The HaRT Knight Decaverse

Correspondence from the Afterlife

Letter 02

Caim Gorllewin. Third Month Since Departure.

My Dearest A.,

An entire month has unfurled its wings since our arrival at the settlement of Caim Gorllewin commenced, yet the tendrils of knowledge remain frustratingly elusive. Progress, at least in relation to our original intent, remains but a phantom, its presence scarcely felt. Thus, in shared resolve, H. and I have committed to depart Caim Gorllewin at the dawning of the morrow. (A fortunate manifestation of the enchantment woven within the magical sigils safeguarding these settlements is the mirage of alternating day and night. For a span of twelve hours, the sigils radiate their luminance, followed by a twelve-hour shroud of darkness. The origins of this diurnal rhythm, whether intentionally architected by the pentacles' creators or a felicitous coincidence, remain beyond our reckoning.)
The fortnight that just waned we dedicated to familiarizing ourselves with Cladis' topography and the distribution of its settlements. Regrettably, within this context, somber tidings demand acknowledgment. With the exception of Afallon Isle and the Kingdom of the Kraken in southern Cladis, only a paltry sum of five cities and twenty-eight minor hamlets endure amid the ravages that have befallen our realm.
H. and I concur that if we are to unearth the truth's elusive mantle, we must venture beyond Caim Gorllewin's confines. However, our accord falters at this juncture, each of us championing a divergent course. It is my belief that the answers lie cloaked within Caim Fos to the northern expanse, for it is whispered that this citadel houses a repository of wisdom--an esteemed university and the last vestiges of a vast library. H., contrarily, maintains steadfast conviction that our quest's fruition lies within the aegis of the Kingdom of the Kraken. This domain is lauded as a sanctuary amidst Cladis' turmoil, and as such, boasts the densest assemblage of surviving souls. H.'s rationale, grounded in statistical probability, holds merit, yet my doubts persist. Personal experience has etched into me the knowledge that the wisdom held en masse is often erroneous or incomplete, whereas books, like bound repositories of enlightenment, gleam with unadulterated understanding.
Following days of impassioned discourse that occasionally escalated into vocal tumult, a reluctant consensus emerged--H. and I have elected to part ways, each embarking on an independent trajectory of investigation. The disquieting circumstances prevailing within this realm initially dissuaded me from countenancing such separation. However, solace arrived by virtue of the Lord of Caim Gorllewin, who affirmed that my chosen path teems with greater perils. H. will traverse the river--a principal conduit of passage within Cladis--navigating toward the Kingdom of the Kraken. My chosen route, however, demands traversing the blighted domains.
To fortify me against the Blightlands' malevolence, the Lord of Caim Gorllewin has equipped me with specialized accoutrements. This ensemble encompasses sturdy breaches, high reaching boots well suited for travel, and gloves and a cloak, both fashioned from leather and treated with protective oils to shield the skin from direct exposure. Among these provisions, the most remarkable is the breathing mask custom-crafted for navigating the Blightlands. The mask, molded from the skull of a sizable avian creature, encased in an additional layer of oil-soaked leather, features straps facilitating secure attachment to my hooded cloak. To stave off the toxic atmosphere's encroachment, I employ an amalgamation of herbs--among them burdock root, mandrake leaves, and thyme--ensconced within the beak of the avian skull, causing them to smolder and diffuse their purifying smoke. While not endowed with enchantment, my mask's ocular components are forged from mage-glass, enhancing visibility amid the perpetual twilight of the Blightlands. In this endeavor, a truth resounds--human ingenuity adapts even the most inhospitable of landscapes into realms of tolerable existence.

Yours in Enduring Fidelity,
Amobiel

P.S. A venture to persuade H. to embark upon the practice of conveying her discoveries to you in epistolary form, akin to my own, transpired. While her reception of the notion appeared receptive, her disposition, as you are well aware, can often be inscrutable--perhaps a mere semblance of amicability meant to pacify my convictions.