Olik Family/Veea/Diary

The days grow long, the nights colder, the battles more wearisome. Death is always on my mind. Let this diary then, be my account, should I fall and someone should want to know who I was, and what I do. Only from my dead hands will anyone grasp this diary from me, and so consider this also my last will and testament.

Day 23

I was wandering the hillsides, searching for beasts to slaughter. To no avail, but I found something worse: Tax Collectors. There were five armed men on horseback, carrying the banners of some local lord. To them I was not but a commoner, and I look it. When you've slept on muddy peasant-hut floors for as long as I have, your heritage, however noble, becomes irrelevant to these people. I didn't even feel it worthy to mention my family. Even if they recognized my lineage, the family is situated far away, and what is our noble name to them? At lance-point they searched my belongings, and I groaned inside when they found my coin-purse. But, unexpectedly, they only took one out of my five gold coins. Then the bastard leered at me obviously, and made some no doubt insultingly lewd comment to his friends. They laughed and rode off, leaving me poorer and raging inside.

One day. One day, I will show them all that I am a noblewoman. One day perhaps, I will get it through those thick Abington Olik skulls too. One day... not today.

Day 25

I searched four six hours today - scrounging, really, like a beggar for anything of value. In the third hour I found a statuette carved from wood, depicting some sort of local deity. Perhaps some priest will pay a pretty penny for it, perhaps not.

I wonder what this god-statue means. What if it's an ill omen to these people? I've no real idea of the local religion. I know they worship Sartan, but who is Sartan to me? Is this a statue of him, or some heretic god? I'll be careful before flashing this around.

Day 31

I've forged an agreement with Natalia Zhukov, an adventurer like myself. So far it hasn't proven all that useful, simply because the crafty beasts and monsters we hunt often leave by the time I hear her reports or she hears mine. Still, it's better than no-one, and I don't trust anyone else. Come to think of it, I don't trust her either, but I trust her enough to cooperate with her.

Day 97

I turned 22 years old. Since last writing, I've travelled through most of Sartania, northern Lasanar, bits of Ethiala. The world is a large and exciting place. I believe I've improved my sword skills and perfected more efficient methods of hunting The Enemy. However, I've been basically broke for months, haven't had any real communication with other humans, and haven't gotten a single noble lord to recommend me. No one recognizes my legitimacy! How I am starting to hate them all, the self-satisfied, smug nobles who've never even imagined what it's like not to be accepted as noble blood and birth.