This Episode Courtesy of Edreya Natalia
The JournalLady Sandrilene fa Toren pranced lightly down a hallway inside her great-uncle's ducal citadel. She had just returned from a lesson with her young protege, Pascal, and was elated that she had managed to successfully explain a challenging concept to him that day. Eager to record the experience in her journal, Sandry dashed the last few steps to her chamber, darted into the room, and knelt beside her canopied bed in order to retrieve the slim volume tucked beneath the mattress. However, instead of finding the book readily, her fingers only brushed against her linen bedsheets. Frowning, Sandry reached further back. Perhaps she had shoved the diary into its hiding place harder than she meant to the day before.
"Looking for this, my dear?" a dry voice questioned from behind her. Startled, Sandry jumped to her feet and wheeled around sharply, only to discover that her august relative and guardian, Duke Vedris IV of Emelan, was seated in a chair before her window, watching her with an amused expression. Sandry's surprise turned to confusion as she realized that Vedris was holding a small, leather-bound book aloft: her journal.
"Uncle, what are you doing with that?" Sandry queried, willing herself to remain calm. She wondered how the duke had come by her little book, as she was certain that she had removed it from his study after making her last entry the night before.
"When I noticed you writing so diligently last night, "Vedris replied gravely, "I felt it my duty to find and examine your work, and it was fortunate that I did so, for reading it has been quite an edifying experience."
His niece stared at him, struck dumb by horrified outrage. She hastily reviewed all of the unflattering comments she had ever penned about Emelan's ruler. Though apprehensive about his reaction, at that moment, she was certain that he deserved all of them. She silently cursed herself for not having found a better hiding place, but then again, she thought, she would never have suspected her uncle, of all people, to demean himself by searching through the belongings of a teenage girl. Vedris smiled wryly, as if he could guess the direction of her frantic train of thought.
"Come, my dear. Sit down. We have a few things to discuss." Though his voice was calm, his steely eyes as he indicated the chair across from him dared Sandry to defy him. She seated herself silently, but soon found her voice.
"Give me my journal back right now! You had no right to read it. It's private!" she yelled. Her uncle raised an eyebrow.
"No right? I am your guardian, Sandrilene. It is therefore my prerogative to safeguard your wellbeing as best I may, though you certainly attempt to circumvent my efforts at every opportunity." The duke paused for breath, then flipped open the diary. "Your grammar and spelling are quite atrocious, Sandrilene. You should say 'Andril and I,' rather than 'Andril and me.' And what is this reference to the practice of 'making out?' This is the most nonsensical drivel I have ever read."
"Then why bother reading it?" screamed Sandry. "It's private! I don't care if you're my uncle, you still shouldn't snoop in my diary or my bedroom! I have a right to some privacy!"
"Kindly do not digress, young lady. I do not appreciate being shouted at as if I were a common ruffian," Vedris said dangerously.
"I don't care who you are, Uncle! You should still respect my privacy! None of the guardians of the other kids I know read their journals," Sandry bellowed, leaning in closer to look the man in the eye.
"Sandrilene! Watch your language!" the shocked duke exclaimed. "And I have already asked you to stop digressing. Goat offspring have no bearing on this discussion. However, that is of little importance. I demand that you pay me the respect I deserve as your uncle, your guardian, and your ruler."Sandry locked eyes with Vedris and had opened her mouth to respond indignantly, when Vedris spoke again, in a softly ominous tone. "Don't try my patience, my girl, or your situation will only worsen."
"My situation!" Sandry cried incredulously. "You're the one who's invading my privacy! It's you who should be worried, not me!" Her guardian close his eyes briefly, but gave no other sign of having heard her latest outburst. In a brisk, businesslike tone, he continued,
"Now then, where were we? Ah, yes. Your grammar. You must be more meticulous in your proofreading, Sandrilene."
"Proofreading? This is a private journal, just for me," Sandry hissed, tossing a pointed glare at her uncle."
On the contrary, my dear, "Vedris reprimanded her, "this diary of yours will one day be considered an important historical document. For this reason, you must be zealous in your efforts to present yourself, your writing skills, and both your relations and your acquaintances in the best possible light."
"Huh?" Sandry said, confused. This attack came from an entirely unexpected angle.
"Cease making that vulgar noise at once!" ordered the duke. "To continue, in the interest of historical fairness and accuracy, I request, and not unreasonably, that you carefully check your diary entries for spelling and grammar errors, that you avoid using unintelligible colloquialisms, such as 'making out,' which is certainly not an expression I have ever heard used in polite society, and that you improve your penmanship. I also-"
"But, Uncle," Sandry broke in angrily, "I don't care about historical significance! And I-"
"Quiet!" snapped her guardian. "I demand that you do me the courtesy of allowing me to finish speaking without interruption. Is that clear?"
"You're the one interrupting me now," the girl pointed out in a disgruntled voice.
"That is quite enough, young lady!" roared Vedris. "As I was saying, in the interest of historical accuracy, I also require you to cease referring to me as- what was it?" He paused to flip through the pages covered in Sandry's scrawl. "Ah, yes. 'An unreasonable tyrant,' 'an oppressive dictator,' 'a mananical, horrible man,'-though I think you meant 'maniacal', there, Sandrilene- 'an evil fascist,' 'a hopelessly out-of-date prude,' and 'an old-fashioned stick-in-the-mud.'"
Sandry couldn't believe her ears. "You're telling me what to write in my diary just so that you don't go down in history as a jerk? That's the most presumptuous thing I ever heard!
Especially from you, who's always telling me I should have integrity."
"Persons of integrity do not slander their elders, especially not in potentially historical documents, Sandrilene," her uncle stated. "And watch your grammar and colloquialisms. You should not use the word 'jerk' in such a context. You should also say, 'That is presumptuous from you, as you are always telling me that I should have integrity,' instead of wording the sentence in the convoluted manner that you just employed." Sandry rolled her eyes.
"Persons of integrity' don't snoop through other people's stuff, or try to defend themselves when they're caught red-handed!" she replied emphatically, ignoring the correction.
"Persons of integrity shun the use of colloquial expressions. Persons of integrity also recognize the merit of the fulfillment of obligations and applaud such action, despite the personal cost,"Vedris corrected.
"Then why can't I write what I want in my own journal?" his niece challenged. "You're such a hypocrite, Uncle!"
"I will not tolerate your impudence any longer!" the duke shouted wildly. He paused to collect himself, then proceeded more calmly, saying, "This discussion is closed. You will moderate your language in the future, and you will also revise these objectionable diary entries. This is a ducal order, Sandrilene. You will comply without further recalcitrance."
"Coward," Sandry muttered under her breath. "You're just pulling rank because you're too scared to argue with me."
"I beg your pardon, my dear?" The words were delivered in an icy tone."Nothing, Uncle." She flashed him a false, sarcastically simpering smile.
"Good." Vedris smiled back, satisfied. He leaned back in his chair, leafed once again through Sandry's writing, and then added, almost leisurely "now, there is the little matter of your defying me and continuing to smear your face with the cosmetics of a common harlot, as you clearly mentioned here on page 35 of this manuscript. What have you to say for yourself, young lady?"
In lieu of replying, Sandry leapt to her feet and snatched the journal from its position on her uncle's knee. Crushing the precious book to her chest, she fled from the room, the sound of her quick footsteps resounding through the now otherwise silent wing of the stronghold.Vedris remained in his chair by the window for a few moments, contemplating door his niece had left ajar behind her. Then suddenly he smiled, stood and walked to his niece's desk. After re-seating himself, he took a clean sheet of paper and a pen from the top desk drawer and wrote a quick note to his niece in a flawless script.
My dear Sandrilene,
His Grace, Duke Vedris IV of Emelan, requires you to submit the preliminary revised draft of the first half of your journal for his review and approval no later than next Watersday. The second half shall be presented the following Watersday. As I am certain I need not remind you, this is a ducal order, Sandrilene, and, as such, demands your perfect compliance. In addition, you are to be confined to your chambers for the next month, in a vain attempt to teach you the values of obedience, proper grooming, and good taste. This should also allow you ample time for both reflection on your failings and thorough, painstaking revision of your diary entries.
Signed
Your loving uncle
Duke Vedris re-read his message, smiled, and sealed the communication with hot wax, imprinting the head of his heavy ring into the waxen seal. He placed the missive on his niece's pillow, then exited the room, still smiling complacently to himself.