Scribed by Terentius
Spring
As my sodales busy themselves with plans for the coming year, I feel a strange disconnection from it all. Branwen, Theoclea and Jari each pursue theories that, separately or in combination, might offer us salvation from the coming peril. Yet here I sit on the sideline, with little to contribute other than hollow words of encouragement. I never felt truly comfortable relying on others, preferring always to take matters into my own hands, but this seems impossible now. I must rely on the genius of others to overcome this challenge that we all face. What a damning indictment of a life it is to call oneself wise, yet have no wisdom to bring. Black moods envelop me, and I feel an urge to simply withdraw from covenant life.
All magi were present for the council meeting on the first day of the season. We began with a short discussion of the great storm that had hit the covenant last winter. Despite its unusual ferocity and extent, Jari said that it appeared to be natural in origin, for there was no sign that magic had been used to conjure it. The storm had caused great damage across the land, not just within the Dean, and the general mood among the people that it was a sign of God’s displeasure, though opinions differed on what exactly had raised His ire. Fortunately for us, Branwen had been able to right the fallen oak, restoring the integrity of the circle of trees that forms the covenant’s natural stockade. I noticed that she moved stiffly and uneasily as she entered the council chamber, and she muttered darkly that the magic had come at some cost to her. Pyrrhus took the opportunity to insinuate that she was in hock to the pagan Gods and to suggest that we should replace the trees with an entirely mundane wall. Branwen and Pyrrhus exchanged a few more barbed comments before Naevius thankfully moved the discussion onto a wider discussion of our finances.
I provided an overview of the information I had gleaned from an earlier conversation with the steward, noting that, with the loss of the income from extracting raw ore from the mines, the covenant was making losses that would exhaust our reserves in six to seven years. We resolved to halt our secret support for the folk of Lydney, saving a small amount each year, but to maintain our considerable expenditure on spies for one more year while we investigate alternative sources of income. If no solution can be found, we can potentially save a fair amount by dispensing with our non-key agents in locations far from the Dean, though I made a sincere offer to pay for them myself should the covenant not feel able to do so. Jari made a similar offer in relation to the feasts that we sponsor at the solstices, though we again agreed to continue with them for the moment.
There were few suggestions for new sources of income. Pyrrhus, who has something of a track record for proposing outlandish schemes that go nowhere, explained that his consors, the master craftsman Marcellus, was able to create alchemical potions that might be of interest to magi across the Tribunal. He agreed to visit some of the nearby covenants to gauge the level of interest and the sorts of sums that he could charge in return. We agreed to return to the matter in a year’s time.
Moving on, Theoclea noted that her grasp of Cymric had improved to such an extent that she was now much more confident of understanding the purpose and nature of Myddyn’s incantations. There was still significant risk associated with such research, however, and she asked Jari whether he would be able to teach her the Wizard’s Anchor ritual he had learned from Phaedra. He demurred, explaining that it would take an entire year, which he could not spare given his own research into the powers of standing stones. Instead, he suggested that Theoclea approach Phaedra herself, though he noted that the Criamon would likely ask for access to some esoteric art in return. Theoclea agreed to do so, though I could tell that she did not expect the approach to succeed. In the meantime, the council voted five to one, with only Branwen voicing opposition, to allow Theoclea to proceed with her investigations. Perhaps I sense some undercurrent of rivalry between the two, though I may be misdiagnosing the situation. There were no other matters of note discussed at the council.
Later in the season, the redcap Gaines arrived with news that Voressio, once Praeco of Stonehenge Tribunal, had fallen into final twilight. It was clear that there was no love, and indeed precious little respect, across the council for Voressio given his anemic performance as Praeco, but his departure offers both opportunity and dangers for the Tribunal. Gaines explained that, according to tradition, the three candidates eligible to replace him would be selected based on age: they are Primus Argentius of Eurus Acquilae, Prima Lludwyn of Cad Gadu and Magus Suficius of Blackthorn. None had indicated an intention to withdraw their names from the fray at this stage. The election will be held at Blackthorn in summer next year. It does not require great political acumen to know that, even in normal times, this would likely be a contentious matter, but it assumes even more importance at this critical juncture. Perhaps I am unduly pessimistic, but I am far from confident that the Tribunal will put wisdom over factionalism. Regardless, we cannot afford any distractions from our overriding mission.
The only other matter of note that occurred during the season was yet another manifestation of Myddyn’s magic. One morning, I noticed that the grogs and covenfolk seemed unusually vigorous, and, indeed, I had something of a spring in my own step. Suspecting Theoclea’s hand in this, I made my way to the treasury, where she appeared to be meditating over the crystal retrieved from Mynydd Myddyn. When she came to an hour or so later, she explained that she had been studying a ritual used by Myddyn to empower Arthur’s army during a forced march. She noted that, with her newfound understanding of Cymric, she had comprehended more of the ritual Myddyn employed, and she had judged that it posed no threat to those in the covenant. I agreed, and I made my way jauntily back to my sanctum.
Summer
Our council meeting at the start of the season was relatively short. Branwen revealed that she had identified some potential sites for her research into accessing the powers of ancient trees to protect against the coming plague. In particular, she noted that the forests in the western part of the Weald in the south-east of the country appeared promising in this regard. I recall travelling through the region many years ago when surveying the former lands close to Witherenden covenant, but nothing struck me as particularly noteworthy about the forest there. Still, Branwen is clearly more attuned to such matters than I, and she intends to visit the area later in the year, after having consulted with Prima Lludwyn this season. Nothing else of note was discussed at our gathering.
Later in the season, several members of the covenant reported the uncanny feeling that they could fathom the yet unspoken decisions made by others. This curious phenomenon lasted only a few minutes, and we eventually traced it back to yet another of Theoclea’s experiments. She had been attempting to recreate a ritual in which Myddyn had used magic to identify a spy placed by Mordred within Arthur’s camp. Once again, there appeared to be no malign consequences of her work, and so she continued with her studies without restrictions.
I received notice a few weeks later that a party of men had landed at Blackney pier and were investigating the mining activities in the surrounding the area. I made my way to Leolf’s hut in disguise in case the investigation turned violent or unduly intrusive, but in the end, it passed without significant incident. The men appeared much more concerned with the mines than the villagers, and they left apparently satisfied that they had a good understanding of the revenues that they could divert to the Crown. This will mean more hardship for our allies in the village, but they are a hardy folk, and Leolf assured me that it was a burden they could bear. I told him to inform me if the situation changes, but for now at least, the new political regime is a significant inconvenience but not a disaster.
Leolf also reminded me of his vision some years ago that a threat remained to Theoclea’s life: a hidden assassin who would strike without warning. He believes his ability to perceive the unseen world of spirits may allow us to thwart our enemy’s plans. I had not forgotten this, but I welcomed his continued vigilance.
Autumn
At the autumn council, Jari announced that he had succeeded in inventing a spell that allows him to perceive what lies at the end of a ley line. This breakthrough should make it much quicker to investigate the networks of these mystical lines, since he need not travel down each and every one to determine whether they are of interest.
The timing of this is most fortuitous, since Branwen announced her intention to travel to the Weald this season to follow up on her investigations into suitable sites for her own research. Jari and Branwen thus took the ship to the port of Rye, before making their way inland to the small settlement of Crowborough. In the woods close to the village, they managed to locate several small standing stones, each connected by ley lines. None of the stones was particularly impressive on first inspection, though Jari was able to determine a little of the original purpose for which they were erected. In particular, one related to the healing of animals, and Jari was also able to detect that it was tended by the spirit of a healer that I surmise to be the Wild Man of the Woods of local folklore. A second nearby stone related to illusions or images in some respect. At the latter stone, the two grogs each had a strange vision: one seemed to relate to the coming plague that we believe threatens all life across the land; whereas the second was a personal matter relating to Branwen that she chose not to reveal to others.
Using a ritual inspired by the activities of the Unnamed House near Halls of the Forest covenant, last year, Jari was able to empower the second stone and send its energies down the ley line to the first. This seemed to fortify the healing stone; indeed, Races-the-Wind, who had suffered some malady at Avebury many years ago, reported that he was once again whole. Jari continued to measure the impact of the changes he had wrought, and he believes that they persisted for a full lunar cycle.
Though Jari was understandably pleased with the fruits of his efforts, Branwen’s efforts were not so promising. She managed to locate a woodland grove that, in principle, might serve as a suitable shelter against the coming plague, but it was a tiny space that would provide room for no more than a couple of people. As such, it is no solution to the greater problems that we face, so she will have to look elsewhere to further her plans.
Towards the end of the season, a group of grogs reported that sword cuts suffered during a training accident spontaneously closed without the need for needle and thread. We once again traced the origin of this strange event to Theoclea’s experimentation. This time, it seems she was mimicking a ritual used by Myddyn to heal wounded troops. We judged such an intervention to be benign and left her continue her studies.
Winter
Our meeting at the start of the season was dominated by a short discussion of the results of Jari and Branwen’s investigations in the Weald. Alas, we reached no firm conclusions on where best to redirect their efforts given the failure to find an appropriate location in the south-east. The former covenants of Lear Valley and Oakham Vale were mentioned, but I sense there was little real expectation that either would prove suitable. We left the matter in the hands of the two magi closest to the issue, though several of us offered to help search once they had an idea of where to begin.
The season itself was relatively quiet, with one major exception. Towards the middle of winter, reports reached the magi that a magical portal had appeared out of nowhere in the great hall. Jari and Naevius were the first of our number to hear the news. Peering through the portal, they spied a grand standing stone set high in a mountainous landscape. Believing this might be one of the great henges referred to in Arcanus’ writings, Races-the-Wind leapt through, shortly followed by a slightly less intrepid Jari. They had just begun to survey the place, which was shrouded in thick mist, when the portal disappeared, stranding them in unknown territory.
Divining that Theoclea’s hand lay once more behind these strange events, Naevius sent word to her in the treasury. She explained that she had been observing Myddyn create a portal to transport one of Arthur’s armies from Norfolk to the West Country. The landscape observed through the portal bore no resemblance to either of those areas, but Theoclea speculated that she could potentially repeat the ritual and reopen the portal. We bid her try to do so, and on her second attempt, the portal opened to show the expected scene. Alas, it seems Jari and Races-the-Wind had since left the hilltop, perhaps to find out more about where they were, so I resolved to follow them. I emerged in a wintry scene that made both observation and travel difficult, but at length, I was able to track them down, and the three of us returned safely to Severn Temple via Theoclea’s portal. We do not know exactly where this standing stone lies, but we speculated that it might be either Cumbria or the north-east of Loch Leglean. Either way, it offers another avenue for investigation in the coming year.
As winter turns once again to spring, I revisit the words I wrote this time last year. In some ways, my situation has not changed, though my resolve has. If I cannot contribute much to the grand plans to thwart the infernal plague, I can at least try to make this small part of the world a better place while we wait for the end. I have wasted the last year in pointless research. No more.
Spring
As my sodales busy themselves with plans for the coming year, I feel a strange disconnection from it all. Branwen, Theoclea and Jari each pursue theories that, separately or in combination, might offer us salvation from the coming peril. Yet here I sit on the sideline, with little to contribute other than hollow words of encouragement. I never felt truly comfortable relying on others, preferring always to take matters into my own hands, but this seems impossible now. I must rely on the genius of others to overcome this challenge that we all face. What a damning indictment of a life it is to call oneself wise, yet have no wisdom to bring. Black moods envelop me, and I feel an urge to simply withdraw from covenant life.
All magi were present for the council meeting on the first day of the season. We began with a short discussion of the great storm that had hit the covenant last winter. Despite its unusual ferocity and extent, Jari said that it appeared to be natural in origin, for there was no sign that magic had been used to conjure it. The storm had caused great damage across the land, not just within the Dean, and the general mood among the people that it was a sign of God’s displeasure, though opinions differed on what exactly had raised His ire. Fortunately for us, Branwen had been able to right the fallen oak, restoring the integrity of the circle of trees that forms the covenant’s natural stockade. I noticed that she moved stiffly and uneasily as she entered the council chamber, and she muttered darkly that the magic had come at some cost to her. Pyrrhus took the opportunity to insinuate that she was in hock to the pagan Gods and to suggest that we should replace the trees with an entirely mundane wall. Branwen and Pyrrhus exchanged a few more barbed comments before Naevius thankfully moved the discussion onto a wider discussion of our finances.
I provided an overview of the information I had gleaned from an earlier conversation with the steward, noting that, with the loss of the income from extracting raw ore from the mines, the covenant was making losses that would exhaust our reserves in six to seven years. We resolved to halt our secret support for the folk of Lydney, saving a small amount each year, but to maintain our considerable expenditure on spies for one more year while we investigate alternative sources of income. If no solution can be found, we can potentially save a fair amount by dispensing with our non-key agents in locations far from the Dean, though I made a sincere offer to pay for them myself should the covenant not feel able to do so. Jari made a similar offer in relation to the feasts that we sponsor at the solstices, though we again agreed to continue with them for the moment.
There were few suggestions for new sources of income. Pyrrhus, who has something of a track record for proposing outlandish schemes that go nowhere, explained that his consors, the master craftsman Marcellus, was able to create alchemical potions that might be of interest to magi across the Tribunal. He agreed to visit some of the nearby covenants to gauge the level of interest and the sorts of sums that he could charge in return. We agreed to return to the matter in a year’s time.
Moving on, Theoclea noted that her grasp of Cymric had improved to such an extent that she was now much more confident of understanding the purpose and nature of Myddyn’s incantations. There was still significant risk associated with such research, however, and she asked Jari whether he would be able to teach her the Wizard’s Anchor ritual he had learned from Phaedra. He demurred, explaining that it would take an entire year, which he could not spare given his own research into the powers of standing stones. Instead, he suggested that Theoclea approach Phaedra herself, though he noted that the Criamon would likely ask for access to some esoteric art in return. Theoclea agreed to do so, though I could tell that she did not expect the approach to succeed. In the meantime, the council voted five to one, with only Branwen voicing opposition, to allow Theoclea to proceed with her investigations. Perhaps I sense some undercurrent of rivalry between the two, though I may be misdiagnosing the situation. There were no other matters of note discussed at the council.
Later in the season, the redcap Gaines arrived with news that Voressio, once Praeco of Stonehenge Tribunal, had fallen into final twilight. It was clear that there was no love, and indeed precious little respect, across the council for Voressio given his anemic performance as Praeco, but his departure offers both opportunity and dangers for the Tribunal. Gaines explained that, according to tradition, the three candidates eligible to replace him would be selected based on age: they are Primus Argentius of Eurus Acquilae, Prima Lludwyn of Cad Gadu and Magus Suficius of Blackthorn. None had indicated an intention to withdraw their names from the fray at this stage. The election will be held at Blackthorn in summer next year. It does not require great political acumen to know that, even in normal times, this would likely be a contentious matter, but it assumes even more importance at this critical juncture. Perhaps I am unduly pessimistic, but I am far from confident that the Tribunal will put wisdom over factionalism. Regardless, we cannot afford any distractions from our overriding mission.
The only other matter of note that occurred during the season was yet another manifestation of Myddyn’s magic. One morning, I noticed that the grogs and covenfolk seemed unusually vigorous, and, indeed, I had something of a spring in my own step. Suspecting Theoclea’s hand in this, I made my way to the treasury, where she appeared to be meditating over the crystal retrieved from Mynydd Myddyn. When she came to an hour or so later, she explained that she had been studying a ritual used by Myddyn to empower Arthur’s army during a forced march. She noted that, with her newfound understanding of Cymric, she had comprehended more of the ritual Myddyn employed, and she had judged that it posed no threat to those in the covenant. I agreed, and I made my way jauntily back to my sanctum.
Summer
Our council meeting at the start of the season was relatively short. Branwen revealed that she had identified some potential sites for her research into accessing the powers of ancient trees to protect against the coming plague. In particular, she noted that the forests in the western part of the Weald in the south-east of the country appeared promising in this regard. I recall travelling through the region many years ago when surveying the former lands close to Witherenden covenant, but nothing struck me as particularly noteworthy about the forest there. Still, Branwen is clearly more attuned to such matters than I, and she intends to visit the area later in the year, after having consulted with Prima Lludwyn this season. Nothing else of note was discussed at our gathering.
Later in the season, several members of the covenant reported the uncanny feeling that they could fathom the yet unspoken decisions made by others. This curious phenomenon lasted only a few minutes, and we eventually traced it back to yet another of Theoclea’s experiments. She had been attempting to recreate a ritual in which Myddyn had used magic to identify a spy placed by Mordred within Arthur’s camp. Once again, there appeared to be no malign consequences of her work, and so she continued with her studies without restrictions.
I received notice a few weeks later that a party of men had landed at Blackney pier and were investigating the mining activities in the surrounding the area. I made my way to Leolf’s hut in disguise in case the investigation turned violent or unduly intrusive, but in the end, it passed without significant incident. The men appeared much more concerned with the mines than the villagers, and they left apparently satisfied that they had a good understanding of the revenues that they could divert to the Crown. This will mean more hardship for our allies in the village, but they are a hardy folk, and Leolf assured me that it was a burden they could bear. I told him to inform me if the situation changes, but for now at least, the new political regime is a significant inconvenience but not a disaster.
Leolf also reminded me of his vision some years ago that a threat remained to Theoclea’s life: a hidden assassin who would strike without warning. He believes his ability to perceive the unseen world of spirits may allow us to thwart our enemy’s plans. I had not forgotten this, but I welcomed his continued vigilance.
Autumn
At the autumn council, Jari announced that he had succeeded in inventing a spell that allows him to perceive what lies at the end of a ley line. This breakthrough should make it much quicker to investigate the networks of these mystical lines, since he need not travel down each and every one to determine whether they are of interest.
The timing of this is most fortuitous, since Branwen announced her intention to travel to the Weald this season to follow up on her investigations into suitable sites for her own research. Jari and Branwen thus took the ship to the port of Rye, before making their way inland to the small settlement of Crowborough. In the woods close to the village, they managed to locate several small standing stones, each connected by ley lines. None of the stones was particularly impressive on first inspection, though Jari was able to determine a little of the original purpose for which they were erected. In particular, one related to the healing of animals, and Jari was also able to detect that it was tended by the spirit of a healer that I surmise to be the Wild Man of the Woods of local folklore. A second nearby stone related to illusions or images in some respect. At the latter stone, the two grogs each had a strange vision: one seemed to relate to the coming plague that we believe threatens all life across the land; whereas the second was a personal matter relating to Branwen that she chose not to reveal to others.
Using a ritual inspired by the activities of the Unnamed House near Halls of the Forest covenant, last year, Jari was able to empower the second stone and send its energies down the ley line to the first. This seemed to fortify the healing stone; indeed, Races-the-Wind, who had suffered some malady at Avebury many years ago, reported that he was once again whole. Jari continued to measure the impact of the changes he had wrought, and he believes that they persisted for a full lunar cycle.
Though Jari was understandably pleased with the fruits of his efforts, Branwen’s efforts were not so promising. She managed to locate a woodland grove that, in principle, might serve as a suitable shelter against the coming plague, but it was a tiny space that would provide room for no more than a couple of people. As such, it is no solution to the greater problems that we face, so she will have to look elsewhere to further her plans.
Towards the end of the season, a group of grogs reported that sword cuts suffered during a training accident spontaneously closed without the need for needle and thread. We once again traced the origin of this strange event to Theoclea’s experimentation. This time, it seems she was mimicking a ritual used by Myddyn to heal wounded troops. We judged such an intervention to be benign and left her continue her studies.
Winter
Our meeting at the start of the season was dominated by a short discussion of the results of Jari and Branwen’s investigations in the Weald. Alas, we reached no firm conclusions on where best to redirect their efforts given the failure to find an appropriate location in the south-east. The former covenants of Lear Valley and Oakham Vale were mentioned, but I sense there was little real expectation that either would prove suitable. We left the matter in the hands of the two magi closest to the issue, though several of us offered to help search once they had an idea of where to begin.
The season itself was relatively quiet, with one major exception. Towards the middle of winter, reports reached the magi that a magical portal had appeared out of nowhere in the great hall. Jari and Naevius were the first of our number to hear the news. Peering through the portal, they spied a grand standing stone set high in a mountainous landscape. Believing this might be one of the great henges referred to in Arcanus’ writings, Races-the-Wind leapt through, shortly followed by a slightly less intrepid Jari. They had just begun to survey the place, which was shrouded in thick mist, when the portal disappeared, stranding them in unknown territory.
Divining that Theoclea’s hand lay once more behind these strange events, Naevius sent word to her in the treasury. She explained that she had been observing Myddyn create a portal to transport one of Arthur’s armies from Norfolk to the West Country. The landscape observed through the portal bore no resemblance to either of those areas, but Theoclea speculated that she could potentially repeat the ritual and reopen the portal. We bid her try to do so, and on her second attempt, the portal opened to show the expected scene. Alas, it seems Jari and Races-the-Wind had since left the hilltop, perhaps to find out more about where they were, so I resolved to follow them. I emerged in a wintry scene that made both observation and travel difficult, but at length, I was able to track them down, and the three of us returned safely to Severn Temple via Theoclea’s portal. We do not know exactly where this standing stone lies, but we speculated that it might be either Cumbria or the north-east of Loch Leglean. Either way, it offers another avenue for investigation in the coming year.
As winter turns once again to spring, I revisit the words I wrote this time last year. In some ways, my situation has not changed, though my resolve has. If I cannot contribute much to the grand plans to thwart the infernal plague, I can at least try to make this small part of the world a better place while we wait for the end. I have wasted the last year in pointless research. No more.