579 Barovian Calendar, Darkon Excerpt from Lord Azalin's private journal, stolen at great risk by Lord Strand's secret envoy, Dioti the Sly.

I confess that I'm still disturbed by my lapse of memory over the time I spent in Mordent. Had Von Zarovich not also been there I would discount the gap as part of the price to pay when experimenting with magic, but his involvement in anything must never be ignored. I have concentrated the full force of my thought upon the problem, yet it refuses to open itself to me. During our conversation. Von Zarovich implied that he knew more than I did of the incident, but he is an accomplished liar. On the other hand, he has an antic taste for humor and might have been speaking the truth, knowing that I would doubt him. His is the sort of mind that would meet itself in a maze.

That night at the ruined monastery when we argued had proved fateful indeed. Disconsolate and disgusted with my fate, I had entered the Mists. When I came back to consciousness in one of the inner chambers of what I came to learn was called Castle Avernus, I first thought I had finally escaped Barovia. Events soon proved this assumption correct but revealed I was still locked within the same plane that holds Barovia apart from Oerth. This disappointment was mitigated when I came to understand that this new land, Darkon, was entirely mine.

The castle servants, the population, the whole governmental structure acknowledges me as lord here and behave as though it's always been so. I have swiftly taken advantage of the opportunity and reinforced it to make certain all here are unquestioningly loyal to me. There will be no more betrayals, for I root them out before they have the chance to grow. I have killed without hesitation as a warning to the others. Those who remain I may rely upon to carry out their duties.

Toward that end I have assembled a core of those who will act as extensions of my will. From the ranks of the soldiers, from the halls of the nobility, even from the streets and back alleys of Il Aluk have I drawn them, my inner core of servants that I have named the Kargat. They are my eyes and ears in Darkon and considerably more efficient than Von Zarovich's unpredictable Vistani.

The Kargat have proved themselves again and again as they move, secretly and silently, within the noble houses here seeking out disloyalty and paying betrayal with death. I have rewarded them well and made them the commanders of the army that will soon take Barovia.

At their head is General Vychen. His goals are very like my own, but he prefers to remain within his own sphere of power and has no ambitions for my throne. Even when I arranged to make the change in him so that he would become a creature like Von Zarovich, his loyalty to me stayed constant. This has not always been the case for others who have been likewise converted, but they have been dealt with and are no longer a threat.

Vychen will be my best weapon against Von Zarovich. He has military experience and is quite ruthless. He's gathered together an excellent staff of officers, yet wisely makes certain they are oath-bound to me, not himself.

My army grows, but slowly, for there are many unwilling to serve who must be made examples to the rest. I could take Barovia now, but I will leave nothing to chance. First I will assemble an overwhelming force, then will they march into that detestable plot of mud and rock and destroy it and its lord.

End of Excerpt

***

579 Barovian Calendar, Barovia

I finished my translation of the page and looked up at the pleased face of Dioti, who liked to think of himself as my best Vistani spy.

'It is excellent, is it not. Lord Strahd?' he asked. 'I endured many dangers to bring it to you, so it is most excellent, indeed.'

'That you got in and out of Avernus without being killed or worse is noteworthy, but-' I held up the papers torn from Azalin's private journal, 'this tells me nothing I did not already know, which means that you were meant to steal it and get away.'

His face fell. 'Then the Lord Strahd is not happy?'

I was as far from that state as could be imagined but kept my expression neutral. 'My one kernel of hope is that Azalin's agents are as efficient as you are.'

Dioti took that as a compliment, grinned, and bowed low. Aldrick Wachter, an annoyed look on his own features, stepped forward and jerked his head toward the study door, indicating to Dioti that his time had come to leave. He did so with many more bows than was absolutely necessary.

Aldrick turned to me. 'You should have him executed, my lord, he's a fool.'

'Azalin may do that for us soon enough. In this fight I cannot afford to waste even the fools.'

'He'll betray you, perhaps not purposely, but by mischance.'

'He knows nothing of importance, and serves as a distraction to the enemy. If Azalin thinks Dioti is the measure of the people I have been sending in against him then so much the better for us. Now, forget him and attend to this new map.'

I spread the parchment over the broad table.

'This river's moved,' he said pointing to one of the winding lines I had reproduced from my long hours hunched over the crystal scouting and mapping every square mile of Darkon. 'And what's this lake doing in the middle of a desert area?'

'It's likely not there at all. Azalin is casting illusions everywhere to mislead, though there is the possibility that he's able to change the very features of the land itself.' I could not discount such a possibility, that Darkon altered to reflect the moods of its lord as Barovia's weather often matched my own.

'How can we march under such conditions?' He was not despairing, but honestly curious, as if my pitifully small army had a chance of actually invading Darkon.

Since the day of that first skirmish with Azalin's zombies every farmer and shepherd not actually engaged in food production was pressed into military service. The same went for the nobility as I found ways to keep their younger sons and daughters busy. Many of my commanders were like Aldrick, drawn from the families of the boyars, groomed from birth to give and take orders as befitted their stations of responsibility, but there were not enough of them. Even with my dead servitors to bolster the ranks, I didn't have a tenth of the force that Azalin would be able to raise.

If I could trust the scraps of information Dioti brought (which I constantly confirmed by my other spies) and if what I saw in my crystal was not an illusion, Azalin was taking his time in preparation, apparently wanting to make a thorough job of it. Despite the fact that his influence with them ended at the border whenever I was present to fight them, he could have probably summoned enough of his dead to carry out an invasion but held back from that action. Instead he kept them close to the frontier; as far as I could determine they were there to defend his side should I think to send anyone across.

Elsewhere in Darkon I saw troops being gathered up and trained, noted the location of the camps and how many lived there, wrote down the names of all his chief commanders. He had some two dozen people of high rank whom he tested again and again for their unconditional loyalty, then put them in charge of other loyal officers. This was his Kargat, and they were absolute dictators within their given domain, answerable to none but themselves, their immediate leaders, and Azalin.

Azalin picked only the best fighters for the Kargat, then saw to it that they were initiated into the dark life of the undead, making them highly effective and dangerous agents. Occasionally he 'gifted' a select few with lycanthropy should their own nature dictate it as more suitable. Though infants compared to me, they were like minor gods-or devils-to the frail mortals about them. I could surmise that they would ultimately be leading the invasion force by their frequent attendance at staff and strategy meetings with General Vychen. I eavesdropped as best I could on these, though if I lingered too long or too close my presence was noticed. Still, I managed to gain much useful information on their movements, personal habits, and weaknesses over the long course of my observations from afar.

Though Azalin took his time assembling his army, there was no shortage of small skirmishes along our border, usually involving a few zombies sent in to harass the common folk there. Because of their limits the creatures were no real threat to anyone who knew how to fight them, but this still caused a general migration of refugees out of

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