I find myself once more consumed by the flames of rage, the furies whispering dark encouragements in my ear. “Rise, rise up once more our pawn, and smite those who are found wanting. Be they of common, noble, or royal birth; that is no matter to us, only that they must be brought to justice…” All I have ever wanted was a calm and peaceful existence… And yet here they alight on my shoulders once more, these feelings that led me to my sin so long ago. Must I repeat that time…?
And yet… And yet…
And yet while my grandfather was a wise man, he was also no coward. He too once stood up for what he believed in. Fair Eisenberg, the ones he loved, his faith in his work… What would you do, Grandfather, in a situation such as this one? I already know what you would say, about the cruel tyrant, the so-called ‘Queen’ of Matahari… But what would you do?
My love, my dearest, my lost forever Luna, would no doubt have picked up her sword and rushed out to fight. Ah, but how I could use her courage right now, if only… (Although I think she might like the cruelty of this fiery wench too much. I am glad, at least, she was not around to see this vile woman come to power…)
The others speak of joining with the exiled Prince, and speak of rebellion in hushed and excited tones over tea in my sitting room. I cannot bring myself to join them, for my thoughts become dark and darker still. As always, my mentor, my Captain can see right through me, and finds my own sinister plottings amusing somehow. “You children speak of war and fighting in the streets, but our sunny little assassin is already three steps ahead of you! Pray, tell us what you have thought up for us this time, our pragmatic little strategist!”
I do not like being called such, but perhaps such a title is fitting. It never settled well with me though, even back then…..
…..In Pandemoria, there is a certain flower that grows, despite the frighteningly frigid weather. They are called Reshiram’s Pearls, and are often used to as adornments. These flowers are normally completely harmless… Until heat is applied to them. Crush the petals and mix the into a meal, and they become tasteless but toxic. The more heat applied, the more deadly the poison. It is a slow acting poison, and the body temperature of a normal person is only enough make them ill. For a hot-blooded person such as that wretched woman though… She would be dead within an hour.
… Though I strive to become a better man, a more noble soul, I cannot run from the darkness within my own heart. It has stained my soul and can never be washed away. I will come to regret that later though. For now, I wonder if perhaps my squad and I could ever meet with the exiled Prince. Perhaps we could tell him of our schemes, and of our anger…?