NB: If the text seems a bit on the confusing side, please bear in mind that, like many folk of the elder ages, Captain Smith-Smyth-Smith apparently regarded proper spelling as something which happened to other people.
EXCERPTS FROM
A Tru and most Accurat account of the Grand Royal Ekspedishun to Darkest Alagaesia
kept by Captain Sir Reginald Bertram Smith-Smyth-Smith, commanding
Members:
Doctor Lazarus Fetherstoanhaw, Royal Akademie
Serjeant Meriwether Twisselton
Pryvat Arlo Pinchnikel,
loyal & humbl Servants all of Her Royal Hyness the Queen
Day 1
-Afternoon -- Hav crost the borders into the Northern reaches of Alagaesia. I hav great Hoaps for a Most profitabl ventur. Rumors tell of great Wealth and many Raisses living in Accord together. To carrie back a positiv report would be quyt a Fether in our Caps, and no misstaik!
-Evening -- Encounter'd a most unplesant Sort along the trail. Possest of an eerie shaid of i was he, and a brusk and rued Manner. He seem'd to be in Charj of a littl gang of sorts - alas that such banditry should go unchek'd! Brutish things they wer, too, each with great Horns atop his head and arms made for crushing. And the stink was Most foul! I shall need to wash most Vigorous this night. How it is they thought to catch unwarie Travelers I gather not, for any who catch Wind of such as that would shurlie flee in Great Haist. The leader seem'd most upset we wer not his chosen Quarry, but a few stern Words had them Sort'd ryt and propper.
A somwhat unfavorabl beginning to our littl adventur. Still it is but the First Day, and as they say "Where Lyf is, ther fynd ye Hoap as well!"
Day 2
-Erlie Morning -- Terribl happenings. Doctor Fetherstoanhaw mislaid his Journal along the trail, and we ventur'd back to see if it myt be found. As we near'd the bandit trap so did another partie, from the far Syd. Thees wer shurlie of the local Fey, which Doctor F. has call'd the "elvens." 2 wer struk down Most quiklie by the smellie beasts. The third, a ladie of long and Flowing raven loks, did abandon them most Crewellie and fled. A craven sacrifys it was, and of no effekt - the Bandit brought her hoars down by som fell magik. Serjeant Twisselton was all for coming to her Aid (Galant Coad and all that,) until the forest started bursting out in Flaims. I elected a stratejic retreat was in Order. Best not to taik a Hand in the local doings just yet.
(I should lyk it Noted heer that I gaiv Said command in a manner Most Befitting an officer of Her Majestie, and did not at Any Tym instruct the men to "Bugger off befoar we ar cook'd," no matter what a certain Serjeant may insist.)
Though I hold the Stiff Upper Lip for the mens' saik, I fynd the Heart is Troubl'd. Doctor F.'s tails spaik of elvens as wys and fair, yet if what we hav seen is the Tru Measur of their rais, they ar at best a pack of Handsom Dolts. To stroll so blyndlie into such a Trap! And the crewel cowardiss of their mistress was Greatlie saddening. Even the Galant Serjeant was seen to cry a singal teer for the sensless waist of elven lyf.
Alas. Perhaps the local Men will pruev moar fruitful.
Day 4
-Noon -- Defishent tho certain of the Raisses may be, the hoarses of Alagaesia are Magnificent creaturs. Following the Unpleasantness on the Forest road, I thought it best we Speed our jurnie on a bit. The fellow we purchast the hoarses from was most Agreeabl, wuns he was Satisfy'd with our Coin. He carpt on at length about somwun call'd "Galbee" - evidentlie the local Mugwump hear about. The ususal pesent grumbling, Taxes &c. I must maik a Noat to pay this Galbee a call and present the Queen's Compliments.
But yes - about the hoarses. Marvelus they are, having carrie'd us near Day and Nyt without rest. They seem to need no stabling or even such cair as do our nativ Hoarses. I am shur the Captain-Jeneral will be Most Desirous of aquiring som breeding stok.
-Evening -- We find ourselvs in the midst of a rued littl plais call'd Carvahall. An unremarkabl villaj mostly, though we did Witness an odd event. The Serjeant and I, seeking provisons, proceeded to what we wer told to be the local Butchers. I was suspishus at first that we wer being Had On - the plais was spotlesslie Clean. It was a Marvel to me their was tym to cut meat, with all the Cleaning he must do.
As we gather'd up our meats, a local boy caim along and maid to Barter with the surlie Butcher. Poor lad seem'd a bit Slow of the Brain, thinking to barter such a stoan to a simpl traidsman. He mention'd it was found in the mountans nearby (a promising prospekt if myning ryts could be arranged!) and this seem'd to upset the Butcher somthing fierss. Som blather about curses &c. Always a pitie to hear the lower classes induljing in this Sort of thing. It myt hav com to Blows had not the Butcher's dauter and an older fellow interveen'd. Touching to see her taik the Simplton's part, though it meant to defy her father - the sort of Starch wun myt ekspekt of a good "Hoam Countrie" gel! A pitie, though, I had no chanss to inquyr after her recipie for Hair tonic. My supply is running low, and it would Not Do to represent Her Royal Hyness with dull hair that dos not Shimmer lyk...well, som flowing shinie thing.
Day 13
-Evening -- Wether is turn'd Foul. The men ar growing dispirit'd. I fear the mountains are a Miss for anie syn of preshuss stoans or mettels. Nyn days we search'd and found onlie the Remains of som terribl fyr. Curious how bits of this Land seem to randomlie burst into Flaim.
Day 17
-Afternoon -- Wether has finallie clear'd. The men are out for a bit of a Stroll. The inn is tolerabl, but rather Cramp'd after manie days together. Pryvat Pinchnikel and Serjeant Twisselton still not speaking; though he has apologised for the broken Noas, Pryvat P. insists it was a fair reakshun. Whyl I cannot condoan such ny-mutinie, I am pryvatlie inclyn'd to agree. Aniewun waking up to fynd a Drunken Serjeant T. has misstaikenlie clamber'd into wun's bed, and is now drowsilie cuddling wun and calling wun "Daisie-diddums" myt react...er...stronglie. Hav plaist the Serjeant on strikt Ail-rashun to avoid anie further such Embarassments.
Locals say a Band of Traders will be coming through the town shortlie. I intend that we should Wayt hear until their Arrival. Perhaps we can learn somthing Mor of conditions in Alagaesia at large.
Day 22
-Morning -- Traders arryv'd at last. Clearlie the hylyt of the season for Carvahall (alas.) Not bad for such a Rustik littl corner, though not a Patch on our own Smythbie Market Day.
-Afternoon -- Spott'd the Simplton from the Butcher's again. Talking to a Jewel-smith this tym, with his Father their as well. Apparentlie still looking to sell his Stoan. At least they hav manag'd to find the ryt shop this tym.
Merchants seem divyd'd in their Views on the ruler - Galbatoriks, by the way, although I still think it hardlie Fitting for a propper King's naim. Most seem fair content with the way of his ruel. Fear we may hav pikt a poor tym to launch our Ekspedishun, though. "Urgals," the retched Things we saw on our first nyt, ar rumor'd to be in leeg with a band of Malcontents call'd the Varden. No dout that red-i'd bruet is wun of them. A poks on such tretcherie!
-Evening -- Most eksiting day it has been. Wun of the local Graybeards shair'd quyt the storie tonyt. Rather fancieful, with all Manner of Dragons and magik &c. Just the sort of thing thies common Folk adoar. Curious though, that a tail so libelous of the Emperor Galbatoriks would be shair'd so openlie. If even haf of it wer true, as Pryvat Pinchnikel so aptlie said, this Galbatoriks would be "a ryt bloody nutter" to say the least. I spaik to a merchant that I desyr'd awdiens with His Majestie, in the hoap of taiking his measur for my self, and the Fellow onlie laffed. He said it has been Manie ajes sinss aniewun has reallie seen Galbatoriks, saiv for a few Trusted servants. It seems to be a trend with thees Heathen rulers, taking power onlie to shut themselvs away. Serjeant Twisselton wuns told of a journie to the Califat of Huesyah-Dheddie, wherin the first Act of the present ruler was to seal himself inside a room with three servants and a small duk he call'd Morris. I can but pray we find this Galbatoriks to be moar stabl.