...Only the god of lightning to burn the trees, the goddess of love to make mortals ammend... So many gods, and they lived on this same Gaia, their home. There came a time when the old gods died, and only Bahamut remained as one, so did I. Yet, nothing can take me away from this sensible world. Not even death... I don't fear it, but instead I take control of it. Control over my shape. My direction. My own history. Along the way, came the sins. Monarchy may share of other virtues, but it failed to protect the people from people. And the beasts from the beasts. Only the faith to sustain their lifes a bit longer. For many, god became a mortal, and died a long ago. Only the hopes are meant to die. Only the flowers are meant to wither. Only half of the offspring of rats survive the harsh winter. Only the humans threat each other with weapons further away from their jaws, but both sides get bitten anyway. Poisoned. Injured. Harmed. Killed...
...Today is the big day. You shall find the world, said a father to his son, beneath the doors secluding the Jugend from the outside world. Courage for the upcoming fights. And then, he left. I only felt the truth of such words later on. No matter the way I found to be back at home, instead of living inside this academy, I wasn't the same anymore. I was eleven years old, but my interest for this job grew on me since I learned, not only with my family, but with this world I began to hate, and in change, same began to threw everything over me like a stream pushing the water together with the pieces of a mountain down ever since I learned about it, but only now that I do care. I live for it, same I do for the people who either believe that we are the solution, or part of the problem. It's so easy to blame those who are alike gods walking over the earth, and so easy it is to create a power alike the one belonging to the gods with our own hands...
July 17, 1778
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Today is the big day... That's what you wrote in your diary as well.
All days are big, though they all seem to last for a while. It depends on the way they are spent. For mother, a day may had lasted only an hour due to her duty, but for me, it lasted for an eternity, but nothing lasted forever. Including my patience... On winters like these, any season that comes and goes, I had spent a time looking throught this window, belonging to my bedroom. I would be here to contemplate the morning and most of the times, I would find myself outside, to feel it further than the touch of my fingers over the glass surface. So bored that I was to lick this same glass as well, and never that my tongue got stuck. Only my feet upon the chair I pulled to be near this window, unlike this bed, whom I used to jump above, but now that I grew up, I might hit my head on the ceiling above, or maybe I'll feel dizzy and I don't want to cause a bad impression, even if they only last for a while, like my childhood.
It's the first impression that gets stuck on their heads, but within time, it'll soon be gone, but I don't know how much time I'll have to spend, or how much time I'll feel passing throught. The clock only tells me which hours are, but people share of their own time. Like father, mother, Jack, Dan... me. The youngest of them all. Some are far younger than me, like many of my cousins. So young that they don't care. So quiet they are, thought many of them keep running, because they are bored as well. So bored I was, that I began to listen to father's stories. Some of them were real, others weren't, but only me to tell if they were, or deduce. No such thing as a truth exists, and I agree with you, father. He said Truth as a person name, not truth as a object. A name is given to objects as well, but names are written with capital words, because they refer to proper names.
Capital words had been used in the beginning of sentences, and giant spears were given to the lords of war... In sort, nothing happened because of an only person, althought people on their own think by themselves. Instead of speaking out of their mouths, we keep many things meant to not be said on our heads, where we may hear them, and decide if we can, or can't speak them. I never learned any slang with father, but I knew he despised other people. I loved his, for a change. I listened to his words, even when I was unable to see his, and he looked throught me, carefully he holded me, alike those who took care of me later on... I know he did, because I am still alive. Freya Crescent; that's my name. Did I ever asked to be given this same name? How many of the children born had been given the name 'Freya'? How many born before me share of my same name? How many are still alive to live with the name they had been given?
It's part of all families traditions that a child grows up with a grandfather's surname. Some sound silly, while others are what kids struggle for, without their fists. Crescent... like the moon, but nobody here in Burmecia ever saw the moon. Only those who went outside, and were able to come back. All that we know to this day is that the moon shines alike the sun, but you are able to look at. And it may be gray, like these clouds some watch moving in the sky above. I am a Crescent, a Brandford, a Van Houten, an Ironheart, a Miyajima... the families that have dominance, who subdueded others throught ages, and things far more valuable than names chosen by the words of another. Mom choose my name instead of father, as much as she had chosen to live days unlike any others. Hours... I mean. This won't take an entire day. As soon as I get it all, a thing I never did. I was only interested in the fights, I want to engage into some, yet you can't solve this with your fist. Or a bite.
You were able to wake up from your bed, to prepare yourself a breakfast, and then you find yourself again, sitting on this bed. You are asking for a sleep, yet I am not tired. Maybe I am tired, of living like this. I didn't expected that mom would get ill weeks before my birthday. I thought she would get any better, and then... then she would came back to her duty. She will, like always. You insisted for her to be with you, and once again you realise that a Crescent is always with you, not only in blood, or at the tip of your tail. How many times shall I carry on of same thoughts, instead of creating new ones? Before, I had an only thought, that became a wish and disappeared like one. I wanted mom to get better, and seeing how she kept smiling at me in the end, I can say she was far any better than those who refuse to die. She accepted it, when already down on this same bed.
From the window, only white can be seen; into the streets, on the clouds, and my hair. It wasn't painful for her, neither for me, who had already been awaiting for such to happen, because I couldn't do anything to prevent it. What really was painful back then is that I awaited enough for a realisation, instead of overcoming it myself. What else could be done when on a bed, besides speaking to each other? Well, I could listen to her coughing an entire day. All it took for a monster to be born was a terrible day spent by what once was his, or her. I only seemed to have been sharing of my own worries, legs trembling for each tea prepared, a water who shared of the warmth mother had been losing each day, but the flavour was the same, for someone who had been experiencing it for fifteen years. Someone who went inside these blankets only to feel the knees instead of the pillows on the head... You aren't only here, at this room, to be sobbing at someone who isn't there, right?
The sky does it so, however nobody pays attention to its sounds. Who else, other than you, to be paying something and awaiting for such to be paid? You do not share of an only voice in your head. You do not call yourself by Freya on the same way you used to, a name that inspired many things gone like your childhood, and the way you felt the same. Today is the big day, isn't it? Only if you wake up, once again. You didn't only came here by opening this wooden door, did you? Anyone can open these doors, as much as we are to close some of them forever, but even walls are breakable, gaps can be found on these same doors, glass can be scratched like our backs, and mother had no reason to lock her wardrobe with any locks. If there is a thing I do need to become a Dragoon Knight on a first place is that I need to look alike them.
I had been trained to become one, but the difference between the garden and the training grounds is that the first was fun, both for me, Jack and mom. I learned a few things, of a bunch I had forgotten. You will have to learn these again, and you won't forget this time. Instead of the stick, you will be given an entire spear. A javelin, to be fair. A Dragoon knight ain't defined by its weapon, though one of mom's spears was a father's gift. I don't know if she only took it as a gift and only, but as far as I knew mom, I guess such gift wasn't only meant to be called by special. I wonder where that spear is, but maybe it was buried together with her. That's one of the things she would want to. I wasn't there to see it, because I already saw enough of my mom, far more than her own body, and those expressions she used to make with that face. Anyway, with her scars exposed or not, nothing could prevent us from knowing that she didn't felt any good, but that she choose to live this way, I agree.
Knock Knock... I heard them so many times. coming down that same door. Dan said that he would be there to lead me to where they train the new Dragoons. I could already be there on my own, if I felt any better than this. I don't want to go there on my own, even with these clothes, wearing orange trousers that only I do pay attention at, fortunately. And my tail began to shake, but it already does. I only took notice of how it moves, from left to right, and then right to left. It's a waste of time. And to go there only in thoughts, to believe that you will fail with them, fail with the unknown... What about those heroes who had fought many battles, destroyed empires in the past in order to show something far more than shear strenght commited by their hands? I'll make it know, then I'll be able to endure it. It may be boring, but it ain't a frightening process. Only their looks, and why would I feel any threat, if all you had to do was to hold one of their hands? Her left hand, the one who also holded of any spear, javelin, but unlike these weapons, I never brought my hands to any harm.
...
...Only the claws, but I felt shame to use them. Anger is the most primitive of the sensations. Besides fear. The audition is the first of the senses that alert any kind of danger, and the first of the feelings we all feel is fear. The adrenaline runs throught the body, the mind tells you to escape, and the experience may prevent you from stepping above a nail or hitting the wooden counter when in the dark. Some creatures live in the dark, while others evolved to step into sunlight, and only a few to look at the sun. They have no time, they have no need to look at the stars. It burns... It hurts. The human is the only animal who ever deemed an existence over his own needs, an immortal being unlike his. The burmecian is just another human, and only humans to feel any love. I didn't had the need to spend my time reading these books to learn about that. It comes by experience...
...
Tsk, tsk... That was a nice breakfast I had as soon as I woke up. You did it before me and your mom, even before your own brother. Tsk... But a leaf got stuck between my teeth. The front teeth. That wouldn't happen back when I began to lose them like the leaves falling out of a tree. You will lose them too, but I hope not on the same ways I do had lost them. For each time your father got in trouble, all I could do was to fight back, instead of fleding like a cockroack. Only my teeth got broken instead of my jaw, and any bones, if I recall. This if I had not lost my memory yet, or if I replaced such with a good moment instead. Like your birth... no, that was an awful moment, to be fair. Not that I had been awaiting or I didn't cared for you on the same way your mom still does, but... well, there are moments that are meant to be carried on, althought for each coin comes two sides.
Don't try to eat any coins anymore. But then, you are barely able to stare at me, anything with these little blue dots, and then I feel something in my chest. You are above my chest as well, same who is covered by this leather plate. It took some time to wear these, and how easy it was to wrap up you in these clothes. Now, why is Freya taking so long? Had she woke up yet? Freya... She had been living into a Niflheim these past few days. I know how she feels, but not on the same way she does. Your grandpa had passed a long ago. I won't say that he was that good of a person, nobody is. But there are those people whom I care about, no matter how they are treated or treat others by. So, I became a Royal Guard, because it's nice to show some respect to the people, yet some don't show the same kind of respect I brought to them, besides order.
That's how things are. You can't force other people to make you like something. You, for example, prefer to be toying with the food instead of eating it, but you do have a reason for that. It's because you are growing up, knowing what should or shouldn't be done, in order to let people see you with a sight other than the first one they had of you. So little you two were, still are... A boy once came near me once, to ask me something. He seemed lost, but given how he looked at me with those eyes, I thought for myself he could just look around, that the view he shared was enough to find people a mile away, while I would only see silhouettes. It was just a silly guess, I know it, as much as I knew I had to help that kiddo. And what I did next? Well, I kneeled over the kid, who spat on my face. A spit, and then he just fled with those short legs.
He reminded me of Jack, who also dared to punch me as well, on this same face. Both sides. Jack... that's your name, isn't it? At least, Jack didn't laughed back that day, because I knew how silly of a laugh he had, despite that infant voice. I'm kind of eager to hear your voice too, no matter how it may sound. I do shared of a voice worse than Jack's own, and only now I am able to realise it, without feeling sad, or being mocked by that. As if the gaps I had between the front teeth weren't enough... Why would I feel down with these things with Learie Profumo on my side? Your mom had a sweet voice, althought she wasn't allowed to eat any of them, and after hearing that, Jack made a joke about her teeth being yellow. So did the apples she began to ate. But I didn't cared about it. A girl isn't only defined by her teeth, though Jack's sister used to bite his.
I feel a scent coming from the barely open window that leads to the kitchen. I guess you did felt the same as well. Maybe Freya is taking a bath. It works each time I feel my head is about to open, or when my skin began to feel itchy, and my mouth dry of any words, unlike Learie' own... I know Jack felt a bit of envy in regards to me because he felt something for Learie, but then it was him who said that she had rotten teeth. At least, he only offended her with words alone. Only a coward punches girls, and only a girl to punch cowards, I hope you learn that. Of course you will. Learie never did such a thing, and she hated how I fought against Jack, or any boy. What a waste of time, she said, and how long it took for me to agree they were right. It took a week so I was able to talk to her. To talk with Learie was the easy task, but to kiss her... I never did it so.
Was it because I believed in what Jack said to me? Was it because only I wanted to feel that kiss? How could a child kiss another, if I didn't even know how relationships worked? Of course I knew how, but only with my brothers. Father was gone even when he just didn't became ashes unseen in thin air, and mom created Aoife instead of my two brothers, who created themselves, so did I as soon as I got someone like Jack to be called by friend. We are cousins, but seeing how far we were of each other, I don't think that we saw ourselves as cousins. Yet, we used to fight each other like boys, suffering from the boredom and whatever it was that used to make us amused as always. Then his sister was born, and with my father gone, I went to visit his house often than before. Like now, but Jack doesn't live here anymore, nor does Lenneth. Only Freya Crescent, another cousin of mine.
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Here she is. Wearing that red trench, a white and clean cravat along the neck, covered by those same garments, same shoulder pads, the belt tightened above the chest, where the same coat of arms, a bit rusty and sharing of a few cracks, is still able to shine alike the edge of a spear, if there was one for Freya to hold. She is already bearing enough weight, far more than I could in the first days. She doesn't wear any leather, that's why. Her days of harsh training didn't even began, while the child's play of before ceased to be brought – it takes courage to go in there dressed like that – I said, as soon as I looked to her, with the door opened at once. I could say for sure that Lenneth came back. She did, fifteen years ago...
— It ain't courage, Dan. Just a guarantee.
— Aren't you going to wear the helmet as well?
— I don't think so.
— Does it fit your head? – I brought a brief smirk, and I know Freya noticed it. Back on a certain day, she once tried to wear her mother's helmet, and it was so heavy that not only her head did fit it, but then she got stuck inside this same helmet. Jack and I laughed first, but Freya laughed last. Jack knew that having a little brother would be fun, and painful as well. The way she kept staring at me, then and now... – nevermind. Do you feel any better?
— Just a bit nervous, Dan, althought I do share of the basic requirements. Since father went to the field and was able to came back, the State have brought an insurance to his, so they did with the other soldier's families. Yet, father worked hard like mother throught the short life he had, with half of his lost before I even was born.
— At least, to have a half is better than nothing at all, Freya.
— I know. Alright, let's go...
...
...Clay can shatter at any moment, or can be brought into shards with a single pull. I know Bart became a shell since that day. Somehow, he is still alive, so you did. He didn't knew anything about my disease, because there wasn't none. A plenty of attention was given since then by father to daughter, not only because most of the time I'm out of home, or because Freya is far younger than Jack, who already knows the basics of living, but mainly due the eyes. Those little peridots have found a way to trespass out of Bart into her, unlike her hair that keeps growing, unlike my doubts. While Bart keeps staring at everything with wide eyes open, only my dear seems to be able to blink far more than his. While our daughter is beginning to look and wonder why such things like spoons exist, Bart sometimes just went looking somewhere, and nothing at the same time. That stare remained on his life as much as you...
...
Dan is wearing that same outfit given to the Royal guards. Despite the title, these soldiers can be found everywhere, and anyone can enlisten easily on the army. The King shares of his personal guard, but with the title given to people such as Dan, they all seem to be that important and close to such a thing as royalty. I mean, they are important, because only a few that are meant to become Dragoons. This if you have enough money, which I do have, yet mom and dad decided to live at the countryside all along. Only a few move to this half of Burmecia, where I and Dan are heading to. He is currently off duty, but that doesn't mean he is no more able to help people. Many call this part of the kingdom by city, and that's fine for most of us. There is no official name for that place, as much as there isn't a crest for the flag. Only the Dragoons to share of a crest, and only Burmecia to share of same Dragoons.
We walk together into the same street, following of different paths. I see that he is also taking care of one of his and Learie's sons. So, that's little Jack? He can barely look at anything, but I see that he is struggling to. And then, Jack falls asleep. This place quite feels alike another, when compared to the countryside. It's still part of Burmecia, but I do not live here, unlike Dan, or that other Jack. My brother is somewhere within these buildings, who do not have the shape of bells, only in the vaults found inside, alike the ones belonging to the church. I only went there once, when father was gone. He wasn't even there, neither did my mind when playing outside. People can pray to Bahamut anywhere, but food can only be purchased here, in the market district. Same can be prepared by some kind neighbor, but it's easy to carry on money than any friendship.
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Across my way throught the main city once again, I stumbled across a kid, a rather odd one. Skin brown as a caramel, he is wearing rags assembled into clothes, each piece sewed onto another, leather and just rags. He wore a carpet bended with another unrelated piece of cloth. There are no holes, except the one made for his neck, arms and legs. The kid's fingers look as if they were about to melt, just like that large and limpy tail, but I saw an apple being holded by his, until he put it inside the mouth, chomping it in a single bite. He doesn't look hungry enough to do it, but he did anyway, even with the backpack behind his. Yet, these are only small details, in regards to the feature that striked me at the first sight I gave for the boy, so he did with his own eyes. Beneath the hat with the shape of an acorn or shittake, next to his flaccid dog ears, what was once a stare became a glance of eyes that resembled those belonging to the fish.
These layed above the counter of a near fair, unlike the kid who stood like me and Dan on the same street. I mean, the boy could blink, but the way he kept staring at us... he looked dead. Frightened, perhaps. The way that eye seemingly popped out of his – what are ye lookin' at? – this until he said it. He had no claws to scratch me. Neither on his hands, or on his feet. But that he can talk... It wasn't enough for his – hey! Ye up there, shrimp! Ain't ay nothin' for ya!? – and then he came near us, with his tail being dragged like a worm out of the ground. The gaiters on his feet weren't even gaiters, but red socks tore like the tattered clothes wored by his. At least, he wears something.
— Is there any problem with paying attention to where we step upon? – I asked for his. I do not know anything about this boy, except that he sounds a bit mischievous. He looks alike that too, but I can't trust the first sight taken forever. On a same way, I can't begin with the left foot, but I did it so anyway. So many times that a bluff sounded as if I was on the top, no matter how silly it was. Now, what remains silly is that I do it again, from a time to another.
— Nah, there isn't none... Hey! Hauld yer horses a minute! Ay ain't that small of a stane for ye to almost trip over!
— Then you are the least of my concerns, kid – I said, putting him aside, avoiding to look at his, but I couldn't. He was still in the middle of the way, and no matter how much we deviate from his, the boy always seems to get in front of me. A kind of invisible force that keeps pulling me backwards. I look down, and there he is.
— Ay dinnae know ye, shrimp – then, he put that index of his inside the nose. As if he didn't cared for what he said, the boy doesn't seem to care about his hygiene as well – but ambition makes ye look pretty ugly, by th' wey – the way this kid threatened me was far more funny than a threat is meant to be, yet I didn't shed any smile. At least, he really tried to be harsh, even when showing those little claws.
— Excuse me, but do you know what you're saying, kid? To who you are saying it? – I may not be a Dragoon yet, but I don't tolerate any lack of respect. What an inconsiderate fool. To leave him behind, while wearing of this armor that doesn't even belong to me... no wonder why the kid seems so pissed, to be treated like this by someone who isn't even a Dragoon Knight properly. A Knight wouldn't treat any person on this way, though I'm still able to ignore his. The boy does the same as well, eating an apple taken out of that backpack.
— MUNCH... Ye should be canny, or else, ay wull make another air hole in ye neck... CHOMP! – these were the last words I heard from his, before I left from a distance.
— Do not strain yourself, Freya. He is just a bored kid – said my cousin. The boy didn't said anything to Dan, althought the same somehow knew about his. Dan knew many people as he served the role of a Royal Guard, a sort of Dragoon Knight that only carries on a sword inside the sheath. They all wear this same light blue outfit, like we all wear an orange ribbon. That boy had none, yet he is a burmecian too. I don't have a kind of people that needs far more protection than any other group. That's what I should know, for once. I may serve the King later on, like Dan does, but not everyone can afford of its wealth, like that kid. He may be a thief, but he only stole my attention instead of my patience. He may had stolen that same apple, but who else was there to see and witness it other than the sneaky one?
Kids... the true owners of the world.
...
...I heard knocks on the front door, and as usual, I didn't expected for his. Otterley went upstairs to see my son Jack, lying on bed, burning on fever. He went alongside Dan to find some Basilisks. Near the marshes, seeing those red spots all over his skin. Jack already caught chickenpox once, but fleas can bit anyone, no matter the age. He keeps scratching his skin, even after I told his to not. It ain't useful to say no to a child, or someone ill. They always complain. I already gave Jack two cold baths, which only brought a short relief for his. The door opens and then I saw Otterley, the same nursemaid who showed up at the labour of my two kids. She brought some aloe vera leaves on a basket, after hearing about Jack's condition. A Dragoon Knight that can't even cast the healing skills learnt within the years on those you love mostly...
...There are some wounds that can be treated fine, like small cuts made on a skin. Scars can still be found at my back, and when I am able to touch them, it is as if I could read my own history. There are the family recipes, but never that I would allow these kind of medicine be swallowed by any of their mouths. Not yet. On this age, they can't be put in a deep slumber. Besides, the kids here kinda like of Otterley's presence. They don't tolerate her because I ordered them to, but they just like her. I already asked for Otterley to take care of Jack and Freya when I am out, unlike now. My dear came near me and asked if we could spar together in the garden. What else could I say? I mean, I was tired, so did my head, aching a bit even until now, but I don't care. These are poor excuses for someone who already witnessed so many of them. Father is gone, but that ain't an excuse for nothing. Duty calls, now that's an excuse that still works, because none of us cry afterwards...
...Freya is faster than me, and from a single gap of the front door opened by me, she is already outside, awaiting, and just awaitng until I could open the basement door to find our weapons. That was a rare rare opportunity for us to be there, at the same time, at same place. I remember the first day I sparred with my daughter. I explained to her that we would use the broomsticks instead of any sharp javelins. Why javelin is sharp, Freya asked. I said that javelins need to be sharp because they are made to stab deep within the dragon's scales. Why stab dragon? All that I could say was that they needed to be stabbed before they ate people. Why dragon eat people? Because all they want is to eat, they don't think my dear. I am hungry mom. I want to eat tomato 'cause dad liked it. Freya may have got tired of walking with her own feet, bored of sparring with the same stick, but if there is a thing that some kids on this age don't get tired of is that they are far honest than those who take care of them. Only a few words are enough...
...
A bell rangs. The front gates opens. They are wide than my sight, taller than my height. How much I wished anything could be done with a single step into this place. As soon as I blink again, we are inside the Jugend, a city within a city. The legendary academy that brought many ordinary figures into Dragoon Knights. There are the richy sons too, but it's hard to distinguish who is who, since you need to afford a plenty of money to be into this place. According to Dan, the payment is done montly, but first you need to pay in order to register your name as a Dragoon Knight, then you start as a grunt, but that doesn't prevent me from attending any kind of mission. Once a Dragoon Knight, always a Dragoon Knight. It's better follow of this motto than giving up of this job, since only a time later that you begin to be paid instead of paying them to be remembered later on, but you can still pay this institution if you care about charity, because nobody manufactures spears, clothes, shields, helmets, anything made in quantity for free.
Aqueducts of water run beneath our heads. They are filled in by the water of the rain, but that doesn't mean this stream of water is any cleaner than the one coming down the mountains. It needs to be boiled, as usual. That's why many burmecians drink tea or chai instead of any water. Others prefer to taste a mug of beer. I never drank any of these, not because I'm not allowed to, but because it sucks, tastes bad. It smells bad, but given that some of these are already drunk, it doesn't matter. Once I drank wine, thinking it was grape juice, and my head began to twist. It was so cold, bitter, yet it had a charm. Anything mom prepared had some, even when it was a mistake. She commited them, but who doesn't? At least, she learned something, so did I. Under the sparring seasons, I never saw her using any Dragoon techniques other than the way of carrying a spear.
Not that she wasn't able to summon Rei's Wind to treat some wounds left on us, but like everything that exists, it had a cost. No wonder why mom always came back at home tired like that. Bandages are better to hid the cuts left on the skin, because a harmed body can be treated fine, unlike the soul. From where she took all of that energy...I only know to where mom discharged it all. This street I'm stepping into may had been a place where she fought against an ironite, and what about that square? She stood upon these rooftops, watching the people walk alike ants. Not only Dragoon Knights work here, so does the window cleaners, so if you gave up you still have the opportunity of working on a risky job, but they don't pay that much for these cleaners as they will do if you are a good Knight. At least, you are able to live in there, by an additional cost that's enough for someone such as me to afford, though this place may share of a nice view for someone up there.
It'll be easy to reach the top of these buildings as soon as I learn how to jump like a Dragoon...
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