Journal #6

Dearest RK,
 
Juni and I have been at internal war for the forsaken family bound within the stocks.
 
We decided to slip out and see for ourselves while the centre square was quiet, noticing only guards were witness to those who approach those shacked in the cold night. In a daring performance I orchestrated a spectacle to draw attention away from our true intentions. The family confined in the stocks, their crime labelled as “malicious unhappiness,” became the unwitting participants in our plot. Juni, like a wraith in the night, approached the stocks under the guise of chaos, engaging in a clandestine conversation that revealed the depths of Vallaki’s injustice.
 
The children, held up by the cruel embrace of the stocks, stirred the embers of compassion within us both. Vows were whispered in the shadows, a solemn oath to return and liberate this family from the twisted clutches of Vallaki’s oppression.
 
Our plan slowly coming into fruition, Lady Watcher, a shadowy puppet mistress, the priest emerged as a potential beacon of leadership, the potential of placing rulership on the shoulders of Ireena.
 
Finnie suggested a ploy involving the impending demise of Izek. Blame, carefully orchestrated, could be laid on Lady Watcher’s feet, aiming to sever her roots in Vallaki’s political soil.
 
Within the dimly lit halls of the Baron’s mansion, our footsteps echoed through a clandestine dance of secrets and schemes. The decorations gathered for the Festival of the Blazing Sun were offered as tokens of feigned loyalty, concealing the subtle machinations that wove our intentions.
 
In the absence of both the Baron and Izak, the Baroness stood as our reluctant guide, her words, laced with bitterness, revealed the fractures within Vallaki’s ruling family.
 
Finnie quietly excused himself from the party to start the beginning of our plan, uncovering the locked door that guarded Izek’s secrets, signalling Vimak to take lead and switch places as to not cause suspicion on Finnie’s departure from the group.
Davnic, with a nimble transformation, navigated the shadows to the attic, recounting tales of children stood against the wall. Our collective breath caught as we ascended the stairs, expecting the clandestine meeting of captured children. Yet, the room unveiled itself as empty. Viktor emerged behind us, a specter in the moonlit chamber. Through delicate conversations, Viktor bared his ambitions – escape from his father’s tyranny.
 
With a newfound resolve to aid Vikor, we departed the mansion’s gandeur, leaving the party behind.
 
The Naughty Nymph, a tavern etched in the foundations of our plan, beckoned as a haven of revelations and the possible whereabouts of the elusive Izak. Finnie and Vimak slipped into the tavern’s warm embrace. Outside, the rest of us lay in the cloak of darkness, plotting the last steps of the fateful ambush for Izek.
 
Izek emerged from the night’s stroud, the ambush unfurled – a storm of blades, amgic, and fury against the imposing figure of Izek. Strikes landed, and the din of battle echoes through Vallaki’s deserted alleys. Izek succumbed to our relentless onslaught.
With Izek’s demise, we found ourselves standing amidst the residue of our political statement, the family, liberated from the cruel embrace of the stocks, bore witness to a macabre shift. Izek’s head crowned the stocks, carving a chilling message into the wood – “all is well,” a sinister echo of the Baron’s hollow assurance.
 
The liberated family, clutching their rations and the newfound promise of safety, retreated to the refuge of their home, sworn to silence about the night’s spectral dance.
 
In your Light
Ankha