Entry Four

[shosen]

Tonight I write in the glow of success. After patience and practice, with some minor setbacks that are a necessary part of the learning experience, I am attended by both my silent guardian from the Nether, and my not-so-silent construct. The rattling of his bones is an annoyance, but a minor one in the face of such triumph. I will improve my skills, improve my minions, and soon be able to control the might of Legion.

We are almost ready. The gifts of the King shall be bestowed when we have given him the souls of the countryside in tribute. I have made myself valuable, I shall not be neglected when these rewards are ours. Tomorrow I leave the school for the first time in ages, one of the privileged few sent to guard a most important shipment.

Andorhaul awaits us, horrible little merchant town that it is. From the hub of commonality our reach will extend throughout Lordaeron, and by the time any who might attempt to stop us discover our plans, it will be too late. A meal with grain base and our King shall have his army. Our tribute paid, his blessings bestowed, I shall be immortal, free from the concerns of lesser men.

Such as the nagging annoyance of my persistently ill-mannered wife. My resources have been placed firmly in the hands of the King, and the unworthy wretch has some objection. She is humiliating me in the face of my brethren and in the view of my King. I shall not tolerate it any longer.

She wishes to see me, and so she shall. I will greet her in Andorhaul, and though she does not deserve it, I shall grant her the King's blessing. I shall watch her bend low in my service when she rises again through his strength.