He closed over the journal and turned before his fingers brushed against something on its surface. It was a divet in the cover he hadn't noticed before and which only a passing glance by the light of the expensive brick revealed a curious, barely perceptible silver sheen in it. It was a chance perception, but it made him pause nonetheless. He brushed his fingers against it. It was a light mark on the surface of the journal, with a slight sheen of silver along a part of its centre where the divet was deepest. His armour immediately came to mind—had he pressed it against the armour’s sides or joints and been unaware of it? When? He only ever took this thing out of its hiding places to write in it when he started back in the depths of the winter months, and only remembered moving it from his manor to the airship as he prepared to leave for Equestria.