I always wondered why Jacob hadn't been mad when I told him that I had murdered his father in cold blood. I had thought about it until I had almost lost polishing my new found love—the shining blade.
He had always been fond of his father, despite the old chief's lukewarm attitude towards him. The Ol' Chief had been prouder of me than he had ever been of Jacob. He never failed to tell me that I had far exceeded everyone's expectations. The uncertainty nagged at me when I was younger, I had considered that he resented me for being the apple of his father's eye. When I had approached him with the same inquiry, he had laughed it off and had informed me that he would rather not raise the bars. Expectations broke easily and they lead to adverse consequences, he had told me. He had been a bloodied wise kid.
"I am a soldier," I remembered him telling me, "not a leader. You are better at handling mind games." His words had echoed in my ears.
