From the Desk of Prof. Foeul

Dear Dr. Boulitan,

I must extend my utmost appreciation for the time you have given me with the included pages. I have taken pains to translate them into the common tongue as near to their original meaning as possible. Many pages of the journal were far too degraded for analysis, as I am certain you suspected. As requested, I have included all my notes. I am uneasy at that last request, and I do hope you will consider returning them to me once your manuscript has been published. Regardless, I look forward to our future collaborations. And do keep me in mind should any more pieces from this period come into your possession.

Sincerely,

Prof. Aminita Foeul

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August 15th

Today we begin our great journey west. The task set before us is of the broadest possible guidance and built upon the slimmest of folk lore. Yet, if we succeed nonetheless the implications both for ourselves and for the Emperor will carry our legacy forward for generations to come.

That the Emperor has entrusted to us the stewardship of their most valued relic is not lost upon any one of us. The blade comes with its own minder, also to be the eye and ears of our sovereign on this expedition. I cannot help but presume that she is meant to be our minder as well, despite all assurances that the team is mine to guide.

We shall see for ourselves how she takes to the long and winding path into the forgotten history of the west.

August 27th

Our maps have proven more rudimentary than expected. We cover terrain long since relegated as frontier and deemed unfit for development. We left behind the last road today and carry on from here into the Hinterlands. As near as I have discerned the last cartographer to tread these acres was all too eager to put the land behind them.

By the overgrowth it is not easy to imagine we will find the fabled peoples to whom this relic once belonged. And without them, how we are to discern the verity of claims around its origin remains dubious.

The minder of the blade, Olryane as I have come to know her, assures us that every word of its legend is true. Though she forbade any member of the expedition, myself included, from so much as laying eyes upon it. Save for a brief ceremony presenting it at the beginning of our journey.

I must admit a profound sense of unease upon seeing it that first night. Even Olryane dared not hold it in her naked hand, lest it take hold of her. Instead, the Emperor’s blade travels with us locked in its box upon a bed of crushed velvet.

August 29th

Setbacks are beginning to impede the expedition. Breaking trail in the western wilds was always going to be a challenge. However progress is increasingly hard won. Our first notable injury occurred today. Not the typical low risk wounds one expects when departing the aegis of the civilized world. This was something more severe which bodes ill. I expect the leg will need to be amputated to save the man, though our nurse holds out hope the infection might be reversed.

In either case, this will put us down a man when every hand is needed. Moreover, we’ll have the added task of completing our work in addition to carrying him in his infirmity.

I have decided to slow our projected pace. Too much haste will only lead to more careless injuries and jeopardize the entire expedition. Olryane seems impatient with that assessment. I do not expect that she will try to wrest control from me on this, but her demeanor suggests she considers it her right if the circumstances call for it.

September 5th

By measure of our new pace the expedition proceeds at a steady rate, which is to say we move slowly but carefully. We must break our own trail and build our own bridges. In the past week of travel we have perhaps gone as far as a single day on the road.

One effect of this gradual progress has been an abundance of time to engage with our minder. In accepting our modified timetable Olryane has become increasingly conversational. I presume she is more accustomed to the convivial collaboration of Society and that the largely dialogue averse nature of our current task is making her restless.

What she has had to say ranges from the wildly non sequitur to the auspiciously insightful. What is more, she has at turns shared knowledge of the Emperor’s blade and the specifics of its acquisition. In the interest of my own edification, I have resolved to make myself amply available to her as a conversant.

I suspect she shares more than is strictly prudent for one of her position.

September 10th

I have held it. Beheld it. To hold it is to be held by it.

September 23rd

We grow ever closer. I can sense the vastness narrowing step by westerly step. There is a weight to the air here, a tension as before a storm. There are tangible signs as well. Landmarks or shrines, I could not say which; wood carvings and messages etched in stone. Without a translator or a surpassing knowledge of regional history it is beyond our ken. Yet they are the closest we have to guidance.

Olryane has described a ritual site. A place itself described to her second hand as part of the legend of the blade. If accurate, we should have no doubts when we reach it.

Does the creche still stand there?

October 4th

I cannot say for certain what I expected when we reached the site. I perhaps anticipated a revelatory release. Should we not feel the relief of having confirmed part of this storied origin? And yet, the tension only builds.

I find my heart racing at all hours and the bile rises in my gut without provocation. If I could just scream perhaps the moment would pass. Yet I dare not open my mouth to try.

Olryane watches me with the most peculiar expression. And she refuses to answer my most fundamental question. Why have we been sent all this way without any children?

Of course, we have only completed one small part of our task. We have located the origin of the blade’s legend. The blade itself had to have come from elsewhere. Otherwise, wouldn’t this strange metal be more common around the area?

October 17th

Our prospecting of the region moves now as meticulous as was our journey. We can deduce that whence these ancient peoples sourced the blade was somewhere accessible to the most basic of mining techniques. Perhaps they pulled it from a cave, and we will be required to explore the labyrinthian bowels of the earth. But I believe they must have acquired it in a more conventional manner.

What bothers me now are thoughts of scarcity. Why have more pieces of this metal not been discovered? If they knew of a larger deposit, why not create more of these tools? If the original vein proves too small, we may face the Emperor’s disappointment regardless of our relative success. I do not cherish the thought of what may await us back in the capitol then.

October 27th

Olryane does not believe me, but we are being watched. I have felt the eyes upon me in the night. I have heard the whispers when I am alone.

She thinks the legend has taken over my imagination, that her tale telling has penetrated my otherwise reasonable psyche. It is not the first time she has let her condescension for our relative classes show.

I suspect we are near to our target. I suspect whatever remains of these ancient peoples studies our methods and intentions. If they judge us unworthy of their inheritance, what then?

It is up to us to find and extract what remains. And to assume whatever consequences that may arise. Not until we reached the ritual site and understood the legends to be true did we begin to grasp how dire those consequences could be.

November 13th

This is to be my final entry. The vein runs far deeper than we first imagined. Where I once feared we may not return home with enough to satisfy our sovereign, I now worry how their appetite is likely to grow.

We have already loaded our carts with as much of the ore as we can carry and have barely affected the remaining supply. We’ve mapped the area in as fine detail as we can, as I am certain others shall soon follow our trail here.

All of this assuming we survive the journey home. We have taken every precaution in handling the metal, as instructed by Olryane. However, it is apparent already that even she is unprepared to work with it safely.

The nightmares come to us even while awake. And we have taken to sleeping in shifts, lest we risk another scene as gruesome as that first night. Olryane appears to be the only one of us with a grasp of themselves. But the way she grips the blade so tightly… and so recently it seemed the most dangerous of possessions.

How like children we were then.