Pharast 28, 4713 (mid morning, beneath the House of Withered Blossoms)

I think I overplayed my hand. In fact, I am pretty sure I did and now I’m concerned that I’ve done the exact thing we were trying to avoid: spread the alarm ahead of us as we go. My intent was to avoid the long slog through this cavern—having to fight our way through ambush after ambush on their terms—to reach the end by having the end come to us, instead. That part certainly worked, but the commander of the garrison here knew something was up when he came. And the whole thing just took too long, so we more or less knew that he knew. But how did he know? That’s the question that has me worried.

Maybe Munasukaru never actually comes up here. That’s certainly possible. No matter how good my illusion, no matter how clear my memories of her, none of it would matter if it was just all wrong on that basic level. It goes back to what Ameiko and Sandru have tried to teach me about bluffing and disguise: the details matter, yes, but you have to get the broad strokes right first. My game with the hobgoblins was fun, and they were certainly too terrified to think too much about what was going on, but their commander may have known better because it just doesn’t happen. Or at least, not in that way, or without his knowledge.

That’s the more benign theory, and to be honest, I don’t give it much weight. The more problematic one—the one that I think is more likely—is that they sent a messenger further…in? down?…wherever, in order to find out if she was really here. Or maybe they sent to her or someone close to her using magic, and learned that, no, she’s exactly where she should be and who is crazy and/or foolish enough to try and imitate her? (A rhetorical question when I ask it, though maybe more of a head-scratcher for them.) In which case, now several people are aware that something is going on, even if they don’t know precisely what that is.

If we’re lucky, they’ll blame the trickery on Akinosa. Though I am not feeling particularly lucky.

But, hey, at least we avoided the slog. Or, part of it, anyway. And, as a bonus, we ended up springing a trap without having to be there for it. So there is that. But, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve compromised our long-term success for short-term gains.

It was a pretty nasty trap, though. Or would have been, had it come as the surprise that was intended. We learned a little about constructs back at the academy and I’ve picked up some here and there in my own studies, but this was the first time we’ve come face to face with one. They are largely resistant to magic and even physical blows which is probably why they are so coveted as guardians. These clay ones, though, are particularly nasty because the injuries they inflict simply do not heal, resisting even magical intervention (something we learned through personal experience). Imagine having to fight our way through waves of hobgoblins after tangling with that.

(late morning)

While the others searched the store room I took the time to memorize a couple of spells. That seemed more productive than digging through rusty tools, junk-drawer supplies, moldy vegetables and racks of cured mystery meats. Gods, this place is disgusting. It’s like an estate sale for someone who died while I was still living at home.

I remember when I first came here. It was a long time ago. Long before I was born. It wasn’t the hobgoblins but the aranea. There were so many of them back then, more than we normally see around the forest, and they wanted to know why (I don’t remember who “they” were. Give me a break; it’s been half a century.) I stumbled onto the House, only I didn’t know it had a name back then. It was just this improbable pagoda rising out of a depression in the forest.

It looked a lot different. The aranea hadn’t gutted it, and of course we hadn’t burned what was left. Now it’s just a chimney, but when I first saw it? It was beautiful. The pit was there, though. It looked different, too. This was before the front lines of this stupid war were really drawn. I made my way down because I was curious.

Because Yuka was curious, and because it didn’t make any sense. She made her way down and she was captured by the hobgoblins, and eventually brought before Munasukaru.

I don’t remember how long I was down here. How long she was down here. But I She remembers being tortured and killed, personally, by Munasukaru. And no one should have to remember that. I shouldn’t have to remember that. It wasn’t even me, but she remembers, and so I remember.

(later still)

This part of the … whatever this is … is as an even bigger joke than the cavern above. One of the lines of defenses was, of all things, a leper colony. Really? That’s one of your tactics? You’re going to defend this place with a bunch of sickly hobgoblins by transmitting a disease with a one month incubation period? Exactly how does that work? We start the battle, then come back in three to four weeks?

Also, news headline for you: we can fly.

It was so easy that I almost felt guilty. Almost.

Next up was this ridiculous open pit, criss-crossed with bars with mist or fog rising up from below. We were trying to figure out what it was when three hobgoblins stepped out onto the bars and started threatening and taunting us. Something about this scene triggered Yuka’s memories, and I realized I was looking at a sort of bizarre dojo.

Here’s what I’ve learned about taunting your opponent: don’t. Just don’t. Not before the battle’s over, anyway. It may feel good at the time, but it doesn’t really accomplish anything and it’s always possible that they know something you don’t. And then you look stupid. And then you die, looking stupid.

Here’s the thing: We. Can. Fly. Do not taunt your opponents while balancing on metal bars above a steaming pit if they can fly and you can’t. Why do I even need to explain this?

And even if we couldn’t fly, we are quite deadly even from a distance. We knocked two of them to their deaths without breaking a sweat. We never even got close to them. We didn’t have to!

I have to wonder what went through their minds as they fell into the pit. Was it regret, maybe? That feeling you’ve wasted your life training for exactly the wrong moment? Or maybe it was just the sinking sensation in your stomach, when the realization dawns that you were fighting the wrong battle?

Or maybe it was just abject terror. The sounds from below…the noxious, billowing mist…we think it may be a gorgon down there. I wouldn’t want to fall on one of those, either.

(even later still)

We can hear sounds of … well … an intimate moment through one of the arches off the pit. I picked up just enough to make out the words, “I thought I heard something on the lattice,” but another voice said to ignore it, and then they, um, resumed their thing.

Or at least, that’s what it sounds like. It’s a lot louder than…never mind. I guess this explains why they didn’t hear us earlier.