The Nonpareil of Resh (Act 1)
The following journal depicts the life of the beloved King Jolon Whitlock the Third. Upon his recent passing, it was discovered that the late king had a passion for recording his thoughts—a secret that was previously only known by his wife.
The collected journal entries were initially intended to be released to the public as a way to honor his life. However, after review, it was decided that it was best to put the documents in the royal archive instead.
While King Whitlock was beloved by his people, it was clear that something was afflicting him in his later years. Unfortunately, this document shows the unfiltered inner thoughts of the king during that time.
Only authorized readers will be allowed to view the text; however, caution is still advised. Anyone who knew the king in his early years and was saddened by his difficulty in the later part of his life may only be at risk of more hurt from seeing his inner thoughts.
How to describe such a week as this? I suppose it is best to begin where it started, but I feel like that is mundane and unproductive. Sometimes I have to think about how important those minor details are. Can one genuinely enjoy the ending if they don’t slog through the beginning? I am rambling now; it’s a sort of bad habit of mine. If you wish to read through this text, you will have to simply deal with it.
I suppose introductions are in order. This is the first page of this document, and any dear reader is liable to be confused by jumping in. That said, I am not sure what readers will pick up this text in the future. My father insisted that a future king should keep a diary, and I suppose I oblige to humor him. Not that I disagree with his perspective, I don’t see anyone being terribly interested in my life even after I take the crown.
Once again, I see that I have gotten ahead of myself. I should give my name now before I forget entirely. Jolon Whitlock the Third. Named after the great king who famously saved the Aqueenian people from destruction under the Wicked.
It’s quite a name to have and one I am proud to carry. I wish to not only live up to such a name but to carry it forward to new heights. Indeed, I want to unite the whole of Resh. It may be hard, our world has had a long, bitter history, but I am up for the challenge.
Just recently, in fact, I believe I made ample strides toward that goal. In a visit to the nation of Hobbs, I met a man of similar age who goes by the name Jasper Fio. He is the eldest son of the Fio family and the one most expected to be king.
My visitation was due to an annual peace conference. Once I take the throne, I will be required to host these events once every five years. The event itself was relatively unproductive and pointless. I will keep a note to take special care so that the conferences I host are much more focused and entertaining. We ought to have agreements at a peace conference, after all.
What is worth noting happened during a break. Jasper and I ran into each other in the hallways. I am ashamed to admit that I had some preconceptions about what he was like; the rumors spread about their nobility are quite something.
I could only see him as brash, arrogant, and a bit of a fool. Someone who was unfitting to be king. His accomplishments were mere propaganda, his education was subpar at best, and he had heard similar things about me. (Rumors can do wonders on how one interprets someone they never met, can’t they?)
Naturally, our disagreement turned into a full-on spat, and before long, we each stood with a wooden sword in the courtyard. I want to say I easily overpowered my foe. But that was not the case. Without abilities, trickery, or technology, we were evenly matched.
Our clash went on well through the night. Anyone excited to watch the royal dual had long left from boredom by that point. We continued our fight until the final blow came not from us but from a young Bentulousian warrior by the name of Zenith, who punched each of us right in the stomach with nothing held back.
She was easily five years our junior yet towered over us both like a mountain. We were both so tired that a single blow from This warrior was all it took to best us. (had we not been exhausted, I suspect neither would have been beaten)
‘Stop it!’ she had cried with tears in her eyes. ‘we are supposed to be here for peace!’ Neither Jasper nor I could make a retort—we were both two injured from her violent blow to reply.
Nonetheless, our battle was put on hold, and Zenith’s commander offered endless apologies for our injuries. To be honest, most wounds were inflicted by Jasper and me, but neither of us bothered to object.
What surprised me most was what came after. It seems we have formed a bit of a trio for the remainder of this conference. Some of the others in attendance quickly began to whisper about our little group, but I don’t think the other two cared. I know I certainly don’t care as well. It gives me a wonderful feeling; I think I have found the first steps to a united Resh with this little group of friends.