Riloth 19th the 3rd

Dear Spellbook,

Good news bad news. The bad news is, I feel like death, so we reset once more. The good news is that whatever bond we have means you too are immune to these resets. My entry from yesterday is still here. I hadn’t expected that when I wrote it, I was just trying to put my thoughts on paper. This is a huge relief. The thought of starting each day over with literally nothing to prove my sanity scared me more than I care to admit. Unless this too is a delusion...

Alright, time to watch the square. I got a clock from Simon the concierge. I asked for something to tell time, expecting an hourglass or something, but he brought me a clock of gnomish design. It must cost a fortune.

I’ve been staring out into this square for an hour now. It’s so boring, I’m struggling to stay awake. I need to do something to occupy my mind. Maybe I try to recount the days leading up to the reset, see if I can remember something that might prove useful. Something has to have caused this, right?

I ordered some coffee from room service to try to stay alert. It tastes like burnt dirt, but I’d drink anything if it made me feel a little better. The cost is astronomical but, that's not really a concern. Simon was very professional as he gave me the cup, but I could sense his judgment behind his fake smile.

Before I start, I never told you much about my companions. Daulf is a Tower seeker, Roland is a ranger with principles as unknowable as his whereabouts half the time, and Trish is an “acquisitions expert” if you ask her, thief and con artist if you ask anyone else.

Riloth 14th

This was the first day I started writing in you in earnest. Up until this point our journey had been uneventful. We had passed a few caravans of refugees from Landing heading to Edgewater, but no one overtook us on the road to Crossroads. Commander Mobar sent a company of Landing soldiers from Edgewater a few days prior when they had received word that a large contingent of refugees had gathered there. We were a week's walk out of Edgewater and still a day from Crossroads. As always, Roland scouted ahead and found us defensible positions to make camp. This site was in the hollowed-out trunk of a massive tree that could have fit Bearskin comfortably along with us had he been there. Our regular camp routine played out as usual, Trish built a fire, I ignited, and Daulf would cook up whatever Roland had caught. That night we ate rabbits and wild root vegetables cooked into a stew. Daulf usually cooked a stew.

Spellbook, this is strange. As I write this the memories of that night are fresh and clear as if I am reliving them as I write. I can hardly recall what I ate yesterday, let alone the contents of Daulf’s stew a subjective week past. Are you helping me remember? In recounting my past to you before, nothing was this clear in my mind, thankfully. How does this work?

That night Roland “entertained” us with stories from his brief time as the Edgewater constable. He told the story of how he arrested Tallow Shipwright for drilling holes in boats to drum up more business. It was a boring story then, I don’t need to remember it, and I had forgotten it until now. As I sit here unwilling to write it down, I can feel it slipping from my mind.

It seems that if I try to remember something, my memory is unaltered, but as soon as I intend to write it now, the memories flood back, and it fades if I don’t write it down. Once I write something, I only remember it as clearly as I would encountering a forgotten journal entry. The magical recall is tied to the moment of writing. Thinking back to Roland’s story now, intending to write it, the certain clarity of before is gone. It seems that I have one chance to write it, or it's gone. How far back does this go?

The night before we made camp in... a clearing? Alright, that settles it. You are an ensouled item, and when I started writing in you we bonded.

After Roland’s story ended he took the first watch. I performed my nightly farce of copying spells over to my new Spellbook, while mentally maintaining the mental constructs for my actual spells. Once I was done with the review, I wrote that first entry. Nothing else stands out to me. The tree was nothing special. It seemed to be a regular campsite for travelers, with a ring of stones for fire already set in the center. There were no ancient runes or cursed objects hanging over my sleeping spot. I slept untill my watch, and sat there bored until It was Daulf’s turn to relieve me. After that I went to sleep.

Riloth 15th

The next morning we woke early to ensure we made it to town before dusk.

Roland kicked my leg to wake me, yelling, “Rise and shine ye pampered ship boy! We got road to put behind us.”

At his shout, Trish groaned and rolled over, trying to bury her head in her bedroll. If any of the party were a pampered city dweller, Trish was it. Unfortunately for me, Trish terrified Roland, so I received his ire. After the incident where he tried to “teach” her the proper way to draw a bow, he went far out of his way to avoid making eye contact.

Daulf, the poor lout, looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Until very recently, Daulf would wake up early to spend time with the horses before we set out. After getting them brushed, watered and saddled, he’d spend the morning casually chatting to his horse while the rest of us prepared to head out. The man loves horses and since his loss a part of him seems to be missing.

That morning we left the hollow tree camp before the sun had crested over the mountains. As usual, I summoned a Light from my hand and maintained it as we set off on the road. Light hardly requires any mental effort to cast being a cantrip, and keeping it active only takes my attention, but no Will. My mother taught me that the simple nature of a cantrip’s mental constructs are the reason a wizard can cast them all day without tiring. I suspect if I literally summoned and dismissed a Light all day I would become mentally exhausted, but the strain of a single casting is hardly noticeable.

The journey was uneventful, even with this enhanced memory, I struggle to think of anything of note that occurred. We walked and chatted, each of us avoiding talking too deeply about our pasts.

Daulf was the only member of our group who had been to Crossroads and spent the walk filling us in on what he could remember.

Daulf encouraged us to hasten “We better get a move on it, the last time I passed through town I arrived after dusk and had to camp outside the gate”.

“Why didn’t you just flash your insignia at the guards and force them to let you in? I thought you Seeker lot ruled the Continent?” Trish asked, somewhat sarcastically.

“Crossroads is a ‘non-chartered’ town and as such, I have no authority in its walls, or at its gates for that matter,” Daulf replied, laughing at his own joke.

Usually his rank and position in the Tower would grant Daulf some status and privileges in most towns, but Crossroads is one of the few cities of any real size without any Tower presence. For most cities, the Tower provides wizards to the town at a discounted (but still exorbitant) rate, in exchange for some freedoms for its members in the town. One of those “freedoms” is the right to execute any “confirmed” dragon blooded sorcerers discovered in town.

Daulf continued “The town exists under the tolerance of the Crystal Dragon Gambling Parlor’s proprietors. As far back as Tower records go, the Parlor has been run by one or more powerful individuals. The current proprietor has declined all recent offers of Tower services, just as his predecessor did. Crossroads is rather out of the way, and the leaders in the Tower never pressed the issue.”

I take it that pressing the issue would involve one party disappearing and being replaced with someone more amenable to The Tower's services.

The next hour was filled with Trish listing off games of chance to Daulf, inquiring if they were present in the Parlor. Daulf didn’t know any of the names and it devolved quickly into Trish teaching the games to him. When the conversation got back on track Daulf admitted that he hadn’t actually gone into the Parlor.

We ate trail rations as we walked, foregoing the break to avoid sleeping outside for another night. Around midday, we passed a fork in the road that Daulf said led to a small forest village. Thereafter, the forest along the side of the road was spotted with smaller cart paths leading off to orchards and small farms nestled in the woods.

Well before dusk the tower of the Crystal Dragon Parlor became visible over the tops of the trees. The building was a pillar of white stone and glass with accents of gilt that seemed to glow in the sun. Shortly after seeing the tower we started to hear the bustle of a crowded market. The beginning of a refugee camp was taking shape in the area between the town and the surrounding forest. Tents, carriages and wagons were set up haphazardly and amongst the mass of ragged people a few men could be seen in the armor of the Landing guard. To call the city perimeter a wall was generous. For most of its length, the wall was five feet tall and made of field stones, more to keep wildlife out and livestock in than to serve as a fortification. Far from the gate near the wealthier areas of town the fieldstone fence was replaced with the high garden walls of private residences. These sections of the wall were patrolled by guards in what I assume are private house uniforms.

The sight of the camp shook Daulf. Never had I known him to turn a blind eye to suffering of any kind and by this point we all knew the futility of trying. Daulf turned to us with a nervous, knowing smile and said "I'll be back shortly, I'd like to see where I can lend aid"

We knew we would not be seeing him for some time.

I don't make a habit of meeting Tower Seekers, for reasons I hope are obvious to you by now, but from my limited experience Daulf is an anomaly. Illunia, being the goddess of knowledge and ingenuity, does not often grant her worshipers with Blessings of divine magic. In my opinion, the granting of power is a little antithetical to the whole pursuit of knowledge thing. The more common Blessings she grants tend to help in the pursuit of knowledge. Such as Blessings to detect lies or comprehend languages. Rarer Blessings I have heard of are the ability to cast bolts of pure magic and resistance to the magic of others. The rarest of all of her Blessings, which as far I know has only been granted to Daulf, is the ability to heal wounds. He has not felt the need to explain his Blessings and I did not ask.

While Daulf was off providing aid, the rest of us stood about feeling in the way amongst the bustle. Watching the camp, I noticed what at first seemed uncontrolled chaos was actually mostly uncontrolled chaos. Soldiers in ragged looking Landing uniforms were directing the placement of new tents in orderly rows, Wagons were being sent to the edge to form a perimeter. At the center of the emerging tent city rose a command tent, with people running to and from it constantly. There was a line of refugees waiting to go in. Each refugee left the tent with either a piece of parchment and headed towards the gate or was directed towards the growing tent city.

After a few hours and a couple rounds of chips on a stump (which I won) we decided it best we go look for Daulf.

Walking in the general direction we had seen him leave we split up and started looking with an agreement to meet at the gate in a half hour. I could hear Roland from a few tented rows away ask "Any'ya fine lasses seen a big old grumpy man around here with a stick up his arse? The sticks real hard to spot unless ye' know where ta look" I could almost hear him wink with that last sentence.

I instead chose the tack of asking if anyone had been healing people of late and was quickly directed to a work party raising a wooden structure. I spent a few minutes looking about until I saw one of the shirtless workers had a chest full of scars and Daulf's bald head. Upon seeing me he gave an embarrassed grin and said "They are building a school for the children."

Explanation enough.

Daulf led us to the queue for the gate once we gathered, and he had re-dressed. The guards were interviewing each group as they tried to enter the town. Most groups were admitted when they showed the papers I saw being passed out at the tent. Some few didn't have any, made a fuss, and were escorted from the gate.

The guards were wearing stark white uniforms with gold colored accents in imitation of the tower.

As we approached the gate the guard asked in a bored yet official tone "State your names and purpose in entering Crossroads."

As arranged beforehand Daulf spoke on behalf of the group "We are a group of adventurers in search of our friend. We suspect he passed this way and ask that we may spend a few days in your town looking for leads." I really did not like to be identified as an “Adventurer” So much negative connotation to it. I am just a guy on the run from an unknown entity and in hiding from another, in search of a friend who's gone missing and the mysteries my parents left me. Riloth’s Rains, maybe I am an adventurer. That definitely sounds like one.

The gate guard looked us up and down and pointed to Roland while looking at Daulf and asked "Is this one going to be making trouble?"

To which Roland laughed and gestured towards Trish "This is the one ye'll want ‘te be worry’n about."

Trish, Daulf, the guards and I all turned to Roland in unison.

"We will be perfect guests" Trish answered through clenched teeth.

The town of Crossroads was just that, a town at a cross in the road. From here you could head west towards Edgewater, South to Lakeside, East to Orinqth—our destination—or North to Landing. The town is small because it's about as far from a river as you can be without being in The Ocean.

Being at a crossroad, the town mostly subsisted on taxing the traffic and the visitors. No one I've asked seems to know why there is a luxury gambling parlor in a forest in the middle of nowhere, but here it is. The parlor has been here for ages and the town grew around it. Some speculate there used to be a city or town nearby but no one has found its ruins. I think this is a mystery my father would have liked to pursue.

The town has a large market square which the Crystal Dragon looms over. Around the square and its empty vendor stalls are the permanent shops and inns.

We went straight to the nearest inn, only to find a sign tacked to the door 'No vacancies". This trend continued with varying degrees of scholarly accuracy, for the next four inns we could find. (No vacationsies, no occasioncies). At the last, I poked my head in to find the building packed. The tables were full of weary travel worn people. The inn was crowded, but not a rowdy ruckus crowd of a typical packed inn. The energy of the crowd was that of people taking shelter from a storm, on-edge people who are too exhausted to panic. Seeing that it truly was full, we set out to find lodgings in the wealthier-looking district.

We followed the road that circled the center market. As we walked the buildings became nicer, taller and further apart. The shops changed from bakers and wheelwrights to private restaurants and banks. We stopped in front of one building, taller than the rest but still dwarfed by the Crystal Dragon, with a sign that read “Hotel” with a wood carving of a dragon’s head sticking out of a cave. Outside stood two men in what appeared to be the livery of a house guard. Not one I recognized, but with the insignia of landfall below the house crest. The crest was a golden quill on a red field.

I was a bit taken aback by the presence of a hotel here in this small town. I had seen them before, but only in larger cities. A hotel is like an inn, but they cater to wealthier travelers. Instead of a common taproom and dining area as their main feature, a hotel’s primary business is lodging, but the nicer establishments have restaurants and bars, though separate from each other.

When we entered, we were greeted by a well-dressed man standing behind a podium with a ledger in front of him.”I’m sor—” He began, looking us up and down with a disapproving stare, until his eye lingered on you, held loosely in my hand, at which point his jaw snapped shut. He quickly searched the faces of my companions and settled on Daulf.

“I’m sor... so happy to welcome you to the Dragon’s Den Hotel most honored Seeker!“ he tried to recover. “Unfortunately our rooms are all booked for the foreseeable future, but we would be pleased to seat you at our restaurant. Today’s special is broasted dire sparrow paired with a twenty year old red wine pressed from the grapes of the Assuine Conclave.”

Roland sneered at mention of the wine, but before he could reply Trish cut in, with a refined noble accent that contrasted her travel worn looks “Alas we must decline, though Conclave vintage is tempting. It appears that there is a marked lack of lodging in this town, may you do us the service of directing us to an establishment where we may find a bed.”

The man, again taken aback by the incongruity of Trish 's manner of speech and her ragged appearance, answered “Ah... Yes, yes good... Lady, I fear the only lodging available is in that of the Crystal Dragon proper, all the other hotels and inns in town are packed. The rabble...” He noticed Daulf’s face at the word and corrected himself “Errr, the refugees, tragic, terrible occurrence Landing was. Yes. They arrived in force a few days back, but before that the private guard of house Barion arrived and booked the whole building indefinitely”

“Why is it so... regrettable that the only lodging remaining is in the Parlor?” I asked

“Well you see, master Wizard, the Crystal Dragon Gambling Parlor is, for lack of a better, politer term, a rip off. Here at the Dragon’s Den we offer the finest accommodations you will find outside of Lakeside, and we only charge 10 silver a night.”

At hearing the price Roland, choked, but before he could protest the man continued “And at the Crystal Dragon, the room rates start at 20 silver a night.”

“No way I’m paying that! I’m going to sleep in the forest. Have fun gettin’ fleeced.” Roland grumbled before leaving us to more politely excuse ourselves.

As it was getting late, we decided to take the man at his word and not check for vacancies elsewhere. The walk to the Crystal Dragon was short and uneventful. The tower loomed over the marketplace like a sword rammed into the dirt. It gleamed in the setting sun and looked out of place among the unpainted wooden shops and stalls that ringed the square. The building's entrance was atop a grand staircase of white marble stone that rose to double my height.

Immediately upon crossing the threshold I felt... off somehow. It's difficult to explain and I still feel it upon entering and leaving the ground floor. It's as if something I didn't know I was carrying fell out of my pocket. Now that it's gone I am aware of its absence, despite never being aware of its presence. When I leave the ground floor I once again feel whole, but to continue the metaphor, when I check my pocket, now comfortable with the weight returned, I find it empty.

Once again upon entering we were greeted by a host. This time there was no hesitancy, only open. and a little excessive, hospitality. “Greetings honored guests and welcome to The Crystal Dragon Gambling Parlor! We offer the largest selection of games of chance on The Continent. If we don’t have the game on our floor it does not exist. Our dining options are world-class, from Gnomish Rock Oysters to the regular, but not plain, Seafolk variety. And of course, our fully stocked bar with the finest vintages from all races. How can we entertain you today?”

Daulf spoke for the group once more, ”Thank you, but my two companions here are looking for lodging.”

“Two?” I interrupted. “Why aren’t you staying?”

“I cannot in good conscience spend this much money on lodging when it could be used to help those outside the town. I will go out there and find a place to sleep amongst the refugees. I have already received many such offers while I was out there earlier today. But do not let this taint your enjoyment, you have gone through much these last months, use this time to rest.”

He always did things like this. Acted all noble, and then tried to make you not feel bad about not doing the same, like it ever helped. After helping in Edgewater, we were rewarded generously, Daulf refused most of it but Roland, Trish and myself each walked away with 500 silver coins and enough provisions and horses to see us to Orinqth. Daulf accepted the horse, provisions and a small amount of silver but instructed the rest be used to set up a school.

So as Trish and I were escorted to our rooms, Daulf made his way out of town. The Parlor’s ground floor has a small entry hall that leads towards the gaming floor, on the left and right side of the entry hall are stairs, the left side leading up to the rooms, and the right to the restaurant and bar which overlook the gambling area. The hall was made of the same white stone as the exterior. Up close, I could see that it was like marble, but with a distinct lack of veins which give marble its “marbleness.”

That was all for that day, after that I went up to my room and passed out. I didn’t even think to put on the complementary pajamas that were hanging in the closet. Since I was alone I didn’t feel the need to pretend to study you, so I had no entry that night. I suppose I should describe the room for completeness’ sake. I'm sitting here writing on an ornate plush chair that, despite its carvings and frills, is extremely comfortable. How many hours have I spent in this chair already? I’m sure nothing compared to the hours I will, trapped in these resets. I must say though, there are worse prisons to be trapped in. Not to be cliche, but the bed is a cloud. One of these resets I should rip it open to see how anything could be that soft without magical aid. The window overlooks the square, but is enchanted in some way to prevent sound from the market disturbing the occupant. Also, the sun is never blinding when viewed through the glass, even if I look directly at it. There is a bell on the nightstand, that once rung, summons room service. The attendants used to rotate depending on the time or day, but today Simon must be pulling a double shift since he’s the only once I’ve seen this last week.

I almost feel like it's worth the twenty silver a night. Luckily for me, we pay at checkout.

I didn’t write in you that night since I did not have to keep up the charade for Daulf, having my own private room.

A few things stand out from that day, nothing likely the cause of a reality-defying phenomenon, but I need to look into the leads I have, not the ones I want. No big red signs saying "Secret magic device here!"

Leads:

House Barion Landing Command tent

I don’t think either group will have knowledge of this event, but they represent two large, organized, groups. I will have to see if I can utilize them to some purpose.

While I am making lists, let's make a to-do list

To-do list (in no particular order)

Find a way out of these resets Find others aware of the resets Find a way to wake up early Cure this hangover Learn the capabilities of this book Learn the language of the spellforms Learn how to read spellforms Discover the secret protected art of spellform writing Figure out time of reset Market Watch

The market square positioned in front of Crystal Dragon is crowded. The merchants far outnumber the dozen or so stalls set up around the square, with improvised tables set wherever they could be squeezed in. The crowds are a mix of refugees and Crossroads residents. The town guard has a strong presence.

9:49: Got the clock, a looking glass and lunch delivered to my room. The service here is outstanding. There are worse places to be trapped for eternity. 10:12: A child steals a purse off of a wealthy man as he browses spices. No one seems to have seen it 10:28: The giant goat escaped the tent and fled for the edge of the town. I didn’t catch what caused it but the owner ran after it. I suspect that a twiggy looking kid with a patchy beard did it based on the way he and his friends laughed as the owner ran after it. 11:26: A woman is speaking to two men who look to be hunters. She looks to be pleading with them, gesturing frantically. They point to the guards, she shakes her head. They shake their heads and walk away. The woman collapses, sobbing. 12:30: Trish came by and asked if I wanted to go explore the town, turned her down citing the hangover as an excuse 12:57: A caravan shows up at the gates 2:10: Caravan tries to set up in town, can't find a stall and heads back out to the merchant camp. The guards record all the entries and exits into the town 2:42: A wizard and his seeker guard emerge from the market and enter the Parlor 3:11: Fight breaks out in the market between two refugees and a shop keeper, guards end it quickly and arrest one man 3:27: Goat keeper packs up his tent and leaves the square. 5:12: Three of the house guards from Landing refugees enter the Parlor 8:16: The last stall packs up his wares 9:36: A group of children play a game with a ball among the empty stalls 10:14: A group of five in the garb of Ship Clansmen enter the Parlor with a lot of luggage. I suspect one of them is a Stormcaller 10:34: Another group of five enter the parlor, they are wearing the fashions of Lakeside, which is strange to see this far north, and on the road.

[Hour by hour tally marks of people entering and leaving the casino and front gate]