A Soft Voice Amidst Cacophony

Those words seem eternally on my lips. Modesty, yes, but more a statement of regret. Where I am a tailor, I should be -the- tailor. Where I am a scholar, I should be an expert on those things to which I turn my mind. Where I am a priest...

I should have a ministry of my own, seperate and self-sufficient. And loyal. Where I am a priest, I should be an abbot. Where I am a priest, I should be an instrument of the gods' will, of Melchior's will, and nothing less.

Is ambition misplaced in these matters? I think not. My master prizes it. Why should I not seek all that I can, when it is for the betterment of the faith?

When I consider the dreams that dwell within my heart, I am shamed at, ironically, the -lack- of shame that I hold in wishing these things. I am proud, I am ambitious, I am manipulative. But my pride is that of an artisan for his work, my ambitions to push forward the edges of knowledge and understanding, my manipulations ever to further Melchior's will through the positioning and powers of the Order.

Tzoli thinks I have gone beyond her, and I dispute that. However, if I must go beyond her, beyond all of the others, so be it. I will do all that I must, without regret. I will manipulate. I will misinform. I will sacrifice of myself and of others.

I will commit dark deeds, ere the year ends.