I only got four hours of sleep. I need at least eight, but who has time for that? I had everyone else’s problems to solve, diary. When I left the inn, it was fucking raining again. It rained for two hours before it tapered off, and guess who was outside that entire time? At least I was finally clean — there aren’t any baths around here. Or bathrooms for that matter. It’s highly inconvenient.
After the storm cleared, it turned into a beautiful sunny day, and I spent it doing my favorite activity. No, not that. I’m a recapper, but I have other interests besides whacking off, you know. Nope, I once again spent time wandering aimlessly around the countryside, collecting ingredients. Hey, who needs a job when you can sell your
drugs homemade potions? Somehow I don’t think the Recapiere name is going to be restored to its former glory anytime soon.
But diary, I know you’re not interested in my collection of herbs and shrooms — you want to know all about my adventures with the Gay Fox and my spy mission with Agarmir. Since it wasn’t anywhere near midnight, and Armand Christophe was most likely asleep, the lucky bastard, I decided to check in on Agarmir instead. It turns out he hadn’t left his house yet — what a lazy piece of shit. Of course, I would probably be just as lazy if I had a freaking house. I guess I can’t really judge.
While killing time, I sold some of my mind-altering potions to Jensine and gave her an update on my progress. She said that her “sources” told her that no information exists on Agarmir — thus, he must be using a false name. This was the first time I even mentioned Agarmir to her — how did she know about him in advance? Did she have more than one person on this mission? I felt just a bit insulted. Yeah, I’m not exactly speedy, but it’s not like I’m totally ignoring the task either. Not like that unimportant little matter of the Amulet of Kings.