A Soft Voice Amidst Cacophony

It was by an almost comical misfortune that I was discussing with Lia, in my clumsy manner, the new limits of our relationship. The way in which things would now proceed.

It's petty, but I'm rather glad that -my- attempts to explain things to her met with a great deal more success than Aanson. If I've the clumsiness, he has all of the diplomacy with women as a twice-amputated thief has skill at juggling. More's the pity for him, I suppose. To be fair, though, I've done a great deal to try to... minimize... the damage he's done himself.

In any case, Venice's note arrived in the height of our conversation, and I left immediately. I didn't pause for a torch, or my instruments, or anything at all. I merely ran, and it was by sheer instinct that my feet carried me to that infernal Academy. I ran to Tzol.

Such was my instinct, as I said. I was too panicked, too lost within my own fears, my own heartache, to truly register what was going on. Tzol, as it happened, was injured in a training accident with Aanson. I never received a satisfactory explanation of how that occurred, but we remedied it soon enough with something from the Hospital. That particular mixture would prove quite useful, since the contents of Venice's note indicated one thing quite clearly.

She would head west, to the lakes. To the Darkness. To the Horde.

I am deeply ashamed to admit that, despite all of my courage at the time, despite my ridiculous dagger-waving, my grappling with misshapen wolf-things that lurched out of the night like the horrific dream-beasts of a child, despite all of that I never made it to Venice at all. It was left to Taliesin, and to Tzol, and to Aanson, to others as well. I was felled by a blow I never saw. I was dragged back to the city.

I was worse than useless.

To remedy this, I have thrown myself with greater passion into perfecting my invention. I think I am close, quite close. The mechanism for it I can have ready tomorrow, from all of the supplies I've accumulated, once I contact the metalworkers and carpenters known to me. I could have a model for demonstration to the King himself by week's end. The mixture, however, continues to elude me. It might be effective with simple lantern oil, but it would not be quite so striking then. The properties I seek are sufficiently unique as to turn the course of a battle by fear alone, but the demons will not fear - thus, I need the properties to be a perfect match, to cause actual, grievous harm to those twisted beings of the Dark.

And then, then they will see what my use is. They will see it in the flames themselves.