 Journal of Melus Marsicus |
|||
|---|---|---|---|
| ID | 8049 | ||
| Collection | West Weald Writings | ||
| Locations | |||
Found in the following locations:
|
|||
This is my most inscribed journal. If your name is not Melus Marsicus, then direct your prying-est of eyes elsewhere, for you are encroaching on my most secretive of thoughts.
Few theories prevail concerning the exactitude of the arcane knot. We know not what it is, whence it came, its function, form, or fashion. The name itself, arcane knot, gives little information and leaves much to be desired—especially considering the lack of confirmation that the knot is even knotted. To outline the myriad hypotheses regarding the knot would be as factual as outlining the folktales of Grahtwood. There is no sense in proclaiming those as facts or invoking them in a hallowed paper such as my journal. No, I will be consigning myself to the truth, and its upholdment.
Where does the name arcane knot even come from? A select few Daedra in Fargrave are able to claim memory from the era when the citadel was in use, though they are reticent to divulge any other morsels of information. Still, with the lack of knowledge being readily shared, I suppose I must accept the name and keep it as an indication of proof that the arcane knot exists.
Perhaps the knot is the reason for the citadel's ruinous appearance and dilapidated visage. Surely structures like the citadel, though old, are built to withstand the shifting sand. I have seen countless examples of Daedric architecture survive after eons in muck, murk, and lava pools. But no, the citadel is sinking into the dessert of Fargrave and offers no resistance to this fate. If there is an object at the heart of this fortressorial disappearance, it may as well be the arcane knot.
Will I be the one to find the arcane knot? While others slave deeper inside the citadel, searching rooms for hidden doors, appealingly disguised compartments, and the other trappings of an adventure most grand, I am here in with my best shovel. Oh yes, after this lengthy and unproductive break during which I am giving my sore back some respite, I will continue digging for the knot. I refuse to listen to the other's fearmongering when they say that the knot cannot be buried here of all places. I am resolute in my position, and nothing will get me to leave until I have unsanded the knot.