Valetni frowned.<br/><br/>His stomach had just reminded him, in a rather audible way, that he was still human and that he had not eaten for some time. His injury had robbed him of a considerable portion of mass, and the once formidable looking brother had found himself crippled and enfeebled.<br/><br/>He scowled, finished his speculation about the subject, before putting down the journal, leaving it open for a few moments to allow it to dry. Once enough time had passed, he closed the small leather bound book, unlocked his trunk, placed the journal inside, and before re-locking it, removed a second, near identical looking but blank on the inside journal. He also removed a clear liquid in a bottle along with a sponge tipped quill. Valetni had discovered, quite by accident, a form of unreadable ink. He wasn't sure exactly how the process worked, but he knew the affects. What he wrote with the clear covered liquid could only be read by filtering sunlight through a specific transparent stone. It was a pain in the ass to write with, and many inhabitants of the temple had remarked how out of character it had been for him to suddenly take up reading and writing in his journals outside the lake. He had deflected any questions about the contents by telling them he had been writing his life works, something a considerable number of monks ended up doing when they felt they were not long for this world.<br/><br/>He took the viewing stone, as he called it, from a pouch inside his robes. He always made sure that his robes ended up back at his room. While most of the monk's robes were interchangeable enough, with only slight customization to allow for size, Valetni had taken the customization of his robes to a whole nother level. For one thing, he had added a reinforced layer of leather about eight inches wide at around knee level, to allow for comfort when he spent many a day kneeling down scrubbing. Additional leather patches had been added at the elbows as well. On the inside, he had added dozens of pockets, loops, and other points of attachment allowed him to attach so much equipment necessary for his work that he nearly jangled when he walked on some days.<br/><br/>His mind back on the journal, Valetni considered it. He had not written in it in quite some time, not before the accident really. While his observations and records of his years of questionable research into the anatomy of man had been written in plain ink, and merely locked away, he felt that what he wrote in here must never, ever, be glimpsed by the eyes of another. He had only one of these journals at a time, and when one was filled, he would re-read it time and time again until he had memorized everything within, and was capable of rewriting it entirely from memory. Once that occurred, after both the original and re-written version had been confirmed to be nearly identical, he would burn them both, and start a new one.<br/><br/>For this, was Valetni's diary.<br/><br/>This was where he had written down his most secret thoughts, his most darkest desires, and his most daring dreams. From these pages, the diagram's and evolution of thought from which the gas protection apparatus had been created, had sprung. In these pages, he had voiced his plots for revenge, his plans in his eternal war with Vernasus, tragically cut short. Within these pages, Valetni had plotted treason, had imagined untold scenarios of every kind, had planned great feats of engineering, and made horribly accurate observations, brutal truths about himself that he could only admit on these crisp, white pages. More than anything else in the world, he cherished this.<br/><br/>So he left it laying on the bedside table, took up his cane, and hobbled down to get something to eat, he slipped a hand into the pocket containing the viewing stone, running a finger along its rough edges, and secure in the knowledge that only he held the key to unlocking the secrets it contained.