He saw. Passing by the numerous... hovels, undeserving of the term 'house', he saw them. Families, celebrating the encroaching new rule, the victory that would bring them freedom soon.<br/>He saw, nothing had actually changed. All he had actually been able to give them was hope. The hope that everything would be better, they only had to follow their icon of hope. Where he would command, they would follow. If he commanded them the greatest of crimes to do, they would fulfill his command without question.<br/><br/>Or, was he perhaps too demanding of them, like he had been for his recruits at the Pass? Too demanding for their goodness? Was he even remotely capable of understanding what these people had been through that it had made them this desperate for hope, for an icon, for a hero?<br/><br/>Who was in the right here? The noble class... their actions spoke through the decay and fear around him. The lower class... their actions were, in a way, the consequence of the negligence of the noble class.<br/><br/>But, was that enough? Such blind hatred and hope could only lead to doom.<br/><br/>Who was he to stand for, who to follow, who...<br/><br/>Or, perhaps yet, he was overcomplicating. No one here was following the path of goodness, no one was truly in the right. And they would not cooperate, the nobles having barricaded themselves in their part of the town, nor would diplomacy have any power in a situation where emotion was being controlled like this.<br/><br/>Thus, both sides were wrong, the civilians to prefer killing, the nobles to prefer their old methods that led to this disaster.<br/><br/>Thus, both sides were, by goodness, the purpose he had to follow...<br/>those he had to oppose.