Cecilia Brant Month XX, Day XX, Year XX Dear Diary, This is not the first time I have wrote in such a thing. However today is the day I have decided it best to start a fresh diary. My old self, a spoiled little rich girl who could never understand or care for others. She is someone that is no longer. That little girl is growing up, and which each passing year I had come to notice that with my changed views, came the need to start my writing anew. The world has become so much darker, so much more cruel and unnecessarily complex. The world I live in, is one where people starve, people fight and kill each other, steal from one another. Neither the rich nor the poor or exempt from sin. I worry that in due time, this world will be destroyed by either our hands or those of a god who has been angered by something as meager as a chipped nail. Yes, I see neither the gods nor humanity as having hope. Not like this. It feels as if the gods made a mistake, or are flawed themselves... or even dare I say actually wanted a world like this. I am getting ahead of myself. Well... where to begin? Perhaps it best to use these first entries of my new records to describe my youth and why I now have awakened to the sad truth of things. I am Cecilia Brant. I hail from the Brant family one of the more prestigious of the Orarion high class. My father is a military general of the Orario Swords and my mother a designer of renown in the Orario region. My place in the family as the only daughter was very generic. Pampered and given all the best things a girl could ask for. I made friends with other noble children of my social economic status and only knew what my family and friends told me. I learned most basic things as a proper lady should, dance, art, music, and such. I was meant to not see beyond my bubble, just as my family and most people do not. The gods. Beings that were worshiped or feared throughout time. The ones who created our world and were meant t protect, guide, or punish us as they saw fit. They were a mystery that piqued my interest from even back then. Their tales gave me things to read about and study that were beyond mundane reality. I suppose I was different even with the traditional upbringing. Most did not delve as much into the myths and lore as I did. I became pretty well known for being a good story teller though, sigh... that was a pleasant time. Sometimes I wish I stayed ignorant and innocent. To die a life that was filled with my own joy and sadness. Unwilling or caring to do anything about just how wrong everything really was. That would not come to be, I had a destiny that would change everything and I do not regret it. It would all start when my father was called into duty while I was present. It was a bandit attack on a small village. He had to defend it alone while awaiting reinforcements. I was left in my carriage but I decided out of childlike curiosity to sneak out and see. It was horrible. I was drawn into the smoke and flame, the dead and suffering. Was this village paying for some terrible act to some god? That was the reason for such things I had read or thought.. A small child had run up to me. At the time he was about my age. She had her clothes torn off and she bled from her mouth and ears... it was traumatizing. I did not respond to her cries for help as she fell down and died at my feet. I just ran, ran back to my safe carriage. I saw a large man fighting my father, he was killed and I saw him thrust his fist to the air before falling. Why did these men do this? What were they after? Money, survival? Was it because the gods had forsaken them or were they just flawed? If so... would that not also be the fault of those that made them? That would be the first time I thought about a darker, less fair and happy world. The real world. I still had much more growing up and learning to do however. Time to stop writing for now. A I stated in the page of my old dairy. I am currently enlisted with the Orario Swords and it hampers some of my time. Until next time then. Resolved To The Dream, Cecilia Brant
