I ran down the alleyway, ducking between piles of debris to try and evade my pursuers. This assignment was one of importance, I knew, but there was no reason to send a duke to do the job of a captain. As unequipped as I was, I could not help but think that a captain would perform better than I anyway, which led me to question why, exactly, I was here. The information I was sent to obtain was nearly impossible to locate, let alone steal, and I was discovered before I could even lay hands on the scroll.

Damn it.

I took off down the hallway and into the street with no weapons to speak of; my only recourse being flight. Why in hell did I agree to this assignment?

I know why.

I have always idolized soldiers and the adventures they had. The exploits of bravery were always glorious tales, and I longed to have my own story aside from sitting in my own mansion and solving the petty problems of my subjects. I still struggled to find a reason they had offered me the role of espionage. Surely, there must have been some political motive for sending one so inexperienced.

Now I realize why. My enemies closed in around me. With no avenue of escape, I can see clearly. If I die, the war can begin in earnest. I damn myself for my foolishness, but I can still die a martyr. With open eyes, I can see: I was never meant to make it out alive. If I am going to die, I am going to die fighting.