Canon The Journal of Niko Variclav

[Niko]

Baron's Log: Fourteenth of Stormwind, 2260
​

Many a time have I been apprised of the therapeutic properties experienced from penning one's thoughts upon parchment. I have decided that perchance I can find such solace as found before by my colleagues.

On the previous Blessday, the first citizen's meeting of Abermore was conducted with great excitement and anticipation. Twas the first that all the nobility of the land had gathered in one location to discuss our growing realm. I had extrapolated a formal meeting made rigid with lofty walls of elaborately carved stone and overpriced seats. I was pleasantly surprised that our meeting place was bereft of stone walls, expensive chairs, and a ceiling for that matter. We embarked to the center island of the capitol Strathwell to which we were gifted with the sight of a garden party setting by torch light.

Our King sadly was unable to attend; in his stead came his lovely daughter, Princess Dealla. She explained to us all the cause for the King's absence. Her father had not been out of his chambers since the farewell of our blessed Northern Kingdoms. A lump- this resonating entity of sorrow formed in my breast. She is but a girl, only thirteen summers old and now being groomed to take hold the reins of the wealthiest kingdom on this continent. She even brought up the topic of marriage and asked us all for eligible candidates befitting her status. In that moment, I made a promise to the Princess; I proclaimed a solution through personal conversation I would partake with the King. Reflecting on that plea, my decision was more of an emotional outburst rather than a work of logic. I did not at the time extrapolate the gravity of the task I have bestowed upon myself. I however hold no regret for this choice, even if my emotions seem to have clouded my better judgement. Mayhaps I should detach myself more often to avoid such precarious situations or mayhaps I should detach logic from myself and let whatever haphazard machinations of fate come my way. I tread across a fine line of order and chaos, wavering from one side to the next in an elegantly choreographed roadway to nothing. It is a tedious dance, but it is one of necessity for the sake of people- some of whom I do not know and most likely will never know. Privy to me is a unique privilege: some great will in the heavens apparently deemed me worthy of noble birth and that I was destined to meddle in the affairs of those not deemed worthy. This is nary a position to take lightly; I have the unique opportunity to make merry or miserable the lives of others. I know not the intentions of those kindred with whom I share this burden, but for me, the choice is clear.

 

[Niko]

Moghul's Log: Twentieth of Winterfeast, 2260
​

It has been long since my last entry in this journal. Every time I look back on the previous entry I had made I cannot help but to feel melancholy. I did promise a thirteen year old girl who just so happens to be a princess that I would bring her father back. Now I write having seceded from that kingdom and having formed ties with the esoteric Fuvurian Empire.

Did I mention that shortly after swearing fealty, Anhald declared their "Crusade" in the name of Holy Ignis the "one true god". I would be laughing on any other circumstance if this were not a war. I served, and to my great dismay I served exceptionally. On a mission in Accadia I murdered two brothers, or at least I thought they were brothers. Either way somewhere in that realm is a mother and a father presumably sobbing over the loss of their children and I killed them without a second thought.

As much as I am repulsed by my job there is no denying that I am quite proficient at what I do. To start, Amalfia is in ruin as a direct result of the kidnapping of Delius, all opposition to a revolution has been exterminated, and I could have sworn I heard a series of explosions as I fled the city. Now this truly is war; superpowers still reign while the small upstart realms are torn to shreds.

Four hundred fifty thousand radiants of compensation are being sent to Accadia as prescribed in one of the terms of the surrender and not a single cent will revert the blood that has stained those streets. Along with that, Delius is to be put back into power. I did say above that all opposition to a revolution has been exterminated. I would not be surprised to find out he had been exterminated himself shortly after resuming his rule. At any rate, I find it comical that all of this was set in motion by one man's greed and the lofty thought of becoming the "King of the East" that a defector of his told me he called himself.