July 2nd

  Night has already set and we are far away from home. I have decided to keep a separate journal of my travels, but I will still write in this one occasionally. I think maybe once a week, I will record anything of special notoriety. We are taking a scrying tortoise with us as well. It is rather remarkable. I can use it to stay in contact with Maryanne. Furthermore, Griffin said Daphne was nervous about him being gone for so long. It has only been one day and he has already sent her three messages with the tortoise.

  July 3rd

  The mountains are so cold despite it being the peak of summer. Griffin says we are almost out, but I do not believe him. It seems to me like we are hardly even halfway through this mountain range.

  July 4th

  We… looped, I think? I could have sworn we passed by the same boulder 3 times. By the third time, Griffin seemed quite puzzled. It wasn’t as if we had a choice, though, so we pushed forward anyway and soon the loop was broken. We entered into a short but wide valley. Griffin did not recognize it. Strange, as there is only one known path.

  The valley is home only to flora, but what magnificent flora it is! Towering trees with wide, soaring canopies. Bushes of vibrant greens and teals. Golden, dew-tipped ferns. It was as if I had stepped into another world. It was twilight when we entered, but we could see around us clear as day. I cannot tell if it is falling from the trees or merely in the air, but all around us are swirling specs of dust, glittering and gleaming as they waft around. It was ethereal. It seemed too delicate to even take a step. I was afraid to disturb the beauty surrounding me. We are camping at the base of one of the trees.

  July 5th

  We woke up this morning and it was all gone. The relative position of Griffin and I, our gear, the horses and carriages, it was all the same as last night. We were just in a cave. It has to have been the result of some abnormal interference. The mouth of the cave was not large enough to fit the carriages through, so we had to widen the opening. It took us most of the day to do so, but we are still on schedule.

  July 20th

  We are mainly following rivers. We stayed in an interesting little town over the night and set off again in the morning. We are not wasting time on seeing anything particularly interesting, we are just focused on completing the journey..

  August 5th

  Through a combination of railways and boats, we were able to make it most of the way. All that is really left is to cross the sea over to London.

  August 8th

  We spent a day before we left on a ship. The ship was huge, laden with cargo. The smell of the salt on the wind was incredible. It is a level of freedom I have never experienced before. Now I understand why Father loves the sea so much. I can go anywhere, do anything. I don’t plan on staying in London for long, but perhaps before I return home I can sail around a little bit. Possibly go down the coast to France or Spain? It would be an interesting little adventure.

  August 8th

  We arrived in London this afternoon. The streets surrounding the port were filthy, and it got no better as we went deeper into the city. None of the towns and cities we passed through before would compare to the maze of streets we went through today. It was only for a short while but I hated every minute of it. We left the fox in a warehouse, so we are going to have to go back for it when we do the trade. I really do not look forward to that excursion.

  Where did my sense of wonder go? I suppose I have gradually become disillusioned towards exploration as the cleanliness of each successive city decreased. Although it was never this bothersome. Why does it bother me so? The forests at home can be just as filthy, so why is the sense of disgust I have so much worse here than anywhere else?

  Furthermore, in my time away from home, I have developed an annoying habit of chewing my lower lip. It annoys the hell out of me, but I cannot stop doing it.

  We are spending the night with an acquaintance of Griffin’s. We will meet with his employer, Lawrence Sullivan, in the morning.

  August 9th

  Mr. Sullivan is quite a busy man. He was unable to meet with us today, so instead I rode out into the countryside and met with Lucy. She is quite the interesting figure. Right off the bat, she wanted to wrestle. I was happy to indulge. Not only is it her favorite hobby for which she often has no one to partake in it with, but I found it good practice. She is much better than I, clearly the result of her rich upbringing. It was certainly some good fun. Despite her small stature, she is nearly as strong as Griffin. Griffin is much stronger than I, mind you.

  It is so much nicer not having to communicate through written notes. We began to talk about fun adventures and weird experiences almost as if we were old friends. She and I each had similar experiences of strange beasts, of which we discussed at length. But then she went to say something and stopped, a blank expression on her face. I felt it too, something was missing. We simply brushed it aside and moved on. She and I talked for so long and with such speed that we could barely keep up with each other. Spouting ideas and thoughts like a never ending waterfall.

  It is remarkable to me. I had an epiphany just now. I have been alone for all my life. Quite isolated in a valley in the swiss alps. Hardly anyone thinks like me, has a mind like me. Griffin is similar, but still quite different. What are the odds I find not one, but two people close enough in mind to me? I find it remarkable that I have gotten to meet both Griffin and Lucy in my lifetime.

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  Speaking of Griffin, he is helping out his old friend. They are taking care of some chores, I think. He told me that they would be finished by the time I returned.

  August 10th

  My mind has been so fuzzy lately. I know I was in London for a reason, but what was it? Why is that fox so special? It is right on the tip of my tongue. I can’t make heads or tails of my notes. It is as if something is blocking my mind from understanding. I wrote this, how could I not understand? How could I not remember?

  Wait a moment, remember. Something messed with my memory a while ago, but what was it? Something happened and I woke up in the manor. I didnt recognize it. There was a large dog on my bed.

  Blast it! Not even writing out my thoughts can help me anymore. Whatever this is, it is too powerful. When did it even start? Must have been as we were crossing the channel. Was it something on the boat?

  August 10th

  Mr Sullivan was still unavailable, for the second day in a row. I met with Lucy again today, picking up the conversation we had had yesterday, but something seemed off. Our conversation quickly turned to this strange phenomenon, for which neither of us have a suitable explanation. It keeps bothering me. It is as if something in my brain is behind a locked door. I can almost make out its shadow in the light coming under the crack, but not even that can be made sense of.

  August 11th

  Griffin and I are meeting with Lawrence Sullivan today. We will get the fox from the warehouse and bring it to him after we meet for the first time. I am very careful, but why? Blast it! I am smart enough to know that there has to be something more to this. This level of distrust cannot develope on its own. What caused it?! I still dont remember! Large parts of this past year are just missing! Why was I spending so much time in the forest? Why do I have a knife strapped to my leg? Why on Earth do I have a revolver hidden in my jacket??!

  No, no. I have a job to do. I must focus.

  August 11th

  Quickly, before I forget. Must write it all down. That vial in my briefcase had a note saying I will forget the past half hour. I still do not remember when I got that vial, but I must not waste my time. Griffin and I met with Lawrence. Sitting room of his incredibly large house. So many paintings of people. He looked so familiar, as if I knew him. Griffin did all the talking, except for when I introduced myself. “Mathew Moore, at your service”, I had said. His face twitched. Why do I remember that so clearly? It was almost like– not important. After the meeting he and Griffin shook hands and then he came over to shake mine. There was a ring on his finger. It had a pink pearl set in it? Our hands touched and it was as if a hammer struck me in the temple. My eye started throbbing too. But then it went away. When he let go, the pain dulled considerably. My head still hurt, as if I had bumped it on the ceiling, but my brain was a tiny bit clearer to me. We were going to go back to get the fox from the warehouse by the port, but right now we are at a jeweler. I found a pearl in my briefcase that looked awfully similar to the one Mr Sullivan was wearing. We took it to a jeweler and he broke off a flake and shaped a rough brass ring around it. I put it on my finger and everything seemed clearer. My memory still feels stinted, withholden from me by some unseen force, but it is better. I can read the vial now, and I am going to drink it. The last time I inhaled the gas inside it, it seemed to reset my mind. Whatever is affecting my memory, I can purge it. I will lose close to an hour of memory permanently, so I have to plan out when I use it. Something is bothering me, tickling at the corners of my mind.

  August 11th

  Griffin and I are at the warehouse. Something is bothering me. An overwhelming feeling that I am missing something. I am going to open the vial. That will reset my memory and then I will proceed from there with a clear head.

  THAT PIGEON-LIVERED RATBAG BEAST FROM FUCKING HELL HE IS THE DEVIL INCARNATE, I SWEAR TO THE HIGH HEAVENS Why he– how– where do I even start?? I pulled out my revolver and damn near shot the bastard! I– he– BLOODY HELL

  He isn’t just some random person who reminds me of Mother. He is my uncle. My controlling, abusive rubbish pile of an uncle!

  I inhaled the gas from the vial while I was at the warehouse. Every last bit of it. I came to by a nearby pier, vomiting into the water below. It is like a veil has been lifted from my eyes. What he said to me? WHAT HE SAID TO ME!

  “Oh, finally figured it out, Mr. Moore? Finally realized I am your dear uncle? Took you long enough. Ah, you are so much like your father. I find it hard to believe you escaped the grasp of the Nimosin so quickly. When was the last time I saw him? Has it already been 25 years? He hardly wrote since then, you know. This is what I find so funny about him; strange man that he is. He did not want to marry my sister at first. Imagine my surprise when I heard they finally settled down and had a child. She won his affection! Why, I never knew she had it in her. What with her losing to little more than a common whore for so long. Does Maryanne still have old Ed wrapped around her fingers? I’d ask how they are, but I truly do not care. Your face tells me all I need to know, anyways. Must be fun, watching Maryanne and Ella constantly fight. God, I wish I could see that. As much fun as it would be, though, it is not worth the trouble, especially after all she put me through.”

  “Put you through!” I had roared back at him. “All she put YOU through?! You sick bastard! You don’t even know that she is dead!”

  “Dead? My, that’s a pleasant surprise. I never did like her. She got too stubborn. Too nosy.”

  I pulled the revolver from my jacket right then and had it trained on his heart but he spoke again. Damn it. Every word he said made me freeze, too horrified to make a move.

  “Really just like your father, Mathew. What an embarrassment. Shoot me. Shoot me! I know you won’t. He never had the guts, the decisiveness. Stop and think for a moment, Mathew. You shoot me, and you might walk out that door alive, but where are you going to? I don’t care where in the world your family goes, they will be captured and brought to me in chains. Think about that, boy. Poor, loyal Alistair. What about tiny Amelia? Like father, like son, no? He fell in love with a maid. Don’t you like her? Oh! And let’s not forget her cat Bella! Even the cat will suffer a fate worse than Archibold.”

  I very nearly pulled the trigger. I was so close to shooting that monster, that demon. But Griffin tackled me, saying it wasnt worth it. It took all I had to turn around and walk out that door, but I did it. However, that did not stop Laurence from getting in one last closing remark as the door closed behind me

  “Yes, go run with your tail between your legs. I know where your father is, I doubt you’ll ever see him again.”

  How did he know all that? So many details of my life… how could he have kno— don’t tell me, the tortoises! Blast it! I have to tell maryanne.

  Kill the tortoises right now!!

  Just do it

  That solves one problem, but I must get home. I need to return at once. Griffin and I can make the journey in half the time without the cargo. We can take the bare essentials: our gear, 2 weeks light rations, a little water. Two horses each, we can swap between so they do not get tired. 2 weeks, maybe 3. I will leave at once.

  Wait, what about the firefox? Why did Laurence want it so bad? I can’t let him have it.

  This is the last time I write in my journal before I am back home. We plan to ride until we are practically falling asleep in the saddle. Presently, we are on a boat crossing the channel across to France. We are taking a different route back home. We came to London from the Netherlands, but there is a faster, albeit more dangerous way we can go. I set up a little contraption next to the fox. It uses some of the exploding monster flesh stuff I acquired before I began my journey. It will be set off, resulting in an explosion that kills the fox. Any second now.

  That was quite a scene. We already left the harbor when the warehouse erupted in a huge fireball. It was larger than I thought even was possible. There must have been an extremely volatile interaction between the two monsters. The pier is already engulfed in flame. I have no way to know for certain if the firefox is indeed dead, but I hold fair faith it is.