Ordis Nightwarden

The light of a candle filters through the front of the tent. I've always found it reassuring to know that I can pay the nightwarden a visit no matter how late the hour. Her quarters are cramped, overflowing with papers and books, and always filled with bureaucratic clutter. Sitting at her desk, which is stacked high with documents, and bundled up in a warm but quite impractical outfit, she inventories, indexes, counts, reimburses and orders everything we'll need for our expedition to succeed in the days to come. As well as managing our supplies while we sleep soundly, she continues to work behind the scenes to protect us: changing the patrol schedules, optimizing the sentinel rotations, ensuring that the fires are maintained… in short, all the small but essential details that are completely invisible to the rest of the team.

I lift the flap at the entrance to her tent, and the candle flame flickers in the sudden breeze. And, as usual, I find her hard at work. I bid her good evening, and she replies instinctively with an attempt at a smile, although I know she's completely focused on her tasks. Then she returns to her work, picking up papers and scribbling notes. I wait for her to finish so that I can ask her about my current topic of study. I've recently been hearing persistent rumors about the fortuitous appearance of previously unknown Eidolons. As someone far more accustomed to building my arsenal of invocations through reading than direct observation, I'm intrigued by this phenomenon. Could it be that the mere fact of confronting this harsh winter is reawakening memories in us, perhaps somehow linked to our collective unconscious? Is there some deep legacy buried in our shared psyche? I'd been eager to have this discussion with the nightwarden. She finally sets down her reed pen and turns to me, offering me a welcome cup of tea on this chilly night.

WARU

393 AC