A madness that ought not to have been allowed to be. Years of scheming, corruption, and unpredictability.
It was a pseudo city, to Lord Blackwell, in more ways than one. And he wondered, if indeed it was a city, who was the governor? Was it him, the Lord of Ernest, or was it the young Oliver Patrick, who had called them all here?
He hesitated to answer that question to himself. For he was the one who had allowed the sceptre of power to be placed to gently into the young man's hand. He had to wonder, though, if that had been the right decision. Not because he doubted that Oliver would wield it improperly. For all his flaws, the young man had the strongest sense of responsibility, and that was a trait that Lord Blackwell valued most in his officers. He wondered if, in doing so, he himself had delivered another fatal dagger blow to the old ways.