"..It was shattered, Admiral Dipshit."
"Was it?"
"Do I need to repeat myself?"
"No. No, you don't. You're dismissed."
Abelhard waved away his counsel, watching as they stood opposite of the desk, and exited the room. Shortly afterwards, he'd reach out to grasp an oaken box from a drawer, peeling away a faded logo with trembling fingernails. Grasping a cigar between his index and thumb, he'd use his free hand to strike a match, rolling the bundle of tobacco as he ran it over the lit match. Quietly, he'd muse to himself "Well- Look how far i've come. How much would those bastards mock me, sitting in a fancy office, wearing uniforms, and socializing with those we hated the most? Tzzo would be rioting, pah." He'd take a pull from the cigar, glancing about the room, eyeing various trophies, awards, and pieces of artwork before exhaling "The fuck is the point of it? Why did I chase all of these things? Money, power, 'influence,' will it matter in two years?"
Of course, with nobody present, nobody answered.
Abelhard waited for what felt like an eternity in anticipation of an answer which never came. "Suppose its symbolic" He said to himself, taking another draw from the cigar, tapping the ashes from it with his index. His gaze remained locked onto the fluttering bits of ash, a snarl escaping his lips. "Suppose that is the fate of my power- To burn up, fall to the ground, and be forgotten. Everything ends up like that- Every single one of my choices never mattered. Not one. And what do I get out of it? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing."
Abelhard felt his face flush red as an overwhelming sensation washed over him. Rage? No, it couldn't be. Perhaps it was.. Hopelessness? He was as able as ever. Then he stood, breath growing haggard as memories flashed through his head- Fighting with his fellow Red Leopards, sparring with Nal Roh, the brawl with Joseph. Friends made, friends lost. Influence, not fulfillment, gained.
"It-- I lost everything.. To gain nothing."
The man threw his cigar across the room, not bothering to take note of the result as he fell to a knee with the burden of an epiphany.
Hours passed, and only then did he emerge from the office, shoving a small, crumpled up slip of parchment into the hands of a masked figure.
The note read;
"Gather the House for a meeting. We've some things to discuss."
And the world kept turning.
"Was it?"
"Do I need to repeat myself?"
"No. No, you don't. You're dismissed."
Abelhard waved away his counsel, watching as they stood opposite of the desk, and exited the room. Shortly afterwards, he'd reach out to grasp an oaken box from a drawer, peeling away a faded logo with trembling fingernails. Grasping a cigar between his index and thumb, he'd use his free hand to strike a match, rolling the bundle of tobacco as he ran it over the lit match. Quietly, he'd muse to himself "Well- Look how far i've come. How much would those bastards mock me, sitting in a fancy office, wearing uniforms, and socializing with those we hated the most? Tzzo would be rioting, pah." He'd take a pull from the cigar, glancing about the room, eyeing various trophies, awards, and pieces of artwork before exhaling "The fuck is the point of it? Why did I chase all of these things? Money, power, 'influence,' will it matter in two years?"
Of course, with nobody present, nobody answered.
Abelhard waited for what felt like an eternity in anticipation of an answer which never came. "Suppose its symbolic" He said to himself, taking another draw from the cigar, tapping the ashes from it with his index. His gaze remained locked onto the fluttering bits of ash, a snarl escaping his lips. "Suppose that is the fate of my power- To burn up, fall to the ground, and be forgotten. Everything ends up like that- Every single one of my choices never mattered. Not one. And what do I get out of it? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing."
Abelhard felt his face flush red as an overwhelming sensation washed over him. Rage? No, it couldn't be. Perhaps it was.. Hopelessness? He was as able as ever. Then he stood, breath growing haggard as memories flashed through his head- Fighting with his fellow Red Leopards, sparring with Nal Roh, the brawl with Joseph. Friends made, friends lost. Influence, not fulfillment, gained.
"It-- I lost everything.. To gain nothing."
The man threw his cigar across the room, not bothering to take note of the result as he fell to a knee with the burden of an epiphany.
Hours passed, and only then did he emerge from the office, shoving a small, crumpled up slip of parchment into the hands of a masked figure.
The note read;
"Gather the House for a meeting. We've some things to discuss."
And the world kept turning.
