Lore: Scribe's Journal

Savan and the others are as unlettered as they come. A well-placed whisper was more than enough to set their teeth upon each other. And once those impuissant bespawlers have fallen from the king’s graces, I will rise in their place. Councilor Leywise. Leywise of the Council. Speaker Leywise of the One True King’s Council!

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I fear things have progressed too quickly—and too far. Regicide! True regicide! I did not dare entertain it possible. The shackles I once saw myself bound by are no more. He is gone. Finally gone. Perhaps there is nothing to fear after all. Perhaps this is a better opportunity than I ever sought to devise!

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Cursed, accursed Nimue! She has doomed us all. I should have known—like the king, she is not Fae. Her loyalty was ever obliged to her master. But I need not panic. I’ve committed none of the deeds myself, I’ve made careful certain of that. Yes, I will bide my time. The king will forgive us, as he has always done.

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I’ve not left my chambers. I can hear the death throes of my people from beyond these walls. The king has gone mad. There will be no forgiveness for the Fae, not this time.

I must flee this place, and I cannot return.