Abuse of Authority

Seringale. Widely considered the epicenter of abundant trade, and home to every variety of character. From the shadiest dealer in illegal merchandise to the most distinguished of military officers, it is a city unrivalled in cultural differences. Some would say, a city unrivalled in greed and corruption. Take for instance, it's warden... The Great Tir. A man many consider their hero. A man driven by Justice, and unwavering integrity. Well, he is a fake. There it is. That moment when you realize your entire grasp on reality is but fingernails on a ledge. Tir, Warden of Seringale, called one of the greatest men of our age... Is but a drunken womanizer. He is also my father, although he is unlikely to admit it, for fear of besmirching his reputation. He has sired several illegitimate children, and has spent a great deal of gold to keep matters of it silent. I suspect there are a number of other activities his deep pockets are able to resolve as well, but until I have hard evidence, I'll keep my suspicions to myself. At an early age, he enrolled me in the monastery, where he could keep a close watch. Hefty donations saw me to the top of my class, despite all of my attempts to infuriate my instructors... And ultimately, my father. I believe that the teachings of the monks has indeed tought me discipline, although patience is a virtue I cannot afford. For this, they have written my father on multiple occasions, and after the last incident, convened to have me expelled. I suppose that I should elaborate on the circumstances leading up to my pending expulsion. In the five years that I have spent at the monastery, I have seen the grandmaster, oh... About fifteen times. Mostly petty offenses at first. Out past curfew, sneaking food to my sleeping quarters, that sort of thing. But in the last year or so, rumors about my heritage have begun circulating among the apprentices. And, as anyone who is anyone knows, reputation is everything. I tried to deter their filthy gossip with somewhat harmless pranks, but that didn't work so well. So I stepped it up. A good thrashing, that's what this situation called for. Caught him while he was out in town, shopping. Drug him into the alley and hit him once, then twice... It felt good. I hit him a few more times, broke his nose, watched his eyes swell shut. I didn't even hear his cries of pain, or the calls for the guards from onlookers. Once the blood began to flow, I couldn't stop. That was the first time, and I received a significant beating for it from the masters. After that, the gossip only worsened. So I doled out a few more beatings. More cautiously, and never outside the monastery walls, where I might be caught. The monks have their own sense of Justice, however. And I was punished each time, with no evidence to prove I had done a thing. Was I guilty? Sure, but those boys deserved what they got. If you heard the things that came out of their mouths, or saw the way they tried to bully and goad me, you'd surely understand my frustration. So I stepped it up once again. A public display. It was during morning forms. There was one particularly nasty character I'd been meaning to get my hands on for some time. Thing is, he had some rough and tumble friends, and they were always together. I made sure we took our places next to each other, and when nobody was looking, I whispered some nonsense about why he always had so many young men around him. I knew he'd bite on that one, as I suspect he does indeed, like the boys. But I was prepared. I struck him in the throat, breaking his windpipe, and followed it immediately with several strikes to the temple, my middle knuckle extended to cause as much damage as possible. I didn't expect to kill him though. That wasn't part of the plan. Because it was self defense, I doubt I will be prosecuted for murder, but the repurcussions will certainly be severe. The logical conclusion, then... Is that I am on borrowed time. My father will soon cut my funding, and likely all ties to his name. Thus, I have decided that I will join the Halls of Justice, as did my father and his father before him. If for no other reason than to spite the man. I certainly have the talent, and I still have a substantial amount of his gold. My mother, if she were still around, would be pleased. She always said that he was the type of man who abused his authority. I intend to be the one to prove it. I cannot wait to see the look on his face when he realizes I have finally slipped from his grasp. Fingernails on a ledge indeed.