I was oficially discharged from duty today. I am hardly surprised by this. Politics are heated at this time, and when I pressed others for information, they were unsurprisingly ‘not at liberty to say’. Grand Apothecary Putress is more than likely the pot-stirrer of this murky cauldron. My allegiance to the society, therefore, is no longer. I will still retain quarters with Anastasia and Jansen in the Undercity, who graciously give space for my many trinkets and work-related paraphernalia.

All this expulsion does is leave me more time to consider my evacuation. Whispers amongst my comrades have been made about safe havens. I feel the chill of a watchful shadow on the back of my neck and the low hum of a death rattle that echoes from the past.

Until I have resigned myself to the status of a lowly refugee, I shall eke out my existence in my quarters, imbibing what remains of my liquid pleasure.