Memoirs of Anya Eisenjaeger
~ Backertag 29th Kaldezeit 2522 ~
Not even a day has passed since I wrote here and already the danger of life outside of the city has come home to roost. I’m not sure which I would prefer: a shot to the head or death by plague? I'm sure my options here in the world are far more open than those two imminent ones, but they are the most likely at the moment.
It’s funny. The hardest decision I had not long ago was what dress to wear, or how I would like my hair braided. To wear a dress now would be a dangerous luxury, and caring for my hair will be easy once it is short. I will miss my long hair. It is repulsively filthy just now, almost brown from the grime, but when it is clean it shines like spun silk the colour of spring honey. It keeps my back warm in the winter chill. Like a dress, it is a luxury I cannot afford to have.
Grunnd took me by surprise today with a show of compassion. He advised me of the dangers a woman on the road has in these dark days. I had figured these on my own but it was nice for another to care enough to point them out, especially someone I had marked as one who could kill me when I am no longer useful or convenient. He suggested I take the guise of a boy; quite appropriate given my frame and soft female voice for I am certainly no man. He also handed me a dagger with the wish that he hoped I never need to use it, but I shall speak more of this later.
I have not long finished caring for my weapons under Grunnd’s watchful eye; another kindness. I asked him to show me what to do. Very efficiently he went through the steps, and gave a few words of wisdom about my weapons being what stands between me and Morr. I handed him back the dagger he had given me earlier, as I already have my own. Or, my father’s if you want to be correct about it. I guess it is mine now as I don’t know if I will ever see my father again. A few days ago I might have said that I would never wish to see him again, but now it seems like that possible wish has come true. I am not entirely sure I really meant what I said - the foolish words of an angry girl perhaps.
Let me see if I can quickly take note of what happened today, lest my memory fail me and I need this information in the future.
Within seconds of closing the bindings of this journal earlier, we were rudely roused by a hammering fist and a commanding voice. My head wished there was neither, I had been looking forward to that quiet riverwalk. I thought Pieter had gone to fetch Grunnd from his drunken berth at the inn, but he had not yet departed as he was on deck with the captain and a somber looking guard when Danielle and I came out.
It seems this little town of Reiksbruck, as the captain calls it, is afflicted by plague. More specifically red pox as Stefan would later tell us. We are now not permitted to leave the town as we may be infected. Wouldn’t want the pestilence spreading any further now would we? Not sure I want to be trapped in a plague town.
Full of importance, Stefan quickly asked the guard to take him to the sick and left with his bag of items in tow; being the one with an idea on how to care for the ill, and with his natural morbid duties to possibly attend to. Pieter disappeared off to retrieve Grunnd from the inn. But before long they were all back with a new objective- to travel to the Baron of the town to inform him of Reikbruck’s predicament - a job which the initiate of Morr managed to accrue while at the sickhouse.
As the others were moving their belongings from the boat and packing them onto a farm cart that had been enlisted to take us to the Baron, a firm warm hand grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me to the side. “A moment little mouse.” It was Grunnd. I didn’t know what to say so obeyed.
~ Now that I have had time to mull it over I quite like this name he has given me. ~
Once out of the way he peered up at me from below the rim of his trusty tricorn. First the good eye and then the scarred one taking me in with an assessing look, his black mustache bristled and twitched for a moment. "The wench I cannot talk to. She belongs to the longshanks; she walks her own road. But the road we're on, the road you've been forced into, tis a dangerous one for a lass, specially a fair lass like you. If you would heed my council: cut that hair short; muddy your face; and find some stable boys britches to wear. Men who travel these roads want little from a stable boy, but there's more than coin to be taken from a pretty girl." Grunnd left the implied threat hanging and turned for the cart, paused briefly then looked back. He produced a wicked looking boot dagger, "Should that happen, bury this in their neck. Don't forget to twist the blade- they bleed more and die faster..."
At what the townsfolk termed the ‘big house’, not as grand as even my family home, we found a sad place indeed. This feeling wasn’t helped by the coming down of the dark. Short days these with winter riding in. Cold.
The Baron is a somber man with a very deliberate, slow manner. His wife died just six months back with the last wave of plague that hit the area. The weight of his grief hangs around him like an oppressive deadweight.
Within the conversation with the Baron I learned some interesting things from listening to Pieter. Firstly that his name is Pieter Verstohlen. Secondly that he is a Witch Hunter, this is not a necessarily good thing for me as they are not the kind of persons you wish to travel with. Dangerous isn’t the word. I am surprised I am still alive if the tales in Marienburg are to be believed.
If I am honest, I have been too frightened to ask him anything of where we are going and certainly not what we or he were doing. Now I know that we are headed for Altdorf the Empire’s capital; somewhere I have never been but always wanted to visit. We also need to be on our way as time very much is of the essence- Grunnd has made this perfectly clear. There is evil afoot and if this quest that Pieter and Grunnd seem to be on, and ourselves of course, isn’t successful. Then the Empire and possibly further afield is in very grave danger.
The Baron does not wish to let us go until he is sure we are safe to travel, despite the pointed protests from Grunnd. Verstohlen seems to agree with the Baron in some respects and does not wish to spread this pox for the harm it could do. This sparked the first disagreement I have seen between these two men, the forces of their wills are like forces of nature. Grunnd riled at Pieter's’ refusal to put their goals first, to understand the urgency, to brush all this plague aside in the usual manner of ‘burning the whole village, and it’s people, to let Morr sort them’.
To burn the whole village? This was another reminder of the people I am with. They are dangerous and not the kind to grow comfortable with. Though they also mentioned something about the last burned out town being corrupted by chaos as well as plague.
Grunnd hit a sore point and accused Pieter Verstohlen of being feckless towards the situation. This outburst to such a man shocked me. He demanded that he show some passion. I haven’t seen such a powerful explosion of fiery anger. Verstohlen cowed Grunnd into his place as his agent, he roared of the pressure of the quest they are on and that somehow his family are involved. Grunnd backed down. I am not sure if he is afraid of Verstohlen, or if he was angry, by his reaction. My stomach lurched at all the fire and shouting in the air, eyes misty, I must have looked pale to see. I haven’t seen Pieter since he stormed out of the room. I am glad that I haven’t.
In the relative silence after the outburst, Stefan apologised to the Baron for having to witness such an outburst in his great hall considering he was providing us all with such kind hospitality. He apologised on his companions behalves and moved the subject, saying something about wishing to visit the mausoleum to care for those in sleep eternal, and to perform some blessings. I guess a man of Morr has no rest because there are always the dead. It is interesting. I was considering how unshakable Stefan is; so composed and reserved. I have come to the conclusion that once you have made your peace with Morr then I guess not much else disturbs you. Personally I do not fear Morr or death but it is the reaching them that bothers me. An eternal sleep is harmless. The many ways of reaching them are often agonising and slow if you are not lucky. I would hope to go in my sleep like mother did; to go from one dream to another, but I don’t think I shall be so blessed.
It is my own time for sleep now. I can hear Danielle’s quiet peaceful breathing behind me. Stefan and the boy who brought us here are also soundly sleeping somewhere in this room. Grunnd isn’t quite so quiet. In the little light I have here by the candle, among the moving shadows, all I can see is a mound and his beloved hat. He even sleeps in it, or rather below it. Maybe my candle was disturbing him.
Anyway, to bed. Goodness knows what will happen tomorrow, and when I shall sleep in a soft bed again, so I might as well make the most of it.
~ A ~
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