The road eventually carried me to Beregost, a bustling town filled with merchants, travelers, and enough noise to make Candlekeep seem silent by comparison.

Before long, I found myself at Feldepost’s Inn, where I encountered a man named Marl. Drunk and consumed by grief, he railed against adventurers and blamed our kind for the death of his son. At first I thought the encounter would end in violence, but steel would have solved nothing. Instead, I listened. Beneath the anger was a father mourning a loss he could not accept. By the time our conversation ended, his rage had cooled, and the inn was spared another tragedy.

The exchange left me unsettled.

Since Gorion’s death, I have found it easy to think only of my own pain. Speaking with Marl reminded me that loss is not mine alone to bear. The world is full of wounded people carrying burdens unseen by strangers.

Not long afterward, I was surprised to encounter a familiar face from Candlekeep. Firebead Elvenhair, a scholar whose love of books rivals that of any monk in the keep, had traveled to Beregost and found himself in need of a particular volume: History of the Fateful Coin. Fortunately, I was able to locate the book and return it to him.

Firebead was delighted.

In exchange, he gifted me a copy of History of the Dead Three and a finely crafted scroll case. Though I have little talent for magic, the gesture was appreciated. More importantly, it was comforting to see someone from Candlekeep alive and well. For a brief moment, the distance between my old life and my new one felt smaller.

Beregost has shown me that the wider world is rarely simple. A grieving father may be mistaken for a threat. A scholar may become a welcome reminder of home.

And somewhere beyond these streets, the answers I seek still wait.

— Cail