Originally written May 26, 2010.
I never write enough, the purpose of this journal is to leave an accurate record of myself, plans and thoughts should I die on the field. But I find myself leaving it for weeks on end, I was never the dedicated writer or scholar. My father would perhaps balk at my lack of discipline, Light be with his departed soul.
The nights seem more often as of late. The Templars now wage a war of containment with its former ally, the Tears of Draenor. I sent Marksman Kanta Wildsabre to appeal to Chieftan Kormok, at the Marksman's request. I still question my decision to grant him his rank, and entrust him with such a mission. The mortal peril of this duty is not what keeps me awake this night, it is the diplomacy. Simply put, of all the high-ranked Templars, Kanta Wildsabre is far from diplomatic.
But soldier-to-soldier, friend-to-friend, the Marksman argued. And I sent him on his way.
One Templar was re-granted his rank, but another was stripped. Absolon Pelletier is a deserter among us, his name is struck from Templar ranks. I do not know his reasoning, other than fear. He fled into Dustwallow after the sun set, and disobeyed a direct order to return.
I have struck a deserter from our ranks, the first of its kind. The Marksman was a murderer, Absolon a deserter. It is clear that I accept insanity over cowardice. Should Absolon Pelletier return to Theramore, he will find no welcome here.
News of his desertion will travel quickly through the ranks. Perhaps there are others that are uncertain about our sudden war with the Tears. It pains me to see that a coward has lurked in our ranks for so long, I will see how well other Templars grasp onto their fears.
I look ahead to days when our path is less dark. I do not know where our war with the Tears will take us both, I can only pray that we are not playing into the hands of something that wills us towards some other end.
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