Edgar Albert Young, 8 in the morning of the Seventh of Sun’s Kindling

Our late supper with the Queen in her quarters went roughly, and the festivities of the week have come to a close at last.
While the rest of the men who were with us were able to enjoy themselves with a great and rich crowd of people, I and my uncle had dined with the queen in person.
Archibald had to be excused as he had gone on a sudden errand, and the young prince was being kept company by Brann. Presumably he just needed some reassurance and company, I’m not quite sure.

But the Queen, I can’t tell what was going on with her.
While she was so kind previously this time around she could not quite maintain the same demeanour she had with us before.
She demanded to know from us why the great Theodore Young, lord of the Young estate and lands and good friend of King Hieronymus of Daventry could not be bothered to meet with her in person, as if she were just some side show whose invitations were to be taken with a grain of salt.
She was nervous, anxious, angered in what seemed to be an unfortunate combination of all the things that could go wrong with a meeting as she tossed blind and far-fetched accusations of treachery and distrust towards us.
Whereas her previous grand statement was, if I remember correctly, “All guests are equally welcome here”, now it had drifted off into something more akin to her “starting to regret even tolerating you in my keep”.

After she shouted at us for a few minutes straight we could not help but remain silent the whole time, until Bertrand had the gall to shout her down and silence her momentarily, demanding to know why any of the Queen’s royal guests should tolerate such disrespectful behaviour despite their best intentions in making sure her invitations and requests were honoured.

He explained to her afterwards that Father had been feeling very ill lately and entrusted my uncle and I to take his place, knowing that we would do a decent job of handling his affairs in the most solemn discretion possible.
She finally regained her calm, though her gaze still seemed to reflect a certain level of discomfort when looking upon us.
After Brann entered the queen greeted us briefly and we were escorted back to our sleeping quarters.
I could feel the tension in his breath as he guided us, as if something horrible had happened.
He refused to even gaze upon us even after we thanked him for his service.

I spent a few hours awake at night just looking out from the window, seeing all the guests take off in their carriages, on their horses and carts while the rest were presumably left behind to recover from the humongous load of drink they’d had before.
Eventually I saw a bright red figure against the burning torchlight, Archibald simply walking as if he’d emerged from the shadows of the night.
When he seemingly turned his gaze towards my window, I shuddered and crept into my bed.
There have been shouts and screams in the night, and noises of swords clattering into armour.
I dread to find out what caused this, or what else I come to know about this disturbing night.

Edgar Albert Young, 11 in the morning of the Seventh of Sun’s Kindling
Despite my best efforts, I failed to find sleep the past night.

One of our men was discovered in the dark of the night attempting to take advantage of an intoxicated woman in the aftermath of the feast.
He was slaughtered in the confusion as the royal guard took it to mean that the entire group of people travelling with us had been involved as well.
They’re dead, and uncle Bertrand is desperately trying to defuse tensions with the queen and her servants right now.
While it is disgraceful that even a drunken soldier would attempt to do this, I could have vouched for all our men if they hadn’t already been disposed of in such a ruthless manner.
But this is looking unfavourably upon all of us right now as even Archibald is having a difficult time convincing the Queen to give us a chance.

But I do not understand; surely she’s fully aware of our trustworthiness?

Not at one point have we even attempted doing her or anyone else any harm, and now we're the culprits of a conspiracy to harm unknown visitors of a royal feast??
We'll have to wait and see what's said.

Edgar Albert Young, One in the afternoon of the Seventh
This is an absurdity.
Not only does Uncle Bertrand stand accused of enabling assault, but they've also accused me of conspiring with him to steal some of the crown jewels so they could be used as leverage against the queen and her power.
Whomever is the judge of this is clearly dishonest and unfit to do the job.
Surely they must contact our family as well to provide evidence, or a lack thereof.
I pray this gets resolved quickly and peacefully.

Edgar Albert Young, Eight of Sun's Kindling
Bertrand and I have been confined to our quarters since yesterday, as the queen has sent a pigeon to deliver information to our family.
While we don't find ourselves wanting when it comes to food and rest, it is still an unnerving situation to consider.
Looking upon my past entries I once expressed how I didn't quite trust this invitation from the Queen.
Would this trial prove me right?

Edgar Albert Young, Ninth of Sun's Kindling
My father sent a pigeon with a response vouching for me and my uncle, yet condemning both the would-be rapist among us and the way the royal guard treated the rest of our men.
He is demanding reparations and a clearing of our name, along with the safe return of myself and Bertrand.
This will all turn out right, I'm sure of it.

Edgar Albert Young, Tenth of Sun’s Kindling
It seems Captain Jonathan Exter of Daventry’s Dragon Slayers has been called upon to help resolve this matter in my father’s absence, and to represent his King as well in this dispute.
He is said to be not just an honourable man, but also an exceedingly strong negotiator when it comes to false accusations and research.
The wait is killing us both at this point.

Edgar Albert Young, Eleventh of Sun’s Kindling

Unfortunately, it seems a golden ring was found in my uncle’s cabinet.
If this isn’t a plant I don’t know what possibly could be more of a candidate for that title.

In either case, Captain Exter should arrive later today and we’ll see what can be done about the matter.

Edgar Albert Young, Twelfth of Sun’s Kindling
Captain Exter has arrived, and he has informed me my diary will also be checked for evidence of a conspiracy against the Crown once he’s done with the rest of his research.
The golden ring in the cabinet speaks against us.

In the meantime, I will be questioned at ten by a young robed white-haired man named Michael.
He seems like a friendly chap, at the very least, and a devoted preacher of the Blind Lady.

Edgar Albert Young, Twelfth of Sun’s Kindling
At five in the evening I have regained my diary, thank the Lady.
Michael was a very persuasive speaker, strangely, and he did seem to be straining his hardest to get me to reveal any information I might have hidden from him otherwise; for some reason his voice felt so...smooth, friendly, almost like something that would be attributed to a shade or other powerful creatures.
Even his deep blue eyes seemed a bit off, almost unnervingly so.
We went through my diary together as his eyes scanned through it, and he found nothing suspicious in it.
Although he did note that “one of your men had a fine taste in herbs”, he promised it would not be held against any of us.

But he did inquire about this Matthew fellow I mentioned after he had some time to digest all that information.
He explained to me that he’d been searching for this man quite a while now, intending to pay him a visit when Exter headed over to the Young estate after this whole affair was correctly handled.

Then he placed a hand on my shoulder, which felt...so cold, as if he were a different kind of creature all together.
I felt my head getting lighter and I suspect I must have slept at least an hour since then.

From what Uncle Bertrand has said, things are looking up for us in the queen’s court.
Let us rest on that.

Edgar Albert Young, Thirteenth of Sun’s Kindling
The trial started off well, and it all went rather smoothly...until someone managed to recover some of Uncle Bertrand's sealed scrolls and notes.
I cannot believe this, but somehow he had forgotten to hide his disdain for the Queen.
Nothing indicates that theft was part of the plan, but he has been sentenced to prison.
“Withholding evidence” from the court has also placed him in contempt of both the judge and Exter.
I don't know what's going to happen to me, but Archibald told me he couldn't prevent anything at this point.
I presume I'll be joining my uncle soon.

Edgar Albert Young, Fourteenth of Sun's Kindling
Uncle Bertrand is confined behind bars, and I am confined to the guests’ quarters.
Brann has tried to comfort me to some extent, but I simply told him to leave me be.
Michael apologised to me for his inability to help us, though I could not blame him or Ser Exter.
Archibald came to me to inform me that the Prince requested I be treated well, so I guess this is at the very least favourable news.
But what should I expect?
My father apparently declared war upon the Queen, only to be shot down with the regrettable truth that his son and brother are currently prisoners of Her Highness.

I suspect there will be negotiations, but from this isolated room I can only speculate.

So all I can do for now is write and gaze out of the high window, out to the grassy fields where soldiers and nobles ride upon their beautiful steeds.

And maybe a prayer to the Blind Lady.

Edgar Albert Young, Fifteenth of Sun's Kindling
I have been afflicted by a mild fever, no doubt a result of the tension of the past few days.
I dreamt of being back home, splitting a pack of cards between myself, Blondie and Silvermane as had been my favourite pastime back there.
But something was different.
Michael and his deep blue eyes watched me from a distance, and then I heard the tolling.
The tolling of a hundred bells, ringing through one another like a chaotic pandaemonium signalling the coming of a fate worse than death.
They gazed into my eyes, their own gradually fading as they stepped away from me.
Then there stood a figure clad in dark, with only one solitary eye upon its head as it reached out to me with a hand.
I dared not take it, and I ended up back in my bed.
I could have sworn I felt its claws upon me.

Not in a long time have I had a dream so vivid and strange.
I will be visiting my uncle by noon, hopefully to gain some answers as to what I should expect in the near future.

Edgar Albert Young, evening of the Fifteenth
Exter and the rest of the forces of Daventry have gone to the Young estate to convene.
Uncle Bertrand looked like he had been beaten relentlessly, fresh but treated wounds on his back and a black eye as well as a few dents more all around.
When we spoke in private he mentioned the executioner, named Ven, never even asked him anything.
But before he had blacked out he heard these words: plead to the queen tomorrow and your nephew may be spared.

After sharing this and giving him some time to rest, I was escorted out.

Tomorrow, then.

Edgar Albert Young, Dawn of the Sixteenth of Sun's Kindling
I have no idea what to expect.
But I haven't slept at all, hacking and coughing my way through the night as I did my best to stay hydrated.
I feel weak, but I have to go out to the corner of judgement where the queen alone has power to decide over the fate of my uncle...and mine.
Thank the Lady for such a wonderful day.
Yet I still pray.

Edgar Albert Young, Nineteenth of Sun's Kindling
Archibald has personally taken care to keep me as healthy as he still can.
I have trouble remembering the past few days, which all blurred together, and he assured me I was drowning in tears and fear.
But the ruinous monarch has claimed another soul, so much is certain.

Bertrand, my dear uncle, you should not have taken me here.
I miss you so, despite some of our mutual misgivings and mistakes we both made.
As you prayed your last prayer, that great grey devil smashed your back, beat you into submission, cracked every last bone in your body.
She never intended to give you mercy, and I can see that now.
Ven the executioner will pay for what has happened to you, and the Queen will lose all she holds dear.
I will damn the god of death himself and spit upon the consequences for doing so.
But for now I have no choice but to wait.

Archibald has sworn to do for me what he can, upon the Prince's insistence.
But he advised me to rest, and I feel the same.

Edgar Albert Young, Twentieth of Sun’s Kindling

I was summoned to the throne room despite only having had little time to recover from the brutal beatings upon my health in the past few days.
I wasn’t exactly in the mood to be talked to, and it seemed that neither was the Queen who refused to even look at me.
But the young prince came forward to embrace me, apologising for all the terrible things that had happened.
While others in the castle might have tried to hide their feelings or emotions in fear of the Queen’s wrath, he seemed very honest when he expressed his regret for the way his mother handled affairs.
I could not help but collapse into his arms, letting out all my repressed grief and sorrows.
Edward of Esterland then made the promise that he would never allow anyone to hurt me or my family again.
But I know that when it comes to power, the Queen cannot simply surrender what she’s already gained.
And what she said to me after the Prince went back to his quarters simply confirmed this: I was now to be nothing but a tool to her, a way to force my family into giving up their grounds in exchange for my life.
She had forced my father, Theodore Young, to sign a paper declaring their estate now belonged to the kingdom of Esterland and that their servants would have to be transferred to different masters.
It was likely that my family would be able to find refuge in Daventry, but at a great cost to their name and reputation.
And any military attempt to reclaim me would, by her own words, spark a conflict between the kingdoms that would shed more blood than I was deemed to be worth..by her words, again.

Archibald quickly escorted me back, but not before I had a chance to gift my spit to her arrogant face.