Midsummer Day, Year 1465 in the year of Glabados

Reis had grown up quite splendidly, if only a little sad. I guess it must have been the trauma of losing the dragon that she assumed was her mother when she was little. Even so, she had grown up in our family quite well, never crying the least bit, and never mentioning anything about her origins.

Many a day she had spent outside talking to the animals that we have in our meadow. This is rather strange, of course, but I think she will grow out of it. She's only eight, after all… However, speaking of strange, I have seen her once outside talking to the old chocobo that we have tethered up near the old wooden fence, and it had been responding to her speech! It is highly unlikely, but still possible, that this girl may have the innate ability to speak to beasts. If it is so, I think it would be very useful to me—and for her as well, if I train her to follow in my footsteps.

Alas, my wife thinks otherwise. She believes that the girl should not become a hunter at any rate, for reasons that are beyond my knowledge. For all I know, I have seen girls go into military academies to enlist as warriors for the lord, so why should this girl not be trained as a hunter? I think that it would be safer for her to become like me instead of enlisting with those soldiers. I don't like the looks of them…drunk, brawling maniacs during the night, unchivalrous bandits during the day. No, it's not the place for her, she would become like that within a matter of weeks.

The purity of her mind amazes me. She has never once harmed a creature, not even the smallest of the birds. Once, a pig had knocked her over to the ground and into mud, but not once did she strike back or otherwise become angry; rather, she befriended the pig, riding it around the yard when it is clean. Quite extraordinary, really. Most children her age would be off in the forest doing things that only hunters should do; I think the hideous mortal sin is not for their innocent souls.

Over the past week or so the weather had been beastly; even though this is near Lionel Castle's seaport, the heat and the sun had been enough to prevent me heading into the forest for extended periods of time. Young Reis is currently sick, but recovering at an amazingly high speed; she had been affected by a high fever accompanied by chicken pox. The hideous thought of that disease! It had rendered her beautiful face and skin unattractive for a week due to those loathsome black boils. I had told her not to pick at them in case she bursts a boil and is left with a scar there for the rest of her life. The fever is now receding; she had hit normally fatal ranges of temperature but recovered within two days.

Many a time I had taken Reis to the beach for a swim; she swam like a fish when I taught her the first time. Graceful like a swan, quick as an eel in water. It was incredible to see a girl that young swim that fast—and also to do that within the first day of being taught. It was…as though St. Ajora herself had wished Reis to become so gifted in every field she learned.

My wife had attempted to teach her various arts and crafts; painting, knitting, sewing, and the occasional cooking. It was quite strange to see an eight-year-old girl in the kitchen, preparing various dishes and washing vegetables, wielding a knife to deftly chop vegetables into precisely equal bite-sized chunks when asked to. I have never seen my wife so happy; she had wished for a girl of our own to take care of, to love, and to watch her grow…it was nearly as though it was a gift from God.

In the arts of sewing she had a little difficulty with; no matter how hard she tried to push the needle through some rough cloth, say, hessian cloth, she would not be able to pierce it. On other cases, she did make some rather splendid pieces; I remember quite well the day when she presented to me a nicely-fitted woolen glove. I still wear it, for it fits so well that it permits all range of movement without encumbrance. Nevertheless, the young girl did prick herself quite badly on one occasion; not one tear did she shed when the bead of blood dropped on her lap.


Painting was an entirely different affair; Reis tried to illustrate me with a wild boar on my shoulders; with a comical result that…well, no offence to her at any rate, but her picture of me appeared to be rather distorted, though by most standards quite fine. I think art school would be nice for her if she had a little more talent in that direction.

With the war raging on, it is becoming quite difficult for me to communicate with my relatives outside of Lionel and Zaland. It has been months…no, years, since I read anything from my cousin Barry in the Lesalian Imperial Capital. I miss him, he used to be my best hunting partner…our hounds would wear down the chocobos or the boars, before Barry would incapacitate our prey with skilled shots to the limbs and I would deliver the finishing blow with an arrow. Oh, how I would like those golden days back.

Yesterday, when we were listening to Archbishop Draclau…Reis did something quite awful. She had listened to the entire sermon in the church, however she said some rather blasphemous things; that St. Ajora was no more than a sinning liar and that the Glabados Church was a network of falsehood. Thank God that she was still under the age of innocence…the Archbishop simply laughed and told her that what she feels about it now would gradually disappear over time…I would certainly hope so, if she doesn't want to end up on the pyre with us liable to hanging for not keeping her in check.

That would be all that I have to say for now, for the sun is setting quickly and I have not a gil to buy a candle. I wish I were more wealthy…possibly Reis could help me out of this by implementing some of her near-magical skills.

Godspeed,

Travis Dular