The Stage Is Set. The Pieces Are Moving. Castle Blackthorne Comes Under Lockdown. by WarderDragon Tuesday; January 14th, 2009. Greetings, friends and fellow citizens of the Realm! It would appear that our new King - His Royal Majesty, the Glorious Lord Casca - has already begun to exersize his authoritative powers within our realms. Castle Blackthorne, once the home of Lord British's closest friend and dearest advisor (later the headquarters of the Partisans of Chaos), has come under complete lockdown. Canoneers have been posted on the bridge mere steps from Seppo and Pallando's Office; while black-halberd wielding sentinels have been posted at the gateways and doors. My sources tell me that the Blackthorne Guard - the smallest contingent of knights that refused their lord and remained behind during the Exodus Wars - are currently locked within the Keep. The gate had been lowered, so I cannot personally confirm these reports. I personally requested admittance, hoping that I might interview the Captain of the Manor Guard and gain some insight into these strange events; but Lord Casca's men merely crossed their halberds before me and remained silent. I wonder, why would our Glorious and Noble Liege take such steps that are normally reserved for...more "pressing" threats? The Chaos Guard, despite expressing philosophical differences with that of Lord British, have remained loyal and lawful citizens of the realm. Does our liege intend to punish these Philosopher-Knights for their former masters crimes? Before having the opportunity to write this; one gentleman, a certain merchant named Jerhyn, suggested that Casca intended to convert the castle into his private residence. Currently though, the sign on the keep still reads "Castle Blackthorne." I turned to depart for my home in southern Britain. Clearly, I wasn't going to gain anything from the Guardsmen. It was then that I spied across the bridge leading to Britain, some strange greybearded fellow arguing vehemently with one of the canoneers. I took two steps forward, intending to inspect what the ruckas was about; when I caught small movement in the corner of my eye. Just off to my left, expertly scaling the wall in the evening shadows, was this little fellow. 'Twas a short, stoud lad in a crimson waistcoat and brown woolen breeches. Concerned for the boy, I kept my mouth shut. Better a young theif excape with a bauble and learn his lesson another day; than loose his head in these anxious times. He hopped over the wall, and disappeared from sight. I turned back towards the bridge, noticing something even more strange. The old man looked towards the wall, nodding. Then, regarding the guards with a cheerful gaze; he patted them on the shoulder, apologized, and turned to depart. The guards looked at each other in confusion, then merely shrugged. Strange times, indeed. - Malthon Cuthalion, The Paws Village Herald.