8/26 - My own first day.
Downstairs my family slept, a half dozen siblings packed atop a straw-filled mattress - all trying to get a deserved rest before the demanding chores of the farm life resumed before the sun broke. My father had been blessed and cursed with a room of his own, a mattress for two where he'd instead lay alone - an arm wrapped over the spot where Mother used to be before winter had taken her. I remained in my claustrophobic crawl space that made used both as my sleeping space and as additional storage; as the eldest I was granted the luxury of sleeping on my own.
For many years now, I have spent my few moments of self by reading by candlelight the one water-damaged book I had found by the local creek; a historical book regarding the notable Eastern Kingdoms that made up the Alliance during the first war. The stories of grandiose kings, brave knights, and influencing merchants had infiltrated and influenced my mind. I craved - needed to join their ranks in the halls of history. I would not achieve that toiling in the mud and pig stool of this Light forsaken farm; complete with overbearing Nobleman looking down his nose and eager to crack his whip to make the additional copper while we struggle on.
I must break the chains of serfdom, cut the heartstrings attached to family, and abolish the fear of failure and bubbling anxiety. It is time for me to leave and start a life I can truly call my own - a life of independence that I shall guard with tooth and nail. A life of sacrifice and suffering is my exchange for the life as a King. It is known that I will die, but I should be damned if I'm to be buried at this farm... I will die on a hill, fighting for what I value, and will be laid to rest with a crown on my brow.
I swear this to myself.
