Jameson stared down at the lifeless form of his father, his jaw clenching with restrained fury. He placed his hand reverently atop the vibrant coverlet that adorned the royal bed, his thumb stroking mindlessly over the coin he had found, fallen at the bedside. On it, the seal...the deadly flower - his father’s torment. The deadly flower that evinced septic spirits, siphoning life, imbibed at the hand of a false ally. Without thinking, Jameson twirled his knife in his other hand, and he forced himself not to consider what he could do with the steel blade. He did not know whether to weep or scream. If he did the former, he might find relief for the strain of his heart, but he would leave himself weak and bereft of the force that he needed to accomplish the task he had set himself. The latter option, screaming, would have drawn attention to the room, and Jameson knew that he needed to avoid attention at all costs. Still, he could not quite control the rage that swelled inside him at what he had just suffered.

Betrayal. Gut-wrenching, head-pounding betrayal shot through him every instant, obscuring his vision behind a red cloud of fury. When he remembered the moment he had realized that a trusted companion, a wise counselor, had turned his back on the very man he had sworn to protect, Jameson could hardly breathe. The wound in his soul would not repair easily, and the damage produced by one detestable act would cost more than Jameson could imagine, much more than just his own reputation.

Even as his heart relived the agonizing path to betrayal, his mind protested. Could he really denounce a long-time companion so quickly, or should he consider the possibility that, like Brutus, the betrayer had made a mistake? Perhaps, Jameson considered, the betrayal could stem from a noble cause. Suppose the betrayer - like Brutus - suspected his friend of deserting a shared goal? Crucial word – friend. A friend could find himself drawn into betrayal by misinformation or misunderstanding. A close and wise colleague - a counselor, a sage - could hardly fall prey to such folly. Not only so, but the man had born the representation of his plans for over a decade - the imagery of the seal held so much more significance now. Death and vengeance. Without gaining sympathy for his adversary, Jameson began to understand how a man could allow the sensations to consume him.

He could not let them take root in his heart, however. In his father’s name, Jameson could not succumb or he would prove as guilty of betraying his new enemy – Jameson’s father would rather his son turn his back on all promise of legacy than turn his back on virtue.

No weakness, Jameson chastised himself. Whatever the job before him required, he must carry it out swiftly and thoroughly. If he hesitated, he would lose the opportunity to enact his plans, rendering all of his fury and determination moot. Yet, he would need to accomplish all of his goals without resorting to the same level of evil as his father’s betrayer.

Gritting his teeth, Jameson stabbed his knife into the tapestry beside his father's bed. Before the conclusion of the year, betrayal's rewards would fall to brutal punishments. Turning from his home, Jameson set forth on the mission that would pave the path for his future. He would not allow himself to fail.