Day Three-Ninety-One: So ends the roadtrip

Pressing on through some unusually nice weather and in almost absolute silence, our little party made significant headway towards Pubton last Friday. We stopped to rest on the outskirts of the forest, and by the time we parted ways with little Julius it was Monday. Got back to Pubton proper 'round lunchtime.

I don't know what to make of Julius. He never once offered to write anything in you, diary, or even explain himself with his flailing little limbs. He showed up, he came along, he somehow controlled Antonia with those glowing orange eyes, and he left again. I've never seen him work magic before, aside from being an intelligent spider, so I wonder if June's behind it all. Maybe she was spyin' on us, or something? Eh, who knows. He saved us, guess that's the important part.

Pagan went home. Took the little entourage of slaves he'd left behind in Pubton and vamoosed, still nursing a sore face. I finally got around to asking him if he'd like to move his manor closer to town; he countered by sourly suggesting that maybe we should move Pubton closer to his manor. Not a terrible idea, that, though I shot it down. He said he'd think about my proposal, collected his rent money, and left. I doubt I'll get far on that count.

Dad went home. He had little to say to me. Still thinks I'm a coward for trying to take off on him 'n Pagan in the cave. The hell did he think I could do against a werewolf when a knight and the strongest farmer ever born failed to beat 'im? Nuts, I say, utterly nuts.

And that comment about Robert was out of line. That's all I'll say. Not unexpected, coming from Oswald, but out of line. Gods, what a dick of a father.

I'm not sure what to think about what happened on the mountain. Antonia's gotta be there for a reason, 'n that reason's gotta have something to do with that giant symbol. The rock wall it was on wasn't natural, probably hinting at something behind the wall. Or under the mountain. Or… hell, I dunno. More rat business. I bet whatever's there is what the shadow things want - they're all about digging for shit, it seems. I'd ask the rats, but, hey, they're useless, you know? Completely useless. Might be time to follow through on that threat.

…

…

…

I'll think about it.

I was feeling tired and downtrodden when I got back, and I went looking for companionship, but everyone's too busy to keep me company. Libby's setting up new houses and buildings, including a water wheel in preparation for spring; Edmund was conscripted by Harold to help plan and build the wall; Grylock is on smithing duty, and I hear he's planning some new armour and weapon designs for our eventual force of guards (not that I'd wanna hang out with him anyway); Bora's serving people day and night, the tireless hostess of the Beefiary now that Robert's gone - might have to get her an assistant; and Grayson, well, he's Grayson. Most of the time I don't see him, and when I do he creeps me out.

That left one person to turn to. Evangelina. 

We chatted. I told her what I'd seen at the mountain, as well as little Julius and his weird powers. She couldn't comment on the mountain, though she did offer some insights into the spider, saying he's June's familiar. Whatever that means. They live together, of course they'd be familiar with each other. Either way, she says June could possibly grant him some of her power - and, yes, she might be able to use him as a spy. Evangelina wouldn't know, she never had a familiar.

Then we played a board game. Rookery. Libby made it up during the shadow thing invasion to calm people down. It's much simpler than some of her other board games - there are only five rounds to the punt this time, and the score is less than, equal to, or greater than 56. Yeah, I know, she's probably losing her touch. Thinks we're all too dumb to handle real board games.

Sigh. Sleep now. My body is broken from all that walking. Back to mayorly duties tomorrow, I guess.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Fatigued