At the behest of my Lord Emeric Thistlegrass, I have been sent out from the manor to go to the Great Scriptorium at Conscient. While I confess that it is a relief to get out and away from the solemn walls of his house, I do wish that my lord had perhaps shown better judgment in selecting the men to escort me along the road.
Certainly, they are not bad people, and I definitely do not fear for my safety with such obviously physically capable in charge of it. But Lord Emeric is a bit of an eccentric sort, to be sure, and I believe that this fact shows itself plainly when inspecting those ordered to accompany me. They are men of arms and not men of letters, and I fear that my ability to make even simple conversation is very much crippled, due in part to my own intellectualism getting in the way. I fear that, by the time we reach Conscient, that their patience with me will have long since dwindled.
It is only a few more days, though, before we arrive, and I do delight in the prospect of spending some time in Conscient. This will be my first time to the city, and indeed, my first time to an institution of learning other than Dunwasser. I do worry that the prevalance of men of the cloth might engender a sense of awkwardness, but I believe that any such feeling would be far outweighed by the excitement I shall at being there. At the very least, I shall not have to endure the company of my 'bodyguards' while persuing my scholarly duties. I imagine that they, for their own parts, can certainly find something suitable to do, in the meantime.
I wonder if I have the conscience to dilly-dally in my research. Or, rather, if I can bring myself to pretend that it is taking longer than necessary to find suitable texts to bring back with me for further study. I am in no rush to return to my lord's manor, and while he does treat me kindly, for sure, I often wonder if he considers me something of a pet, a bauble to be appreciated for the funny things that I can do. Perhaps, upon returning with a load of tomes and scrolls, I can cloister myself off for several days and avoid much contact with him and his staff.
Such a dreary thought that is, though. I have perhaps never been the most social of entities, but a city like Triskellian, I think, is far better suited to my nature than some noble lord's estate. Naturally, however, it is not my place to complain, and I am sincerely thankful to have Lord Emeric as a patron and benefactor in the first place. It is rare indeed to find one of wealth and position who is quite so taken with a young man for his ability to read texts in Xenophonia and to give discourse on the reconstructed history of the wizard-kings themselves. For such an individual to be a blooded baron of the Avoirdupois makes me wonder if I have not fallen asleep and found myself victim to an oddly convincing dream.
For now, though, I shall not worry myself with Lord Emeric's eccentricities. A perplexing man is he, to be sure, but a good-minded one. I am thankful for the opportunity to visit the Scriptorium at all, and with his written orders, I am sure to have access to some fantastic materials indeed.
23rd Flower, 881
Oh, this place is truly more magnificent than anything I imagined! While Lord Emeric's library is certainly boastworthy in its own right, and while the halls of Dunwasser are amassed with the greater wealth of this island's academic knowledge, the Great Scriptorium is just fantastic in its charm, its atmosphere, and its unique treatises and texts.
My fears as to the presence of clergy were certainly unfounded, it would seem. The evening after I arrived, I had the pleasure--at his instance--of dining with the Most Reverend Father Zhiroslav ('Father Zhiro,' as those close to him have apparently taken to calling him). I had not believed that a city like Conscient could contain a gentleman with such a love and zeal for fine wine, sumptuous desserts, and a head for the esoteric. Truly, I have not had such an engaging evening of conversation since I left Dunwasser, and I am trying very hard not to think of my inevitable return to Manse Thistlegrass. Happily enough, the Scriptorium is quite immense, and I shall certainly not have any problems convincing the armsmen to allow me to stay several extra days to ensure that my perusal for texts is thorough enough for Lord Emeric's liking.
Still, I am saddened for other reasons as well. The academic world itself, I feel, is where I thrive. Under Lord Emeric, I fear that I am little more than a solitary scholar, made to pore through dusty tomes that--while interesting--are things that I would rather share with a colleague (or, preferably, a close and like-minded friend) than with a whimsical patron. Still, I refuse to allow myself to rely upon my part of the Kilkenny family fortune in staking my claim. And perhaps Lord Emeric's fanciful capriciousness will lead to my being let go to find something else for myself. I am sure that, if the need were to arise, I could be able to find a place for myself here in Conscient.
In the meantime, however, I do at least still have my research. Recently, Lord Emeric's focus on the Autarchs themselves has shifted slightly to their self-styled successors, the Anathasians. While Dunwasser does play host to a large Anathasian order itself, it is the history of Anathasia that has so enticed my lord's fancy of late, and I do agree with his notion that the Great Scriptorium is a far better place to search for such information. The haughty religious overtones of their texts is a bit much for my own personal tastes, but I cannot speak too much ill of S'allumer, for their record-keeping is certainly impeccable.
I shall content myself to enjoying my studies a bit longer before I begin to allow more worry about the rest of my future. And, sometime in the course of the next few days, I should ask Father Zhiro if the cakes he had at dinner were baked by his own staff or purchased from some local bakery; I do so very much hope that it is the latter.