Trezlan Lorentino is an odd man; I say that fifteen years after he rescued me from my home. He's taught me much in the time between including how to write and speak at least a couple languages. I'm still coming to grips with who he is or even what he is, but the foremost thing I know about him is that he's odd. As an example I have no idea what he does for a living. Trezlan claims to be a merchant but I never see him sell things, he claims to be an archivist, but I have never seen any history he's written, and he claims to have lived a long time but he always looks so young. The only thing I truly know about him is that he's a survivor. Which draws me back to what he asked me to write about and thats my time with the minions of Nurzo. Minions because they were not followers, but slaves. I knew little of slavery at the time it wasn't practiced in my village, but having learned more about this world and its awful practices I definitely can say that Nurzo was a cruel master to those who worshiped him.
After I was separated from Trezlan they quizzed me on all sorts of things. And it was confusing because as Trezlan probably wrote down already I didn't speak the language very well. I still struggle to this day to write or explain myself, but back then it was a lot worse. There were three ladies who kept asking me what sounded like the same questions, but I couldn't make out much of what they were saying. Eventually the three gave way to one who assumed I was mentally deficient. She talked slow and loud and started drawing things, I eventually sort of clued in to what she wanted, but I was still lost.
What they wanted to know was how Trezlan and I got there and which side of the conflict we supported. Why that mattered was beyond me, which is what lead to my initial confusion. It didn't make much sense for them to care where I was from and by virtue of them not knowing me clearly I didn't have a side in the conflict. I wish I could have told them this, or that I didn't believe in their god, but I didn't have the words and they didn't have the patience.
Eventually I was able to communicate Trezlan's name and they apparently talked with him to become their great archivist. Me I was assigned to help construct weaponry after they say my modified sword and appreciated the craftyness. Unfortunately for me they wanted me to work on ballistic weaponry and I'd never used or made one before, and with my language handicap this was a losing proposition in so many ways. I'll get into that more in my next entry typing on this machine hurts my hands, and while Trezlan is paying me for this journal, I'm not being paid well enough to write a lot, so I'm sorry whoever he intends to read this.
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