It has been, to put it as ACN would, a momentous year – although I somehow doubt that it will remembered for time everlasting, at least I will not and I thank God for that.

It seems to be quite popular to keep some kind of record these days and I can see the good in that, so much tends to be forgotten when time has passed.

Now, where to start.

In the beginning of 110, more than a year ago by now, who would have thought that we would not only be finally on our march towards Pator, but also be reigned by a pious and just empress, annointed by as not much less than a divine intervention.

Not every event in the last year has been as earth shaking or public though.

Shern has finally come to terms with her role as slave and mother, something both Kigal and I are very glad about. It has been a long and arduous process to help her overcome her deeply routed sense for false freedom and selfloathing.

On the subject of slaves – some time in octobre 110 I was aproached by one of my late brothers clerks. Aparently he had held ownership over a pod pilot himself, much to my surprise I must confess. While this new slave does remind me of Shern in some ways it is – different.

For a first it is of khanid blood, it’s father having been sold into slavery for some crime or other, I have better things to do than to inquire about my properties heritage.

It also displays the same unruliness that reigned over Shern before Kigal tamed her sufficiently to be considered worthy of trust. Of course it did try to run away, same as Shern, really, but it returned as they all do after a while.

I had it sent to our plantation on Orkashu to work in the household there and think about its shortcomings. I have to say this did work admirably well, much better than I could in fact have ever hoped for. Cutting a pilots wings, so to speak, seems to work wonders, I must keep that in mind.

Despite it’s latest outburst, which can be best compared to the yapping and snarling of an untrained hound, it shows a surprisingly honest guilt about it’s failings. It will serve as a maid for Chase in the time it spends out of the capsule, I hope this helps to lessen it’s mournfullness.

Oh, Chase.

I started this entry writing about divine intervention, and while it may seem undue for me to claim such a thing, I cannot help but see her as the angel who has delivered me from the past. She has taught me so much, to, for example, actually enjoy the little pleasures in life. Had I known back then, when I first met her in Drinker’s, how much kindness and compassion she hides behind her liberal facade… I cannot help but still feel guilty about the words I exchanged with her back then, blind and foolish as I was.

Am I turning into the liberal she is?

Not at all. We have differing views on so many things, yet … yet we always seem to find common ground.

She is the soothing balm where I tend to be a searing fire.

It is a moot point to try to put my feelings to her into words, not only mood, but also foolish.

I love her as I can love noone else, a feeling we share, and I thank God for this in my every waking moment.

Now, now, I have filled two pages with my scribblings already and there is not much else than an account on the past.

There are more urgent matters at hand than writing a preliminary autobiography.

Beat the drums, for we have a war to fight.