The inescapable heat of summer is one of the few things I haven’t missed about travelling.

Compared to things I have seen now in other worlds, it surprises me how little technology has advanced in my own. Not that I complain. For example, the magic of a boufbowl match would be lost if it was only watched through a screen.

That great actor’s descendant telling me of her antique films last week has been on my mind lately. It’s probably a good thing the gelevision never caught on as a common household appliance in the modern age.

But why some people feel the need to never use my name, instead only ever a word, I will pretend not to know.

But even with a ward against them, it’s disorienting to still be aware I would have had some nightmare if I could. The tension is there. The memory of whatever cruel imagery might’ve been is not.

The countryside is much calmer these nights without the scrutinising gaze of a certain dragon. A welcome reprieve for at least the next few years.

There is nothing quite so refreshing as sleeping under the stars again.

This city has never really outgrown its penchant for outrageous sports celebrations. If anything the energy for it has only increased throughout the ages.

There is a certain unique frustration with being an old antique dealer, though. Imagine being hit on the head by the perch-staff held by a ghost and not knowing where that same item exists on the material plane, if at all. Maddening.

The drawback of being so well known is that on occasion I will be flagged down to appraise an item of interest someone happens to have. They see me, storied owner of an antique and adventurer supply shop, and know I will either have insight, or want it for myself. They are usually right.

It has been, what, almost a year now? My strength has finally recovered completely, it seems. Perhaps to my own detriment. I’ve gotten too restless these past few weeks.

Usually dragons have more sense than that. A pity.

Of course you are. Of course you won’t. The only thing that stops a fool is their own demise.

I have heard enough stories from those I’ve met to know now that covetous sources of power are surprisingly common across the worlds. Be it a dragon egg, a strange gem, or other item, there is always something divine to be sought after. And there will always be misguided men who seek to obtain it.

[ MUSE ]

[ ACCOUNT ]

[ WRITER ]

Resurrections, on the other hand… Such a thing has only been attempted once in my lifetime. And it was not brought to true completion. The means to achieve it in the first place are brutal. In any case, because it was incomplete, this is another thing I cannot speak to, though it’s now on my mind.

I have seen also the madness that arises from an eternity of unbroken memories between reincarnations. That is hardly any better, I imagine. But I can only speak to a looming eternity of memories from one singular life.

There is plenty to say about the topic of alternates and the expansive nature of them too. The concept as a whole is not new to me. I have known and seen examples of it personally, before even stepping foot into the wider Krosmoz.

A thought that has captivated me for a few days now is what it might have been like to grow up in another world. Under different circumstances, perhaps I would have a fascination with dragons not out of obligation, but from some childhood whimsy.

No less than twenty people in the last two days have stopped to tell or ask me some manner of thing related to my renewed consistent presence in the city.

Knowing what I do now about the prevalence of mobile phones and other recording devices in so many worlds, I can say I’m grateful such things are not common in mine.

Over the years I have heard plenty of people voice their wishes or curiosity for if the Shushu might some day be “domesticated”. I can understand where they’re coming from. No small number of Shushu are contained within items which, when possessed by these souls, are all the more useful.

A few months spent with someone does not compare to years without them seemingly in death. I do not regret the time I’ve spent idle since Luis’s return. But now, I think it’s time I resumed adventuring.

For me the year ended yesterday. And what a year it was. One which was filled with many firsts and unexpected encounters, some good, some nearly fatal. But I would do it all again if it meant the same outcome… For the first time in many, I look toward the new year with an unusual peace of mind.

It should not surprise me so much to realise the tasks I give myself to aid this town are similar in nature to my time as ambassador. 700 or so years is a long time to build a habit. These things are not so easy to move on from wanting to do.

Now that I’ve had time to settle back in from it all… It may have been too soon for such a lengthy excursion. Though my health has endured, it’s my stamina that is somewhat still lacking after the events of earlier this year.

And now the reports of higher-class Shushu wreaking havoc elsewhere… An agitating coincidence, this timing. Just this once, let it be someone else’s problem.

Ah… Cameron is no more. Left behind is only an empty thing. Can’t even take pictures anymore… I was responsible for him, so I feel a sense of regret. But perhaps it was like adopting an ancient bow-meow, and providing them a comfortable place to expire. I knew him when even I was young.