Entry 5 (2 days later)

Charles arrived today with the weekly set of supplies. I witnessed one of only a handful of times when Charles broke his edifice of nonchalance. Though he shed no tears, I could see in his face a sincere look of sadness when I told him of my father’s death. Charles and my father had always been close, and Charles always felt a sense of debt towards him. Back when my father was first constructing the manor, he recognized the need for a supplier, so he hired a man of little means in an attempt to at least bring one man out of the grinding poverty that is so common in these times. That young fellow was Charles. So my father dressed him up, gave him an on-grounds home, a few effects and a carriage with which to transport food stuffs and other necessary supplies. After a few years, Charles was able to move into a home in the town at which he garnered the supplies. Always an honest, noble and kind person, Charles became our family’s only friend. Though he stands as the sole link to the outside world and the key to the prison doors of the estate, I couldn’t leave this place. I couldn’t leave my father. He means too much to me, his memory means too much to me.
We spoke for an hour or so, sharing a lunch before he returned to his home. After he departed, I returned to the study. I have been absolutely engrossed in the aforementioned fable. The young boy and his sister were taken to a castle and then killed by the lord of the manor, believing that they would rebel against him later in their lives. Or so he thinks. In a twist of fate, the boy lived and was whisked away by a seer. Not even the legends of my youth can compare to this compelling tale. I lie awake at night, anxious to know what will happen next.