Veritas
Copyright© 2008 by life_is_a_dance
Prologue
My name is Karoleah Gregory. I write this record with the hope that future generations will learn from what we have done. I am the leader of a group that many call a resistance, but I call it hope. We are under the thumb of a tyrannical government that is being led by my uncle; a man that many refer to as a God, but I see as an abomination.
I was never meant to lead anything in my life. My father was a great king with five strapping sons already vying for a claim in a peaceful kingdom. The trouble began when my father married my mother, a woman that many saw as a whore and a temptress. He was so much in love with his second wife that he was blind to the hatred that was already brewing in his brother's soul. I was born from that union, the only child before the war began and times got hard.
As my family died, I rose from ashes with an understanding that I was meant for greatness. We call ourselves Veritas after the greatest leader that this resistance has ever known. I see a bright future among the villages that are still standing in peace, among the people who have never given up hope, and in the eyes of the next generation as they watch us march onward.
I am a soldier in a war that was begun, in part, by my birth. I fight for what I know is right and against the darkness that is forever closing in. We live in the light and hope for the dawn, knowing that another day above ground is better then one below.
If you are reading this now, we were either victorious or slaughtered, but no matter the outcome, this record will remain a testament to our fight. I have entrusted a dear friend to write this story and it is my hope that it will survive.
Be well, reader. Be hopeful. Be proud.
Karoleah Annalucia Gregory, Princess Royale
Gerald glanced up as he heard the bells from the tower ringing in the midday sun. It was already sweltering in the palace, but it promised to give way to a cool evening. It was enough time to change into his robes before heading to the council meeting. Placing the weathered book beneath his arm, he moved from the library, nodding at the guard that stood outside the door and started down the stone corridor.