truly belonged.
 
Yet, to my relief, Ileas remained steadfast in his allegiance to Hillfield, professing his contentment with his newfound home. Despite Griselda's attempts to sway him, it was clear that his heart had been won over by the city's charms, and he had no intention of abandoning it anytime soon.
 
As the conversation between Ileas and Griselda delved into its true purpose, the veil of secrecy surrounding the rebels' intentions began to lift. Griselda disclosed that their ultimate goal was nothing short of independence from Keralon, and their plan involved "freeing" Hillfield as a crucial step towards achieving that aim. When pressed by Ileas about the potential consequences of their actions, Griselda evaded specifics, claiming their foremost concern was to minimize further bloodshed.
 
However, my intuition prickled with suspicion at the vagueness of her assurances. It was clear there was more to her request than met the eye. She implored Ileas to assist in delivering a package to Sergeant Berris, containing a message offering a truce. But beneath her seemingly earnest plea, I sensed a hidden agenda lurking beneath the surface.
 
After Griselda departed, I wasted no time in dispatching Fiachna to shadow her movements. It was astonishingly easy to track her to their covert hideout—a quaint establishment known as the Sylvan Pastries. The irony of their choice of hiding place was not lost on me; it was a stroke of brilliance to name it as such, too obvious to raise suspicion.
 
As Ileas emerged from the alley, a palpable sense of conflict etched upon his features, my apprehensions only grew. Sensing the gravity of the situation, I urged caution and proposed inspecting the package before proceeding with Griselda's plan. My suspicions proved well-founded when my astute brother, Luke, confirmed the presence of potent evocation magic woven into its very fabric.
 
With mounting dread, we realized the true nature of Griselda's intentions. She was using Ileas as a pawn in a heinous plot—a terrorist attack aimed at the city guards. Despite the damning evidence laid before him, Ileas stubbornly defended Griselda's actions, his loyalty to her clouding his judgment.
 
Anger surged within me, a raging fire fueled by betrayal and indignation. Griselda's manipulation had placed Ileas in grave danger, casting him as both a pawn and a potential casualty in her reckless scheme. It was clear that she deserved neither respect nor leniency.
 
With a steely resolve, I confronted Ileas, urging him to see reason and sever ties with Griselda before it was too late. The gravity of the situation demanded swift action, and I was determined to ensure that Ileas did not fall victim to Griselda's deceitful machinations. For the safety of all, her treachery could not be allowed to go unchecked.
 
With grim determination, we made our way to the guardstation, the weight of our mission heavy upon us. Alistan suggested that Ileas take the lead in delivering the alarming news, given his firsthand knowledge of the situation. As Ileas recounted the chilling details to Sergeant Berris, the shock etched across the sergeant's face spoke volumes. Without hesitation, he dispatched a guard to deliver the dangerous package to a local mage for safe disposal. As we prepared to depart, I casually mentioned the whereabouts of the rebel satyrs' hideout—the Sylvan Pastries. The stunned expressions that greeted my revelation were most rewarding.
 
With our duty to the city fulfilled, we set out once more to resume our exploration of Hillfield. Despite the gravity of our actions, Ileas remained troubled, his uncertainty lingering like a shadow over our group. He questioned whether turning in the bomb had been the right course of action, grappling with the moral implications of our decision. Yet, I reassured him that our actions had been necessary to prevent further harm. If we had not intervened, the rebels would have undoubtedly sought out another unwitting pawn to carry out their nefarious plans.
 
As we continued our tour of the city, Ileas' doubts gradually subsided, replaced by a newfound sense of purpose. Though the road ahead remained fraught with uncertainty, we had acted with courage and integrity, ensuring the safety of Hillfield and its inhabitants. And for that, we could hold our heads high, knowing that we had made a difference in the face of adversity.
 
As we resumed our tour, we noticed the street containing the Sylvan Pastries had been cordoned off, bearing signs of a violent struggle, with guards leading bugbears and satyrs away in restraints. Alistan and Liliana exchanged disappointed glances, their adventurous spirits undoubtedly itching to investigate the scene firsthand. But it wasn't our place to intervene in matters of law enforcement. We had fulfilled our duty, and now it was up to the guards to maintain order and justice within their jurisdiction.
 
With the tour concluded, we parted ways once more. Some of us dispersed to explore the city further, while others pursued their individual interests. Luke, with his perpetual enthusiasm, made a beeline for the library, his eager grin lighting up his face as he disappeared into the labyrinthine shelves of knowledge. As for me, I made my way back to the comforting sanctuary of the inn.
 
With most of my shopping already completed, there was only one essential item left on my list: a barrel of cider from the inn's renowned stock. For a witch, having a steady supply of cider was not merely a luxury but a vital component of my craft.
As the evening wore on, our group reconvened, with Luke expressing a newfound interest in investigating the mysterious menhir located within the De La Roost garden. Eager to unlock its secrets, We headed there, however there was one slight hitch. Lady De La Roost had posed a guard at the stone with explicit instructions to not let anyone touch it, and even her children did not manage to sway him.
 
Though I found Lady De La Roost's behavior distasteful and arrogant, I couldn't deny her shrewdness in protecting her property. Respecting the guard's steadfast commitment to his duty, expressing he would lose his job if he didn’t, I refrained from using my magic to subdue him.
 
Instead, we resigned ourselves to enjoying dinner at the inn once more, joined this time by Onvyr, who brought news of a potential new addition to our caravan—a dwarf who had been banned from the city. The irony of the situation was not lost on me, and a small smile tugged at the corners of my lips as Onvyr shared the news.
 
With our departure scheduled for early morning, we retired to our chambers at the inn, anticipation mingling with weariness as we prepared for the journey ahead. Tomorrow promised to be the start of a new chapter in our adventure, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement tinged with trepidation as I drifted off to sleep.
 
7th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree