Power seems so delicious. Being able to at a word or the stroke of a pen order thousands of hands to perform a task. To move a mountain through the stroke of a pen, to unearth treasures or grow crops to feed thousands. All through a name and a word.

But there is a second half to this equation. A cost. At least for honest men there is. If you care about your fellow man. The horrifying thought that you’re weighing costs in lives and man-years instead of silver or iron.

Seven Thousand Seven Hundred and change people. The wrong word, the wrong choice, the wrong action and I could consign Seven Thousand people to their doom. Maybe not through an immediate death, but the deaths of a hundred cuts. A missed meal here, a dropped delivery, a poorly repaired fortification, and their doom comes for them.

Incompetence is not allowed in this arena. The leader needs to be swift of mind, pure in spirit, strong in will. Unshakeable. How can i explain to my men that i’m scared for them. That i worry about all of them. I can’t. It looks weak. It speaks of foolishness.

I’ll shoulder what i must. I’ll keep on moving forward, and i’ll improve to become what i must to protect these peoples. They deserve the best me i can possibly be.