Heraldic Dreams Journal

The candle flickers like the last embers of an old siege, and I trace the silvered lines of my family crest on parchment, as if the strokes could summon the honor of that forgotten flank. Tonight, a neighbor's quarrel rose like a minor skirmish, and I couldn't help pointing out the chivalric code that could have settled it better—though my own tongue muttered a sigh about the absurdity of modern apologies. The ceremony of my nightly journal feels like a small, necessary shield against the creeping dread that tomorrow's tournament will find my attire outshone by a more flamboyant cousin. Still, the records I keep give me purpose, more than any trophy could, and the memory of steam curling from the forge beneath the kitchen keeps me grounded in the present. #HeraldicDreams 🏰