Duties

The words on the papers were starting to blur together, forming lines of smudges of ink on aged and crinkled sheets of paper that very clearly would have better served remaining trees. Adam's head was swimming, and no matter how many times he tried to blink away the pain, the words refused to reform. He kicked his chair back away from the desk and swung his feet up on top of it, leaning back in his seat and rubbing his forehead, closing his eyes tight to hold back what was sure was his brain melting out of his sockets. It had been a very long day, trying to keep his men under control as they learned of the fall of one of the other great commanders and realizing that they very well may lose the war. They had very nearly rebelled against him, and it had taken all of his physical and tactical strength to keep them from throwing him overboard.

He really needed a drink. Unfortunately, the wine was the first thing the men had thrown overboard in their anger. He was still unclear as to why that was - they seemed just as infuriated as he was that there was no alcohol left on the ship. And conveniently they had forgotten whose fault that was, so the blame was all back on Adam. He had done nothing but try to help these men, and now he was the fault for all of their problems. It wasn't his fault that the other commanders had all lost! In fact, if it wasn't for him, they all would have fallen in battle long ago!

The crash of his sword, which had been resting against his desk, hitting the ground scared him, and he nearly fell out of his chair because of it. He looked down at the sword on the ground, almost glaring at it, as if he was trying to pin his problems on it. It took him a while to even realize that he was the one who had knocked it down. He had begun flinging his arms back and forth to the anger of his thoughts as though he were ranting to his men. He was really losing it.

He pushed out of his chair and went to the window, pushing it open harder than he meant to, nearly cracking the glass inside of the metal frame. Near immediate regret washed over him as he heard the men angrily fighting, full on fist fights ringing through the air. There were still arguing over whether or not to follow their commanding officer. There was nothing left that Adam could do to convince them. All that was left was to wait for them to make a decision.

Practically feeling the rush of the water over his head as he was dropped into the depths, Adam slammed the window back closed. He had wanted to get some fresh air, to get away from the stuffy, musty breaths that were catching in his throat. But he would rather deal with those then his men right now. They were more dangerous than the war had ever been. If only he could make them see that. Then maybe they'd be able to come out the victors after all.