Ah, you're still here, you damned piece of mind. Good. I told you I'd write again soon enough and here I am. I need you to hear me again. I'll leave you alone for awhile after you listen. Maybe.
So. Things are going better with Night than I had anticipated. If you scour the streets at night, you'll find your share of rats. Trouble is, there are all sorts of rats and one must sort the useful from the worthless. I am not one to trust but in this dangerous game, who to trust is not the issue. It is who you think you should not trust and who you think you should not trust less. I have no expectations but I have set out to execute my plan methodically, precisely. Some rats devour everything but each other. Most rats devour each other, too. The latter I believe I now know when I see them and keep away, let them devour each other. I remain intact.
I have learned long ago to cut myself off from all emotion and use a cold and calculated mind to survive. Last time I wrote, some strange sentiment still held thrall over me. Nothing some fine brandy did not cure, my silent confidante. I am now well again, strong, sharp, vigil--as I should be in my new role as head of Night. I do not seek rats openly, they find me. They differ. Some are the mercenary types, sellswords, blades for hire, sodilers of fortune. Rough, worn, weapon-savy, strong. Others are more of what I am used to, from a background I come from. All sorts of charmers, sooth-sayers, schemers, thieves, cons. My first additions examplify this perfectly. One is hard-living, strong, precise, weapon-savy. A mercenary. The other, on the other hand is a charmer, a schemer. A little thief whose fingers attract coin. I named one a Wight in my mind, and the other a Night. A mercenary is much like a feared wight of the Barrows in my mind. Fear-inspiring, menacing, callous and deadly. And Night. Well. Night has its own charm unlike anything else. Night hides shadows and nothing appears in night as it truly is. It may be deadly and yet in night it lures. And as more rats flocked to my side interested to join Night, I saw most of them either fall under one group or the other. And so it became official. Night now has its Wights and its Nights. Each complements the other, they form one entity.
A few more rats have joined the Night since I last wrote. I think I have made my choices wisely but I have yet to wait to see. One addition stands out, though. A wench calling herself Gwynwynn recently joined the ranks. I have no idea where the lass appeared from, I never saw her before. She appears about my age and is not afraid to speak her mind. I kept seeing the lass around, quite a presence, though I thought her tongue will get her in trouble sooner or later. We all have our enemies, but the wise among us know what to disclose and what to keep to ourselves. Having left behind a life of thievery, one night it caught my eye that she was not just an outspoken lass. I saw her at 'work', executing tricks I knew well but using her female charms to her best advantage, her mark smirking foolishly but being none the wiser as she relieved him of heavy coin. I was impressed and caught her leaving later. I spoke to her and asked her if she wished to join the Night. She was suspicious at first, as any thief should be, until she saw I knew well what she was and meant no harm. She heard me speak and agreed to join the Night. I observed her in her craft and was impressed. Lass is mistress of bloody disguise and guile is in her blood. So impressed I was I appointed her as head to Nights while I, weary of my past, chose to head the Wights. This lass has great potential and I believe we will work together well.
It is strange. I feared shadows as a child. Now I am one. I cannot imagine a life away from shadows, away from night. People are nothing more to me anymore than a means to an end. In those who have recently sworn loyalty to Night, I recognized something similar. We sear allegiance to no cause, to nobody but the Night. I will make sure coin comes in. I don't care how anymore. Whether I get it fairly or not. Who the mark is. I don't care anymore. I despise nobles, but not their money. So anything goes, as long as coin is offered. I suppose I was just born bad. I was born bad and meant to do bad things. And there is nothing I can do about it. In night, it makes sense. In night alone I am.....home. Ah but look at me rambling. Poor bloody thing, having to listen to me. I'll leave you be for awhile, climb the rooftops and hear the night song.
