(no subject)
I am not a man given to writing upon these ridiculous parchments. I do not believe in writing one's thoughts for later perusal, as that is an invite for discovery and intrusive questioning.
However.
I find myself unnerved by the most recent command.
I have been unable to turn my thoughts from the implications -- and that resulted in an acute case of insomnia, coupled with the 'bed' (and again, I use that term loosely) within the rented room.
... What I wouldn't give to be home. Surely, it will not be long now.
I have been asked to locate and train my replacement, allowing for his work to continue in the event of my death.
Naturally, the moment I have a replacement, I am an expendable resource.
Although I doubt it possible to train an apprentice to my level in anything short of decades (or perhaps even a lifetime) -- All that is necessary is a start, and sufficient drive to continue on their own: I am more than certain that was the intention in requesting an apprentice of "appropriate lineage and background." Someone with an aptitude for potions, determination-- and the child of an 'associate.'
This leaves few choices I am able to see: Undoubtedly, intentional.
Albertus proved as helpful as his reputation grants: Perhaps a little too helpful, as he appears to have spanned seven centuries ('barring fifty years due to clerical errors 548 years ago') instead of the requested fifty to one hundred years.
I also see why the response took ten days to craft: I find myself wondering if the man is a spider animagus, as the research returned had been written in its entirety on two inches of parchment in what is certainly the most minuscule script I have ever had the misfortune to set eyes upon.
It has also been spelled to resist engorgement charms.
Suffice it to say most of the afternoon had passed before I was able to locate the tools necessary to read it.
If it means a more legible correspondence, the next time I require information, I will be certain to make no mention of the records hall outside my needs. Merlin's teeth.
Were it not more useful to maintain the debt Mister Snitlicker owes me, I might be tempted to find a suitably unpleasant manner to thank him for his response.
From the century of information I originally requested, there were some interesting entries: Specifically, there were few accounts, but all noteworthy regarding the Hightowers. It would seem Miss Parkinson was not the only girl-child prone to frequent illness.
It is hard to glean from the records, as the Hightower clan appears to have relied on private doctors throughout the last few centuries: Most all of the cases mentioned were resistant to painkillers, specifically those that share their roots with common poisons.
There were also a few cases of death in an apparent reaction to remedies intended to heal: I will have to further research either at home or once allowed back into the dungeons, though I feel my library will be better suited to the task.
Perhaps I have a reason to maintain a closer watch on Miss Parkinson.
However.
I find myself unnerved by the most recent command.
I have been unable to turn my thoughts from the implications -- and that resulted in an acute case of insomnia, coupled with the 'bed' (and again, I use that term loosely) within the rented room.
... What I wouldn't give to be home. Surely, it will not be long now.
I have been asked to locate and train my replacement, allowing for his work to continue in the event of my death.
Naturally, the moment I have a replacement, I am an expendable resource.
Although I doubt it possible to train an apprentice to my level in anything short of decades (or perhaps even a lifetime) -- All that is necessary is a start, and sufficient drive to continue on their own: I am more than certain that was the intention in requesting an apprentice of "appropriate lineage and background." Someone with an aptitude for potions, determination-- and the child of an 'associate.'
This leaves few choices I am able to see: Undoubtedly, intentional.
Albertus proved as helpful as his reputation grants: Perhaps a little too helpful, as he appears to have spanned seven centuries ('barring fifty years due to clerical errors 548 years ago') instead of the requested fifty to one hundred years.
I also see why the response took ten days to craft: I find myself wondering if the man is a spider animagus, as the research returned had been written in its entirety on two inches of parchment in what is certainly the most minuscule script I have ever had the misfortune to set eyes upon.
It has also been spelled to resist engorgement charms.
Suffice it to say most of the afternoon had passed before I was able to locate the tools necessary to read it.
If it means a more legible correspondence, the next time I require information, I will be certain to make no mention of the records hall outside my needs. Merlin's teeth.
Were it not more useful to maintain the debt Mister Snitlicker owes me, I might be tempted to find a suitably unpleasant manner to thank him for his response.
From the century of information I originally requested, there were some interesting entries: Specifically, there were few accounts, but all noteworthy regarding the Hightowers. It would seem Miss Parkinson was not the only girl-child prone to frequent illness.
It is hard to glean from the records, as the Hightower clan appears to have relied on private doctors throughout the last few centuries: Most all of the cases mentioned were resistant to painkillers, specifically those that share their roots with common poisons.
There were also a few cases of death in an apparent reaction to remedies intended to heal: I will have to further research either at home or once allowed back into the dungeons, though I feel my library will be better suited to the task.
Perhaps I have a reason to maintain a closer watch on Miss Parkinson.