Amlooi's Diary

Throughout his troubled life, Amlooi Alvaldi maintained a diary of his travels and troubles. After his assassination at the hands of Seraphine du Roscarte, Amlooi's Diary eventually reached his brother, Nordvik Alvaldi.

I decided to start this journal, as I feel my efforts in history will soon be forgotten due to my old age. I shall go unnamed in my entry to prevent readers from harboring bias against the characters I will name in these logs. For now, I shall be called the "Silent Knight."

I was once known as a noble knight of sorts, tasked with safeguarding and protecting a true descendant of the Forge Gods—Volkar and Kaelix. I witnessed His Majesty perform miracles around our sacred castle.

He took me in and gave me a purpose, when those bound to my history by blood ties never showed the same kindness or likeness this true god had. He forged the backbone of the heavy blade I am best known for swinging across battlefields.

Every day was a new adventure with him. I served as his guard, messenger, delivery man, and many other odd jobs I never hated. I felt fulfilled, with a reason to keep going. It was the happiest I had ever been.

I say "had", since it was only a matter of time before that god had to take his leave and return to the world of higher deities. I spent months searching for him, honing my skills—but no matter what I did, nothing was the same.

Soon, one of those "fools" who shared my blood inherited a nation and forged a duchy. (Honestly, I could not hate him for it—it was the best decision he made.) I then came to know a man—one of the finest winemakers around.

He became fond of me, claiming I was his top seller and private consumer of his luxury wines. They were no cost to me, since it was all money I acquired during my years of searching for my emperor. I found it truly comforting to rest my sorrows within each historic bottle I purchased.

Eventually, I became so much of a regular that the citizens seemed to be less in their own duchy than I was. I truthfully missed the times when I would share a bottle (or three) with this kind and charismatic winemaker.

Without realizing it, my heydays were behind me. My firm skin began to droop, the bones in my body rattled too often.

Not many witnessed my true face, for I was shunned, cast away, and disowned by my own "blood." Thus my distrust in allowing those who I do not believe in to witness the shame my appearance brought about.

"Loki"- the god of mischief.

That is what I, a spawn of those unruly "monsters", was called most of the time. That dark-eyed, white-haired, crown-wielding "man" was the one who named me. "Weak!" he yelled. I recall it too vividly.

Before my first proper breath, I had already brought shame and dishonor to those who I shared a "blood-tie" with. Those fiends kicked me out of the estate they owned the moment I could walk.

My first emperor was the reason I was able to live a proper life.

Prior to the tangent focused on those "nobles", I wanted to talk about when I noticed my age catching up to me. It was during my middle age, when I met a young kindred soul.

He was a young aspiring knight, similar to me in my youth. I never had a teacher to show me the ropes. Fortunately for him, I was there. I will refer to him as "Amethyst", due to his appearance.

Amethyst was a fiery spirit—all over the place and rearing to fight at any possible chance. He was just a wee-little boy when he came to me, begging to become a knight. I remember my years teaching him how to get better with a sword, even demonstrating mine. The same sword that my missing emperor forged for me. I was missing the perfect core, and Amethyst was actually the reason I found the perfect piece. One day he came to me asking if he could forge a sword of his own. I only claimed he could if he could best me in battle.

I told him this: "If I win, what do I gain?"

A pristine nether star. Unsure where Amethyst got the star, though I was open to accept it. It was clear who won—every single battle. The nether star was actually the last piece I needed to finish the sword my missing emperor made.

"Druskar"—The Hell-Forged Bane.

That was the name of the sword I had been wielding for decades. The perfect weapon to show off the Forge and our burning beliefs. It took nearly seven years of training Amethyst before he finally did win. I allowed him permission to peer into the wealth I had accumulated over the years—all to forge the sword he would call his own.

After Amethyst made his own sword, that was when I finally put an end to his training. Forged into a noble knight of his own virtues, it was one of the few moments where I was truly proud in my life.

Once again, I was left to wander around Caldora.

No emperor.
No "family".
No purpose.
Tons of alcohol on my person.

For a weak old man, doubting my years of strength is one error—to assume I couldn’t. It was months without a residence of my own. I soon found this monochromatic kingdom: two emperors with one palace and a few citizens who completely trusted these religious men.

Serving this "God"... a man who paraded around with his chrome helmet. (A man I had actually had a few altercations with in the past, though he never showed up again.) I made sure to gently greet these nobles, since it would have been rude to assume they were as bad as their "God".

A few weeks after introducing myself, it turned out my gifts allowed them to trust me. They were the first people to offer me an actual home. I was overjoyed. I never had a home before. I was constantly working jobs for others, serving on the frontlines, being "loaned" to other nations for potential wars.

The emperors worked together and allowed me to help build a mansion for me and another citizen, clad in metal, to share. Turns out my new home was great friends with that winemaker I previously mentioned. (I did learn his duchy gained independence, meaning he no longer had any ties to that ruby-eyed "brother" of mine.)

I soon found myself having a great time in their nation. I heard about their bad reputation on the outside, but they were not as bad as the images they were plastered with. Our Huge "God" actually hated those who honored the people of the Forge. (Thankfully, they never caught onto my past of serving a descendant of the Forge or acknowledging my Hell-Forged Bane.)

I was initiated into their HUGE religion. I was able to receive a few gifts of our God—such as my religious bread "22". There were only a limited number of breads our God gave out, alongside his blessed waters.

It has been a while...
My honorable lords and god were taken to court. I was not able to attend...
One of my great lords was actually killed, alongside the winemaker and a few other friends. I'll never forget the Night of the Veil.

I noticed the brother of my great lord—the one who had accepted me—was going through some kind of psychotic episode, whispering words of the quartz lady, known for her powerful ideas...

I thought it best to take a break from it all. So, I wandered again—Caldora is vast, and sorrow follows slowly when your steps are long.

I met a vampire who slept under ruins. A bunker-junkie who collected radios like relics. A newly formed nation debating economics with the same fervor I once held for swordplay.

They were strangers, but not unkind.

When I returned, the empire I once called home was quiet—too quiet. The brother of my great lord continued to unravel. I had seen madness before, but this was something else... something deeper.

(Little did I know, he would act—impulsively, violently.)

Explosions.
Everywhere.

Fire in the skies. Stone turned to ash. The mansion I helped build, gone. The wine cellar, shattered. The chapel—where I had received my bread “22”—collapsed under divine silence. The kingdom that welcomed me, the one that gave me a home when no other place would... I watched it all burn.

And above the chaos, the brother of my lord screamed—raving about the quartz lady, her whispers, her truth. Not even our huge god could stop it.

I wandered for days. Smoke still lingered in the air. I looked for survivors, but found no one.

My friend of metal—missing, presumed dead.
Both emperors—dead.
The winemaker—gone.
Our god—silent.

Everyone I had recently come to care about was torn from me the moment I finally felt... comfortable.

FINALLY. COMFORTABLE.

And again—it slipped through my fingers.

Sorry...

I watched everything I loved vanish. Again.
So I walked.
I do not know where I'm going. I only know I cannot stay.
Perhaps I will write again soon. Perhaps not.

But if you find this, whoever you are—know this:
I did not die a villain.
I did not live a hero.
I simply walked too long, with too much weight.

But I walked forward anyway.