Days of Slowtree 5
March 20, 1915
We started to explore Pillarfield. This place is very unsettling. It seems to be many times larger than Fleagrass. The paths between buildings are smooth, brick roads. Our footsteps cause such an echo! The sound bounces around the buildings and off of the stone roof. I keep thinking that we are being followed. But it is only our own feet following us. I noticed that we started to creep down the streets. We weren’t trying to be sneaky. We just wanted to muffle the sound a bit.
Grub found a proclamation nailed to an information board. We learned about the fate of the city. It is quite grim. This is what it said:
Let it be known that all hope is gone. The matter was thoroughly debated. The time for public comment has concluded. All citizens should know by now that there is no escape from Pillarfield. Our home is our tomb. There is no more food. The wells still draw water though.
All citizens are hereby directed to obtain the potions from your local offices. The Day of Surrender is 1242-04-30. Each citizen will ingest their potion at midday on the Day of Surrender. A formula was created that will put you to sleep before ending your life. It will be painless.
We cannot stress enough that Surrender is not mandatory. You are free to continue your lives, for as much or as little time that you have left. The time for arguing is over though. We implore you to forgive us and let us go. There is no need to prolong our suffering with endless, pointless protests. Our decisions are made. Our minds will not be changed.
We apologize for the bleak nature of this proclamation. To those of you that refuse to surrender: please do not suffer needlessly. We hope to see you again in the After World. Good luck.
Wren said that she wants to find out more information about this situation. We are to look for journals or record books while we explore Pillarfield. The empty city now feels more sad than spooky. We began to search houses.
The houses were all well kept. They are still surprisingly clean after all these years. The bedrooms are a different story. These sights will haunt me.
It looks like the people poisoned themselves and died in their beds. Their clothing and bed linens were soaked by their putrefying bodies. Somber skeletons in stained beds remain. Most houses contained dead families, young and old alike. A few scattered houses had no dead within.
The sadness has lifted and I am frightened once again. The city does not feel so empty anymore. I thought that I saw movement in an alley. Our lights create bizarre, dancing shadows as we look around. But this shadow seemed to move on its own. It was probably nothing.
We gathered some small items of historical significance. Wren knows what is good and what to leave behind. We found an inn that had no bodies inside. We made camp here. It’s nice to sleep in a bed. It’s strange that I am sleeping in a bed from almost 700 years ago. It is even stranger that it is still comfortable.