Fall Festival, enjoyable as it is, comes to an end at its allotted time. As do all things. The seller of Festival treats has packed the stall away, the costumiers and the banditos have once more disappeared. The banditorogue can rest now wherever he is - maybe he and the PallasFish will exchange memories of the Festival they have seen in exactly the same way as the friends we meet at the inns and taverns will gather to speak of their recollections. An odd thought perhaps, that two figments of my imagination may meet somewhere as if they have their own independent existence, but I suppose they are as deserving of my hope for a pleasant life as are the friends and loved ones I may see as I walk the lands.

I spoke briefly with one or two acquaintances on waking the day after Fall Festival ended. There seemed to be a general mood of slight sadness that the season was over, though tempered with an eagerness to see what the future might bring. For me, that touch of melancholy was dispelled when I saw sign that an old friend had woken, and then I heard a familiar voice hailing me as I strolled through Milltown. Rictus hasn't walked the lands for a long time, and it was a pleasure to see him. We spoke for a while, as we took a walk around the guildhall.



I spent many marcs yesterevening in a particular place, with only my thoughts and memories for company. There's a spectacular view of the beach and ocean to the south. The rosebushes are laden with blooms, as beautiful as ever. It's good to know that some things don't change. The words I spoke in that place, the vows I made ... they too are unchanging.

One heart ... one soul ... one life ... one love