Sitting at a new desk, in a new tower, Daargan writes.
It has been, now, several years since I came here. Ursundova has become home to me, and recently I have found a new home within it, here in my new town of Candlemere. Following my sojourn to Absalom things have been quiet and stable in the Duchy (so recently, it seems, we were still a Barony!), which has given me ample opportunity to flex my political muscles, if not my magical (or mundane—I am getting fat) ones.
Peace has brought comfort, and progress; my small town is growing week by week, and we are building an academy of the arcane here. I have autonomy to do, more or less, what I wish; Candlemere’s solitude suits my nature, and I have been little bothered in recent months by events elsewhere in the land. My cadre of arcanists is growing, and I enjoy happy relations with the lizardfolk nearby, and many of the other people through the kingdom.
Yes, I do not find I am happy. I dislike these political games of intrigue which the others seem to relish. Perhaps it is something in my blood. I am unsettled. I yearn to explore, to feel the rush of adrenaline from adventure and excitement, to kill.