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The following page was uncovered in the study of Valius Marinus, lose and showing clear signs of haveing been removed from this journal.

It sheds some light on the marital strife  of his later years, so as his biographer i haven included it for completeness.


It was still dark when the rooster’s call shattered the night, bringing with it the weak drawn light.

We murmured at the light as it filled the chamber, awakeing us to the cold day ahead.

“Stay while Valius, lets just enjoy each others company”
Veiakere rolled over pulling the large fur over us.

” I can’t stay, you know that i don’t belong here, i am betrothed, i have estates to manage.”
The smile faded from her lips as i spoke.
She sighed before clambering from the bed with a clatter.

“Your right, i can’t keep you here, you have your life and it’s not here, not with me.”
There was sadness on Veiakere face as she donned her blued steel helmet, shutting her soft brown eyes behind the bronze rimmed sockets.

“-Sniff- You’ll come and vist? right? you’re not going to just forget me like him?”
“Of course it will, Veiakere your the only woman i’ve ever be truly happy with..”
Her armour was cold and stiff as we embraced one last time as lovers.
The lose pages end here
The Thulean wastes where next on itinerary, it was a long week waiting in a cold tradeing town, watching the traders argue over shipments as the plans were made to head north.

Finaly three days before midsummer i met the caravan master that would take me north.

The tavern, stank from a mix unwashed bodys, spoiled beer and wet dogs.
After passing the scrum at the bar, i headed in to the back, looking for one called Iarrarl.

In a dark shadow filled corner, i found, Iarrarl with a large drinking horn in one hand and young red hair serving maid in the other.

The first thing that struck me about Iarrarl, was her hair, it was silver not the faded gray of age but a bright shinning silver.

She sat still, so deep in thought as to be all most indifferent to the fussing maid.

Her eyes glinted as she faced me, there was no smile on her face, just an unwavering stare.
And what a stare it was, her face was pale, all most deathly so, with pale blue eyes that stared like two lumps of frozen ice, the only colour came from the thick raised scars that ran down her face.

“So you Villus Markus, I Iarrarl, i go you come.”
Broken and crude, it was the norm and i was getting used to deciphering such speech.

Brushing the maid aside, she stood up, cutting a distinctive figure, at lest 6 pes tall.

“You buy hose, food hose then next sun i you – she pointed at the ground- then go.”

Included here is a painting, Valius made after his trip by called The ice queen at war, it is cleary heavy based on Iarrarl, if not her.