Gideon sat at his desk like a ship wrecked on shore. His eyes, not colder than usual, but deadened, bearing no more spark than a corpse. The only signs that the man whom many called a near automaton was still alive, was the subtle rise and fall of his chest, and the single hateful tear dripping down that blank statue of a face.
It was "Trust Laine, trust!" that Commander Tumage had taught him in his youth, to "Trust in your brothers. A patriot will always look out for his blood brethren." He blinked, that frozen expression unsettled from its position as he raised a hand to his cheek, gently tapping the teardrop onto his index finger and holding it to the level of his eyes. His face suddenly contorted in a silent rage. The eyes bulging, corners of his lips peeling back and spreading across his face into a grimace, teeth bared.
Why was it that in this Empire that he had fought for, bled for, and nearly died for, he was forced to exist at the whim of every high, Unionist noble who seemed to control the city more than the emperor who led it? Why was it that every time who chose to bestow his trust upon his fellow patriots he was nearly always given nothing but poison in tenfold?
Every morning, every night that went by he carried himself as a virtuous man. He tired all he could to play the game by the rules in the name of the common good. Was it perhaps time to stop playing by the rules entirely, to embrace the greater good in the name of protecting the common good?
Trust. That was the issue. Names flew through his mind. Juliette, Yuuki, Eliza. He trusted them. And where did it land him: precisely where he was now. He stood, pacing slowly and methodically, before kneeling before his fireplace and for the first time in years since he converted during the Ranger Crisis: he prayed to his Goddess.
Breathlessly he uttered, almost in less than a whisper, snapping his eyes tightly shut "Estel. In your name I have followed your teachings. In your service I have sought your justice. I know this Empire has strayed from your path. I acknowledge that I have not had the ability to worship you as you deserve for your blessings. I ask if you, give me…" his eyes flew open fanatically, hissing out his plea "The strength to restore these people to the righteous path!! And I swear I will not fail you… in the name of the greater good."
Slowly, shakily, he stood. "If I must walk the dark path… I shall. There will be no secret that will stand in my way. I shall not be hindered by the morality of lesser men." He turned from the fire, both within and without. There was no pain, there was no mercy, there was no death… only justice.
It was "Trust Laine, trust!" that Commander Tumage had taught him in his youth, to "Trust in your brothers. A patriot will always look out for his blood brethren." He blinked, that frozen expression unsettled from its position as he raised a hand to his cheek, gently tapping the teardrop onto his index finger and holding it to the level of his eyes. His face suddenly contorted in a silent rage. The eyes bulging, corners of his lips peeling back and spreading across his face into a grimace, teeth bared.
Why was it that in this Empire that he had fought for, bled for, and nearly died for, he was forced to exist at the whim of every high, Unionist noble who seemed to control the city more than the emperor who led it? Why was it that every time who chose to bestow his trust upon his fellow patriots he was nearly always given nothing but poison in tenfold?
Every morning, every night that went by he carried himself as a virtuous man. He tired all he could to play the game by the rules in the name of the common good. Was it perhaps time to stop playing by the rules entirely, to embrace the greater good in the name of protecting the common good?
Trust. That was the issue. Names flew through his mind. Juliette, Yuuki, Eliza. He trusted them. And where did it land him: precisely where he was now. He stood, pacing slowly and methodically, before kneeling before his fireplace and for the first time in years since he converted during the Ranger Crisis: he prayed to his Goddess.
Breathlessly he uttered, almost in less than a whisper, snapping his eyes tightly shut "Estel. In your name I have followed your teachings. In your service I have sought your justice. I know this Empire has strayed from your path. I acknowledge that I have not had the ability to worship you as you deserve for your blessings. I ask if you, give me…" his eyes flew open fanatically, hissing out his plea "The strength to restore these people to the righteous path!! And I swear I will not fail you… in the name of the greater good."
Slowly, shakily, he stood. "If I must walk the dark path… I shall. There will be no secret that will stand in my way. I shall not be hindered by the morality of lesser men." He turned from the fire, both within and without. There was no pain, there was no mercy, there was no death… only justice.
Shoutout to the following:
@EternallyCatfish
@AtticCat
@LegendWolfie120
@aracupcake
@WalnutNinja
@Miss_Confined
@EternallyCatfish
@AtticCat
@LegendWolfie120
@aracupcake
@WalnutNinja
@Miss_Confined
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