The Journal of Erush Crestwork, 9th Galena, 1057
Family. Can't live with them, can't get away from them - not in the Mountainhomes where everyone is related to everyone else. Despite wanting to be a marksdwarf, and showing a talent for it, no, I have to go and be an apprentice for my uncle Urist as a Mason. For FOURTEEN YEARS. As my friends went off seeking adventure and glory, or off founding new forts, all I got was more rock-fetching errands. And frequently sent back to go and pick a "more auspicious" rock from the quarry.
However, that part of my life is over, for news has reached us of a death in the family. Dodok Dodokkir, more lately known as "Jools", the estranged husband of my fourth cousin, twice removed (the shortest way of expressing our family links, although by no means the only one), has died in a distant fortress called Abbeyverse. Little is known other than that he was acting as trader for what was at the time an up-and-coming fortress looking to make a name for itself in the salt trade, and it is claimed that his death was an accident.
I have sworn to investigate this death, and if appropriate, seek vengeance for the death of this loyal family member. My family are a little unsettled by this, preferring just to pay him the lip service of a brief mourning period, and then continue life as before. I, however, feel that I should make a stand for the family honour; I should strike a blow for Justice should that be necessary; I must not just honour my relative's name in death, but take his place in this noble endeavour, and ensure that our family name is at the forefront of those driving forward this brave new fortress.
Most importantly, I should get the hell away from people who see me as nothing more than a handy rock-fetcher, who think my greatest ambitions should be no more than a brand new pair of -pig tail socks-.
There's some sort of big party planned tonight - the few members of family I get on with, and hordes that I don't, will be gathering together tonight - officially as some sort of send-off for me, although practically I know that that means four hours of haranguing by the elder members of the family on "why you shouldn't go", and "why can't you be more like your second cousin Meng, he's not always so difficult like you are", and "oh won't you be disappointing your third cousin once removed Bomrek, isn't that a pretty dress she's wearing, oh now look you've made her cry...".
I have diplomatically failed to mention to anyone that I leave this morning. To Abbeyverse, and beyond!
25th Galena, 1057
I have arrived at Abbeyverse. I must confess to telling a little white lie. Well, actually, it's more of a whopping great bloodstained whale of a lie, blacker than a demon's heart and more tainted by corruption than an elf-lover. I made up a title - "Count Consort", whatever the hell that means, and when I arrived at Abbeyverse, loudly announced my arrival, ordered a few people to run around pointlessly making floodgates, and then threw a tantrum because no rooms fit for someone of my (claimed) status had been assigned to me. I think they fell for it. Allegedly some vast strip-mining project has been put on hold in order to try and satisfy my outlandish desires.
From what little I've learned since my arrival, it could be worse. The Countess here has an obsession with querns, and we have a giant incomplete rock salt tower that nobody knows the purpose of. But they're still building it. I must come up with some outlandish construction schemes of my own to keep them busy while I investigate my relative's death - and, more importantly, make a name for myself.
A new name, in fact. My current one might be recognised, should word of this fortress and its inhabitants spread; so, as a means of respect for my late relative (and a good excuse should I be unmasked as not of noble birth) I shall take the nickname "Jools", and go by this in all future formal documents.
26th Galena, 1057
I'v been tempted to run round changing everyone's job arrangements like I've seen a few nobles do in the past, but I think that's pushing it too far. By being reasonable, hopefully I can make some connections in this fortress, and hell, one or two things might even get done. I can always fiddle with job assignments if something isn't getting done.
As a start, I've ordered some more stills and kitchens to be constructed, so we can brew and cook more of our food. That's never an unpopular decision.
And after I've just made those orders, I get practically swarmed by dwarves begging me to make more orders. They want more chains for the justice system, more coins, mercy, justice, food, booze, hell, even donkeys. Sounds like they think I'll be a soft touch. I responded by loudly annopuncing that I would be dining with the Hammerer until I had my own quarters, and would expect satisfactory progress reports every mealtime.
That made them back off a bit.
I've also discovered that our forges lie idle. Now this may be a fortress founded on rock salt, but by the beard of Gembish Sealpaddles, dwarves ought to have spines of iron. I'll see what I can do with regards to getting some metal stuff made. Maybe I can even clad my room in some fancy metal...
28th Galena, 1057
I've noticed the same few faces acting as guards for this place. After some subtle investigation, it appears we only have two Royal Guards and three fortress guards, where we ought to have 6 and 13 respectively. I shall pretend not to notice this for a week or two, like a normal unobservant noble, then correct the matter with the judicious drafting of some peasants. Wouldn't do to weaken our military, after all... I'll make them all speardwarves in leather armour - hopefully that should keep the Countess happy without me having to meet her. After all, I'm meant to be married to her, but as soon as I meet up with her I'm bound to unmask myself as not of noble birth by calling a napkin a serviette or using the wrong piece of cutlery or something.
<Later that day>
Hammerdwarves, not speardwarves. We've got hammers. And I'll put a rush job in for leather armour and bucklers, as well as those fetching leather trousers I ordered for myself.
I'm faced with a bit of a quandary as well - drafting peasants to fill the Guard will leave us with very few dedicated haulers... perhaps there are some dissatisfied professionals who'd appreciate a change of scenery. For instance, we have a Grower who claims the title of "Goblin Snatcher Snatcher" - perhaps he'd be more at home as a guard...