//The sizable and heavily decorated tome is more than halfway filled already with previous tales of his life, but these are the most recent pages.// Current date is the nineteenth of the Month of Emeralds, 3287. Woe betide any being who gazes upon these pages before I pass on my coils and my will's executor release them. My travels have brought me to a highly unstable region at the edges of the galaxy once more. There seems to be two primary civilizations here, one being an amalgamation of corporations brought under the whip to form a proper state, and the other being a republican federation of substantial instability for being advanced as it is. Why I cannot bring myself to return to civilized space is beyond me, but I am here all the same. I have acquired a new dogsbody, as well as the beginnings of connections to rebuild a proper business. Perhaps this go around I shan't focus on the necessities, there is too much action there for my aging servos to handle. The luxuries shall be what I ply this time. The dogsbody has potential, but they are soft in the processing unit, much like my last one. There is a problem to that blessing however, in that they are the heir to a Greenfinger. My aspirations were awoken with such news, but how can they establish legitimacy if they cannot establish a reputation? I will have to mold them into something more fitting. My dearest Ion, the Program bless her memory, would have my head to know I am conducting finances in my memoirs again, but I simply lack the time to make a separate space for everything anymore. I am by myself once more. Pre-Exile accounts: 60,000 Px in liquid assets Exile costs: 30,000 Px Personal Expenses: 7,500 Px Remaining accounts: 22,500 Px in liquid assets.
Current date is the twenty-second of the Month of Emeralds, 3287. Woe betide any being who gazes upon these pages before I pass on my coils and my will's executor release them. The page turns, the first brick is laid, the casting call is made. Trowel, key and quill in harmony once more. The synthetic, Cebey, has been a boon and a bruise, like many others. Her talents are useful in regards to creation, and her business connection is capable of being cultivated into something greater. However she is very much a troublemaker, and I will be forced to balance my relationships if she continues to go about rabble-rousing my other potential influences. Construction has begun on my estate. The human, Madrid, and my own dogsbody are to serve as my overseers and ensure it goes along smoothly. But I know now that I must bring about a form of income if I am to continue on into the next stages of my various plans. Cebey's business is one opportunity, as is the Club Solus, then the bar Milton's in Garlen. Such locales are far from the grandeur that I require and will provide slim pickings, but they will serve for now. In the meantime construction will begin, and not a single one of these 'workers' will bother to look closely as they normally fail to do. The Garden Society is off to a rough start. Both of my initial invitees failed to arrive on their required times, and as such will be brushed away. Only those I've actively sought out are proving responsive, and they lack much of the flair that I have become accustomed to. But such is the cost of dealing in the trade in a backwater. Once the estate is done a proper stage will be available. The Floran will be worthwhile, but I find little else in those I've had audition.
Current date is the fourth of the Month of Pearls, 3287. Woe betide any being who gazes upon these pages before I pass on my coils and my will's executor release them. I have yet to obtain construction permission for a distillery in the more civilized portions of space. Construction was beginning upon a planet of my choosing, but my distaste for being attacked by wildlife has led me to reconsider it for the time being, and as such I appear to be looking for properties once again. Lord Kane, a Doomlord I presume to be past his prime, has come to me speaking of patronage and fashion industries. I've discovered he not only has a mercenary company underneath him with some wishes of "improving" them. Folly in my experience, but if the old dog wants to learn new tricks, I shan't stop him. Still, the fellow is more or less the only other true Glitch I have met frequently, and as such I am inclined to give him aid where I might. Perhaps the two of us might make something greater than our lone histories might have ever been capable of. The Garden Society will be making their debut at Winston's before long. I have long since forgotten what it was like to perform at such a low establishment, and I recall no hurdy-gurdies from my earlier, rebellious years. Still, I am relatively pleased with the progress we have been making, even if I must look for a few more last-minute additions for the play to be anything more than amateur.
