Chaya's Journal #5

Date Unknown, Vallaki

 Vallaki is… different.
The walls are high, the people smile more, and laughter echoes in the streets. Compared to the grim silence of Barovia, it is almost unsettling. There is even to be a festival in a few days. The Festival of the Blazing Sun, they call it. The townsfolk speak of it with forced enthusiasm, as if convincing themselves it will bring them joy. Still, it is a relief to be somewhere that does not feel so heavy with sorrow. But I cannot let my guard down. Barovia has taught me that nothing is as it seems.
We have settled at The Blue Water Inn, a warm and bustling place run by a man named Urwin and his family. It feels safe here, for now. Ireena and the children rest upstairs, and Ismark has arranged lodging for himself with the Burgomaster. He was gone for quite some time, and when he finally returned, it was with the stench of alcohol on his breath. My frustration boiled over. I scolded him for leaving Ireena with strangers after what she has been through, for drinking when she needed him most.
But when I spoke, I saw something crack in him.
He spoke of his father’s reputation, of the weight of trying to be more than what people expected of him. He had to help raise Ireena, to bear responsibilities no one ever truly prepared him for. He spoke of hopelessness, of how small he felt in the face of everything we had seen.
I regret my harsh words. I was so caught up in my anger that I did not see his pain.
 He told me that he had hired a bodyguard for Ireena, a man named Izek. I did not like the way he spoke of him. He called him terrifying. What kind of protector is chosen for his terror?
Ireena, however, chose to remain with us at the inn. I am relieved. I would rather have her where I can see her, where I know she is safe. At the inn, we met a strange man named Rictavio. He is chatty and full of stories, though he speaks in such circles that I find myself more confused after each conversation. I think he is making jokes at our expense, though Gretch seems to find him entertaining. He claims to have a pet tiger, and when Gretch and I went to see it, I was taken aback—it was not the tan-colored creature I imagined but something far stranger. It was powerful, its fangs long, its gaze sharp with intelligence.
It was beautiful.
The innkeeper has asked us to check on the Wizard of Wines winery outside of town, as they have been missing shipments. Wine is the lifeblood of these people—it is one of the few joys left to them. If it has stopped flowing, then something is wrong. Perhaps we can fix it. Perhaps we can do something good.
Steinmen has wandered off into Vallaki. I hope they are not getting into too much trouble.
 Before turning in for the night, we listened to more of Rictavio’s tales. Odd, winding stories that may be nonsense or may hold more meaning than I can decipher. We also met a kind man named Vasili, from Krezk. He is polite, well-spoken, and well-dressed, very different from the rest of Vallaki. Tonight, I will allow myself to hope for a better day tomorrow.
But my thoughts still drift back to the windmill, to the fire we set, and the thing that grinned at us from within the flames. I hope we never see it again.
But I fear we will.