Character Journal Entry I (Patreon)

Here's one of the passages I wrote while falling asleep in the past. These ideas and scenes ALWAYS  happen when im about to sleep. Seriously, it's a problem lmao.

The entries help remind me of who they are, and what they think, remember, and believe.

This is regarding one of the most important characters in the story.

To who this entry belongs to, or others in the future, I will never answer nor offer hints to. That will be up to the readers!

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My rage is what defines me, no other thing in life that I have done will be passed down into posterity like my rage.

My children will inherit my rage, and finish what I have started.

They've seen what I've seen. Experienced, what I've experienced.

Nobility Blessed by the Goddess are born to rule.

But why?

My rage started from a seed of curiosity. Once planted it became something I had to find the answer for. To nurture and keep close watch over.

But the answers were lacking.

Unfair.

Nonsensical.

I've seen the worst of the nobility.

Slavery.

Murder.

Rape.

Torture.

Apathy.

The sins lambasted by the sisters in the church are simple to understand. Pride is arrogance. Something seen in spades by the nobility. What does the poor farmer have to be arrogant about?

The laborer?

The maid?

Lust is easy to understand. You fuck, and fuck, and fuck.

It's a base primal instinct.

So is gluttony. You eat, and eat, and eat.

But then comes sloth.

I remember thinking sloth was just being lazy.

But it isn't.

It's apathy.

And there isn't a more apathetic creature than the noble. The ones supposedly Blessed. There are people out there with incredible talent, with ideas and dreams that could change the world! I've met many.

My children are among them.

But my children are actively held back.

We are held back.

I am held back.

For positions are limited.

And whatever is available is given to the members of nobility.

A governor needs a new engineer? Give the position to the daughter of a noble family for their favor.

A department has space for a professor? The recent graduate belonging to another noble family is chosen.

Why was the commonborn engineer with wartime experience overlooked, who knows how critical new bridges are needed near military bases? Only someone in the service could know how creaky the bridges are from all the marching. How unsteady the bridge feels underneath their boots. How the unease creeps along their spine when the bridge underneath them sways.

Why was the commonborn assistant of twelve years overlooked, who has worked at the academy for more than a decade and is full of new ideas to teach students? The students and faculty know and trust them. They've waited for their chance, their opportunity, but every time a position is available, they're looked over.

Why can't the masses govern themselves? Why can't they select the best of them to lead them? What exactly have the nobility done for the people so far? Why are the nobility able to reign with only their lineage being the qualifier?

I'm tired of seeing my people passed over. Of seeing their once vibrant faces lose the joy of life. I'm tired of seeing our best and brightest snatched by the Jelaythan queen.

His Imperial Majesty has listened to wise counsel, but the process is still far too slow.

And now that the most powerful of the noble families have ties to the Obsidian Throne, their influence is at its strongest.

I'm tired of imagining life with the Jelaythans and thinking I could do more good there than here.

Why do I care? Why do I keep trying for this damned empire, for these nobles that only throw balls and try to out do each other each season?

All while their people struggle underneath them, as they dance, and dance, and dance above them.

My curiosity then became something like a need for justice. Justice for the commonborn and those hurt by the nobility. But the more I do, the more I reveal, the more I learn, the more it simply becomes about hurting them.

Those "Blessed " children of the Goddess who turns her back on the commonborn. Those who are left without Her touch, Her assurance that we are seen by Her. But nothing is given to us. No mark, no distinguishing feature, no gift, no nothing.

I have but one thing. It warms me, keeps me alive. Focused.

It was earned. Not given.

Rage.

This rage will be inherited by my children, for they have seen the inequality of this world. The "natural" place we commonborn are designated to.

They hate it.

Saints forgive me, but the joy I felt when I saw the hate in their eyes.

When they ask the same questions I did.

Once the flames of my ambition become cold, that it no longer warms my heart, only then can one say I have died in both spirit and mind. The only thing awaiting me then is physical death.

Maybe then I will have my answer from Her.