the rest of the court is occupied for now, and thus I now have a moment of lucidity with which to speak. The others are safe. i have taken them to where the church cannot reach. the town is alive and it reeks with the stench of a hundred years of rotting flesh. the faithful have retreated to their hovels, so assured that the might of the flesh-smiths will protect the town, as they have protected it before.
how wrong they are.
the masked traveler was correct. even as these words are transcribed, men with guns and black masks pepper the town. they are delayed, for now, by the flesh-smiths, but even their arcane ability cannot stop them, for the men bring their own esoteric tools. it was as the most devout of our court feared; esoteric weapons in the hands of feeble men.
i can feel the chains of my prison closing back in once again. the judge can sense my freedom.
this shall not be my coda, nor shall it be theirs.
i fear that i may not have a free tongue again, and it is in this time that i must hope they can forgive my transgressions. my actions have not been my own.
if i had known the true nature of my oath when i had taken it, i would have killed myself while i had the chance.
i am sorry for what i am.
