Chapter 10

18.7K 529 145
                                    

There are some who might accuse me of being verbose. Long-winded, even.

The writing I do in my journals, full of detailed thoughts, odd notions, spontaneous memories, and other whatnot, could be cited as an example of an excessively manic desire to communicate as much information to the reader as possible, going on and on, never seeming to know when to stop, jotting everything down until the whole thing tends to blend together into a big jumble of emotional words, excessive description, clever witticisms . . . all of which, when finally placed upon the page, tends to read like an unnecessarily long run-on sentence. Much like that one.

There is some truth to this accusation, I will admit. I've noticed upon reading and re-reading some of my own work that it does tend to go into lengthy detail. I've found myself wondering why I ever felt the need to include particular details at some times, and at others I've found myself reminded of something I'd forgotten, remembering some stray detail that, upon remembering, it seems I should not have been able to forget. Sometimes it's much like an encountering an old friend who laughingly recounts some hilarious childhood anecdote, where the very act of describing it is enough to make you realize that you'd somehow misplaced this memory somewhere, and feel as though you're experiencing it again for the first time.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that sometimes I can be a little wordy and random. I'm pretty sure that nobody with the ability to read this last bit would argue against that particular statement.

It occurs to me that if I were to apply the same level of detail to all of the tales and stories around the activities of the month and a half that followed my second arrest, I'd likely end up with a journal that was as thick as it was tall, more resembling a cube than an actual book. And yet, it seems like each one of these activities is necessary to touch on in order to provide a complete picture of what happened during that particular time.

And so, since I don't wish this journal to turn into something with the same dimensions as a boot-box, I'm going to have to make an effort to be a little more sparse in my detail when describing the events that transpired during mine and Tenarreau's test of wills.

To sum up - I'm going to refrain from being ridiculously verbose, knuckle down, roll up my shirt sleeves, and focus on conveying only the barest, most essential, most necessary information regarding what happened in those six weeks following my arrest, no matter how much I might wish to over-describe things, or babble on and on about things that are irrelevant, even if I happen to find them fairly amusing.

And as you might have already guessed from this recent and particularly enthusiastic piece of long-winded literary excess, I'm also a big fan of irony.

And so, here's what ended up happening next.

I hailed a carriage and took Talia back to Tucat Keep under the watchful eyes of the two Crown Knights who had happened upon us, and after dropping her off and apologizing to her once more, I was taken to the Palace and arrested for suspicion of robbing the Prince's excise officers earlier that day. I was put into a familiar, empty cell, and forced to stay there overnight so that I might face justice on the morrow.

The following morning I was taken to a magistrate, who wondered aloud why Preceptor Borshank had ordered me arrested in the first place. He considered the lack of evidence, as well as the testimony of the two Crown Knights who had been robbed. Both of them swore that not only did I seem surprised by the theft, but that I'd actually attempted to stave off the robbers in question. One even brought up the fact that I had been physically attacked and injured by one of the hooligans responsible for stealing the gold.

I was released early that afternoon. It would have been earlier, had I not been arguing with the magistrate in charge of the case that, in addition to being released, I was also due the title of 'Hero' for my actions, and wished something in writing to that effect.

Ten ArrowsWhere stories live. Discover now