Unclaimed Lands

An excerpt from Roland's Journal

I am beginning to fear for my mind. The constant warfare, the planecrashing, the teleportations…the Rolands. All of these have began to take a toll on my sanity.

I’ve had urges, urges to kill. While the company are nothing to store home about in terms of competence, I’ve never considered murdering them before, without orders. It disquiets me greatly.

I wonder how history will judge me. Since the fall of the Dominion proper, I’ve been donating more and more time to the Villa and my Rolands. When I began work on them, I never imagined…how many there would be. How they would think like me, live like me…

It is quite a thing to see oneself dead and dead and dead again, a hundred times over. I fear I have become the most criminal of men, for I have stolen away their identity,their individuality. None, at least, are slaves no more, nor in debt, nor alone, nor unloved. But the change I have affected with them…

I wished for a world of freemen, of everyone standing as one. I believed that, like a circus, it needed a ringleader – the Dominion, for instance. But even that fell – and when it did, I expected it to be in a significantly less desperate way. Maybe it hasn’t fallen, and that I cannot remember and my mind fills in the blanks.

It is dark now, this night. I prepare my poisons and tinctures. I believe I may die soon. I do not want to, but I fear that it may not be avoidable, nor may it be in a manner of my choosing. I hope the Rolands can carry the great work on.

I will myself to a stupor, then sleep. I have too few cares for anything else.

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