Journal Entry 2: The Red Lamb Inn

1444 (at sea)
Mordecai de Firenze

I stare out at the blackness of the sea. I know neither what lies ahead nor why I go so willingly. I find myself contemplating my motivations to take this journey. I trust not the person who asked me to go on this journey--much less the reason he so readily provided. Was it the lightly veiled threat he gave as I took the invitation? Is it the blood on my hands crying out, the ghosts of my conscience making me flee? I know little. Yet I find myself standing on the prow of a ship headed east, to endure a few more days travel on horseback. As I look ahead through all the uncertainty, I feel a nagging fear for my life, and as proposterous as it may sound... I feel as if my very own soul was in danger of being devoured.

I stare out at the blackness of the sea, like a dark maw gaping wide to swallow me whole.

April 3rd, 1444

I arrived at the inn of the Red Lamb along with my retainer Khalid just as the sun set on the horizon. Guides employed by the Giovanni helped us make our way from Florence to the Carpathian region. The trip on land proved to be uneventful, but tiring nonetheless. I offered to pay the guides' services but they declined.

We were welcomed by the innkeep, Sigismund. He knew my name. Whether he knew more than that he would not say. Seems he was employed by the Giovanni's to welcome their guests. I asked a few questions but did not get anything worth noting down. I met some of the other guests invited by our mysterious host: A storyteller, a drunk, some weapon makers, a priest, an english lord with his aide and some others. Other than being invited to a "dinner" by the Giovanni's I did not see any other thread that binds us together. I spend some time talking to the priest Alessandro but he was as in the dark as i was so to speak.

One person of note would be that beggar-woman sitting by herself. She wasnt bothering anyone in the inn. I had Sigismund bring her food. She thanked us kindly enough. What struck me as odd was for a beggar she didnt seem at all interested in her food. It was as if she was waiting for something.

I offered to pay Sigismund for the woman's food and for the second time this night I was declined. It seems that the Giovanni are paying their people well. But when did working men ever turn down a chance to earn some extra coin? This had me wondering what kind of masters the Giovanni were.

The candles shed their sickly light in the Red Lamb Inn. While nothing remarkable happened, I could not shake the unease that settled like lead in the pit of my stomach. Maybe it was the days travelling here, maybe it was the gloom of the night, but everything didnt seem as it should. Everything seemed to be out of place.

I went up to my room. Khalid stands watch by the door as i write this entry. What awaits us tomorrow?