As I wandered the streets and haunted footpaths of New Britain earlier this evening, reflecting silently upon the events of the past month, I happened upon a lone guardsman hunched over beneath a snow-laden oak just a few steps away from the Poor Man's Gate. The man's breath misted from his lips as he shuddered in the cold. Curious, I inquired as to his condition. He spoke to me in a loud, almost hurried voice, relating to me a tale he had heard earlier that day. A wise woman once told me that every farmer and his aunt has a tale to tell of dark hooded strangers wandering the countryside. Wives Tales of Old Grimnir, the Sightblinder, and the Krampus. Still, the man seemed agitated by the tale, and considering how unstable the realm remained during this transition of power, such tales tended to emerge from some grain of truth. It was unheeded tales of a hooded stranger that would eventually materialize into the assassination of Lady Aino Nystad. I continued on my way towards Castle Britannia, my mind reflecting on the smooth, familiar stonework as I passed through the fortified gates. I was greeted by Sir Yosh the Guardsman, who also insisted on telling me a tale, this one of a story he had heard about Casca's lost treasure. There had been rumors of such a treasure amassed by the tyrant before his demise. The Knights of the Royal Flush hoped that if they could stop the flow of funding to Casca's mercenary horde, they could stop the attacks. Of course, such plans never materalized, and the treasury was found empty when the Castle was reclaimed. One can only imagine where the man might've hidden his vast treasury, if it even exists?