Benonai's shaven head glistened with sweat as he leaned against the wall outside the Terminus Tavern, a rest stop along the road that had acted as a base of sorts for his rather unusual brusiness dealings. Some had noticed him come and go over the last few months, but most with no interest. The cool breeze felt good on his sweat-drenched body, the clothes' evaporating moisture bringing his temperature down from the hard day's labor he had just finished. He looked down at the dirt-caked sack that contained the bound parchments. It had taken him the last two years to find these documents. His grandfather had thought they were lost, misplaced years before his time, but the rumor of them had circulated in his community between the few that knew.
Benonai's horse snorted as he reached inside the leather saddlebag hanging off the side. He had just bought several pulp wood parchments from a local paper maker. An inkwiell joined the items in his hands as he closed the flap and turned for the door to the tavern.
The usuals were all there, playing games at the tables or sitting at the bar, bantering with each other and the old Myr barkeep. Benonai did not enter this time in his usual braggadocious fashion; instead he headed quietly over to a darker corner of the room and sat down without orderting. He just needed time. The blank documents scattered onto the table as Benonai tossed them aside to make room for his new treasure. The dark leather pouch, caked with mud from its resting spot beneath the rock on his ancestral farmland sat in center view as Benonai hesitated, unsure of what it might hold. Was it what the rumors claimed it would be? Did it really hold the locations and tongues of dragons? Did it uncover a plot to overthrow the crown? Did it really hold the details of the true, more ancient beginnings of Black Rose Keep? It all seemed so fanciful, but given what Benonai already knew about his ancestors during the Frail Age, he knew it was possible.
Benonai slid his hand into the pouch, clean and dry from the meticulous way it was protected. His fingers found the binding, and he slid out a book that looked inconspicuous; boring, in fact. He turned it over in his hand, looking for some strange quality that would give away its secrets. There was none. He opened the leather cover to reveal a note from the writer.
To Carissa, my beloved daughter,
Peace and favor to you all the days of your life,
as you journey into the life that has been thrust upon you.
May you walk in the path of your ancestral namesake, Carinna,
and find the answers, finally, that have eluded us for years, and
the courage to use them. I'm so sorry I will not live to see it.
Your father,
Brutus
Benonai stopped a moment, his mind racing back through the records of his heritage he had compiled over the years. He knew that name was familiar, but he couldn't figure out from where? He made a mental note to go back and check once he returned home. He turned the page and began reading, one paragraph at a time, stopping only from shock or surprise as he copied word for word from the book. It was everything they said it would be. This would give fuel to his cause, and win him more believers as he worked toward his goal of unseating the Dynasty of Amensol. This story must get out...
Viva RACHA