Sitting by the river bank is so calming that I scarcely notice the pain any more. I spent much of the morning feeling grateful, believe it or not. This pen is so important to me, a gift from your father in fact. A very expensive gift. Capsulized ink is rare, and even though I’ve had this pen for over three years now it isn’t even half-used. I love my pencils, but this pen means so much more to me.
I’m glad I did not lose it in my feverish haze. I’m even more grateful that I am feeling so much better today.
I still ache, and it is difficult to focus, but overall I am simply exhausted. The priestesses seem surprised by the speed of my recovery. They remain unaware that it was the enchantments in my armor that ultimately made it possible.
They bustle about whenever they are at their work, often hunched over in focus on the task before them. But when they walk between the huts in this village, or go to socialize amongst themselves, they move with an almost lazed ease. They are the first Nantese we have encountered so far that do not appear enslaved by fear.
The women laugh easily, and the few men to be seen are stoic but relaxed. My primary caretaker is a woman by the name of Talita. She says the men have “been cut.” I take this to mean that they are eunuchs, which I have always found to be among the most uncomfortable concepts in the world.
Talita arranged for the men to build a hammock from vines for me so I could lay by the river to sleep and draw. I am able to see the thinnest sliver of the sky above, and whenever I lose myself in its shine I am transported to distant places and times.
I wish I was anywhere but in this jungle.
There are four enchantments woven into my armor, at least as far as I was told. The most pertinent to me now is a healing catalyst which, I believe, has as much to do with increasing circulation as anything. I’m sure it is what kept my fever from cooking me, and the lingering effects surely guided me to a rapid recovery.
Then there is the Kinesthenic enchantment that is designed to store energy for me to use in a fight. I never spent as much time focusing on my Kinesthenic training as I should have, but the armor makes up the difference. It’s fairly standard for all Tetrarch to learn at least some Kinesthenic disciplines, the expression of Strength as you may know it.
It has become standard practice among many militaries throughout the world, but few of my brothers specialize in Kinesthenics. The Tetrarch generally believes that it is wiser to rely on one’s own strength in combat, especially considering the long-term effects of the expression on the body. That doesn’t mean, of course, that we don’t have enough knowledge to use to our advantage when needed.
The other two enchantments on my armor are far more standard fare. One hardens the material instantly against any blow it detects, and the other negates a fraction of the armor’s weight so that it is easier for me to carry. I am grateful for each of these enchantments. Armor like this is rare, and this particular set was a gift from none other than your father as well. So that makes it doubly valuable to me.
I hope your father doesn’t hold my crimes against me too personally, though I know he was grieved by Lystra’s death. I’m sure many were… but what was I to do? Her lover was a Daedric follower, an attempt at infiltrating her father’s council. Isn’t her crime of attempting to save him more shocking than my execution of justice?
Justice. What a fool’s notion.
The world at large is starving for it, and this jungle is absolutely devoid of anything that would resemble the concept. These women live peacefully in the midst of carnage that terrorizes their neighbors, my armor saves me from wounds that would kill anyone else, and the Old Empire mourns a Daedric sympathizer while I am condemned to shame and exile for carrying out my duty.
There is no justice in this world. I am living proof of that.