Notes from the ealdorman of Mohrin

[ealdorman’s journal, pages crusty with blood, only last entry legible]

Don’t like that vagrant old man Shaerk’s letting a room to. Introduced himself politely enough, calling himself Krister, saying he was a tinker from Oxenfurt, come to escape the hue and cry of the big city, but something about him stinks of lies to my nose. He don’t look like the peace-searching kind, more like the peace-disturbing sort. Trouble, I’m telling you!

No doubt knocked up some maid in town or, even worse, did one in – looks like a killer to me. He’s as much a tinker as I’m an Ofieri enchanter. He don’t tend to no normal labors, just wanders the woods and, what’s worse, keeps asking about those whoresons in red armor. Gods, please, don’t let this scoundrel bring us more misfortune.