Lore book

Spoilers ahead!
This page contains spoilers. If you do not want the game's story spoiled, go back!

Lore books are one of the main ways of getting lore in the game.

Lore books can be obtained by panning, buying from traders and looting ruins on the surface and underground.

To use a lore book, put it in the hotbar, press the right mouse button and it will be added to your Journal. You can open your Journal with the "J" key.

There are 5 main categories of lore: Letters, Jonas Falx, Tobias, Research and Chronicles, and each of those can consist of several different stories, and each story usually has several parts.

The stories are listed below in no chronological order.

Letters

Part 1

Quartermaster's Ledger, Date unknown

Our food stocks are depleted. We've only the dried wolf and rabbit meat left. Largely, we're left to chewing leather now. Our vests, our belts, our boots. We draw our last breaths. The huntsmen corps managed to trap two healthy squirrels and a grey gosling, not more than ten hours ago, I'd wager. It was not nearly enough to feed all the workmen. The ones in the mines had to be prioritized, as expected of their labor. Despite the additional meal, their health is declining. We are running out of options. Furthermore, Joseph, Barda, and Jarin were taken this day. They did not go willingly. The others might still have a chance. I have to believe so, for my own sake.

Part 2

Quartermaster's Ledger, Date unknown

I had to tell Jarin's wife today. I had been gone from the shelters too long. We're losing them, as quickly as we lose everything else. The poor woman was half dead when I arrived. She will not last much longer. I stayed only long enough to convey my respect.

He was a good man. I would not be here this day without his aid. Nevertheless, I can do nothing for him or his kin. They are like so many of the others here.

Rest well, friend. I am sorry.

Part 3

I've stopped counting days. Stopped counting time. All I know is every moment is the same - dark, cold, filled with fear and uncertainty. The work is heavy, my whole body aches. Maybe it will give up first.

Part 4

We thought we knew what hunger was, yet nobody was prepared to face this merciless starvation. I could not dare wish this upon my greatest enemy. The feeling of emptiness is crushing me. I cannot tear it from my mind. With each passing day our strength wanes and our demise reaches closer.

Adelaide, my sunlight, I beg you forgive me. I have failed you.

Part 5

Nobody knows if it's day or night. How can we know if we haven't been up there for weeks, maybe months? The light of the torches are so dim, but then again, what if I'm losing my sight?

Part 6

Mark, my little brother, ever skeptical.

Our home above was lost long ago. Even if I wanted to, there is no clear path left for me to safely reach Maidentown. Infected don't last long out there, from what the hunters say. I had better take my chances here. As grim as it might look today, there is still hope for us. We must have faith. Trust in him and his deeds. He will succeed. He's the only one who can. Be patient and keep working as hard as you always do.

Love, Annie

Part 7

There was no mistake. It was the Rot. It is the Rot. And in the matter of days I will turn into Rot.

I told nobody. I simply left the shelter and walked out. The sun was just rising. It had been a heavy few months since the last time I saw the morning. But with the first rays of sunlight bleeding onto the earth, the gruesome sight of the land came into being. The horror I felt was beyond thought. What used to be a realm of withered plants and bare trees has sloughed into a putrid mass of horrid black sludge as far as my eyes can reach. The air was ripe with death. I can still taste it on my tongue. There were corpses in various stages of decay lying all over the ground. They made a nauseating sound, collapsing upon the weight of my footsteps.

But the worst part... the worst part of this nightmare was the total, unending silence. No trace of a breeze, no faint stirring of an insect. The Rot itself was dead, and thick static was all that remained. Extinction in its purest form was glaring into my deepest senses. I could take no more. Step by step I made my way back into the safety of the cave and collapsed onto the floor, sobbing, screaming, and ripping the skin away from my afflicted fingers. The vivid image of my body joining those tainted, rot-eaten remains was crippling me before the plague could. I wish I had never left these walls. No human should see what I saw.

Part 8

We can afford no compassion. If you suspect anyone of carrying the disease, steel yourself and lead them to the nearest gravesite. By force if necessary. One mistake and all is lost. We must be indomitable. We must be cruel beyond measure. Myself and your compatriots are no exception to this. If you should discover the rot upon you, do what is necessary. That is all.

Signed,

Marshal Durick Lawrence

Jonas Falx

Confession

I led these people here, down to these hellish depths. Gave them up to darkness and starvation like lambs to the altar, and for what? This monstrous creation... I fear to recognize it as my child. The common people look upon it as though it were salvation. As though it were god itself. And they see me as the messiah. I walk amongst their halls and shelters, and I shudder at what remains of humanity.

They dwell in filth and hunger. Civil services have collapsed under the long, unbearable weight of the endeavor. These men and women have no means of rubbish disposal. Many of them have already been stricken by Rot. If any other soul should wander through their dwellings, they would tear him apart from the ligaments in search of food. And yet, they by some power withstand their hunger when they gaze upon me. They weep for joy and offer me what meager supplies they have.

Oh god, please help me. I am still your faithful servant.

Breakdown

Constant clamoring. People shouting. I'm worried. Things were quieter before. We had almost given up. Nobody spoke, we just desperately worked on the project. But now it's almost time to wake it and the people are excited. They're too excited.

They don't know. They don't understand. I don't even understand it.

What have we created? What greater doom have we wrought upon ourselves?

We should have all died. Maybe we should have all just died when the Rot came for us.

I've begun to see things, even when I'm not gazing through the Lens. Walking down the halls, looking at the prints, suddenly my vision shifts and I'm in a world I cannot comprehend. I am in the other world, and it is leaking into this one.

I've begun to notice its effect. My creations: cherished by the people and without which this project could never succeed. They are strange to me now. There is something wrong with them. It is the otherworldliness I have given to them. A golem was found two shifts ago with blood and mutilation splattered across its plates. The workmen, they wrote it off as an accident, but I know better.

Tobias

Return

Part 1

I woke up in the dark. Everything dark. Everything painful. Every breathe in agony.

Waiting changed nothing. I started crawling. I couldn't keep track of how long. Weeks, months maybe. All the tunnels had changed. Not that I could remember the way up anymore.

I'd feel my way forward, finding dead end after dead end. Digging with my hands when I could. Hearing other things down there with me.

Eventually I found my way out. Everything changed. Green again. Brown and red and blue again. Life returned.

I could finally look at myself. Everything still hurt. I was broken. Flesh half gone. Joints missing. No leg. I can't remember what happened after the black sick reached my head.

Part 2

It took me many years to regain my focus. Around me, humanity started to adapt and flourish again.

Unaware of their danger. I have set myself to work these past centuries. Though I am no scholar, no alchemist, my mind is strong. I have deciphered and learned much of what Jonas and the others already knew.

I intend to use that knowledge shortly to turn the tide. Perhaps that is why I now reminisce on those dark, painful years after the awakening. May this endeavor be more gentle for you, my friends.

Reflection

Part 1

I am not the reflective type. I was taught from a young age that life is better treated as a task: there is work to be done, so do it and do not complain. Thinking seemed like a luxury.

I still follow that creed, but I have, in my time, come to see the power of thought.

Thought has lifted me out of despairing poverty. Thought has given my village the strength to survive the harsher seasons. Thought has seen my people raise their voices in hope for the first time in years. I am speaking, of course, of him. My friend and companion, Jonas Falx.

Our task here will be done in some few days. I wish to make record of the events that have transpired until this point. I do not know if any will live to read this, but I cannot leave it be. A madness compels me to write, though I am no learned master.

This task would be better set for Jonas, but he is in no condition to complete it.

I digress. Allow me to start from the beginning, and forgive me my shortcomings.

Part 2

I stole into the Falx estate once, as a young man. I had intended to bring home a few pounds of our wheat and perhaps a handful of coins. I dared not take too much. The old Lord Falx mostly ignored our village in the shadow of his fiefdom, but he was harsh, stringent man who would not suffer the insult of a robbery. Nevertheless, I intended to rob him.

It was here in the shade of night that I came upon him: The lord's son, Jonas, stumbling in the dark towards the library. In truth, I presumed myself dead when he discovered me. No harm came to me, however.

The boy was also seeking to avoid his father's cruelty, and in me he saw an ally. I knew the forests and paths around this land, as well as the quiet places. In time, I would show them to him. My trespassing onto the estate became a common occurrence. I would teach him about the land and the yeoman's life, and in return he offered me lessons in writing, art, and the natural philosophies

This arrangement continued in secrecy until the day the old Falx died and I was able to walk through the front door as an honored guest. In the same manner, Jonas was welcomed and honored when he came to my village.

We were fast friends. Brothers. We were prepared for the coming storm.

Part 3

Together, we rode for the university. Jonas, up to this point, had been the subject of much talk throughout high society. Those who had met him regarded him as something of a prodigy. A scientific genius. Coupled with his newly inherited lordship, he was expected to do great things. He enrolled at Caydehill to fulfill that potential. Seeking to make my own impact on this country, I accompanied him as a valet.

Jonas made great progress here. In a scant few years he was held in high prestige amongst the peerage and consulted for many natural and philosophical concerns. He found in himself a great propensity for invention, producing many valuable tools to ease the toils of the common folk. For this, I was very grateful.

For my own part, I had failed in irritable fashion to ignite any kind of social upheaval. The nobles of the university would pay me no mind, short of glares and outright threats. The workmen, drivers, and cooks treated my words as a fearful poison. Only Jonas would ever listen to my hopes for a peaceful, equitable world free of the chains of serfdom. At times, I suspected he simply humored me, but now I know better.

Part 4

It was at this point, some years later, that a change occurred. Although he never deigned to speak of it, I believe Jonas had some kind of breakthrough. His inventions grew equally more wondrous and monstrous. The golem, the locusts, the things without which our endeavor would fail: these he created and shared freely with the world. The people, both common and titled, began to see him as a shining light here to guide them to a new era. In truth, perhaps that would have come to pass were it not for the great adversity we were soon confronted with.

Soon, the country would begin to understand its own fragility. Each day there were new reports. Refugees wandering from town to town. It felt as though we had all been sentenced to death. That helplessness returns to me still, when I close my eyes. When the emperor sent out the call for assembly, Jonas was among those compelled to find a solution.

I was there when he was told the news. I remember finding it strange when for a moment his face ran pale and he seemed to shake with fright. But there was nothing strange about that, I see now. He locked himself in his laboratory and bade me not to disturb him. For months he continued this way, leaving only to eat and drink. His youthful looks quickly deteriorated and it seemed as though a great weight bore down on him. He emerged in time for the Diet, with a heavy, unwieldy pile of schematics.

Part 5

The rest, I have lost the will to speak of. I only wish to say that my friend, my brother, has done the best he could, and that I am not without hope. Our time down in these dark caverns has not drained me of life; it has convinced me of it. I have seen my dream of a better world come true in these depths. I have seen noble and commoner work, sing, weep, and die side by side. I have seen horrors, but I have seen humanity face them with hard eyes and clenched fists. I have struggled alongside the fiercest stars of our ruined land: scholars, engineers, soldiers, hunters, merchants, even beggars. All who found the strength to resist our doom. My countrymen.

Our greatest endeavour will come to life in a matter of minutes. I go now to meet my comrades and see the result of this: our last, finest gambit. May our work be not in vain.

Research

Diet of Kings

Scribe's notes, 1318:

Master Jonas Falx, please come forth.

The lords and ladies rose when he entered the room. Even the kings gave him small gestures of welcome. He walked to the center of the court, his attendant behind him bearing a great collection of drafts.

My lords, as I'm sure you're now aware of, we face a nightmarish threat.

This disease, or plague as it has been called, is not overly complex. Neither is it beyond our vision. It is, quite simply, desolation made manifest.

Here his attendant began laying out a number of medical diagrams upon the floor. Master Falx issued from one parchment to the next, gesturing as he went.

It rots the body in its entirety. It begins externally with numbness and darkened skin. Proceeding further into the ligaments, the victim may lose control of entire limbs. Eventually, the flesh sloughs off in small heaps. By this time, the victim has likely entered a cataleptic state. This may as well be a blessing for them; the rot will have overtaken their eyes and ears now, depriving them of their senses.

Arriving at the last parchment, he paused and gazed upon it. Many of the gathered assembly also leaned forward to see the image more clearly. From the scribe's desk it appeared only to be a drooping mass of charcoal smearings.

This is all that remains of the poor souls. In its final stages, the rot consumes the mind and body whole, leaving nothing left of distinction.

Here His Majesty, the King of Undland interjected, Is there truly no method of treating this malady? What preventions are available to Us?

No preventions, Your Grace, save total isolation from the populace. Even such a drastic method as that will only last until the food supply is infected. As for treatments, I have found none. Perhaps some of my betters from the academy have made progress, but judging by their silence I think not.

He paused again here and cleared his throat.

It is a certain death. However, I stand here now to offer you a better fate.

Dmetri's Notes

Part 1

These are the findings of Dmetri Arvo, regarding the natural philosophies of Caydehill University:

I cannot seem to make sense of it myself. It irks me terribly. Lord Chamberlain Folse will be here within the month; no doubt he will carry with him the end of my erudition if I fail to provide him his answers. My only consolation here is that the other scholars have failed more bitterly than I. One of them, the older, goutish fellow caught fire to his laboratory trying to incinerate the black filth.

As for me, I have been loathe to even approach it. This... excrement, whatever it may be, I catch myself on the edge of prudence whenever I investigate it. It seems to spread, regardless of condition. No procedure I have tried can halt it. I vacillate between fury and flight. How should I kill it? What can I do to stop this? And all the same, what can I do? Can it be stopped? What dreadful scourge is this?

But enough of this. The dark substance haunts my thoughts, but I will not suffer its rule. The Lord Chamberlain will be here soon, and I intend to have results.

Part 2

These are the findings of Dmetri Arvo, regarding the natural order of Caydehill University:

That Falx boy came to visit today. Troublesome. If it were my decision, I would have sent him on his way without even a glance into our library, but the rector would have none of it. It seems fear of the boy's father has spread throughout the academy. Unbelievable. To think that an upstart sellsword who butchered his way into the nobility could startle and cow his betters into submission. Perhaps I should not be surprised.

It is foolishness, however. The house of Ingmar Falx should never be welcomed into our institutions. We of the finer bloodlines should not give way to the masses. They may win the emperor's favor with conquered cities and burning fields, but we will always have his ear with our superior acumen and grace. It is a birthright we risk depriving ourselves of, should the lowborn be given proper education.

Part 3

These are the findings of Dmetri Arvo, regarding the natural habitat of Caydehill University (And its surrounding territories):

Despite my best efforts, I have been recruited for a sojourn into the fields and farmsteads of the neighbouring countrymen. For the last week, various planters and merchants have been flocking to the university in droves, bleating for our wisdom and assistance. Apparently there is some new blight threatening to ruin the year's harvest, and they cannot solve this affair on their own. Well, such is the responsibility of the learned class.

This expedition has taken myself and two colleagues a short carriage ride south to the village of Grolte. A miserable, muddy village to be sure. We've taken residence in the mayor's house, where I now write this entry. The mayor has sworn to take us to the infected fields as soon as daybreak tomorrow. I look forward to finishing this task decisively and returning to my studies. Perhaps a hot bath and a bit of delousing will be in order as well.

Part 4

These are the findings of Dmetri Arvo, regarding the proceedings of the Diet of Kings:

He's a genius. There, I admit it. I have hid from it too long. He's the only one who can save us at this point. Maybe he's always been the only hope.

The convention has come to an agreement. In light of the endless reports of devastation, and the collapse of two neighboring kingdoms, we have decided that Lord Falx's Grand Machine is our only viable option. We are to begin sending materials immediately.

Part 5

Put the beakers away. Pull the tools from the walls. Look not to the plans of great ambition and great purpose. Take only your pen in hand and write your last words. Give praise and thanks where it is deserved. Say farewell to those still here. Now go and stand in the city. Stand in the hills and valleys. Stand and witness the end coming for us all.

It was not always so grim, was it?

No, not always.

I remember brighter times. I remember running through the forest. I remember a foolish girl eying me from across the table. I remember the spiteful glare of a noblewoman.

A scourge came upon us. A scourge, indeed.

Chronicles

Blind Bat Rickhart

Part 1

Never go into the caves. Never go under the ground. Haven't you heard the story of Blind Bat Rickhart? He was a young boy, just like you lot. Curious, rambunctious, and ready for adventure. Some say he was born in one of the villages around here.

Well there wasn't much to do in the fields for a boy like that. He couldn't be bothered with tilling the soil or gathering wheat. One year, as it came to be harvest season, he decided to slip away while everyone else was working. He knew his father would be furious, but Rickhart was a greedy boy and he wanted his adventure.

After a long day of traipsing through the heath and forest, young Rickhart had had a great deal of fun, and now the wrath of his father was clear in his mind. He was terrified of going home, so he decided he would stay out for the night and give his father time to calm down and worry about him.

He wasn't very bright, but he wasn't very stupid either. He at least knew better than to be caught roaming about at night. By the time the sun was almost gone, he had stumbled upon a deep, well-hidden cave and decided he would pass the night there.

Part 2

Well, the sun went down, and he had himself a nice fire built just near the mouth of the cave. He was safe and hidden there, but the rocky floor was uncomfortable and Rickhart was bored of sitting around. So he decided to play a little game with himself. He would walk into the cave's darkness and see which gave out first: his courage or the cave.

So he started walking deeper into the cave, brushing off all the warnings his parents and elders had given him since he was born. They had always told him that there were dark things under the earth. Darker even than the monsters we see at night. Rickhart was scared, for sure, but that was all the more thrilling for him. He felt himself just getting into the real adventure as he took one step and then another, deeper and deeper.

Part 3

His heart beat like a drum on festival night, but he kept going. He was giggling now, thinking how much fun he was having. He was sure it was all just a silly jaunt, but the images of torn flesh, long hairy limbs, and scraping metal started to fill his head. He could hear his grandmother's ragged voice as he remembered all the old stories she'd told him about the Drifters and horrible Groundlings.

On the verge of giving up and running, he bumped headfirst into the cave wall. He'd made it to the end. He breathed a sigh of relief, did a small jig to celebrate his victory, and turned to walk back to his warm fire— only, when he took his first step back the ground gave out beneath him. He fell and fell through the earth, scraping and tearing his skin all the way down.

Part 4

When he finally came to stop and got a chance to right himself, he was far below the little cave where he had started. Now young, foolish Rickhart had only one thing in mind: he wanted to get home as quickly as he could. That being said, he couldn't see anything in the immense darkness, and he was so disoriented from the fall that he wasn't quite sure which way he'd came from. All he could tell was that he had landed in a large cavern, and that he could only figure out by the echoing sounds of the rocks sliding after him.

Part 5

So he started feeling his way around, looking for something, anything to give him some direction. His hands found a rock face, but something was strange about it. The rock was smooth to the touch. He followed it for a couple feet and realized it formed an entire wall of smooth, even rock. There was some kind of wall here, carved into the earth.

Having no other option, Rickhart held his hand to the wall and used it as a guide, walking alongside it, but it led him deeper into the cavern. He followed it for a while, until it suddenly fell away and Rickhart lost his balance, stumbling to the ground. He stood up, and decided to not risk venturing further. He held onto the wall again and tried to walk back to the place where he thought he'd fallen through the dirt.

Only, after walking a good distance, he found himself somehow further into the cavern, judging by the sound of his footsteps. In his confusion, he reached out into the open darkness beyond the wall... And felt his hands touching another strange, carved stone wall. He realized suddenly that this was some kind of maze, full of walls in the same shape and design; he must have latched onto the wrong wall after falling onto the ground.

Part 6

He was lost. Trapped under the earth in a dark labyrinth with only his grandmother's horrible stories to keep him company. He suddenly remembered all the warnings he'd been given. Never go underground. There are dark things there. Terrors that you can't understand. Rickhart's skin jumped. He felt eyes on him. These unknown 'things' watching him. Waiting for him. He hears movement. A skittering echoes through the cavern. It's getting closer.

Panicking, Rickhart turned and ran through the maze, stumbling from wall to wall, moving as fast as he could to get away from the skittering. He could still hear it getting closer. He could hear it breathing now, quiet and shrill. He could feel it just behind him. Something large and bristling with hair. He was terrified. He was sure this was the end.

Part 7

Just then he crashed into something different. It was large, cold, metallic, and did not give when he hit it. Rickhart was pushed back onto the ground from the impact. The skittering stopped. In its place, this large metal thing started to move.

He heard clicking, cranking, stomping, steaming, and other unrecognizable sounds. The thing seemed to be turning about to face him. He was frozen, trying desperately to disappear and somehow wake up in the warm wheat fields and smell his mother's cooking, but instead all he could smell was something like eggs left cracked and burning in the sun.

The thing stopped moving. Stopped making noises. Just stood there, like a statue. Gathering his wits about him for a moment, Rickhart realized perhaps it hadn't actually noticed him. Just as he was about to crawl away, the thing suddenly shined one huge light in his face. Rickhart screamed.

Part 8

Two days later, the villagers found him after combing through the forest. He was shaking. Blind in both eyes. Covered in dirt. His hands were torn to shreds. Said he dug his way out. He just chose a direction and started digging. Came out through a nearby hill. Got lucky, I suppose. They took him home and did what they could to take care of him, but he was never the same after that. His vision never came back. He would still have shaking fits from time to time. It took his family years to finally get him to tell them what happened. They told the rest of the village about it, and the story spread from there.

Sometimes he would tell the story to curious travelers and young children. There was one thing he always said. One thing he always finished his story with. 'Do you remember the giant metal thing I mentioned?' he would say, leaning in close. He'd whisper, 'The thing that shined a light on me? Well, the truth is, it wasn't a light at all. No, not at all. It was an eye, you know. It saw me. Stared into me. I can feel it staring at me all the time. Except when I tell this story. Then it looks away from me. And where do you think it looks instead? I'm sure you'll figure it out.'

Breakdown

Constant clamoring. People shouting. I'm worried. Things were quieter before. We had almost given up. Nobody spoke, we just desperately worked on the project. But now it's almost time to wake it and the people are excited. They're too excited.

They don't know. They don't understand. I don't even understand it. What have we created? What greater doom have we wrought upon ourselves?

We should have all died. Maybe we should have all just died when the Rot came for us.

I've begun to see things, even when I'm not gazing through the Lens. Walking down the halls, looking at the prints, suddenly my vision shifts and I'm in a world I cannot comprehend. I am in the other world, and it is leaking into this one. I've begun to notice its effect. My creations: cherished by the people and without which this project could never succeed. They are strange to me now. There is something wrong with them. It is the otherworldliness I have given to them. An eidolon was found two shifts ago with blood and mutilation splattered across its plates. The workmen, they wrote it off as an accident, but I know better.

Brief Discussions with the Traveler

Part 1

ACT I.

SCENE I. A large study filled with charters and packaging.

[ODWIN at his desk, working intently. Enter TRAVELER suddenly.]

[TRAVELER observes ODWIN and his study for a few moments. ODWIN has not noticed him.]

TRAVELER

I can see you've spent quite a lot of time here.

ODWIN (startled)

What! Who... See here now, who's there?

Who stands before me?

If you've no appointment, begone from my office.

I've no time for the rabble.

TRAVELER

I wonder if you might reconsider.

How different are you from them,

when your worth is weighed in full?

ODWIN

I can't understand what you mean.

Just look out there.

Look at the people digging for worms.

Digging for carrots and iron.

I've risen above that. Through my own work!

Why be a grub when you could be a lion?

What does it matter if they suffer as a result?

The lion does not cry over its meal.

TRAVELER

Perhaps you're right, sir, though

I cannot but hope for otherwise.

What a cruel world you paint yourself in.

I wonder, what will you do

when a greater lion comes hungry for you?

Indeed he will not cry for you.

Must you then cry alone, at the end?

ODWIN

Hmph! What sentiment is this?

We are alone from the beginning.

Should I encounter an overwhelming foe,

It is my own weakness that I have to blame.

[Exit TRAVELER suddenly]

Of course no one will weep for me!

Ah, but he is already gone.

Part 2

ACT II.

SCENE I. A broad forest.

[CASSIA stands low, bow in hand. She spies her target and pulls the bowstring taut.]

[Enter TRAVELER suddenly, directly in front of CASSIA.]

CASSIA

Ha! It is the merry vagabond himself!

I near mistook you for a stag.

TRAVELER

There's merit, perhaps, in such a thought.

Though I would not make so fine a meal.

You seem at ease, huntress.

Are you not shock'd at my arrival?

CASSIA

Mine eyes have seen much and more

That make your magic a paltry show.

Truly, what is one strange man

when compared to the strangeness

of this shifting, monstrous world?

I have seen bone fall off skin,

And time turn sideways.

I confess, those sights alone

now hold merit for such cries.

TRAVELER

For a moment, I questioned

your solitude. I see now,

why you walk upon this track.

For shame! I have been foolish.

It is agreeable, yes,

To roam the forests and see

The shadow of our canopy,

But you mustn't forget this:

It is only by the grace of light

That you may bear witness to any matter.

We are all blind fools without it,

stumbling quietly from place to place,

just as I do.

CASSIA

Hm. Perhaps I have judged you in haste.

You hold a fair measure of wit,

Though your badgering carries

the weight of this argument.

Part 3

ACT III.

WYRE

Aye, it would be ages better to be a man of money.

I could hold my own keep,

And thenceforth demand whatever good I may desire.

Should I seek a fine supper? Why, I'd simply ring a bell,

And in brief time a roasted duck would appear before me.

Or perhaps a horse? Readily,

They'd fly over fields to carry my saddle.

And if my demands are not filled forthwith?

I would seek myself a rough crowd,

Such as the one I am truly given to,

And ask these villains to find their own bells to wring.

TRAVELER

Clever fellow! Your kind is familiar to me.

My eyes can see the toils of your mind

As clearly as the toils of your hands.

Your head is as fallow as your field.

WYRE

Away with that! My intent I have already made known.

There'll be no tilling ‘til the fill of coin is mine to feel.

In meantime, I'll keep to the byways and start my fortune

From the shares of the old merchants.

If I must contend with the drifters in my home,

then I shall rival them on the roads.

TRAVELER

Come now, look at this earth.

Can you not see the life under the surface?

Look, look! There lies a secret hold for you.

There is a future here beyond your dismay.

Though you must work, you wield the strength

To make mountains. A seed, planted in patience,

will take root and grow tall. Taller than your worrying.

That is the gift, the grand citadel of the humble farmer.

WYRE

Oh, is that so?

I should like to see you try it sometime!

I wonder how your own hands might fare

Under weight of scythe and rake.

TRAVELER

Believe me, dear man,

I have toiled much,

and still I see the fruits of my work laid out before me.

[Exeunt]

Part 4

ACT IV.

SCENE I. A small burial yard.

[METILDA kneeling at a gravestone.]

[Enter TRAVELER suddenly, at a distance]

TRAVELER

Ah... I know this sight.

It is here that words are silenced

And lofty dreaming put to rest.

May I forgive myself a moment of weakness:

My skin longs for the caress of the soil.

Silent keener, please, if you would favor me,

Tell me of the one you've lost

And of the brighter days behind.

METILDA

He was my husband, stranger.

A loud man, and one of poor mirth,

but he was patient and pigheaded.

To his last breath he believed himself

cured of his illness.

As for the brighter days,

I can think of none.

The hunger, the cold, the foul screams of night.

They have always been there and will remain.

Fool that he was, my dear Flynnt has escaped our sorrow.

TRAVELER

I see I have asked too much of you.

I cannot expect to restore your peace,

Nor can I hold the sun in the sky,

Nor warm the sad earth,

Nor banish monstrosities.

No, I am only a man,

But I can offer you the knowledge I have.

The knowledge that has sustained me,

Through my years of doubt:

There's more to this world

Than can be owned by man or reason.

‘Though it is painful,

I beg you to hold on to the hope that binds you.

There is more strength in dreaming than despair.

You are not alone, even in this tomb of silence.

Work with your fellows,

Hold firm to your baffling fantasies,

And you may find yourself, someday,

In the presence of warmth and plenty and sanctuary.

METILDA

I know you now, stranger.

You are that lost soul of song and tale.

Always late, never lingering,

yet you leave more than you arrive with.