Benjamin South had been through a lot. Brief elections had appointed him as the Governor of Macht, and the President of the United Paxans, where he personally oversaw the problem of a newborn nation. He personally oversaw the final training exercise of the Imprecarris, which had been allowed the proper equipment. They had performed above expectations. Hell, some of them could probably match his own strength. His biggest task, however, was managing the United Paxan military. But finally, it had been arranged. He had witnessed the war games of the UPM just this morning. The UPM successfully merged the skills of magic with the practicality of technology, a feat of which he was proud.
But today, with the UPM being stamped with his approval, he sat in his office with nothing to do, no task to occupy his mind. And, after a long time, he was forced to face himself. He stared into the mirror, and looked at himself. He was clad in a button of shirt, maroon tie, vest, under a maroon Jakleauti with slacks and dress shoes. His brown hair was growing in nicely, his lilac eyes stared blankly at himself. He scratched his clean shaven chin and sighed deeply.
He had revived his race. Given them the Republic they had always wanted. They were strong, free, and happy. But, just who was Benjamin South? Creature of fate? His fate was fulfilled. Fate decided. Monument of hatred?
That hatred was gone. The humans had helped him rebuild, asking him very little in return. He had let his grudge go. But what about Nikariam?
Nikariam was dead. She sacrificed his spirit for him. She wanted him to live.
He sat, undisturbed, staring at the mirror, for a half an hour. After that half an hour, he abruptly came to a decision. It was time to let all traces of his hatred go. It was time to love again, to release his temper and start his life over.
It was what Nikariam would have wanted.
