It seems every turn we take there is some plot or subterfuge working against my family. It is not so much a sense of anger I feel towards such events, but rather one of wearied frustration. I am left utterly aghast that as we now approach my home after months away, the banner of that wretched beggar god hangs proud upon the parapets of the Godstone. This devilry, that has either infiltrated my home or corrupted my father, can not and will not be allowed to remain and find safe haven in Braye lands. How this came to be I am unsure, but it is with certainty that I intend to find out.
It at least provides me with some relief that our diplomatic excursion into Galimond may in fact bare fruit. Princess Laina, the wife and apparent master of Prince Nathaniel of Galimond, appeared intrigued at any rate of the possibility of an alliance between Galimond and Valksbourg. As a show of goodwill, Princess Laina promised Valksbourg the use of some five thousand mercenaries, though it will take some time for them to be assembled. Additionally she provided us with intelligence that a Valksbourg lord of some importance had been apprehended by Andorrian troops in Eastern Valksbourg and was in transit to an Andorrian prison. We decided this could not simply be ignored and made our leave, feeling we had already achieved all we could in Galimond and that this lord must be rescued. With some two hundred mercenaries Yb’Sel was able to acquire we set north with all haste. After several days of pursuit we came upon the Andorrian mice and confronted them. Following some attempts made to learn of the identity of the prisoner, we were left with no choice but to attack. Our onslaught came swiftly and the mercenaries performed admirably. The Andorrian foes were driven back and forced to surrender. It was not one but in fact two prisoners we found among the Andorrian baggage train. The first was indeed a Valksbourg lord, Jans Avondale, Castellan of the Avondale lands and member of Gregor Avondale’s regency council. The second, interestingly enough, was Gregor Beckinsale, an Andorrian. He claims to have sympathy for our cause, hence his incarceration, but I cannot find it in myself to trust any Andorrian in times such as these and will, until shown otherwise, assume him a potential interloper and spy. It was with this we parted ways with the mercenaries, ordering them some small tasks to complete until their contract with Yb’Sel expires, and headed to the Godstone where I now find myself.
Though much of what has transpired these past months can largely be considered a victory, I am deeply troubled by what is happening within my own home. There is something menacing about these “pilgrims” that claim they have come across the wastelands to the east preaching their new “God”. Furthermore, I remain certain that it was my foul witchloving uncle, Erik Nesvon, that was behind the leaked information to the Andorrians of our council of independence. I suppose all that remains to be said is I am left frustrated, and as warning to my enemies I say frustration breeds violent men.
- Aiden Braye, Son and Heir of Lord Bastian Braye