Nachtfuchstiefen - Part I (Day One)

Fourth moon, 150 years after the Veiling.

Dear reader, if you've found this account, I'm either dead or you've stolen these pages. Maybe you killed me. Fuck you in that case. I guess I had it coming. Maybe I never deserved this second chance. I'll let you decide for yourself.

A month ago, I met graveyard keeper Sixt just outside the city gates Zenith. He's a weird guy. I don't know much about him. He saved my life so I felt like I owed him my company, at least for a little while. I didn't know the extend of my debt then and was happier for it. Since we started our adventure together, I've grown increasingly nervous of his presence and influence on me.

Sometimes I catch him whispering to himself. I'm not convinced that he isn't possessed, or some ancient being that's taken to haunting me and finds delight in my torment. He possesses a sizeable fortune of gold that he inherited from his family, the graveyard keepers of Jasper, a sizeable town just south of the capital. I don't know what happened to make him leave or who tends to the dead in his absence nor did I know that dealing with the dead was so lucrative.

One night, after he fell asleep, I fingered the coin purse from his belt and made off without him. I got as far as the next town over when I realized the pouch was filed with rocks and found him smiling at me from across the tavern. I lied and said I'd been following a figure who'd been stalking our camp. I don't think he bought it. I didn't try again.

Many of my questions about him go unanswered and when he does deign to give them it's in riddles. He frustrates me. I'm sure it's on purpose. And yet he's all that I've got now.

We travelled far, further than I've ever been, leaving the Second Territories for a place called Westwind on the Silvercoast. We had heard rumors of an ancient dungeon filled with hidden treasure whose doors had opened for the first time in a century. It sounded like the perfect opportunity to start over and get rich doing it.

We arrived some late afternoon and we weren't the only ones to have that idea, as you can imagine. A whole city of tents sprung up over night, surrounding this legendary dungeon. Contrary to rumor, the doors were closed. By the time we were set up, the sun had set trailing streaks of orange over the horizon.

We kept to ourselves that first night in the tavern, watching what sort of folk arrived, who seemed like potential allies and who posed danger. Sixt doesn't speak the language so it was my job to listen in. He's got to rely on me now.

Some of the tavern folk— norther looking— told about how they tried to break open the dungeon door with no success. They didn't budge. Not even their axes had done a dent to it. The rumors had said they had opened so what was the deal with that?

As I was at the bar ordering drinks for me and my companion, a woman in a bright white cloak stepped inside the tavern capturing every eye as she floated down the isle towards me. She looked like a princess, a person of import no doubt. My heart beat in my chest. A compliment was already on my lips but I swallowed it when I saw the guard trailing behind her and slunk away with our drinks.

Not much else happened that night. Back at our table, I was visited by a worm occupying the top of my hood. Sixt called it an "inch worm". Yeah, I bet you want to hear all about that pathetic little thing. I was going to crush it with my finger to watch it struggle for its life but Sixt stopped my hand before I could.

Whatever came after is a fuzzy collection of the stars above, a pig maid and her pigs and sugary treats Sixt called marshed mallows. Ever since we've left Zenith, I catch myself looking over my shoulder expecting to be recognized. Even in a place as far away as this one. Trusting the wrong people would be a dangerous affair.