Dear Diary: I am Raziel Sanguine Nekronus von Darksol, and I am sitting on this massive black dragon along with my twin sister, Elizabeth Baothry Nekronus von Darksol and my father, Kain Anathemas Nekronus von Darksol. Together, we are travelling to the far eastern front of the current war between our nation, The Greater Darksol Empire, and the coalition that has long since opposed our homeland.

Apparently, the front line has remained stagnant for quite a while, mostly due to a mix of waiting out inclement weather and establishing better supply lines, building forts and even constructing new settlements. Father had said something about how it was never a good idea to wage war in the territory that makes up Rusk without having been over prepared for bad weather, overextended supply lines and more, but that should’ve been obvious to anyone with a lick of strategic and tactical knowledge.

With the way Pluton is speeding along, I can tell that we should get to the front lines by daybreak in two days. Naturally, that arrival time would only be valid if we decided to go non-stop, but neither my father nor either me or my sister want to spend two days and nights on Pluton’s back. Despite the accommodations, it is not ideal. Anyways, I can see the town we are going to be staying at. No, Diary, my eyes are not that good, it is because we are circling it and slowly descending. Hopefully there is something good there to pass the time after we land and before we take off again.

…

Dear Diary: I am Elizabeth Baothry Nekronus von Darksol and, as per our teacher’s instructions, I and my brother have been writing in our diaries to document our lives for future historians (and to allow us to see just how far we have come later down the line). Just recently we, we being my brother, my father and I, spent time in a quaint little town before we would be taking off into the skies again. They were holding a festival when we landed, a festival which quickly livened up when we arrived.

They seemed to be overjoyed when we landed. Apparently, the Skeletons laboring in the fields and in other areas freed up a lot of their manpower and this surplus of able bodies was redistributed into other, less physically taxing jobs. From what I have been told for the longest time, people used to live to the ‘ripe old age of 40’ before dying. Some were not even able to live past birth, and the general lack of healthcare, public utilities and cleanliness made life even more dangerous. This was to say nothing of the potentially back breaking labor people had to do. When our nation came to power, people were terrified, but when they lived long enough with all that was given to them, they quickly warmed up.

Oh, how fickle and wishy-washy people can be. I sincerely hope that I don’t one day become so easily swayed by luxuries and ease.

Anyway, back to the festival.

The festival was celebrating the founding of the Teutonian Knightly Junta. Why would they be celebrating that dead nation and not the new and improved version? Well, when my brother asked that question, they all realized the danger they were in and began to get scared. To be fair, father has a tendency to lash out in anger at anyone who he views as an enemy, so they were right to be afraid. Thankfully, father was in a rather merciful mood and stood up for them.

“They are celebrating the good that their nation did for them, not the bad that it did. Of course, they are not just celebrating the Knightly Junta, but what it has evolved into. As long as they do not hold the evil that the Junta did up on a pedestal and proclaim it was ‘good and noble’, they can celebrate the merits of both sides all they like. Teutonia isn’t dead, it just grew up and out of its angsty teenage phase. So long as they admit that their nation did some wrong and they try to reconcile and apologize and not idolize, then they are moving in the right direction. Now, enough of this dour mood, lets party like it’s nineteen ninety-nine!”

As usual, father made a joke that no one got, but his words were enough to smooth over the anxiety that the townspeople were experiencing. Some still did try to butter him up, likely fearing that all that father said was a fabrication and that reprisals would be on their way. However, while I am still quite young, I feel that I know father well enough to know that he wasn’t lying or angry, just mildly disappointed.

After the party, we bunked in an inn for the night while Pluton waited outside. By ‘outside’ I mean that he was far, far away. Far enough away that he would not scare the livestock to death with his mere presence. As everyone watched Pluton slink away with his head hung low, the humor of it all get everyone to chuckle a bit. Even father made a small huff as he watched the massive black dragon fly out into the forest like a kicked dog.

Well, unlike my brother, I don’t like writing while flying, so I will end my writing here. Until next time, Diary.