Late Summer,
Today is the first day of my exile. When it shall end, I can not know. I can only pray to the unheeding gods that it will be soon.
My caretaker who had guided me to these frozen northern lands had to depart before the sun rose. I watched the rosy fingers of Aurora light the horizon as his form vanished into the forest. Then I returned to my empty fortress.
My reading of histories helps to bolster my spirits. My lodgings could be worse. I could be hidden among these strange, helpful people as a peddler or a common craft person rather than a Travelling Priestess of the Heavens. Thanks be to Abbott Lebal for encouraging that course of study.
My lodgings are comfortable. Old, but sound. The steward of the fortress has been starved for company- polite or otherwise. Every comment is repeated three fold as though he is worried I do not pay or merely to fill the silence of this house. It is immense.
The treasures I saved from my home seemed so few and pitiful as we fled, but when they are gathered into this small region I wonder how everything will be compressed to fit. I am loath to part with any reminder of my home. But each day will teach me more as I slowly incorporate and adjust to this new life. The time will come for me to reclaim my destiny but until then, I will not waste this time I have been given.
Lemahlyn
The last true heir to the Friesian Throne
