My Story

I’ve been practiced carving stone since a very young age. My father was a stone mason, and he taught me at home. My mother had a total of five children, two of which died at a very young age, and the fifth child brought her to her untimely death. I have two younger sisters, and both of them are being raised to be housemaids.  I am very skilled, and I know my mother would have been very proud of me. I found a guild who accepted me, even though I was female, and I have just finished my apprenticeship and my job will begin soon.

My father wants me to be a stonemason because he wants our natural stone mason talent to be passed down to one of us, and he refuses to marry another woman, for he feels it would disgrace my mothers love and passion for him and our family. My father expects a lot from me, being his son-figure.

My mother had married a knight before my father, so she had a small amount of spare money in her possession. My father named me Alison Godfrey, which had been in spirit of his mother who had been very noble, kind and a very good person from which I heard. My two sisters are called Felicity and Amelia, (at the ages of 9 and 13) who I love dearly. I have a half-brother named Apollo, for the knight my mother had married had thought of the greek religion as no more than “a fascinating yet fictional” thing. Apollo is a monk know though, because when my mother left she took a chunk of money away from the family of theirs as her sign of permanency of the subject.

My mother died when I was nine, which is seven years ago. Felicity didn’t really even know our mother, and the closest thing she had to her was a description we could form for her. “She had hazel eyes,” we would tell her, “with long, wavy blond hair and pale skin.” Amelia would always talk about how good she was at embroidery; how she could effortlessly sew beautiful patterns on the fabric, and how she would spend so much time doing it. “It’s important to still have nice, well done things,” she would tell them, “there’s no point in making a large load of refuse, when you can instead make a small stack of gold.”

My friend actually died of childbirth, for she was married off at a very young age, and began to have children at a weak stage in her life. Her husband didn’t even bother to get her a good grave– she was buried in a peasant grave even though they were of  a higher class in society.

I’ve only just been let out of my apprenticeship. I am earning a steady flow of money for my family alongside my father.