... going well. It appears they have developed a taste for meat, and are becoming quite adept at removing it from each other. One has begun to show evidence of tool use, discovering in a sewing needle a primitive yet effective weapon. On similar note, it would appear that upon dissention there are no signs in the general never corpus of distinct organs. It would seem that they are of a generally uniform consistency much like a developed fungus. Perhaps the theory posited by Thintwhistle so many decades ago - that rot about Amber Dewdrops in the Morning Sun - might hold some marginal validity.
I shall endeavour to further this set of experiments after Samhaine. These Summer months pass quickly, with much to do. A number of new patients have begun regular treatment sessions, some quite notable, and from prominent origins. The Barony itself descends into anarchy and chaos. The eshu sees nothing but the desire to tear down the Nobility. Our enemies see nothing but the drive to make it stand. Who would think that nobility's greatest weakness would be one of the Seelie. Word of the Gwydion's abrupt departure, apparent abandonment of his oaths, and theft of the County Hold's Bale Fire have shattered the political regime of Winter's Edge. This does mean that experiment number 6547 will remain on hold for the interim, however. Still, execution to the current level does indicate that the practise is sound.
Subject X remains incarcerated; it will be interesting to see if ...

[A handwritten page torn from a small volume, found in the gutter outside the entrance to Caer August:]

[A note found in a bottle off the coast of Brazil]

Are you there?
"Free Commots, ruled by the People," the Duchess' herald calls out to the uncaring hills in the dark of night. Were the gods so bad here that they can be taken away? What deeds lurk dark in closets at night to frighten good kithain to their beds? "Free Commots" indeed! So free as this, what shall we do without Leaders to Lead and followers to follow? Who should lead now? Do you know? Will you not fly your way on Dreamed Wings to tell me what next? Why, I've not met a single chimera in this Dreamed City which is not all afright now that the Lords withdraw their claim...
What now?
The Laughnasa Adventure was uneventful. Another Giant to add to my already extensive list, and Treasure Bold and Bright. No threat to be found here in these bright Free Commots from these Kithain. Yet those without these lands speak only of war and murder. The gods they cry bring Winter on us all. Do the Hibernian shores weep of blood? Do the Southern Kingdoms die beneath the scent of powdered snow? Kings slain? Crowns fallen? Has the War so lately won by The Caliburn come swift again? None know, none know.

[A letter found sealed in its envelope, carefully misfiled deep in the bowels of the Library at Caer Frost:]

My knight,
The Eshu is working only for monetary profit. Enjoys tormenting the Fiona's heart for sport. After careful investigation, I believe we may have overestimated him. Seeking further orders. Will make contact with Queen's Champion.
I wish you the gladdest tiding for the Yule season and I hope it will not be long before we are able to meet again.
Ever Faithful.