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Jaeden laid upon the roof of an abandoned building. His frame was presently sitting looking diligently at a letter. He'd not opened it yet to see who it was from. Because it came from another family, he wasn't sure about the contents. Wasn't from Squad One, that much was clear. No seals or emblems to speak of. Maybe someone blaming him for Iriko's actions.
These were typical these days and weighed on his mind. He did everything he could for his younger brother's failings. Trying to make up for them to exercise the guilt on his mind. But it never worked entirely, he still failed Tiamat and his child. Such was the way of things. He was trapped in a well of guilt, he once called this home. His family once was prestigious.
Now they were but a forgotten remnant of the past, no servants filled these halls. This building had gone into disrepair. Jaeden didn't make much income as a seated officer. And walking these once hallowed halls brought nothing but depression. His mind wondered why Hebi hadn't killed him.
Death would have been preferable to the mental pain within. He put the letter into his clothing. Letting it sit there as he listened to the sounds of the Rukongai. The sounds of the bustle and movement of people. Constantly moving forward, through the lives they each had. Yet he felt stuck at that moment so long ago. Where his failings as a leader of a family became so much more clear.
But now, the moment seemed so relative to him. A chance to fall as a warrior honorably, guess that wouldn't come about soon. So the question became, what now? Jaeden stirred from his position now, sitting up and looking down. Watching the people, some he recognized others not so much. They weren't nobles, to begin with, just sword teachers and Hoho teachers largely.
The morning bustle always took his mind off his inner regrets. Offer the darker thoughts that lingered in the Vizard's mind.