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Originally written May 29, 2010.

I placed responsibility into the hands of what some would see as our youngest Templar.


Harple Firehand has returned, though it seems he struck a deal with a spirit and its sense of humor. I await his full account on how and why he appeared before Koryander and I, grinning and appearing like a child. No – not child, but adolescent at the very least. He is fortunate that his robes still fit, but the occasional crack to his voice was distracting.


Firehand and I never see eye-to-eye, I will say time and time again. Now I must command him while his body appears fifteen. I was still a squire at his age, eager to prove myself, sometimes foolish. No – perhaps oftentimes foolish. I can only hope that Harple Firehand's more foolhardy years do not repeated themselves, if there is a difference between his behavior then, and his usual reckless behavior now. I do not envy the explanation he must give to his widowed wife and children.


But we are now armed again with our most brilliant tactician. He took the news of the Tears well, though it is clear that he favors war instead of peace. But his mission is clear: something is wrong with how these events unfolded, and the Templars cannot devolve into nothing more but yet another Alliance brigade. However, it seems that we have inherited the old hatreds of the First and Second War, and extinguishing will require more than clinging to hope, and standing idle.


Since his desertion, Absolon Pelletier has remained silent. I do not know whether he regrets his desertion, or continues to flee.


Silence from the Tears as well. Perhaps I am hopeful that Marksman Wildsabre's efforts stopped this war. If not, we must continue meeting and containing the Tears to one battlefield. I fear that if we let this escalate, it will involve more than just two small orders declaring war.

Author Ari
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