In the dead of night, Daargan sits in the wilderness, and writes.
There is definitely something afoot in the Nomen Heights—and it gives me a sense of direction and purpose. The folk of Varnhold are vanished and portents suggest old things are stirring. I can feel greater arcane power flowing through me; my magic is strengthening. I can fly, now, literally. I have not done that before. I feel giddy, invigorated. I do not know what in my blood causes this rush, but I like it. Perhaps my companions sense this excitement; they have not told me.
We have been away from Tuskendale for about a week. I do not miss it. We resolved tonight to send for Ulgar and some guards, and rendezvous with them at Varnhold. After that we will continue our investigations. Of course, to venture into the unknown means to risk danger. I find this prospect does not instil fear in me; rather, I feel I am doing what I am supposed to be doing. We will strive, and overcome. It is better to seek enlightenment than drown in the tedium of politics. Candlemere is a new home, but I do not wish to stay at home all the time.
I should find a second, who I can leave to oversee governance while I am out of town. It will enable me to travel more, without neglect of my official duties. Yes, this is a good idea. Perhaps I shall write to some of my associates from my life before Ursundova.