- The
Destroyer of Worlds -
An Old Man
I:
Monday, December 13, 2004: London, UK
I had served the House of Wessex
for five decades. I am nearing seventy years on this Earth now.
Under Edward James Lancaster VII the House of Lancaster had dignity, respect. He was a stoic man. He rarely ventured from the Estate in Wessex or from the library and his beloved books. His wife was a woman of grace and beauty, startling in many respects, but subdued.
They had a son, Robert. I watched him grow into a bright young man, a man who from the moment he was born, I revered as the heir to the near ten century old Duchy of Wessex.
It was a happy household. Then Robert matured. Grew older. He rebelled, as do most youths of his age. Perhaps more so than some however. Then the alcohol flowed. He abandoned Wessex for the streets of London for God knows how long, until he returned, and entered Oxford and Cambridge.
Then the tragedy. 1993. His Grace and the Duchess both killed on landing at Heathrow, their Lear Jet crashing into the runway.
And then this louse. At twenty-three, inherited a fortune and lands in the billions of pounds. Yet this louse was now my master, the rightful heir by the Grace of God, the fifty ninth Duke of Wessex, with all the rights and privileges thereof.
I bowed my head, and bit my tongue.
The womanizing began. The alcoholism sprouted. He spent millions in the first year, traveling the world, gambling, spending, with unabated lust and
avarice.
All I could do was watch. Biting my tongue.
Then, light. It came in the form of the stunning, mature, vivacious Lady Stephanie Erin Dynasty. I had never seen him enamored over a woman as much as he was with her.
He settled. He chose a career. Not business as his father had wished. But he settled. He was successful.
He married. He had a son. Praise God for Edward James Lancaster, who will be the sixtieth Duke of Wessex upon this louse's passing.
It cannot come soon enough if he remains on the path which he is now descending.
Divorce arrived. The family was shattered. I was shattered, even though I believed I had done the right thing for him. She deserved better than an adulterer, and he deserved peace of mind. He had it. The Duchy was stable once more.
For a while.
Then her. She came into his life.
She seized upon his soul, which remains no longer in him. I could see it in her eyes, this lust, this
avarice,
his soul now in her teeth. She bears the same marks that I had seen in his young eyes. I knew nothing good could come from it.
It has been four months since my dismissal. I had pledged my life to the Lancasters, and now I have nothing.
I have nothing to live for still but the House of Lancaster.
It must survive. It must survive.
He may take my job, but he will not take my devotion. My eternal dedication. My life.
And now I see this, this Avarice.
I have never known such fear, for I know what it represents is not some mere ring persona.
I know I must act. And I shall act.
No matter the consequence.
No matter the price.
It must survive. It must survive.
Perhaps with a little help.
I take a deep breath and rap on the door firmly.
"Simkins..." She was rightfully shocked.
I bowed.
"Your Ladyship."
Under Edward James Lancaster VII the House of Lancaster had dignity, respect. He was a stoic man. He rarely ventured from the Estate in Wessex or from the library and his beloved books. His wife was a woman of grace and beauty, startling in many respects, but subdued.
They had a son, Robert. I watched him grow into a bright young man, a man who from the moment he was born, I revered as the heir to the near ten century old Duchy of Wessex.
It was a happy household. Then Robert matured. Grew older. He rebelled, as do most youths of his age. Perhaps more so than some however. Then the alcohol flowed. He abandoned Wessex for the streets of London for God knows how long, until he returned, and entered Oxford and Cambridge.
Then the tragedy. 1993. His Grace and the Duchess both killed on landing at Heathrow, their Lear Jet crashing into the runway.
And then this louse. At twenty-three, inherited a fortune and lands in the billions of pounds. Yet this louse was now my master, the rightful heir by the Grace of God, the fifty ninth Duke of Wessex, with all the rights and privileges thereof.
I bowed my head, and bit my tongue.
The womanizing began. The alcoholism sprouted. He spent millions in the first year, traveling the world, gambling, spending, with unabated lust and
avarice.
All I could do was watch. Biting my tongue.
Then, light. It came in the form of the stunning, mature, vivacious Lady Stephanie Erin Dynasty. I had never seen him enamored over a woman as much as he was with her.
He settled. He chose a career. Not business as his father had wished. But he settled. He was successful.
He married. He had a son. Praise God for Edward James Lancaster, who will be the sixtieth Duke of Wessex upon this louse's passing.
It cannot come soon enough if he remains on the path which he is now descending.
Divorce arrived. The family was shattered. I was shattered, even though I believed I had done the right thing for him. She deserved better than an adulterer, and he deserved peace of mind. He had it. The Duchy was stable once more.
For a while.
Then her. She came into his life.
She seized upon his soul, which remains no longer in him. I could see it in her eyes, this lust, this
avarice,
his soul now in her teeth. She bears the same marks that I had seen in his young eyes. I knew nothing good could come from it.
It has been four months since my dismissal. I had pledged my life to the Lancasters, and now I have nothing.
I have nothing to live for still but the House of Lancaster.
It must survive. It must survive.
He may take my job, but he will not take my devotion. My eternal dedication. My life.
And now I see this, this Avarice.
I have never known such fear, for I know what it represents is not some mere ring persona.
I know I must act. And I shall act.
No matter the consequence.
No matter the price.
It must survive. It must survive.
Perhaps with a little help.
I take a deep breath and rap on the door firmly.
"Simkins..." She was rightfully shocked.
I bowed.
"Your Ladyship."