Dear Diary,
Hayley’s magic is getting terrifyingly good. With a wave of her hand and a casting of *Seeming*, our armor and distinctive gear vanished, replaced by the rough-spun tunics and worn faces of common laborers. We were no longer the "dangerous dissidents from Keralon"; we were just faces in the crowd.
We slipped into one of the seedier taverns in Hillfield’s lower district. The air was thick with smoke that stung the eyes, and the silence was heavy. An old barkeep, pushing seventy, picked at his nails with a knife, ignoring us. I hung back, nursing a watered-down ale and trying to look inconspicuous, while Alistan and Ileas worked the room. They managed to loosen the tongue of one rough-looking patron. The news isn't good. Security is tighter than a drum because of *us*. The narrative here is that we are trying to overthrow the King, armed with dangerous magic.
The gates are locked down, but the local mentioned "backdoors." Alistan, bold as ever, offered fifty gold pieces for the location. I watched him walk out with the man, fully expecting my friend to come back naked or bleeding, robbed blind in a back alley. But fifteen minutes later, he returned, purse lighter but with a detailed map of a smuggler’s exit. Sometimes, Alistan’s honest face is a better currency than gold.
We spent the next hour investigating the political landscape. The Council of Five Families controls Hillfield: Rottledge, Eastbow, Heartmaker, Gallomer, and, of course, De la Roost.
We found a tavern bordering the noble district and eavesdropped on the staff. The guards were stone-faced, but two chambermaids were more than happy to gossip. They spoke of the "threats" from the East—Satyrs (which we know are dead) and Gnolls. Because of this, the Council unanimously granted emergency powers to Lord and Lady De la Roost a year ago.
*Unanimously*. In a council of nobles? That doesn't happen. Not without magic.
They also mentioned two newcomers: Titus, a mage from Keralon making the stone golems, and Magnolia, a "handmaiden" who shadows Lady De la Roost everywhere she goes.
We moved to the markets. It was unsettlingly normal. The stalls were full, the bakeries smelling of fresh bread. The people seemed content, unbothered by the rumors of war. We learned that the guards are easily bribed, and that Titus has a workshop underneath the city barracks.
But something felt wrong. The contentment felt... synthetic. I rented a room at a local inn and cast a ritual of *Detect Magic*. I stepped back out onto the street, opening my third eye.
It was subtle, but it was there. A faint, cloying aura of enchantment clinging to the people, and even the animals. Spores. Tiny, magical specs drifting in the air, carrying a charm spell. We snatched a stray cat that was glowing with the aura—Alistan immediately named it "Purrin"—and took it back to the room. I cast *Identify*.
Emotional control. A subtle, pervasive charm to keep the population docile and loyal. This is how the De la Roosts hold the city. It’s not leadership; it’s pollen.
A message from Dadroz came through—he and Gael made it back to Tarn safely, having outrun the Retriever. I don't know how they crossed two days' distance so quickly, and I was too tired to question it.
We tracked the spores. They grew thicker as we approached the noble district, leading us straight to a manor that should have been empty. Instead, it was pristine. The garden was in full bloom, the trees lush with flowers that had no business growing in this season.
Lady Magnolia’s manor. The handmaiden isn't a servant; she's the source.
We have our targets. To take Hillfield, we need to dismantle its pillars:
1. **Lady Magnolia**: Eliminate the source of the mind-control spores.
2. **Titus**: Destroy the golem workshop to stop their production.
3. **The Granaries**: Eliminate the food supply to force a surrender.
4. **Lord De la Roost**: Defeat Alistan's father and break their military command.
We returned to Tarn to prepare. We spent two weeks building up our forces, drilling the refugees, and sending envoys to the surrounding villages—and even the Gnolls. Desperate times.
But the enemy is fighting back. Our grain supplies were sabotaged, sparking panic in the village. The fear of starvation is a potent weapon. We managed to secure a shipment from a nearby village to quell the immediate terror, but morale was hanging by a thread.
Then, Ileas stepped up. He organized a play.
I thought it was madness to focus on theater when we were on the brink of war, but I was more than willing to lend a magical hand. It was a comedy, a satire of a bumbling King and his incompetent court. For two hours, the people of Tarn didn't look like refugees. They laughed. They cheered. I saw Gael smile for the first time in days.
It reminded us what we are fighting for. Not just survival, but the right to live, to laugh, to be free.
The stage is set. Now, we just have to win the war.
— Luke