Please, tell me what is wrong with this world. No, not it’s flaws, but rather what forced it to have them. Tell me why this country, my country, is led by heartless, cruel, and malicious people. Tell me why Isaac Mansford is still alive after everything he’s put our country through. I think without him, the Quill would be a better form of leadership. I say we just behead him and feed his remains to the xunn in the mountains, in respect we’d be following his own normalities. Then again maybe that wouldn’t be the best idea, after all his methods are exactly what I wish to diminish.
Tell me how it’s possible for people to be so hated and awful, yet so widely accepted. I mean, they even named the royal village Mansford. He doesn’t contribute anything useful. He’s evil. I just don’t understand. They say it’s necessary, they say we need the Quill and Mansford. But do we really? All they are is a group of imbeciles telling us what to do. Are the decisions they make really guided by any moral standards? At all?
You know, I think my mother’s golden hair has faded to gray as a result of the decisions our supposed leaders are making. She can hardly catch a breath between every mistake they make. It’s driving Delahonte closer and closer to its demise, who knows what will happen when it does. I can’t even imagine how Ander is handling this…. Ander..
It’s been awhile since I’ve written about him.. Well, Awhile since I’ve written at all. But don’t you worry, I haven’t forgotten my little journal. And I certainly will never forget him. I still remember all of our laughs, our stories, the memories. We had the world in our hands. We were young, but we were also in love. That is something most say is impossible. How could someone so young really be in love? Truth is, love knows no age. It knows no limits, nor end.
It’s been a while, my dear little diary. Would you like some memories?
His name was Anderson, but we all called him Ander for short. To me, Ander was the most handsome boy in our tiny hometown called Humes. For me, it was easy to fall for him. You see, Ander was smart, funny, charming for a thirteen year old, surely. I, on the other hand, was not only unappealing to the eye, but also quite awkward. I know, hard to believe right? But I must remind you, diary, you only get the intelligent controlled side of me so understand that what you see on paper is not what you will see in flesh. But you know, he somehow managed to fall for me as well. One day, when I was just twelve years old, he and I were walking in the woodland that separated the villages. I remember staring at him, feeling as though I was the only girl in the world that could be this lucky. His pale brown and pin straight hair was just long enough to fall into his gorgeous emerald eyes, he was laughing and going on about his latest adventure with his friends. We were never happier. We told each other everything, and somehow never had to worry if the other was off with some other lover. Well, you don’t know to worry about those things at such a young age, I suppose. Funny how things change, huh?
As the years went on we were still together, our love was always strong. We were partners in crime almost literally, we were in every training together when learning of the ancient language, learning of the Quill’s standards, and leadership training. The only thing we weren’t together for were the several weeks of battle camp. One day, something changed, we had both gone to a training camp each year, different locations depending on age and skill, until the final base. If someone is accepted into the final base they are considered the best of the best fighters. For the final base, warriors could be chosen during years four, five, or six. But year fours rarely get chosen due to their lack of experience and skill. There are only six years total to prove you are a worthy soldier. Camps start the year you turn thirteen, and your last is the year you turn eighteen. The final base is not a base that everyone goes to. Only potential army leaders are sent there, the twelve warriors selected each year are the best fighters that any camps have to offer. Fighters who have lost no more the five sparring matches. The only catch is, in the final base most of the twelve chosen will die, there have been years where all of them died. Is it worth it?
It was my second year of camp, his third, a week before I had to depart when the incident happened. You see, the smallest of errors can alter the course of your entire future. It only takes a little tug of a horse’s reins to get the animal to change into an entirely different speed or direction. I guess you can say that’s what happened with us. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t save my relationship. He hated me, and I will never understand why. I’m not sure I’ll ever know what I did.
After leaving for training and writing letters to Ander with not a single reply, I knew it was too late. That year going back to camp, I would remember all the moves and stories Ander had told me about fighting. I practiced even away from camp for him, I wanted so badly to impress him. I figured one day, we would come face to face again. I’d have to show him what he had made of me. From that point on, all of my anger and brokenness channeled into my fighting. I was undefeated at that camp. After my fifteenth birthday, camp started to be old news for me. I began to purposely lose fights in hopes of being removed, but for nothing it seemed. They somehow knew that it was just me trying to get out. I had no friends, so I hadn’t told anyone. But somehow they knew.
They started to push me beyond what I had thought were my limits. Forcing me to strive to be a malicious fighter. They focused on me more than any of the other kids. I didn’t know why, even though part of me could offer a reason. No one knew my secret, therefore no one knew what I had to lose. Why would they push me?
Diary, I think you are finally starting to understand. Life in this world is no joy ride. Not yet anyway.