Dear diary, March 12, fifth year of the Era of Serenity
It has been eighteen years to the day since the passing of my mother, add five months and a few more days since the passing of my father. I am turning twenty-one years old in just a few days. Lady Rose continues to deny plans for a celebration party, but I know she must have something in mind. No doubt a rabble bunch of my fellow knights to tease me of my youth. Sometimes I wish I was not the youngest guard in the citadel. Dear me, I am not even of adult age yet.
Oh well, I suppose I shall find out soon what calamity is in store for me. That foolish Theodore better keep his distance, unless he seeks a new bruise on his cheek. I cannot help but wonder what my parents would do for my twenty-first birthday. I am sure it would not be as exciting as what is to come. Instead it would have been something twice as special in its own way. Alas, I should not dwell on a fantasy. It is pointless to do so. Sincerely...
I closed my journal with a thud. As soon as the pages met I heard a knock at my bedroom door. The fine, finished wood made for a crisp sound. I jumped slightly, startled by the unexpected synchronization of my book shutting and the knock.
"Lady Camielia, have you need of any of my services before you retire?" one of the citadel servants asked me through my door. Her voice was soft and tender. I knew exactly who it was.
"Nothing more tonight, Madelyn," I replied. "Thank you. You will enjoy the rest of your evening?"
"Aye, milady. Goodnight indeed then."
"Goodnight to you, Madelyn."
I smiled softly at her caring devotion. I never asked for such an easy life. It was, strange. Before the princess of Rose Kingdom found me alone on the side of the road far from my village, my life was one of near destitution.
I had lived in a small, forgotten village on the corner of the continent. Everyone there was so kind, but we lacked a prosperous trade network to neighboring towns and countries. We struggled to survive. Some succumbed to disease and perished due to our lack of medicinal supplies. Food was scarce, for the soil was unforgiving and hunting was dangerous in the woods by our village.
I could remember those days so vividly, even though they are over two decades ago.
I arose from my desk and placed my diary on the bookshelf in my room. Turning around, I placed my hands on my hips and looked around my bedroom.
A large velvet red rug concealed most of the stony tile floor. My bed was on the far side with smooth oak wood end tables on both sides. My desk was a smooth oak wood to match, as well as the bookshelf at my back. Three candles lit my room, two on my end tables and one on the desk. I glanced at my sword and shield, propped up neatly by my bedroom door. I walked over to the gear and brushed off a smudge on the edge of my shield, then smirked at the glossy finish it had. It gleamed even in the dim candlelight.
Finally, I turned to my bed, but stopped when something on my desk glimmered and caught my eye. It was the golden brooch my mother had made for my second birthday. I stepped toward my desk and picked it up. I did not smile. Instead, a single tear escaped my eye and adventured down my cheek. I thought to myself, Mother. I wish I could see your face one more time. I still remember that glare you gave me, when you were taking your last breath...