Tales of Luxendarc: Where the airy lies

D's journal

This is its contents:

9/20Edit

9/20

The steel airlock door creaked shut behind me.

Footsteps investigating the noise drew close for a moment, but soon faded.

I lowered myself into bed with a sigh.

My right hand unconsciously drifted to the back of my head.

There, beneath my pillow, it fell upon a picture frame.

Within it, a disheveled room full of scrap iron, oil stains, and a single, beautiful flower...

Aniza...

My beloved Aniza...

I pine for the chance to see a smile unfurl across your face set in equal parts courageous fire and innocence.

I long to hear your voice, sweet like a spring breeze. Let it speak my name, and I shall die a happy man.

I could hear the nervous shuffling outside my door of someone afraid to disturb me. Not afraid enough, it seems.

I returned the photo to its hiding place and answered without bothering to conceal my irritation.

"I'm awake. What is it?"

I skimmed the manual I'd been given, then tossed it on the bed.

I returned to Aniza's smile, perfectly preserved within the picture frame.

The Eschalot. My lips formed the word time and again as I watched the new ship in tow from my cabin porthole.

9/26Edit

9/26

I hurried for the capital as the sun dipped below the Norende Plateau.

My steps are unnervingly light without my armor, and these clothes hang oddly on me. Most of all, I feel naked without a weapon.

I was greeted at the city's edge by the sound of a whistle marking the arrival of a merchant ship.

Between the merchants and wholesalers, the dock workers unloading crates, the tired crewmen, and the eager children excited by the exotic wares, the port was buzzing with people.

As I pushed my way upstream through the crowd and along the avenue toward the palace, I spotted a splendid building, its roof a rich navy.

This must be the inn the old fisherman described.

Inside, I found a man with a gentle mien sitting behind a well-polished counter.

I asked after any vacancies, but he replied with a chagrined, "Sorry, we're all full up tonight."

It feels quiet for a full inn, but I don't suppose I can blame him.

A walk-in customer, at this hour. Clearly not a local. No one to vouch for me.

Any respectable innkeep would offer some version of the same excuse.

When I inquired after a place to eat, he said down by the port there should be a cheap pub catering to sailors that's open until morning.

Lovely. Back down I go...

At the hill's bottom I ate my fill at a food cart aimed at drunken sailors. Now it's back up to the inn.

I refuse to spend the night kept awake by carousing seamen.

I let myself into the empty house next door to the inn. I'll just have to sleep lightly.