Today, Aldmaar and I met with a Captain of the Darkmoor Navy, here at the Moat House. He and a few of his men came to shore to reprovision and provide a printed report to the Castillian to be couriered to His Highness.
I sailed here to Darkmoor as a child, though I scarce recall it. I remember the voyage as several days in the cold and damp in the hold of a cargo vessel. Most around me were sick much of the time, and the captain was a heartless rogue, laughing at their misery.
Aldmaar has never been aboard a ship, and despite my encouragements, he was utterly unwilling to step foot even onto the small boat that ferried the naval men to shore. He did not take my jests at his expense well. Perhaps I took the wrong lessons from that ship’s captain as a child.
Tomorrow we set out again. I do enjoy our respites here at the Moat House. While the terrain is wild and dangerous, Aldmaar is an unerring guide. And there is a beauty to all of this unspoilt nature. Despite the insects and the swelter, I feel drawn to this place.
Nonetheless, I have a flock to which I must attend, back in Elder Pool. And my investigations into this Elemental Church must continue. I fear how this belief system is spreading; in the dark and without showing itself. It feels like a weed, just beneath the surface, proliferating and extending its tendrils…
As well, I have work in the south. The Royal Architect has plans I must review to extend the apse and the chancelry. The glaziers have a sample for the great rose window that I saw in my dream so many years ago. This work is foreign to me and exhausting and it is hard at times to justify pulling myself away from my work with the people. Yet I know, in my heart, that this what San Nicholas compels.