Antaran's Journal

It is always a bit strange to write about what has happened to me during the day. The fact that I'm writing this takes away all the thrill of reading the entries because in the end I will survive even the hardest sword fight if you read about it in here, whoever you are anyway. Sometimes I wonder if anyone else will read this journal than just me and Carana (although I don't even know if Carana will ever read it again either). Will it exist beyond my lifetime? For how many generations will it last? How many people will read it?
Knowing my luck, this journal will probably die with me when some clan comes along and burns down Insomida. But anyway, if you read this, I'm probably already dead, since I wouldn't allow anyone else than myself and Carana to read inside of this journal until the day I die. It's kind of giving birth to a child when you write something. You know that there is a chance that the letters you have carefully written down will be read by generations after you have made your appearance on the surface of this world. I hadn't thought of this before, but maybe you - yes, you - don't even know what I am writing about here most of the time. This is somehow impressing, and at the same time frightening. I can't - and I don't even want to - imagine that one day I will be old, and the next day I will experience death. But when I leave, this journal will fall out of my hands, carrying a part of my life in it, ready to be examined by whoever catches it.

It was cloudy today, and ironically it fit my mood. I didn't sleep much, talked a bit with Carana about the jail incidents (I can't hear those words anymore, they just fill me with disgust) and when she suddenly fell asleep and started whispering, I tried to close my eyes too, but instead I kept staring at the ceiling and the black shadows that surrounded our bed.

But anyway, today I was sent by Tartek to take a look at the house of Krolata again. This time when I knocked, an old woman opened the door and peeked outside with two tired eyes.
"Who are you?" she asked with a trembling voice and looked at the parcel in my hands, which she didn't knew was empty.
"Insomida Delivery Service," I said and smiled. "I have a package for you. This should have been delivered yesterday already, but nobody was at home it seemed."
I knew it would be rude to ask her directly where she had been the day before. But I just had to know, so it just came out of me before I could even think about it. "Where have you been?"
To make up for the rude question I laughed a bit, as if it was just a small joke.
The old lady didn't laugh, nor smile. She just looked at the parcel in my hands. "Who sent it?" she asked.
I didn't think that far ahead. How could I expect her to ask who sent her a parcel? Most people are just happy to get attention in any form.
"I did," I said. Again, without even thinking about it before.
Sceptical, she raised her white eyebrows.
"Honestly, there is nothing in the package, I just wanted to see a woman called Krolata Amiltyr. Is she your daughter?" I'm not a good liar, so that's probably why I just spat out the truth.
"Why do you want to see her?" I heard some anger in the old woman's voice.
"I saw a woman at the market two days ago, who got taken away by two Insomida Guards with the excuse that she was believed to be a thief."
Before I finished that sentence the old woman shut the door and almost hit my nose. I fell back a bit, but was able to stay on my feet. I looked at the door for a short time, waited for it to open again or something else to happen. Then I sighed and went back to the office.

I described my experience to Tartek. He remained silent, rocking forth and back in his wooden chair. Suddenly he stood up, leaned forward and hit on the table with his right fist. An ink bottle fell off and spilled its content over the floor.
"We are going on strike."
"What?" was all I could say to that.
"You heard me. Starting tomorrow, nobody in Insomida will receive any letters, packages, parcels, envelopes, cards or anything else that we are delivering. The complaints of the townsfolk will eventually reach the king, and he will have to listen to what we say." His eyes were glowing, as usual when he has a plan of that size. He was laughing, showing his teeth like a wolf, ready to tear apart its prey.

I couldn't even say anything against it. If I had said that we would be getting into a lot of trouble, he would have just smiled at me and told me that this was exactly what he wanted to happen. I refrained from imagining all those people waiting for important letters of their beloved ones or business partners. Or, well this may be a bit too far-fetched, but what if someone declared war on us and sent a letter to the king, which he won't receive now? Or, maybe someone's relatives died and now they won't get informed about it. It's just...

I didn't dare to ask Tartek for how long he would be willing to go on strike, but I assumed that one day won't be enough to stir things up enough.

Well, eventually we will have to deliver everything we get, it will just take a while longer (and that's probably an understatement).

I'm nervous, excited and worried at the same time. There is an endless amount of things that can happen tomorrow. Carana was shocked when I told her about Tartek's intentions. She really doesn't think that this is a good idea at all. I wish I could say something like: "The worst that could happen would be..." But whenever I try to say that I come up with something that is even worse.

I doubt that I will be able to sleep tonight. But I am going to try anyway.

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