Joel's Journal

July 5th, 1887







I actually received an assignment for the first time in three years. You

would think that the head bounty hunter of the Solari would receive more

assignments, but for such a “devout following”, the Church of Celestia has no

faith in their own members. Yet I digress.



Madame Clémence, the Lunari High Chancellor, showed up at my door

personally. Quite an honor,



Even though she left hours ago. I am still trying to process her words. She

asked me on behalf of the Lunari high council to track down this tyrant

called “The Peace Keeper” from some far-off continent called Indomitas.

I know, it sounds like the beginning of a joke.



I almost laughed when she told me that I would be accompanied by two

strangers through the voyage across the ocean. First of all, I do not do

oceans, thank you very much. Second, why am I traveling with people I

do not know?



Maybe if I were traveling with Luna or Dad, I would take this more

seriously.

July 12th, 1887








So apparently . . . Madame Clémence was not joking. I met my soon-

to-be crewmates this morning: a young elf-man named Feinn and a red-
haired lady named Aria. They are quite the oddballs, but I have seen

stranger things. Based on what I have heard about their lives prior to

incarceration, they seem like well-intentioned people. Definitely not

deserving of death sentences. Clémence explained that instead of facing this

punishment, they would earn their freedom by assisting me on the voyage

across the Pacific Ocean. I could see why they were so eager to meet me
today.




I also heard some disturbing news of where we are headed. Word is that

the Indomitan Republicans (Who made this shitty name?) are building

a sort-of secret weapon far more powerful than even refined moonstone
weapons.




They have this new substance collected from the corpses of fallen celestials.

I mean, I find it hard to imagine a weapon more powerful than even
Twilight, but I suppose it is possible.




I tried asking Dad about this new development while eating lunch. It

must have triggered some old memory of his because he froze like a statue,

then ran out of the house. Luna, thankfully, was quick on her feet and

immediately started following Dad. I caught up quickly after summoning

Stanley Junior.


He was headed to the Libertalian memorial cemetery. As soon as we

reached Uncle Polux’s grave, Dad collapsed on the ground and started

screaming and muttering nonsensical things like:







“Can you believe it, Polux? Indomitas, that cursed land where we lost

Arthur Morgan! No one leaves those lands alive without the intervention

of the gods. Please, I have already lost my brother. Not our son as well!”








I was astonished. I had never seen him act like that.



Luna told me that he stayed out there for hours, praying endlessly. I,

unfortunately, was summoned by Madame Clémence to discuss the logistics

of my voyage. Honestly, I should have ignored her call. Dad was still a

wreck in our kitchen when I finally returned home again.

July 13th, 1887








I rejected the assignment. I will never hurt Dad, Mom, or Luna by

going off on some suicide mission like that.



Madame Clémence was not happy. Understatement of the year. I was

subjected to hours of lecturing about the safety of Conexus and the lives at

stake by not capturing The Peace Keeper. I mean, protecting Conexus is
great and all, but like Uncle Polux always said: family first, always.




I could honestly give two shits about Indomitas.

July 20th, 1887







Great Lord Helios! Fucking Dammit all.




I received a message from Lady Selune herself. Of course I had no
choice. I never have a choice. Capture The Peace Keeper to prevent the

incoming war between Conexus and Indomitas or face a future where my

family fights for the rest of our lives. I have lost so many people to rebuild

our family and reclaim a peaceful life. Raven, Polux, Viessa, Ren,

Deimos and Phobos, and . . . Luka and Ravis. They sacrificed their own

futures to save mine. And now, if I do not find this peacekeeper bastard, it

will all be for nothing. My family will always be in danger.



Selune instructed me to also select two more people to accompany me. I

think their names were Varus and Wade? Whatever. The ship leaves
next week.




How will I explain this to my sister?



September 9th, 1887








I have been avoiding writing here for two months, but today marks the day

my crew enters Indomitan lands. No doubt I (ha-ha) will want to read

about what happened here someday, so I suppose I am obligated to write in

this journal.



The port around us is eerily quiet, as if the entire coast is holding its breath.

Soon the sun will rise, and I suppose I will have to wake my crew.

Ideally, we would have begun exploring the port while it was still dark, but
since all of them worked tirelessly to fend off that sea beast yesterday, I

want them to have the extra hours of rest.




Instead, I sat at my cabin, reading over the chancellor’s instructions for

this bounty once again. Find some tyrant, prevent a war, blah, blah, blah.
Great stuff.




It was her last instruction that I read over multiple times. I had long

decided that I do not have the heart to kill anyone in my crew, no matter
what they have done in the past. Aria and Feinn were unlucky. Verz was

desperate. Wit was misunderstood. They are simply good people plagued

by misfortune, injustice, and prejudice.

I have been there. I have made morally questionable decisions in my past,
but I am not defined by my mistakes. Neither should they.




All my crew needs is that spark of hope for redemption.

September 10th, 1887








We found a peculiar train today. It ran on a strange golden liquid fuel

that was able to melt certain materials, but the liquid does not seem to affect
living flesh.




I am starting to recognize a peculiar trait in each of my crewmate’s

weapons.



The first one I noticed was Wit’s sword. It looked like something like

this:






























I mean, it looks very well crafted but if it were actually Skírnir’s sword, I

think I would see Wit talking to it more often. Most likely a replica, a

fake.

I also feel a familiar warmth from Feinn’s musket.



I do not know how else to describe it. Moonstone weapons are so far and

few . . . If he really has one, he certainly has not attuned to it yet.



Maybe I am just getting old and losing my senses. Maybe it is made of

some new material I am unfamiliar with. Maybe if I got a good look at

it, I would be more sure.

September 11th, 1887








I will admit that I did not expect an entire train car to be a mimic. I

mean, as far as I know they tend to take the forms of smaller items, right?



Something strange occurred after we killed the mimic; an orb of light

separated from the corpse and rose upwards to the heavens above. I have

never seen anything like it.



We almost died today being trampled by some gargantuan metal blur. I

have my fears of what it could be . . .



I beseech you, Graceful Lady Selune. Please let me be wrong,








On a side note, I am starting to worry about Verz and Wit. Wit seems

awfully determined to place himself in dangerous situations. Verz sewed

human flesh into a “pouch”. It was quite an unholy sight. What brings me
more unease is that Aria and Feinn do not seem to find this behavior

troubling.

September 12th, 1887







Why would anyone in this god forsaken world try to wake someone up with

a harmonica?



Aria seems to shrink away from me now; perhaps I reprimanded her too

harshly.




My anger was misplaced though; I had no rest that night. In fact, I

rarely sleep these days. My eyes close, and I doze off for about a quarter
of an hour, only to wake up with my fingers clenched at my cloak. Even

though I have spent two months with Aria, Feinn, Verz, and Wit, I

still struggle to trust them.



I know that I need to treat them like equals, not just people hired to help

me complete a bounty, but I am afraid to do so.




Allowing myself to call them friends would just hurt more if when one of
them dies. Because more likely than not, some of us - including me - will

die on this mission to capture The Peace Keeper. More likely than not,

that death will be painful, and once again, people will die for a cause that

they had no say in.

September 14th, 1887




I have seen some things that I wish not to write down in here, but I guess

now understand why he recommended that I bring this journal. That

goddamn demon scarecrow forced me to confront my worst fears of not being

able to protect the people around me.



What would have happened if that scarecrow won that fight? I felt so

powerless each time I saw someone collapse onto the ground, tormented

what I can only assume now were visions of unspeakable horrors.



I can only do so much to protect everyone. The bracelet of the Solari that

I received can only be used once per sunrise and only against physical

threats. My divine connections are rather limited in this world. My

abjuration magic has exponential drawbacks, the more frequently I use
them.




And then there is the Iron Death. I do not understand how or why it is

roaming these lands. He assured me that both worlds defeated this

gargantuan construct at least two decades ago. I would never have brought

the moonstone core if I knew that the Iron death was still active.

Speaking of the moonstone core, I need to find some way to get it back to
my world. Every time that the core is exposed outside of its container, there is

a chance the Iron Death will recognize it.



Perhaps Merlin knows a location in these lands where I can find a

weaker fabric of reality. Of course, I could just follow my compass to find a

gate, but that device has proved rather unreliable as of late. Like that house

with inverting lights for example, the compass did not respond to it at all.



Sometimes, I wonder how much I really know about the mirror world.

September 15th, 1887








We don’t talk about Thursday, no, no, no!

We don’t talk about Thursday, but





Kx hek t vocoew hsr

Qt hcw l twtkeqwp oeq

Pm wpti rilmqnr tilhq

Tvd ejici oxze yq gzqehbizpw tr kbohe.


Cx wislb tsgc hijxv't tp qj wazptd.



Yme vsg irzwro aamp a mgatpvxzeo hvzaf

Mpuyfic!

Cgn’tl mtmyk zbu bleo, Gijs, wr djsfpv B?


Q’m loydiv, pmlw vlpr, yh wn.





Ugh, what am I writing here?



Shit happened and more shit happened. Let’s move on.

September 21st, 1887







I was shaken awake by Feinn today. Apparently, elves do not actually

sleep, so he watched everyone doze off for an entire week, including me.



He told me that Camilla and Diero had vanished when he woke up,

although for some reason, they left their equipment inside the room.




I almost asked him to wake the others, but something in his expression told

me that he had already tried. Many, many times.



Instead, I asked Feinn to watch over the others so I could investigate

what happened to them.



I searched the room first, but the only notable things that were missing were

the two golden cards I stole from that dragonborn and human.



The hallway outside was rather dusty, so I thought I would find some

footprints there, but there were none.




I could just be overthinking this situation, but if they do not return by noon,
I will start searching for them in this city next.