Journal Entry 53

12.07.2026

As I walked into the Zum Alten Anker, I felt an immediate and unsettling sense of fear. The feeling dissipated, however, when the pub’s bartender and owner, Zechariah, glanced at me and greeted me with a slight nod and a smile. There was no doubt that he recognized who I was.

Zechariah did not pry into my story, nor did he treat me differently from the other patrons enjoying their beverages and meals. His deep voice was kind and reassuring. He gave me a history lesson about Rüdersdorf and explained how the small fishing village, with its Scandinavian architectural influences, had slowly developed into an economic stronghold on Dorstenland’s northeastern coast.

Although I tried to keep my plans to myself, Zechariah made me feel safe enough to share why I had returned to Rüdersdorf. There was—and still is—no doubt in my mind that he is a wise and trustworthy man. I explained my need to face my trauma head-on.

Of course, Zechariah did not remember my previous visit to his pub because I had been disguised. Nor did he remember Prime Minister Northcott’s assistants. As he explained, the pub often welcomed businesspeople who stopped by for a pint or a meal while they were in town.

Zechariah knew a great deal about the property where I had been held captive. After mentioning that he had lived in Rüdersdorf his entire life, he confided in me and explained how I could reach the property without being noticed. Before I left the pub, Zechariah gave me his mobile number, “just in case” I needed someone. I sensed that he shared the same concern for my mental well-being that the King had expressed only days before.