William+Fitzgerald's+Journal+-+March+1823

I have returned from my long mission to the Isle of St. Helena. James, my only real friend, now believes me dead, and has forgotten all the good times we ever had, and I was the one to erase those memories from his mind. While it pains me to dwell on it, I do not hate him for this. It was the deal that we had made before we left. James never really wanted to get involved in any of this, but I pulled him down this path at almost every turn. It would have been nice if he had decided to continue with me on the road ahead, but for him to continue down this path at my side would have damned his soul as well, and while the benefits of such a pact are great, I would not ask that of him, as I am well aware, by example of the dead doctor, the ultimate fate of those of us that have sold our souls for the power to remain in this world for a time.

It seems that, no longer needing to inhabit that disgusting low-born thug, Caleb, Gerald has stopped that whole"god" thing of his, at least for the time being. He's gone back to his old human form as "Gerald Fitzgerald", or the "Wizard Earl", one of my ancestors from ages long past. I'm finding that I like him more in this form. Regardless of whether he's a demon in the form of my ancestor, or my ancestor turned demon, or something else entirely, he's been using the family name longer than I have, so I have little grounds for calling him pretender. I now refer to him as either Gerald, or as "the Fitzgerald Patriarch", which seems appropriate given that he is the oldest individual to bear my family name. I prefer referring to him by that now, as it reminds me that we are working together to build a new world, and in this new world, the name Fitzgerald will be synonymous with greatness. As long as we are both bear the name Fitzgerald, we share a common goal, and the success of one, will benefit the other. Gerald seems to be amused by it, though probably because it's respectful than some of my previous names for him, like "benefactor", or "Robert". Thankfully he’s never requested that I refer to him as "God", as Anglade did. He can’t have all his followers be fanatical idiots, can he? I have something of a special role among his court, like that of a knight champion in the old days of glory. I am the sword, and his is the hand that directs me.

To have seen the “Great Napoleon Bonaparte”, the British Empire’s greatest enemy would have been a moment of great significance to most British officers. The man I saw lying in that bed wasn't the legendary strategist I had envisioned him to be. He was a weak, frail, and sentimental old fool. The only power the man ever had came from that book of his, and the moment it was stolen, all power was gone. All of it. Those brilliant victories that had left England’s greatest minds baffled and astounded were nothing more than an illusion. In some ways I am glad that Napoleon didn't manage to escape alive. He was undeserving of a second chance, as he would have been utterly worthless without that book of his.

I left Napoleon’s body with the Sorcerer, Alfred. It seems he has some way of extracting knowledge from the shriveled up corpse. While the doctor’s little trick may have shaken things up a bit, Gerald has determined that his plan can still continue. We’ll just need to find someone to fill old Boney’s little shoes. It seems war is still on the agenda, but the true purpose of that part of the plan is something I can still only guess at.

Fascinating how everything seems to be coming full circle. The Vicomte, the Werewolf, the Vampires... It all seems to revolve around that book. How much power could be contained within those pages for beings of such extraordinary power, even a being as powerful as Gerald, to all be fighting over it? It seems that the next task which my patriarch has assigned me will lead me to find this out.

I have learned that it is best not to ask Gerald for anything unless you have done something to please him greatly, or have something very valuable to give him in exchange. Even when he does give you what you ask for, he has a tendency to twist the details a bit on a whim. I have also learned of what happens when your physical body has outlived its usefulness to him. It is troubling to find that at any time he wants, he can collect on my soul, and can even do so a little bit at a time. No matter how well I carry out his orders, if a situation arises that his existence is threatened to a high enough level, he will have more need of my soul as raw spiritual power than as an operator of my body, and I will be forced to spend what could potentially be an eternity as fuel for him. It is clear that my own survival is tied to his own survival, and I’ll need to do whatever is necessary, regardless of my own desires, to see to it that he does not come to any harm whatsoever.

Still, despite all the drawbacks, I have not been left without some rewards for my loyal service. I have found that through the offering of the souls of others, my Patriarch can remove decades of age from my body. I think it may be roughly equivalent to the years already lived, or left to the body of the soul offered. Somewhat irritatingly, the process has left me roughly ten years younger than I would be naturally. Still, it is at least good to find that I am just as strong as I was in my prime, and with any luck, a couple years of youth to grow off may yet increase my vitality even further. Another strange aspect of my immortality is that the coloration some aspects of my physical appearance have changed somewhat after having regrown themselves. I wonder if it is tied somehow to the blood of the people sacrificed in order to give me this supernatural resilience. Is their blood still somehow fueling this power that I have, and if so will it eventually run out? So far it seems that the changes have been superficial, as my jaw regrew in the same shape as it had been before it was blown off, and I’m not experiencing any strange memories when my brain reassembles itself. Still, I had better not ever become a curly haired ginger at any point, or I’ll be forced to cut off my own scalp.

Another upside, that has been revealed to me, upon further reflection, is that I am actually closer now in age to the young lady Abigail de Winter. I’m not sure at this point if I’m still a little bit younger than her or not. I had forgotten how beautiful she was, and while it may be the fancies of youth, she seems even more lovely in my mind now, than she did then. I doubt she would even recognize me, what with me now being a full ten years younger, and the details of my hair and eyes now changed somewhat. Still, imagine if, after all these years of separation, we meet once again, perhaps even at a party. I, the mysterious, yet unusually familiar odd-eyed stranger, would ask her to dance. We would dance the same way as we did all those years ago. The same steps, the same dips, that had her enchanted with me, even at our first meeting, and she would realize the impossible truth. Her eyes looking into my own in shock and recognition, and we will be together again. Abigail and William. It may take time for her to fully come to terms and accept this, but she will, in the end, return to me. Regardless of the rules of society, and the wishes of her parents, we will elope to Ireland, where we will settle in one of the old family castles, which will have been restored. She shall be my princess Fitzgerald-de Winter, and we will have as many acrobats flying through hoops of fire, or dancing bears, or anything her heart desires as she wants until she grows tired of them. I will see to it that we will live forever, together, in bliss, and she will love me and be mine forever...

That is, of course, if Gerald allows me to return to England, and she has not already married someone else in my absence. Still, it matters not. None, not even King George, could hope to offer what I could give her, and even if she truly thinks she is in love with someone else, I have ways to make her realize the truth. Even if my brother Henry had somehow managed to patch up relations between the Fitzgeralds and the de Winters and taken her for his own, that still would not stand in my way, unless...

What if he also knows about our family patriarch, and had made a deal with him, perhaps even before I did? After all, those nights of drunkenness and vice reflect the reactions of myself, and even the dead doctor’s, at having sold our own souls. Could he possibly have even been the one to fallen through the ice, that one night, and have exchanged his soul for life? He did seem to undergo a curious change in character in the following days. At first I believed that Abigail may have somehow been responsible for it, but what if she was merely a witness in all this? Did Henry send me here to Ireland, knowing what I might find and accomplish here? Given the revelation of the book, it seems that nothing is coincidental. What will his place in all this be, once we have brought about the Fitzgerald Empire? Will he still have a place above me? The first born collector of the inheritance? The first pact made with Gerald Fitzgerald? Does my patriarch secretly favor my brother more than he does me? Will Henry be the one living in the family castles with the beautiful Princess de Winter, while I, the soldier, am forced to do the dirty work abroad? I will have none of it if I have anything to say about it! She was intended for me! Henry said so himself! I will not be the one to do all the hard work, while he reaps the spoils just for lucking out and being first! Still, Henry may, after all, be oblivious to all this. He may be surprised, and even humbled to see what our patriarch and I have done for the Fitzgerald dynasty since he sent me here. Damn these teenage feelings! I thought that I had outgrown them. I’m getting way too far ahead of myself. I will need to breach the subject to Gerald at some time and he enlighten me on some of these details. I hope my work for the Fitzgerald dynasty will take me to London in the near future, though last I was aware of it, the Jack the vampire was operating here in Ireland. Let’s hope he decides to return to his old territory in London as I’d love to go about a few of those details of personal business while I’m there.