Taking the Silver Salamander Inn did a lot to relieve the tense atmosphere. Things had already relaxed a bit in the swamps, because a good number of our men went off on assignment, but our hanse's so bum-hugging huge the ruins of Palace Arthach still look like a bleeding bazaar. A man can't even empty his bowels in privacy. To top it all, my bones ache to high heavens from this humidity and even wenches can't warm me up properly. Need to look around for something, and fast, before the good mood from the last raid fades completely and folk get ornery. This time, we need to hit something big.
Thinking more and more about that vineyard to the south, Coronata. It'd do perfectly. Worth sending some scouts, maybe start planning a big job.
Ah, and I need to straighten out something with the lads. Ever other one of them's hit upon the idea of scribbling down memoirs. Regular bloody bunch of literati. Should take to practicing swordplay or hunting, instead of becoming diarists. I keep a log, that's enough for the whole lot of us. I'll whip one or two of the harlotsbroods, wipe my derrière with their diaries and maybe the rest will get down to some honest banditry.