Larimar's Old Journal (1)

Entry Number 43:
 
I went to the guild today. I was looking to get someone to help me translate these scrolls that my father left for me. Instead, I met an interesting fellow. A Dragonborn wearing a dark cloak, clearly a Necromancer of some sort, said his name was Ello. Odd name for sure, but I do not care to judge.
He said he was going to be in Chauntier for a few days, something about his "business" with the Chancellor.
Brilliant, more Necromancers piling into my once beautiful town, corrupting and deviling the lives of those who are just and kind.
I was polite to him, I did not want any trouble of course. The less I'm noticed now the better I may be when I enacted the plan Ismarel has sent me. It doesn't help that I stand out so much in crowds. Everyone knows my name one way or another, perhaps I could find a way to fix that.
Not now though, I must focus on the task at hand; getting these damned scrolls translated. It seems no one else in town can read them.
Maybe mother knows what it says.