5 petals of Twilight Willow

 Camomile Extract 1/2 spoon

 40ml Water

 1 Spoon sugar

1 1/2 Yeast

(Wait 3 days)

 Filtration

 Distill

 Purify (2x)

1 drop = 1 hour (Without previous exposure)

  I believe this to be the 3rd account of my journey.

  It has been about a month since I departed from that poor excuse of civilization. And I must say, couldn't be happier!

 The cold northern winds tell of approaching winter, so I couldn't be more pleased with the progression of my quest. With warmth caressing my skin, as I indulge in what can FINALLY be described as adequate food, I feel as this is a good moment to update this journal of mine. And before You start Your speculations, no! I did not forget about writing! A lot has occupied me these past 27 and a half days, okay!

 I suppose I should begin where the last one left off.

 The coachman was a friendly fellow, all things considered. I had overheard some ''merchants'' discuss the transportation of their goods through his services, as he was heading to Lockrifta, I decided to join the man.

 I personally, saw nothing wrong with giving the lonely courier some company, yet I understand how a misunderstanding could arise when you come across an incredibly handsome man in your wagon.

 I may or may not have failed to convince him, that I was, in fact, the ''goods'' he was tasked to deliver, in a covert mission under the orders of their local Lord. However, the situation was fully under control, and as soon as he understood, that we simply shared the same destination, we quickly found common ground. I still find it quite amusing, to mistake someone such as I, for a measly wagon thief. The man certainly had a sense of humor.

 So after putting away his cocked crossbow, and constraining my hands, we shared our names. He was known, as Velkos of Lorein.

 Apparently, the man used to be a soldier before an injury deemed him unfit for the Nation's forces, and he became a docksman. Confident in his marksmanship, he had decided to work as a wagon guard, while the ports sat frozen through winter.

 Yet, as the roads here are not that dangerous, and the settlements are only a couple of days apart, the merchant guild who hired him simply offered him to work with them full time. He has been a courier for the past 3 years now.

 Of course, he never told me any of this, as the only thing he ever did was call me ''Shithead'', even though I properly introduced myself, and tell me to ''shut up'', whenever I made an inquiry. However, my people-reading skills are some of the best I've ever seen, so I believe that I hit the nail on its head. He looks like a Velkos, and that accent is definitely northern Vistarian.

 As we made camp, during our first night on the road, Velkos, a mere lowborn man, was kind enough to share with me some food. Free of charge, and the purity of his words, as he said he would ''make sure I rot in a cell'', lacked any sort of intellectual finesse you'd see in a political court or a dynasty war. The intensity was disproportional to the situation, yet the simplicity was a welcome change.

 It was nearly a shame he didn't notice me getting my bindings off. I've had practice getting out of restraints, as some noblewomen have very... Peculiar tastes in their bedroom affairs.

 I'm not ashamed to admit, that this man, this simple lowborn, whose name is probably Velkos, or Victor, or something, has taught me the value of simplicity. And I almost felt bad, for using the sleep serum I made weeks ago, and stea- BORROWING his wagon.

 As a side note, the serum is a basic alchemical compound, any moron could concoct. I've added the recipe above. Be sure to distill it thoroughly. Otherwise, it might work a bit too well.

Suffice it to say, I arrived in Lockrifta at early dawn. It was much bigger than expected, and I seem to have missed the fact, that the Lord's manor was within this town. I suppose, calling it a city wouldn't be a stretch.

 ''Excellent!'' I remember thinking, perhaps loudly. ''Perfect place to settle.'' At least for now, that is.

 And the best part, the lighthouse I had been looking for was in sight. It majestically stood atop a cliff, overlooking not only the roaring sea but the bustling city as well.

 The problem was and still is, that it was not in an acceptable condition, and I would go as far, as to take a term from the commoner's lexicon, and call it a ''Shithole''.

 To give a brief description, there is no roof. The wood and its supports had broken and decomposed an age ago. The lighting mechanism is nowhere in sight, as I suspect it had been scavenged by the last occupants before their departure. A massive part of its cylindrical wall has been crumbled, but what seems intriguing, is that the stone slabs show signs of being molten in places. Surely no torch fire could reach such temperatures, to melt granite.

 Furthermore, as I entered the ruin, it was evident, that local beggars had sought refuge from the cold, yet, by the human remains and fur beds, not only had they shared a bed with some pack of local wildlife, they fed them too.

 As grim a reminder of this town's dark past as it was, I am an optimist by nature. It would need some... major restoration, however, my limited architectural knowledge tells me, that the foundation here is strong. It would suit me well, for the time being.

 As I began clearing out some of the past occupants and their ''belongings'' dawn had turned into noon, and several issues became evident.

 To name just a few, my current housing, in as much disrepair as it was, belonged to the local Lord, thus any claim I make on this land will be perceived as a ridiculous provocation of state rule. No doubt, word of my greatness would travel like wildfire, and my presence would be impossible to obscure.

 This would only be the natural state of things, however, His Lordship, by the name of Lord Heimerich Wolof, has connections to The Church of Fraust, and I mustn't draw their attention prematurely! Or at all...

 Point is, wise men pick their battles, and a feud with one of King Vistar's vassals is not a battle I would pick.

 So I must acquire this land in a proper manner. One of which would be a purchase. The problem persists when in my current situation, I've barely any coin to my name. Even after I settled with a makeshift tent from the covers of the wagon, and allowed myself to indulge and stock up from some of the foodstuffs in the wagons coffers, selling off the horse, wagon itself, and whatever was left of the cargo, has helped me last this past month barely on the essentials.

 This brings me to my second solution. I must become Lord Wolof's vassal. This could land me in either the position of advisor or court researcher. Perhaps even let me climb into the seats of Royal court at King Vistar's side. That would show those University snobs who the real duds are-

 Never mind.

 Such trivial ambition does not suit a bright mind such as myself! However, I cannot deny the usefulness of connections within the local courtship. And no doubt, the experience I've gained before being kick- LEAVING the University will help me in such a venture.

 The rest of the month I've spent planning on achieving my rise in social stature. One thing I have learned is that connections do wonders, more real than any fanatic Divine Messanger would. Even if those connections are wives, concubines, or daughters...

 My conquests aside, another problem has arisen fairly recently.

  As any self-respecting scholar would, on my first days of arrival I indulged in the exploration of this growing settlement, and some of its pleasures.

 On the outside, it didn't seem like much. Farmland covered the outskirts, as guard camps were planted here and there. Yet, as you take steps within its borders, Lockrifta shows its true glory.

 The construction seemed simple, yet trends of the capital's architecture had seeped into the town's structures. And not only from Vistar. From across the sea, where Halldun and Tresrosa have made their claim, not only their goods but also resources, languages, and people had made their way to, no doubt, a future metropolis of Vistar's trade. I'm beginning to suspect, the ''Largest Catch'' is not the only thing this city is renowned for.

 Or perhaps I overheard...

 The sheer amount of salesman and saleswomen, loudly advertising their produce of services was deafening. I counted at least 7 pickpocketing incidents on a single street.

 I wondered if I had found myself back at Kasarim, yet even the City of Knowledge would go out of their way to promote silence for study.

 Regardless, the problem stems from my own brilliance. After trading in Victors, or whatever was his name, wagon for some coin, no doubt the lowborn had swindled me once more, I seem to have been followed.

 I suspect the merchant guild, which the wagon had belonged to, had sent men on an espionage mission to scout on me. I do not blame them, as even though I made sure to remove any trace of the guilds sigil on the transport, my mere presence must've induced curiosity.

 The problem had begun just recently, about a week ago, when I overheard rumors of a ''Beggared Hermit'' occupying the ruins up the cliffside.

 Now, at first, I'd panicked. I had no knowledge of such a neighbor or any other ruin in the vicinity. However, I soon deduced the rumors had dubbed me the ''Hermit.''

 At first, I was fuming, as even though I'd not spread the word of either my origin or capabilities, to call one such as I a ''Beggared Hermit'', no matter the truth of the matter, was utterly insulting.

 I would have banished those lowborn scum to their forsaken ancestors, if not of my necessity to keep my relations to this settlement peaceful. Yet mark my words, that title will soon become a lawfully punishable crime, once I've settled with the local courtship.

 What worries me, however, is the attention my camp has gotten. A challenge has been issued between the local children, to scourge the not-so abandoned ruin at nightfall, and witness the ''goblin'' slumbering there.

 And listen, I realize I haven't the most athletic build, nor have I had access to a decent razor in a while, but lack of sleep due to sniveling lowborn brats is doing my appearance no favors.

 Winter will reach Vistar in the coming weeks. It has been made clear, that  I'll have to make do with what I have. I suspect it will be quite unpleasant, yet a mere drop in temperature will hardly even hinder the one known as Sabinian, the... I still have to think of a nom de guerre, yet history will soon write itself. I simply require patience!

 But the scrolls, I've taken the liberty to borrow from the Universities chambers will keep me occupied. A very pleasing farewell gift, if I do say so myself. Even if it had no intention behind it...

 And as I write this, a campfire warming my cheeks, a premonition came to me. Almost a message from somewhere above.

 In the form of a growling stomach. I am quite famished.