Jordan's Writings

"Attempted murder of a Judge, a crime punishable by Death. How do you plead?"

Jordan, for the first time in his life, was scared shitless. He didn’t show it, but he was faintly shaking. It was true, he was guilty. He did try to shoot the High Marshall, the embodiment of law. His guard dog instincts overtook him. I mean, he wasn't going to sit still while his boss was getting brutally beaten. Yet no words came to him, nor any admittance of his actions. But could he live knowing he hadn’t outright said he was guilty? 

After the situation was handled, Jordan picked up his weapon, holstering it. He was silent, his face emotionless though there was a sort of fear lingering in his eyes. He would need some time to re-evaluate his self and his morals

He bit his lip, clenching his fists. That was so stupid of him! The Don SAID stand down, why didn’t he? Did he let his emotions, his loyalty and mercenary instincts, get in the way? What did he learn back then? “Do NOT let your emotions get in the way of a direct command. You’re NOT supposed to disobey a command. Never.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! He had never feared death before, but in that fleeting moment, he felt fear. It was quickly followed by shame as his boss took the fall for HIS actions. He was supposed to be useful, to not cause problems. But how useful was a subordinate who couldn’t follow orders? They aren’t. They’re gotten rid of. The shame of LETTING his boss take the fall was crippling for a man like him.

There were so many things he SHOULD’VE done. It wasn’t losing the weapon that affected him, in fact, he didn’t really care as he could make a weapon out of anything if he tried. It was his pride and confidence as a soldier that was wounded. He doubted himself. He doubted his own abilities. And his doubt runs deep. It runs deep through his soul.

He might never recover, at least not fully. It takes time to heal, but perhaps time isn’t enough for Jordan.