Franz Lohner’s Chronicle – Khazukan Kazakit-ha!

An absent-minded man of mysteries, Franz Lohner relies on his bulging journal to keep track of occurrences, intrigues and arguments around Taal's Horn Keep. Sometimes his notes are even useful, believe it or not. The Franz Lohner Chronicles are extracts from that journal.

Well, isn’t that lovely? All’s well that ends well, as I always say. I mean, I don’t always say that because it’s a rare shout when things actually end at all, let alone for the best, but a change is as good as a rest.

That reminds me, I must thank Olesya for that book of proverbs. Really helping to spice up my diction, it is.

But as I was saying, all’s well that ends well – for the moment, if not perpetuity. Hedda saved from a ghastly fate, Karak Azgaraz resurgent, Khazid Kro reclaimed and the ratmen scurrying away from the mountains as fast as their nasty little legs can carry them – which, it turns out, is pretty damn fast. Chalk one up for the good guys. Makes for a good day, if you ask me ... and even if you don’t.

Still, this particular victory’s ushered in a bit of uncertainty. That’s the problem with hope: it’s much easier to live without it entirely than it is to live with a little. The world’s going to hel in a handcart, there’s no arguing with that, and small victories just mean we’ve got more to lose. Doesn’t mean we can’t savour them. Just means things are more complicated, is all.

Take Hedda, for example. I did wonder if she’d take up residence in the keep, what with her having to catch up with her dear old dali and all. But I suppose healing old wounds is a long and complicated process, especially for dwarfs, who can carry a grudge ten thousand miles without any hands, as my Aunt Magda used to say. Bardin and Hedda will talk when the mood takes them, I’ve no doubt of that. In the meantime, I’ll have a word with Rosalinde about getting her a room pulled together, just in case. Family’s family. You look after them, or you’re nothing.

One thing’s for certain: Hedda will be back, or my name’s not Franz Lohner.

Which it absolutely is, if anyone’s asking.

Not that anyone is.

Well, no one of note.