21 April 1837 - Nastasie Dementiev

The madness continues, and there are undercurrents swirling around that arouse my suspicions - all is not well within this city. All is not well with the crown. And I am somewhat at a loss as to how to move forward. I have tried, so far in vain, to find out more on my brother. The streets are so chaotic that it is dangerous to be out in them. I hope that wherever he may be, he is still OK.

Lady Wordsworth invited our group to accompany her to Windsor Castle yesterday. What a privilege! The necklace we had found in Gaedren Lamm's hideout actually belongs to the princess, our soon to be Queen, and Lady Wordsworth wished to return it to her. Unfortunately the princess was indisposed when we arrived. As Dr. Cross went to tend to her, the rest of us were instead brought to an audience with the Regent and her secretary Jane Conroy. The Regent thanked us profusely for the return of her daughter's necklace, bestowed a number of gold bars on Lady Wordsworth, and then dismissed us. Nothing too unexpected in all of that, except that I noticed the Regent didn't seem to be in complete control of her own words, and there were far too many glances from her to Miss Conroy for my liking. That innate sense that all Romani have kicked in, and I believe that there is something terribly amiss in the current situation...