Interlude. Hate

Rog Daeli slept with a smile on his face.

He hated the colonies with a fiery passion. It was as if all the things in the world that he despised the most had gathered in a single place. Anarchy, crime, corruption, monsters, and to make matters worse, wildlings. But Rog Daeli also hated himself, or more specifically, he hated the so-called gift that only a few could possess. Binders as they were called. People with the ability to interfere with the environment using only their minds. Rog was special in this regard, and his binding had a natural affinity with fire, a flame that could burn even hotter after being fueled by his constant hatred.

Rog couldn’t see the day when his deployment ended, and he would return to the main continent to his loving wife and son. That day grew distant with every passing day like the boats he watched sailing from port.

For the last two years, he had been redeployed over and over by his superiors to a different part of the colonies to prevent a new disease from spreading. A disease that infected the minds of those who reached and that was quickly becoming something new Rog could hate even more than all those things from before. A disease called Independence.

His enemies were now those who forced his stay on this hideous land more than necessary. Those who cramped the minds of the colonial peasantry with ludicrous ideas of freedom and empty promises. Those who kept him from his Anise for a purpose with no future.

But not anymore.

Two days ago fate smiled upon him when a patrolling unit under his command captured one of those radicals which were trying to smuggle weapons into Tamvar where Rog was stationed as Marshal. Guns that would undoubtedly be used to plant a seed of false hope and cause unnecessary terror and violence.

Usually, when Rog found something he hated, he would make sure nothing but ashes remained of it, but for some unknown reason on that time he changed his mind and decided to take the group captive instead of executing them right away. Amazed by his own brilliance, he decided to deliver both the guns and culprits to his superior, earning a promotion for himself and finally return home.

But there was one problem with his plan.

After two days of constant interrogation, he discovered that the human, dwarf, and wildling he captured were nobodies. Yes, they tried to smuggle the guns into the city, and yes, that was a severe crime, enough to send them to the gallows. But they weren’t part the revolutionary movement that had Rog’s superiors scared. They weren’t important enough to warrant him his so desired promotion because they were just part of the other filth that littered the colonies.

Yet he didn’t despair, for the thought of reuniting with his family still gave him hope.

A wicked smile was drawn at Rog’s face as another idea started to ignite in his mind. They were guilty. For what crime he still had to make a report, and he had ways of making them confess something they didn’t do.

Rog shuddered. And that night before going to bed the last remnants of his naivety and idealism shrugged off his body as some inconvenient dust; because Rog had decided he would return to the mainland.

No matter the cost.