• June 28, 2014 /  Entries

    Ah, journal, I have needed you less and less as the years have gone on. Life never ceases to have its pains – especially of the physical sort – but I have grown to wonder at them less, and need less ink to explain them to myself. But here I am at another major crossroads, and feeling such levels of doubt that a written exploration of my thoughts is perhaps the only thing that will serve me any good at all.

    The Regency… I am conflicted. There is a part of me that hopes I do not win, even as I’ve thrown my hat into the ring. Whatever they say of me – and they say a lot! – I don’t enjoy power for its own sake. I enjoy it as a tool to achieve more important outcomes, a weapon I can wield against the enemies of what is good and righteous. Is it only hubris that tells me I need the Regency’s power to do so now?

    Certainly I am not the only person in this kingdom who could use the Regent’s power well, though so far I do not think much of my competition. Only this Steffon le Fictis is a truly unknown quantity, and if I am honest – surely I can be honest with myself at least here – I doubt I will find him a better choice than myself.

    But at the same time, I doubt myself. I have come so far already. To aspire to such a position… it’s almost too much to even think about. Yet the moment I thought of those damned drug laws, my draft languishing forgotten somewhere, and that treacherous seed: “You could finish them…” So many goals, so many ideas, have sprung forth in my mind. So many things I could do for the Kingdom, so much I could see done. And Edessa – I was certain convincing Herazade would be an uphill battle, and now if I obtain the Regency I will not need to… It seems as if every sign points me toward this choice, states that I was wise to make it.
    Every sign but that small voice whispering in my head, telling me all my gains thus far have been illusion and shadow. The result of a man who knows how to fake confidence, and in doing so appear as if he knows what he’s doing. We failed in Edessa, in the last major battle, and that was at the least partially my fault – if not nigh completely, given my obvious mistake. Was I meant for such power?

    I told Cellan I thought everyone was faking it, and at times such rationale soothes me, but I don’t know. Still, perhaps I shouldn’t be looking at this in the abstract. Other than Fictis, whom I know nothing of, I would wager on myself versus my competition any day of the week. I don’t want any of them in the Regent’s seat, and if that means I must fill it instead, I will manage. If I am a total disaster, I can always slink off to obscurity after two years have passed.

    I must try. For Edessa and the drug laws, I must try.

    And at least this time, Marisa backs me. Though it would raise me to be her direct superior, more or less, she backs me. That… is a surprising comfort, a burden lifted I did not know I bore so heavily until it was gone. Even knowing it was more her own insecurity than her doubt in me did not salve it – the only thing that has was her promise to support me in this.

    Really, that alone should be enough.  (Must get something for her birthday…)