March 21, 1601
Grandpa Attila died very quietly yesterday some time during the night. I guess that despite all of Grandma's worrying he still died. I used to love him very dearly until love was stamped out of my life. It used to be all right to say that a man loved another man. But these days people twist your words around to make it sound like something that you didn't even say in order to get you in trouble or just to 'have fun' or 'joke around'. I think it's childish, but what do I know about the world? I am only a boy who doesn't like to socialize.
There is a lot of talk about how Grandpa died; some say that Grandma Reganne choked him to death in his sleep. I know she didn't do this but there have been some people who enjoy making a big deal over that assumption. Of course there was the usual talk that he was poisoned; everyone has been fond of that one for years, but it never has happened. Some old man, who knew grandpa well, said that he died because of old age. But nobody listened to him and when the old man said it louder he was told to shut up. Nobody usually cares when a person dies, but when Grandpa Attila didn't write his will and didn't assign a new owner before he died, there is a lot of discussion on who will take over as the new owner. I was the only grandchild, but as a wallflower I am not going to be chosen to take care of "important issues". I guess it doesn't matter that I was doing most of the accounts for grandpa and know how to efficiently run the Inn that has been my home for my entire life. No, I am not worthy in their eyes to have the job of caretaker or new owner. Who cares if they get it all sorted out; who gets what and what killed Grandpa. Why should anyone care what the future holds? We are all going to die anyways.