Riloth 19th the 6th

Dear Spellbook,

I need a break, a reprieve from this constant pain. I am going to try to find a remedy since sleep will do me no good.

I’m back, it didn’t go well, but you can see for yourself.

The first person I decided to ask for aid is the ever helpful—if disloyal —Simon.

He saw me approach and said beaming, "Good-morning Master Wizard, how can I help make your stay magnificent." He emphasized morning, to highlight how close it was to afternoon.

Insufferable man. Who is this upbeat all the time?

Attempting to downplay how miserable I was, I asked "Do you by chance know a cure for a hangover?"

He gave a knowing look and replied, "I just might have something to take care of that. I take it you and Mistress Trish had a long night. I'll have it brought out"

If this was not an endless time prison I would have corrected his innuendo but I didn't have the energy.

A few minutes later a waiter came out of the restaurant holding a silver platter topped with a glass of what I can only describe as sludge.

It was the dull greyish brown of an urban puddle on the road.

He placed in front of me, winked and walked away. I knew it was going to taste awful but it was far worse than I feared.

I'm not going to describe it. I can feel that trying to remember it with your aid is making me actually taste it once more and I will not willingly go through that again.

Needless to say it did not help and was yet another betrayal of my trust by Simon. I wonder if the man is truly hostile to me, is an incompetent acting in good faith, or if I am simply trapped endlessly repeating the day he decided to have one over on me.

I left the lobby and went to find Daulf, I knew he wouldn't help, but I had to ask.

I found Daulf teaching a class of children. When we saw me, he paused and approached me. Mustering as much misery as I could, which wasn’t hard, and asked—nay begged — “Daulf, please, please, please, heal me of this hangover. I do not exaggerate, the fate of the world may literally be at stake. I know this is teaching me a lesson, but can you for once allow me to skip it?”

Daulf looked at me intently. I could tell he was going to say no out of habit, but he paused, confusion visible on his face. “Boy, I don’t know why you believe the fate of the world is in the balance from your fuzzy noggin, but I’m already all tapped out of power. Even if I was, I still don’t think I’d do it. I know you got your demons, but you got to learn that drink is not going to chase them away for long.”

At that, he turned back to his class.

Dejected, but not surprised, I returned to the market square. I found the herbalist from before completing a sale to a young girl, “You tell your mother to come herself next time, I still need to weasel out that sweet bread recipe from her.”

Turning to see me approach she said, “Ah, young master wizard, what brings you to my humble cart? Still looking for strapping young men?” Ending the question with a raised eyebrow.

I, mostly, was able to avoid blushing this time. Before I could tell her my purpose she noticed my haggard state and said, “Oh I see. You look positively dreadful, tell me what ails you and I can make you right as rain. Assuine will it.”

Glad to move on to the topic at hand I ignored her first comment and told her “I have a very bad hangover and slept very little last night. In fact, I may still be a little drunk. Can you help me?”

“Oh yes, I can help with that. I have just the thing.’' She turned and rummaged through her cart and began to mix a concoction. What she came back with looked like, well, dirt. It looked like dirt.

“Is this dirt?” I asked

“Of course it's not dirt, it's an old family recipe for curing hangovers, malaise, and general all round frumpyness. It's been well used, my late husband was known to frump about after a night of drink.” She laughed to herself at that.

Still feeling very foggy and ill, I asked, “General frump?”

Ignoring me she continued, “You can run some hot water through it like you would coffee grounds, but I really recommend just eating a spoonful. That will have you right back to drinking in no time at all. All for the bargain price of 5 copper.”

I tossed her a silver coin, instructing her to keep the change, and took my “not dirt” to my room.

I took a spoonful as soon as I got back to my room. It was dirt. Sure there were some herbs mixed in here and there, but it smelled like dirt, looked like dirt, and tasted like dirt. I paid a silver for a cup of dirt, and I ate it. Does everyone in this town seek to punish me?

I do not feel up for writing any more tonight, I’m exhausted from running around.