Reading over the last entry, I find myself having to think to understand my own writing. The master taught me to write simply, in a way that even a child could understand. In that interest, I will continue to call the Infiltrator Infiltrator, but the new infiltrator I will call the halfling. Identification was never so difficult in the monastery, where no life path was held by more than one person.
In my first entry, I did not think it important to recount the events that occurred on this, the sixth day, before I had ink to write. I have since reconsidered, as no event is so trivial that it should be utterly forgotten.
We spent the morning exchanging our metals for supplies, and I began to get some notion of the value of coin, although much still confuses me. For example, a small vial of ink, which I could make myself in a few weeks from materials gathered in the valley of the monastery, was exchanged for eight gold coins more than two and a half ounces of gold for a single ounce of ink. Yet paper, which I could not in a lifetime produce, and which requires a complex process and a great deal of time, is exchanged at the rate of four silver coins (with ten silver coins to one gold) to the sheet. Despite its availability, I could not bring myself to take paper for its preciousness, so I am writing on parchment.
The tracker acquired a fine suit of mithril chain, and the Empty Hand arranged for horses (the halfling rode on a dog I had not known such a thing was possible). I accompanied the Infiltrator to the temple, where he left with a healing potion for each of us and the store, where he picked up supplies for himself, and oil and flasks for the rest of us. The store provided me with ink and additional parchment, sewing needle and thread, and food for several days.
Once we were well-stocked, we visited the mayor as requested. He again offered us a reward (this time of unspecified value), and asked us to investigate or solve the problems of the kobolds in the west, or the drow in the south. I was inclined to attempt the former, as it aligned more closely with our mission. I would have stated my opinion, but it was clear that the others agreed.
Before we left, we stopped at the bank, an office which is used to keep accounts of who has the right to how much gold, or maybe who is obligated to give gold to whom. I don't know exactly how it works, but when we wanted to purchased supplies, the bank readily gave us gold taken from the mayor's reward. Perhaps when I return, I will ask for an explanation of the system.
The owner or manager of the bank was the mother of the pair of lost adventurers. Although we offered to search for her children while dealing with the kobolds, she did not seem to have much hope. I was not certain she took us seriously at all, or even that she cared. She told us in a resigned fashion that her arcanist daughter and fighter son had been caught up in the charms of two more seasoned adventurers, a ranger and a palladin, who had been strangers to the town, and had been led off to the west on an adventure. The woman had so little hope for their safe return that she did not even ask us to find them. Instead, she offered us a reward to return their signet rings.
At the gate, a half-ogre appeared. He had heard of us from the barbarian camp, which was strange, since we had only left it a day before and we had never spotted an ogre following us. He offered us soup, which, because of the strangeness of his appearance, I did not accept. The others also rejected his offer, possibly on the same grounds.
I am writing this journal at our campsite, two or three miles into the forest. It took us a day to ride here, and another several hours to find a defensible position. Tomorrow, we will search for the kobolds.