Planet Cambridge, Cambridge System
Grantchester City
It was an odd feeling being reintegrated into Bretonian society, far from the war that continued to plague the rest of the House. There wasn't really any use dwelling on the past like he had done so many times before, one would guess that he was actually fortunate enough to be considering himself alive even after all the hardships he had faced getting to this point in time. With a deep breath and a slow sigh, he leaned back on the bench looking down at his splayed out hand, an engagement ring wrapped around the ring finger - a reminder of what life could have been.
The ring served as a memory. Of past lovers, of his service within the Armed Service, of the men and women he fought side-by-side with while fighting a resistance on Leeds, the friends he made within the Liberty Navy. All of it was a nightmare that plagued him like Gallia plagued Bretonia, and if he had a choice to do it all over again? Of course. He was stubborn like that. A reckless hotshot pilot with a chip on his shoulder and a sense of undying loyalty to a cause that was... hollow. If anyone who knew him prior to breaking would tell you that he had lost sight of who he was, and that was the reason why he found himself in darkness - always trying to do what he thought was the right thing to make it back to the light.
He drew in a long and hot breath, pushing himself to his feet and taking a moment to slip the ring off of his finger. His hardened eyes focused now on the granite wall before him, with a plaque that read: "In memory of those who perished on November 29th, 819 A.S." He approached the podium on which the plaque was situated, and placed the ring down. "I'm so, so very sorry." He mumbled, "What I had done can never be forgiven. It should have never happened the way that it did, and for that... I am sorry." With that he removed his hand from the ring and slowly withdrew from the podium.
This was his ritual. Every day for the past few months - rain or shine - he would come out to this memorial, leaving something behind to commemorate the dead, sometimes it was flowers other times it was small trinkets. Did it help? A little bit... it made a small part of him remember that he was human, despite being considered a monster in some peoples eyes. His name had thankfully been dragged through enough mud that he was considered a thing of the past. Bretonian's had more to worry about now than getting a chance to put a few punches into someone who was once considered a hero. Fights he had allowed them to win, on multiple occasions.
He let out a sigh as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his old flight jacket and turned on his heels away from the memorial. He slowly began making his way along the sidewalk, leaving the memorial and the park behind, and he wasn't in any hurry to get anywhere in particular. The city was alive and bustling around him, a couple of squads of recruits were making their way downtown, no doubt having just gotten off of a shuttle from the Norfolk - probably taking a short weeks shore-leave before they're shipped out towards the front. Grass recruits for the meat grinder, the thought made him frown as young men and women marched past him. A draft was recently placed upon the populace and many quickly quit pursuing their dreams in order to secure their homes from an invading enemy - much like he had done when the Kusari Imperial Navy invaded. His thoughts interrupted as a young man bumped into him, he quickly and quietly apologized, then thanked the cadet for his service before he carried on with his way.
Even though he was of age for being drafted, he never received a draft letter - and his only guess was that the Armed Forces didn't want to risk putting him in the seat of a combat ship again. Hell, not even the Privateer's would take him due to what he had done during his military career, and they were the lowest of the low. Or so he had thought, regardless - at the moment he was warily happy that they wanted to keep him as far away from the conflict as possible, and even if he did receive a draft letter... he would prefer being in jail than placed in a cockpit again.
With no destination in mind, he continued to make his way down the street.
