"An entire village has graced me with enough coin for which to travel further than before. From this I can see more, learn more and perhaps be a part in more. I have given it away though, to small family on the outskirts of this village, in a hut of rotted wood and browned molded hay. I believe the coin could have been of useful assistance to myself, but of life-altering help to them. I have cleared entire bandit camps single-handedly, and have had the bodies properly removed from the surface of the earth in a more suitable manner. I have kept trades safer for those who brave the roads, and eliminated savages in some small part of the kingdom through more direct means than the guards were prepared for. Much is better in the world, and as I walk I am greeted by passerby's, wishing blessings to me. I wish it to them as well, and then wish once more that they may benefit from it, as I believe my path to be lit by my own hand, with the over watch of my benevolent teach.

I saw a speaking owl last night, in the trees well above where I laid my camp. It beckoned, in the lateness of the dying evening, for the sun to set as it's eyes burned from its presence. After its pleas were seemingly answered, at the speed of the natural, it took but a moment to lift into the air, and of all places it may be destined for, it preyed on a mouse, but fifty feet from where I sat with my tea. It devoured it in whole whilst damming the sun, whose light had blinded the owl, keeping its necessities away from its reach. It made me consider more honey, lest I miss the opportunity for its sweetness, before being prey one night myself to something beyond me. Perhaps my teacher's confidant, whom, for all extensive purposes, probably has a secret hatred for my Kind Master and thusly myself, as I grow in his hands. Time has far surpassed the lessons of power for which I am near and keen to master. Now it is the time of observing and learning. Finding what it is my Benevolence had once found in his use, in a world before this one, before the oldest city of which I know the name of had even been planned on paper.

To think though, all that time with but one kindred soul, who knows of you, and can share with you their existence. My nights grow shorter as I pass them for the day's break. Sleep is far from what I must do. It's cold in this morning, but to wake, and make for myself a soft flame, of which to warm my water for my herbs, gives me the comfort of certainty that I still have my mind for myself. It gives me comfort that my internal begging has softened the torment I carry in me. Yet, I still sometimes wish to see softer eyes when I wake and fill the pot with water."