Curious. How curious indeed! It is so curious it is making me extremely curious! This strange tome of mine. The volume, almost whispering to my mind. Coursing me into vexatious curiosity...

 This ''Grimoire'' I have in my possession. What is its true origin? Or purpose, for that matter?

 How inexplicably curious. Almost makes a man gnaw his own flesh, the silly thing!

 The odd codex has been hiding away on my shelf for the past fortnight. 13 days, to be exact. Each passing moon, the urge to indulge within its pages grows, yet any time I wish to immerse in some study beside the hearth, with an exquisite serving of a quarter of a century age-old wine, its covers escape my grasp. As if it had abandoned any physical presence. Only for it, to still meet my gaze upon the shelf I reached for.

 To complicate the matter, upon making contact with the volume, Servos seems proactive in eliminating any semblance of peaceful indulgence, as biting, scratching and ceaseless whining have been used to divert my attention from the said tome. She seems to have figured such annoyances kill my mood for reading, the damn critter! A cunning little thing. One day it will find itself flying into the fireplace, I swear...

 But her strange abrasiveness has given me food for thought. Ever since I'd returned from my brothel escapades, she would stare at the book, from a distance. Any time I'd even get close the cat would pounce and fight, chasing me away. Whenever I'd feel the gnawing at the back of my mind, I would hear a hiss from the other side of the room.

 All the while Arvel couldn't care less. He has been trying to adjust to his incomplete palm, for the past few days. Even having the audacity to tell me to, and I quote: ''Fuck off,'' whenever I urge him to accomplish my requests.

 Perhaps he'd join the feline in his final days.

 Regardless, I'm not foolish enough to write this off as a common occurrence, as the book had proven itself to possess extraordinary capabilities, and it has begun to appear, that Servos is attempting to protect me.

 Perhaps the kiln can wait...

 Besides, burnt fur brings with it a repugnant odor.

 Further concerning the Grimoire, a few days ago I went to visit its previous keeper- Seraphina. Turns out that is not her birth name, yet the one I was informed of has slipped my mind, so her name is Seraphina now. I like it better anyway.

 I had heard from the messengers, who would report on Linchester's behalf, about the blind lowborn beauties' time in the dungeons. The Inquisition was keeping true to their name... And reputation. A lot of torturous questions, yet no real tangible answers.

 Thus, I would go there myself. When a man wants something from a woman, a charming one at that, a certain level of charisma and gentleman-like finesse is required. Such characteristics, I reckon, are scarce among the religious zealots keeping her company.

 Strongarming comes into play once she leaves an invitation to her chambers beneath Your door.

 However, I digress! Upon entering the dungeons, the smell confirmed all I had suspected to be fact. Frankly, I'm baffled this had not been the epicenter of the ''Puss Rot''. The corpse puppetmaster's cell was in the furthest corner of the second level. They had desperately tried to keep her away from as many potential dead as possible.

 Be that as it may, one glance upon her broken form told me, that soon enough she would join the unmoving hordes of the deceased she once willed into motion. I was, frankly, disappointed to see, without the power of the tome, her beauty had long since faded, leaving no more than a disabled, crippled lowborn girl.

 Her current state didn't make my inquiries any easier. I've heard of the peculiar ways and methods the inquisitors use to get what they want. They had spared all of their creativity on this girl, resorting to the more common methods.

 Nearly 60 bleeding lash marks covered her pale, dirty skin. The dryness and irritation of the lacerations suggested, vinegar or saltwater had been poured upon the wounds. 6 fingernails were missing, and 3 teeth, with their roots still intact, were in a bowl next to her broken leg.

 The bruises along her face and body, as well as the dried blood between her thighs, indicated, that her tormentors had taken the opportunity to indulge in their more selfish and primitive urges. That is unless their God and Prophet covet forceful defloration.

 All they'd left her was a blanket, to cover her naked form and a bucket. Her swollen eyes, split and dry lips, and unfocused demeanor told of someone whose world had become Hell.

 A shame. If only she hadn't been so weak!

  At first, I attempted the gentlemanly approach. Even brought her some clothing and proper food, along with a delightful array of compliments, if I do say so myself. However, she barely blinked, so I soon abandoned the waste of time formalities. A wall can be only breached with a hammer.

 I bluntly inquired about the strange tome, and to my dismay, she didn't even lift her head. Now, when I specified and asked about how she animated her sister's very ashes to life, her vigor was unexpected. Unbothered by her injuries, she shot towards the cell bars, screaming obscenities at me once more.

 These accusations ranged from me being at fault for her sister's execution, to her current state. All the while streams of bloodied tears swelled behind her swollen eye sockets. It was a truly absurd moment. So absurd in fact, my composed self took offense to such madness!

 How dare she blame me for her lack of ability! Repeatedly at that!

 Now, I am not one, to get violent, yet these accusations had no end! I gripped her cheeks and pulled her head through the bars. Meeting her eyes, I told her to cease these falsehoods and answer my question. Now, I realize this might have been an oversight, as she was clearly blind, however something peculiar transpired.

 After locking our gazes, I felt a rush of energy, as I tapped into the Astral Realm for some kinetic control over her flailing arms. Only to see her visage morph into something inhuman, for but a moment. It would be an understatement to say I had been spooked.

 I kept my composure, and released my grip from the girl, as her previous form faded in an instant. I would regrettably fail to word a description of the form, just know, that calling it a ''form'' is due to a limitation of language.

 Her face had frozen in surprise, as she stated: ''You have seen it...''. I had thought this meant I'd finally gotten through, yet as I leaned in, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, she swiftly, like a rat, scurried to the furthest corner of her cell, her crushed leg flapping on the floor like a fish on land.   All the while, she mumbled ''don't'' over and over again. I asked her several times until I had to raise my voice to inquire about what I should not do. To which she matched my tone with: ''Don't read the Grimoire!'' This was followed by continuous ''No no no's'', as she covered her ears and took to a seashell-like position on the cold stone flooring.

 That is how I learned the mysterious tome went by the name- Grimoire. And that's about all I got from that exchange. I did attempt to ask about the book's origin, yet she just covered herself in a blanket and proceeded to sob. The girl called for her mother, father, and sister, and whined about how it hurts. It was the usual lunacy torture victims devolve into. Thus I took my leave.

 On my way out, however, a breeze passed through the corridor, and a whisper passed through me. I thought it an illusion at first, yet the echoing wails of Seraphina abruptly ceased soon after. I had found it strange and wished to investigate, yet the sudden urge to indulge myself in exploring this mysterious volume quickened my pace back home.

 Only to now be constantly vexed by my own accursed pet, any time I succumbed to the urge. The book itself seemed to reject any advances I made.

 Reminds me of when in my teenage days, I used to chase around girls of Noble lineage. What simpler times those were...

 This was the last time I saw Seraphina, as just this morn her execution took place. Under the charges of demonic practices and coercion of an unholy rebellion, she passed the same manner as her sister before. I didn't bother to attend, however, the cheers of the townsfolk were unavoidable.

 One thing I will say is that, unlike her late kin, she did not scream. Barely made a sound, if the rumors are to be believed...

 Onto other events! I am gaining more power over my Astral form by the hour. I have practiced levitation, however, there are no results at the moment. Also, The Arts from the School of Conjuration still seem out of my grasp, yet anything else, be it element, alchemical, or kinetic in nature, I master with little difficulty. Thus I wait. Like a seed, I let my environment nourish me, as I grow consistently and perpetually.

 My libido has also come under control. Turns out, if I use some Alchemical arts on myself, I can easily quell any unwanted and uncourtly reactions my vessel might pose. That also seems to include emotional reactions. A curious discovery...

 Also, many travelers journeying through Lockrifta, be it due to my medicine or commerce, have become acquaintances of mine. Meaning, soon enough, the name Sabinian, The Saint shall become Legendary! A story told across the Known World!

 Speaking of commerce, now that Lockrita has been mostly cured of any major plagues, Lord Heimerich has allowed me to trade the medicine as goods. This has been a brilliant opportunity, as my personal coffers have never been so overflowing. Not only can I get Arvel off my back, about not giving him anything in return for his help, let me remind You I have saved the bastard twice, if not thrice by now, but also a chance to hasten the construction of my tower.

 This also leads me to one other mystery I am considerably excited to finally discover. The supposed castle within the cliff.

 Soon enough the tower's foundational integrity shall be enforced, making it viable, to clear the false floor and see what lurks below. Hopefully, this will not only give me more space to work with, but will also tell of its previous inhabitants. Perhaps even uncover the very reason why the settlement had come to be half within the earth.

 A pest has been bothering my solace lately. A stalker of sorts has been trotting the premises of my domicile. The cloaked figure appears to be a woman, judging by their build and the size of her footprints.

 You see, I completely understand why someone would become infatuated with me! I am, You know, THE Sabinian after all! However, secrecy irks me in the worst way. Mostly, because they lack any discretion while doing so. If You are going to stalk somebody, or spy on them, at least aim to understand the basics of stealth. If Your target knows You are there, You have failed.

 What idiocy...

 And for the record, this is not Linchesters doing, as I already see You forming such an idea in Your simple mind. His lackeys would pose more skill. Or he wouldn't bother with such banal tactics in the first place.

 Also, lately, people have been disappearing from the streets in the evenings. This shadow of mine should keep herself sharp. You never know who might be out there, hunting through the moonlit eve...

 P.S. I seem to be having peculiar dreams for the past week or so. I always seem to awake with my heart pounding in excitement. Is this excitement brought upon by terror or something else, I am unsure, as I hold no memories of my nightly journies. Yet oddly enough, Servos seems to always be next to me... That look of hers... What do cats think about, I wonder?