Premier, _istuda avaye! _More than ever, I ask myself why I have been brought to this place! So far what I have seen of this world has been like Shadow, only without the dark beauty and the soft edges. We travel through measure after measure of tunnels, which is quite comfortable for me. The darkness and the coolness is similar to our home, as is the lack of food to eat. However, I must admit, Premier, that I began to become concerned about Friend Rend. It is not good for those noble creatures to go without fresh meat, as you know well, my Premier, and he was getting quite hungry. Those of the noble Troll race do tend to become…slightly testy when not well fed. Lucky for us that fresh meat was coming.
How can I describe to you, my Premiere, the shame that I feel, the utter conviction that I have had nothing of value to add to these people with whom I travel? I have tried to add to their safety and see them to their destination in peace and prosperity, and I have failed at every turn—all here are barbarians, only wishing to destroy. How does an Emissary thrive in a place such as this? Many times did I try to avert danger through negotiation, or anticipate the traps that my companions faced, and all the time a failure I was! What they must think of me! How low I have fallen in the estimation of myself and those around me.
It is in moments like these, in my darkest of times, that I wonder if you protected me. Was I really an Emissary of such skill that I rose through the rank and file to the position of Triare, or was it because you were determined to be my guide and my friend? What place is there for an Emissary in a world such as this, where the only currency seems to be blood and death, where all of the creatures here seem determined to destroy, never to create?
I know what you would tell me—you would say to then negotiate the destruction, to find an angle to get an advantage. I am trying, Premier, I assure you. Even now I am trying to save one of this fine group of people from a danger that threatens to destroy him.
Never worry, however, my Premiere, I still remember our Credo—Ecuvarre Esso Ile Nomentico!
Still, it seems that I shall have to hone my ability to blood my sword in combat in this place. The creatures here, they do not have the brains to fill the thimble, Premier, and therefore the only language they speak is the language of violence. I shall have to become better versed in it, I fear, if I am to survive.__