A disturbing thought has occurred to me as we pause amongst the remnants of our late breakfast courtesy of our favorite (and currently only) innkeeper. My companions and I decided as we were exiting the graveyard of this rustic village that we would set our sights upon exploring the boarded up town hall in the center of town the next morning. We had planned on doing so previously, but other more pressing matters seemed to have intervened.
That intervention is what troubles me now.
It is passing odd to me that the townspeople of Barovia have expressed no interest in opening up the town hall. They have been almost too joyful in other aspects of attempting to reclaim this village. The barriers that kept away the undead were removed all too quickly. The burning of the bodies of the dead were prioritized (as they should be given the situation). Yet no attempt at all was made to open up the town hall and clean up the destruction that transpired within. While I can sympathize with the Burgermeisters stance on the topic, I find it odd that even he has not ordered someone to go inside.
Almost as if he has been influenced to do so.
Even our own efforts to expose what lies within has been blunted and turned away. The first time we stood at the door to this place we collectively decided to “let it wait for after we speak to Madam Eva.” Then it was “After we explore the church we will venture inside.” After that it was “Well now we should explore the cemetery of course!” And so on and so on.
Time and again we have turned away from these doors, and for what reason I cannot begin to understand. Does something sinister lurk inside encouraging us (and the town) to let it stay hidden? Even today we delayed our expedition to sleep in late and by my own suggestion catch a late breakfast.
Something lurks in the town hall. That is what I fear. And yet I cannot allow myself to fear can I?
Fear unmakes a man.
Fear is the small death that cowards die a thousand times.
I must master my fear.
I will allow my fear to pass through me.
Rolling along like the wheels of the wagons of my people.
And when it has traveled past I will open my unutarnje oko to watch it leave.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
Breakfast is over. Destiny awaits.