Monsieur Heron only speaks of one other collaborator in his writings, and I’m beginning to see why. Nobody I’ve spoken to in New Corsica had a whit of academic integrity! \n\nI asked some other travelers to guide me to the aqueduct, and they asked about a share of the treasure. When I said knowledge was its own reward, they laughed me out of the inn! I suppose I’ll have to make my own way up to the aqueduct. I do hope the merchant sold me sound equipment…

From Perrin Mercier's Field Journal

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I can’t do it again. I just can’t. I know I must not look down, but my eyes betray me. Then my heart seizes, and I remember the very first tumble I took down the cliff. \n\nEven writing about it leaves me in a cold sweat. How am I meant to advance the noble cause of human knowledge when I’m such a craven? \n\nPerhaps I should write to Monsieur Heron. Then again, he may not give a coward like me the time of day.

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The sandswept and sunscorched desert in the West, and the last known home of the Ancients

The Woes of an Amateur Antiquarian Chapter - NWGuide Database of Lore

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