I am weary. This burden is tiring. I am trying to let go, but the Montaigne are not helping any. Well that’s not true. The women are certainly helping to ease my pain. The men however, well, at least six of them know that the Castillians are not yet beaten.

I still can’t believe it. I’ve only been here for two weeks and already fought seven duels. Four in the first week alone. At least my number is dropping. Maybe next week I’ll fight only two. Then again, maybe not. I lost my first duel today and so I need to do something to make up for it. Maybe I should fight more next week. I don’t want the locals to think I have gotten weak.

That damned Vodacce. Damn them all and their left handed style. I had him beaten when out of nowhere came his parry. Fortune was smiling on him today. Maybe he has a fate witch watching over him. I’ve dealt with them before. Allende had one, and I’ve learned not to be scared of them. Respect their power, certainly, but fear them, no.

Rustling? Ah yes, my consolation prize. What was her name? Claudia, no, Lynette, no, it doesn’t matter, she is just another Montaigne wench. I won her after defeating that upstart, Javert. He saw me lose to the Vodacce and foolishly challenged me. I don’t know what made him think he could win. After all, he did see me win all of my other duels. He’ll never live that down. I beat him faster than I beat any of my other opponents. They were, however, swordsmen, and Javert was just a drunk.

That damned Vodacce. Minding my own business, a rarity, I must admit, but keeping to myself when he suddenly insults me. Him and that ox of a Highmarchman. Drinking buddies of Javert I suppose. What was the purpose? Jealousy? Did they really think that a Montaigne wench was worth a duel. I would never start a duel over a wench, but these foreigners, who knows why they do what they do.

Montaigne wenches, they are all so easy. Speak to them in Castillian, with a soft voice and they are eager to spread their legs. It doesn’t even matter what you say. They are all ignorant and uneducated. Clarisse, I was even insulting her, and she loved it. Until I lost to the Vodacce. What was his damned name. Reynaldo, Maynaldo, Menudo, I can’t remember, but Menudo sounds good enough. Clarisse, the wench, spurned me in favor of him. Of course he declined. That was funny. The look on her face. And then when I wouldn’t take her back. Priceless. If she were Castillian, I would have been more wary of scorning her, but she is not.

A knock? Who dares! Some elderly Montaigne. A servant by the looks of him. While glaring at him, undaunted, the little man has courage, he begins to introduce himself, and holds out a letter. He is speaking in Montaigne, and while I understand every word, I pretend not to. A little game I like to play. It also shows my contempt for these uneducated barbarians, these minions of Legion.

Shock, he is suddenly speaking in Castillian. I didn’t even hear what he said I was so surprised. I’m sure he just repeated the invitation. Respect. For the first time, I think, I have some respect for a Montaigne. It won’t last. I don’t know. This Laurent, he is different. Maybe his master is a worthy man as well. We shall see.