KingMaker: Rise of the Dawn Lords

Kashikoi's Book of Secrets, Entry 3

Hello book.

ATTACKED!

Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you like that. But everyone, except me, was ATTACKED last night! The crazy guy with antlers sent them. He’s so troublesome.

Anyway, all of those bad nasty people got their comeuppance. I was outside, practicing being sneaky—being sneaky is important!—and that’s when they were sneaky themselves and struck!

But, you see, they weren’t sneaky enough! This is why I must put in that extra effort to be extra super sneaky. Sneakiness = shenanigan success.

But that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about, book. My life has been so full of changes! First the butt thing, and now this!

Let me tell you about it.

So, I was outside, right, covering myself with dirt and grass. You really have to concentrate on it. Be the dirt. Be the grass. Come to know its essence, become one with it. What is it like to be grass, book? Not something you think of everyday, is it? It’s important, though! Say to yourself, book, “I am grass.” Say it with me, “I am grass.”

No? Ok. Suit yourself. Just don’t come crying to me when someone comes looking for toilet paper and uses your pages because you weren’t sneaky enough. You should practice saying it. “Sneaky, hidey, I am the table.” Try it. It just might save you from some indignity.

Anyway, so I was out there, doing my sneaky thing, and then the squirrel came back! You know, the one who tells me secrets? I fed him some more nuts, and he said, “Follow me! I have something to show you!”

So I went, and it was really weird. You know how everything around here is flat plains, right? Well, as I followed him, things started to look really hazy, like when you wake up in the morning and have to rub your eyes with your paws, because everything is blurry and bleary. Hm. You’re right. I guess books don’t have that problem.

I started to see a shining path. It was incandescent with silver, gold, and prismatic colors. If I shook my head, it’d disappear, but that made the little squirrel mad at me, and he’d bark. So, I just shrugged my shoulders and went with it.

Sometimes you just got to go with it, book—see where life takes you. That’s adventure!

So, anyway, we walk the winding path this way and that (I could swear some of those angles were impossible, but whatever), and I notice that the sky looks very strange. It’s like those northern lights they tell you about, but it’s the whole sky! The stars were different, brighter, more colorful, in different places. Odd. It made my fur bristle.

In the distance was a little mound. And on the mound there was a ring of little, brightly colored mushrooms of all kinds. Short squat ones, tall skinny ones, round ones, conical ones. Ones that zig-zagged. But the most amazing thing was that inside the circle it was very, very hazy and blurry and bright. There was a fire in the middle, and movement all around, like fireflies or something.

Well, the closer we got, the bigger it got, and before you know it, we were in some kind of dark wood. A huge bonfire blazed in a clearing, with tables around with all kinds of strange dishes and drinks. Crystal pitchers filled with something that looked like liquid light that danced and burned violet and blue.

Beautiful people danced around the fire, lithe, pale, and smiling. The air was alive with merriment. My kind of place.

The squirrel was gone, and a maiden dressed in a golden white gown appeared before me, as if out of nowhere, out of breath, and planted a big kiss on my cheek. She looked me in the eyes—her eyes were a wild purple that promised passionate madness, perhaps death. She laughed at me and ran off.

I walked cautiously toward the revelers. Once they saw me, their smiles broadened, and they called me by name!

Well, I cannot say I remember much after that. As I walked towards them (I couldn’t stop my legs), I felt as if I had been struck dumb. My memory of events following is patchy, like dreams are. You can remember this part and that part, and you aren’t always sure if you are remembering it correctly, and sometimes you remember what happened after before what came before. Linearity is abused and causality goes all amuck. I love it.

Anyway, what I do remember is being handed a goblet by one of the maidens, she told me it was the most fiery, delicious drink that would ever pass my lips. It was the one who had kissed me. And her look was more crazed, almost desperate with impulse.

They toasted me and bid me to drink. And I’ll admit this to you, book, because I trust you, at that point I was suddenly very, very scared. What scared me? Who knows? But my knees went weak, my fur bristled, and I almost started to pant. Something in me told me to throw the goblet down and run away. But the people were so friendly, and they had raised their glasses and were all chanting, “Drink! Drink! Drink!”

So I said, “What the hell?” and I did.

At first it tasted like a most delicious, strong wine. It was hot. It burned. As it touched my tongue, its flavor hit me like a drug. My senses reeled. I cannot describe it. It was the most wild, crazy, delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.

I found it racing down my throat almost as if it were a living thing.

As I was drinking, unable to stop until the goblet was empty, I realized I knew this flavor or something like it. Blood. I think I was drinking a wine somehow made out of some kind of blood.

It made me feel very warm, and everything became suddenly clear. I can still see the goblet falling from my hands, toward the ground, in slow motion, rotating as it fell. It hit the ground in silence, bouncing once, twice, before it rolled and was still upon the verdant grass.

The raised their hands and cheered for me. I couldn’t hear them, only my slow, pounding heartbeat. I can remember little else. Faces, dancing, food I had never tasted before. More, different, wine.

I felt something very old and forgotten stir in me. I was somehow one, the same, with these people.

I woke up outside of Oleg’s, the taste of strange blood still in my mouth.

As I looked around me, the world looked different. Colors shine more brightly, shapes and sounds dance with a clarity so alive that it almost hurts.

Things move which shouldn’t. The world is suddenly more magical, and I feel as if I am more a part of that magic than I ever was. What mischief!

I understand that the world is much more pliable than once I thought it was… of course, I’ve always thought life was a kind of dance and very changeable. All foxes with any sense do. But now I see it in a new way. It’s hard to describe.

But, whatever it is, I am much more magical than before, and can do things. Such fun tricks! So watch out, book.

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