I have returned home after a month of travel, tired and aching for the familiar. Forty hours in a carriage is no way to obtain a good night’s rest. My cloak hangs heavy at the foot of my bed, the rest of my clothes fell like logs next to the steaming bath my servants have drawn for me. The servant girl Bethany, so young and beautiful, will be up soon to help me bathe.
The Great Mountain of Sivini was spectacular. The Dwarves of Family Iron-Guard were hospitable, if a little drunk. Horace, the clan leader, always made sure our chalices were filled fiery mead and our plates laden with gorgeous hunks of meat. I waited patiently an entire fortnight before the man took me deep into the chiseled maze of his mountain. In the furthest reaches, hidden from the world for eons lay a vain of Angel’s Tears. The very Crystals needed to fund my next expedition, and of course to fill my vaults and coin purse to their fullest.
It is funny how one must spend a small fortune to gain a larger one. Horace wanted the land I owned in the Sweeping wilds but that would not be good for me in the long run. Instead I pushed a small piece of swamp that happened to have a molehill, those dwarves and their mountain.
It took two hundred men to haul my treasure out of their mountain, and twice as many steads to bring it to my home. It sounds a bit much, but I needed decoy carriages filled with rocks in case there were beady eyes following me. Of course Rowsdower, my collector, thought we needed more. He has wild concerns about the Roads between Star Fell and Long-Gourd, concerns I cannot share.
Ah, Bethany is here for my bath. More on that later.
-Gordon
Thought of a Thinker 