Lissandra came up to me to give reasons for her and her friends’ presence. She told me that Sigil is changing, and not for the better. Surveillance cameras are being set up everywhere in the city, and the Harmonium is crawling in every street. They still settle at the Shattered Temple as we speak. Corinthol and Garmundi are nowhere to be seen. The only fascinating piece of news was that Duke Rowan Darkwood is sending the Harmonium to the Far Realm, either for the hope of satisfying his never-ending hunger for power or out of his unsound mind, she did know not.

I asked Lissandra about the whereabouts of the people she had picked up the rumor relating to Duke Darkwood’s scheme. That babbling person appeared to also be her client, who requested her to seek out the information on the Soulmonger. And that request, she has already fulfilled. She doubted herself of the merit of her service just now. I told her I care not about the nature of her work, for all the consequences are to be expected for lending out such a talent to anonymous customers.

Her guilt led her to speak of another matter weighing on her mind – the bombing of the court. She apologized for taking advantage of my naivety. Again, I told her I care not about such things, for I chose to carry myself that way, and it’s natural for the world to take opportunities whenever it can. Besides, after listening further about her narrative, it appeared to be more of the changelings’ trickery rather than Lissandra’s malignity. She shouldn’t bear the guilt for the King of Thieves’ action. She mistook my words for me taking part of the blame. I assured her that it was purely her false deduction.

There’s another change personal to Lissandra, and that of a mysterious figure whom she always sees, but never has in her direct sight. She spoke of a robed dark figure with glowing yellow eyes and with a pale face quite strange; he might as well be wearing a mask. She proceeded to show me her personal notebook. Most words about her work are written in Celestial, but on the narrow spaces around each paper were scribbles in Common. All of them were written in Common and in a level of obsession worthy of my concern. They read “Carcosa”.

I told Lissandra that the figure seemed to be the Elder Evil that followed us from our brief journey in the Far Realm, and if I’d ever come across his likeness in my research, I’d share the knowledge with her.

I mentioned Fafnir’s extensive library. She instantly expressed her interest in accessing it. Fafnir refused, even after I tried to speak for her. Lissandra seemed to respect his decision, for now.

I came back to study Clord, who didn’t seem to enjoy his meal. He didn’t like what Venecia and I cooked… I should look it up if the undead are inclined to have a different taste palette than the living. However, Mors seemed to enjoy the meal enough, and Miasma was also joyfully feeding on Mors’ pleasure.

Just then, Lissandra’s musician friends were finishing setting up their instruments. They looked excited about their newly composed song, which claimed to use the noises from the Far Realm. They asked for a vocalist, since they believed the people who usually take the role have a voice unsuitable for their vision. I had no interest in filling in such a role, and I cared not to volunteer for no one expected to borrow my ability. Finally, Venecia stepped up. They performed, and I applauded as an act of courtesy.