Hmm...a king, huh? There never was a king. There was only ever the Fool that thought he was king of his own heart and mind. How easily such notions change to smother us in the dirt upon which we stand, reminding us from whence we came. And just how much value we hold should we lose sight of ourselves in our isolated kingdoms.
There in the dungeon remains the Fool as the Commoner looks on with weary eyes. Much has changed and transpired since the last record placed here. The One of Two is nearly gone from this life while his supporters continue to aid in his decisions. It still sickens me. I did not speak my mind as I had sought to as they no longer hold a grip upon my heart.
The Commoner now seeks to make right with the people of his own abode, keeping what he possibly can together. The Tall One aids him now as well, performing his due diligence to assure that there is something left to come home to after toiling away in the fields. Very nearly did The Matron force the Commoner out to the wolves with her words of disregard and apathy. Like a stake through the heart it nearly destroyed the Commoner and his abode, all that he had worked to achieve. After his recovery he burned with the fury of a thousand white hot suns focused on a singular being. The People were the only saving grace that kept his bonds shortened enough to prevent any worse harm. How he thanked them.
A French Lass has arrived near the abode and makes life a bit more cheery while around. She moves comfortably around the People and the People enjoy her company. Like a slowly kindled flame the warmth she brings begins to radiate through the humble home, keeping hope alive. However the French Lass is already being toyed with by the Victim. She's already begun to dig her one hand into the French Lass, ignoring the pain caused to the Commoner as she does so with her other. It is something that must be handled but with great care, for they both teeter on balance board.
Ultimately the pondering and scribble of this note are for both memory and airing of grievances. Memories have come flooding back, like a sour meal rejected by the body. The One of Soiled Innocence has been on the mind, most recently, as has all the the pain and misdeeds done to her. As "No Rest For the Guilty" made brutally clear, the things done were the lowest of one's character ever performed. Her "friend". It turns to ashes upon the tongue. How could such a thing have happened? A simple lapse in judgement? No. A willingness to tread blindly into the wood of selfish indulgence. It will haunt you for the rest of your days, Commoner. May you remember it well.
............................forgiveness not found.
