Franz Lohner’s Chronicle – Something on the Horizon

An absent-minded man of mysteries, Franz Lohner relies on his bulging journal to keep track of occurrences, intrigues and arguments around Taal's Horn Keep. Sometimes his notes are even useful, believe it or not. The Franz Lohner Chronicles are extracts from that journal.

See, I knew the quiet wouldn’t last.

I mean, the week started out well enough. Catrinne set out for Altdorf to show some of her paintings to the Gruenwald’s Guild of Fine Artistic Endeavour, and much as I love the girl like a daughter, she is a mite, well, let’s call it “expressive”. I’m not sure how all those portraits of Saltzpyre are going to land with high society – he’s not exactly pretty as a picture, even when he’s in one – much less those ghastly daemonic studies she’s been producing since that fall of hers, but Catrinne had her heart set on the journey and the roads are safe enough right now that I didn’t have the heart to refuse her. Didn’t want her getting all expressive in my face, if I’m honest. Can’t take that in my time of life.

But any hopes I had of a peaceful interval faded as soon as Saltzpyre started preaching again. I mean, he’s been at it on and off for most of our brief association, and it certainly spiked when he sequestered a chapel for delivering his fiery sermons. But since Catrinne left? Well, it’s been something else entirely. I do wonder what it was they talked about before she stalked away. Probably better I don’t know, all things considered.

Worse than that, I’ve got Olesya bothering my ears about dire portents. I mean, I don’t normally pay attention, if I’m honest. For an otherwise practical woman, she is prone to seeing signs in a sparrow’s fall or the shimmer of a spiderweb. On the other hand, I do have that itchy feeling between my shoulder blades, and nothing good’s ever come of that. And the spites in the walls have gone quiet, and that strikes me a bit like birds going silent before a storm.

As to details? Well, Olesya’s a bit vague on those, as usual. Says there’s a disturbance in the Winds of Magic, but as the Winds of Magic are never less than considerably disturbed, I’m not rightly sure what to do with that information. Could be daemons. Could be Sofia Fuegonasus. Could be Aubentag. There’s no way to know until the storm breaks and we all get drenched through. That’s the trouble with magic – you never quite know where you stand.

Maybe I’ll pop down to the village and have a chat with old Lutonius, the astromancer. He’s not exactly the sharpest needle in the haystack these days, but he might be able to shine a bit of starlight on what’s got Olesya so rattled.

Might stop by the chapel as well. Saltzpyre might be a blustery old buffoon, but the thing about bluster is that it’s delightfully reassuring …