A dreadful morning's breakfast with Councilor Berdini and Rhaena Burnie was hardly reassuring.
And the bacon was burned.
The day had been spent, mostly, in a warm bathtub sweating and snoring at home, trying to stay out of the insufferable Myrken summer heat.
A late night trip to the inn was abbreviated by a sight of Catch assaulting a dress-garbed Ariane Carnath-Emory, threatening to rip her out of her clothes.
And silly Aloisius had the brilliant idea to get in the way.
He arrived home in a daze with a nice knot on the back of his head from Catch's kicking him when he knelt to assist the muddled marshal.
Now, wearing a yellow nightgown and cap, Aloisius sits at his writing desk in his study again, quill trembling in his grip, parchment spread before him under lantern light, door locked, window shuttered.
21373
Coun. Ber. and R. B. not receptive.
Gov. G. B. missing.
Mar. A. C. E. in fine gown attacked by Gr. Ca.
Ink is left to dry for a few minutes as Aloisius sets down the quill, grabs his cane, and carefully toddles around his study.
"Myrken's a mess, Aloisius, a mess. Oh!"
His stomach, upset by the recent blow to his head, rolls and roils as he takes the first few hesitant steps. It's quelled only by his easing onto a couch.
"No walking. Just rest. Just rest."
He hufffffs a wheeze.
Then, the brief twinkle of recollection.
"How did she know I was at the meetinghouse? No coincidences, Aloisius. Not a one. She--she's up to something, mmph mmph, and she's watching me."