Leaving Summerhome
At your behest our agents followed Olodan Thilvandor southwards into the demon infested country of Vrenevaux. In the few weeks before he left his colleagues noticed he had become melancholic and sorrowful. His behavior had become strange. To call it âerraticâ would be inaccurate as even troubled by great sadness Olodan remained composed and professional, but to those that knew him the actions he took in office told a very clear story; he was preparing the embassy for his resignation. He ensured the chain of command would survive the transition of power and that the best people qualified would be left to lead Summerhome. His actions were clear to all, but not the reasons behind them. He had practically built this place from the ground up, he was like the grandfather of this community, and now he was leaving so suddenly. Why? What could possibly mean to him more than his entire lifeâs work? He was never an overly cheerful person but in the last few weeks he had never once produced a smile or shown emotion. He handled the power transition and said his farewells to his friends and companions.
But the strangest thing of all, an act which perplexed all the colleagues he left behind, happened as he was leaving. Crossing the last hill on the way out of Summerhome he paused for a moment to look at an open clearing where he had years ago played with his son. Then, he kept going. For the first time in weeks there was a wide happy smile on his face that didnât fade as he disappeared from view over the hill. And he never once looked back.
Following Olodan
Our agents didnât initially know Olodan was a person of interest so they only knew where he went, not that they should follow him south into demon infested territory. At your behest we sent two of our most capable spies after him. The spies we sent were capable agents that had experience surviving in dangerous terrain, but as they approached Vrenevaux they saw something nothing could prepare them for. Sand. A lot of it.. And not much else. Having heard the stories they expected demon charred landscape filled with monstrous beings but.. all they got was sand. Sure, there were some ruins around. The remains of the first city of Bastille are there and their charred walls told a gruesome tale but a tale that occurred centuries ago. As our agents made their way across the landscape they just saw.. people. Living their lives, villages and towns, castles and a demonic spike sticking out of the ground here and there. Some were extremely massive, some smaller, but all of them dormant like natural landmarks of the local landscape. The people were of darker skin and some had demonic features such as horns and red skin. But to our agents they just looked like people. This place wasnât what they expected. They followed Olodanâs trail. He spoke to many people on his way through. Asking for directions mostly, but sometimes he would ask them if they needed help with something. They would usually tell him that itâs okay, that he shouldnât bother himself with their problems, but he would insist that he be of service. They didnât know what to make of him, so some were distrustful. But when they got to know him, they told our agents, they rather liked him and would offer him a place to stay and a warm meal to nourish himself with.
Our agents still havenât caught up to him, but speaking to some locals they found out something unexpected. Some people here know him from before. A lifetime ago he seemed to live here and had made quite a lot of friends. He was always a stranger in these lands but they had accepted him as one of their own. One day he left as he had found something worth protecting, he said. He invited many to join him but none accepted. They were stubborn folk and this was their home, and they heard the stories of how their people were treated in the north. Still, they said goodbye to him as old friends and told him that should he ever come back he would always have a place in their homes. When he recently returned they stayed true to their words, but Olodan would stay for only a single night and then quickly move on. âThere is someplace I have to be.â, he said, âI am returning to the place where I first saw her gentle hand cover the earth with a beautiful rose mantle for, I think, I finally know what she meant to tell me.â
Asking for information
When prompted to explain what Olodan meant his acquaintances in the south claimed they didnât really understand either. When they asked him who âsheâ was he only smiled and said that he âwould once again be the happiest man alive if ever I got a chance to introduce her to you.â Our agents inquired further as to what exactly was the nature of Olodanâs stay in Vrenevaux, an answer which they couldnât fully provide as they only knew he was here alone to pursue a career goal, something relating to his calling as an archaeologist. He stayed for several decades and built a modest life here until something prompted him to leave.
Catching up to him
We finally caught up with him!
But what we found was somewhat disappointing. He now lives in a rundown shack in a poor squalid village on the eastern shore. This place looks almost as bad as the Chrylarch ghettos. We watched him for a while, his life here is pretty uninteresting. He wakes up early every day, helps people around the village, goes fishing, tends to an upstart garden. He eats little, only what he catches or buys at the market. He doesnât have a lot of money, he seems to have left most of it behind or spent it on the journey here. He sleeps on a straw bed. But.. he seems.. happy?
Unlike his behavior in Summerhome he seems to be at peace. Every day, at dusk, he walks to an abandoned orchard. This orchard is filled with dead trees, long dried up because of the desert sand and lack of care. Several dozens of these trees sorrounded by a stony fence sit on a hill overlooking the sea. He sits on the fence at the edge of the garden and stares at the sunset over the sea, every day, for an hour and a half. He smiles and.. meditates? All things considered this orchard looks dead but somehow still.. beautiful. Like once upon a time it was something different entirely.
One day he wrote a message and sealed it in an envelope. He brought it to the post office in the closest town, roughly 20 kilometers away from the village. Our agent promptly retrieved it and brought it with himself. He never once had an issue with invasion of other peopleâs privacy, but having watched Olodanâs simple life for days now he had a change of heart and didnât open the letter. He asks for your advice. He could return the letter to have it continue its journey towards itâs destination which appears to be Chrylarch, or he could open it, read it, and carefully reseal it so it looks unopened and then send it on itâs way.
Following the letter
Our agents awaited for the letter to arrive in Catagon. It was delivered to a ship captain by the name of Cedric Lindsey. He is the captain of a merchant ship named Gazelle. We observed as he opened the letter. Inside the letter there was a note, and another sealed envelope. The note said: âGreetings, Cedric. It has been a long time, hasnât it my friend? I hope this letter finds you well, and I hope I get to see you again someday so that we can catch up in person. For now, this letter will have to suffice Iâm afraid. Do you remember our trips across the Harmony Line? I need you to deliver this letter to the Golden Mountain Monastery in the city of Yamakumo, in Ranan. When it is done, you can consider your debt to be paid. Stay safe and well, and may we someday sail across Harmony and the Blue Costal again, Olodan Thilvandorâ
What should our agents do, master? They do not wish to sail to Sohan and the trip would be very dangerous for them. The captain is keeping the sealed envelope on his person at all times, but our agents are confident they can steal it, read it, and seal it perfectly again. There is, of course, always a chance of failure.
Reading the letter
Our agents successfully retrieved the letter, and expertly forged a new seal. The captain will never know we read it. Inside the envelope we found a letter written on beautiful papyrus made from the Acacia tree, as well as several Sohanese pink chery tree leaves. Our agents thought it smelled wonderfully. The letter read:
âMy beloved Shiwa,
I do not even know how to start this letter, so let me begin by reminiscing of the first wonderful time I saw you.
You were the prettiest sight in Llyne. I still remember the image of you, ascendant and beautiful, in the town square of the most squalid village I have ever seen. It was truly like finding a flower growing in the middle of a dry, dead desert. Something so precious, in the unlikeliest of places, truly I thought to myself how cruel the fate that put you there. There you were, a golden image of purity in a world so dark and unforgiving, sorrounded by dirty rundown shacks and unimaginable poverty.
You showed me the resplendent garden that you built, unique seeds from Ranan passed on by your ancestors. To me, that garden was the perfect allegory for you. The most prosperous, unique sight of beautiful pink, purple and gold blossoming trees and bushes that grew into the most magnificent and awe inspiring shapes, all in the middle of a demonic unnatural dead desert. How could such grandeur even exist in a place such as this? And even in the middle of all that splendor, you were still the most beautiful thing there.
I misunderstood that day, the message that the universe had intended to give me. Obviously, something this exceptional needed to be.. preserved. Protected. How could I walk away, what if the garden were to wilt? What if you, so extraordinary but frail were to perish in this cruel place. True beauty so unique, had to be protected. And so I took you, and our infant son, to the green pastures on the edge between Chrylarch and my homeland and built you a perfect golden cage. Summerhome, I thought, was the absolute, sublime paradise where awe inspiring beauty would be protected and cherished. You would never again be in danger, you would never again have to beg just to survive. Our beautiful boy, the most precious creation I have ever laid my eyes upon would grow up never knowing the pain and the struggles that we had to overcome.
And yet, you both were miserable there. Everything I built was for naught for I never stopped to consider that true beauty was never meant to be caged. I think now, I finally understand the message Mother Nature intended for me. Beauty isnât meant to be protected and kept from the world, it is special because it exists despite the harsh, destructive nature of the world. When you pluck a flower from the ground and put it in a vase to gaze at, it withers and dies.
This is what I have done, to you.
I was wrong to think you needed to be protected. I was wrong to steal you away from the world, and now, our garden has wilted and it lays dead. Our son has left to create a story of his own, rejecting to spend his entire life shielded in a radiant prison built just for him. He is a dragon, and dragons never could be caged.
As for me I will stay here, at the place where first She showed me the message that I so clearly didnât understand. And I will wait, for you, if you should decide to give our love another chance. I will wait until the end of winter after which, I think, I might start a new journey. If by then I do not see you please know that I understand, and that I will always love you.
I might never see you or our son again. If that is the case please let him know that.. ..I am sorry.
The rest.. I think he knows.
Forever yours, Olodanâ
Weeks later
Our agents continued to keep a watchful eye on Olodan, but because of his rather monotonous existence and uneventful village life they quickly got bored and stopped surveilling him continuously. They would observe him for a short time every few days because it was all they could endure. He spends his days living in his cottage in the village. He has renovated the cottage, fixed the broken windows and changed old, worn out floorboards and wall supports. He has planted some flowers around it and turned it around somewhat into a more livable domicile. During the day he is devoted to helping out the villagers, working with them in the fields, using his advanced magic knowledge to fix problems when they arise and spending time with his village friends in the evenings socializing and teaching them about the mystical forces of the world. During the short time that he was here he has already achieved the position as a sort of knowledgeable kind elder of the village.
On one occasion our agents spotted him purchasing plant seeds and flowers from a local farmer. He brought them to Shiwaâs dilapidated garden. He had already spent some time clearing out the dead plants and was intent on rebuilding the wilted garden so he dug out several holes for seed planting. When he got to planting them though it seemed as though he got distracted in thought. He seemed.. sad. Or rather, melancholic? Our agents arenât good at reading human emotions. He got up from his kneeling position and sat on a stump for an hour, our agent somehow managed to sit through that to see him wipe some water out of his eyes and leave.
The next day he returned the seeds and flowers to the farmer, but didnât ask for the money back (he didnât want the shinies? our agents helped themselves to them later).
Shiwa
Several days later
An oriental woman arrived travelling from the port town of Vrenevaux, Ăchirolles. Our agents thought she looked shiny, but when they attempted to take the shinnies on her neck they found them stuck to her body. She was a shiny herself, they thought. She chased them away. They were disappointed. They will find a way to pry the shinnies off of her skin eventually.
She traveled to Olodanâs cottage, but stood outside like an idiot for 20 minutes, she didnât even knock on the door. After that, she left quickly, almost running away. Like Olodan, her peepers were wet.
Our agents are dumbfounded at the shiny womanâs behavior, she left for Ăchirolles not long after. One of our agents followed her, unwilling to accept that the shinnies are just a part of her body and canât be taken.
Information on the oriental woman
The oriental woman is Shiwa Thilvandor. From what we know, she is Olodanâs wife. It seems she received Olodanâs message and arrived to meet with him, but unfortunately she is a crybaby. âweee weeeeâ - attempt to mimic the crying of the woman at Olodanâs front porch. Furthermore, the shinnies on her neck are part of her skin. (epic đ). It seems she is half shiny, our agents are looking into ways to achieve this form as well. She was unhelpful in the matter and shooed our interrogators away with a broom. (not epic đ€).
Regardless, it seems she may have wanted to talk or reconcile but has crybaby syndrome. She is now in an inn in Ăchirolles, supposedly awaiting the next ship to return to Sohan.
Informing Shiwa on Chenâs arrival
We have attempted to inform Shiwa to remain on the continent until Chen arrived. At first she didnât believe us, thinking us to be cut from the same demon cloth as those of whom sheâd heard from Olodanâs stories of the south. However, those notions were quickly dispelled when she remembered how easily our agents were shooed away with a broom. âToo silly to be demons, I think. And too gold obsessedâ. (Funny coming from her when we saw her being a massive crybaby last time). Anyway, she said she doesnât trust us but that she can stay for a few more weeks. She also said that maybe in that time she will gather up the courage for something. Stupid woman.