Lance ran his fingers across his brows, his eyes closing for a moment, as he leaned back, considering the documents in front of him. He was tired. He knew, at some level, that he was too young to be this tired. He remembered arriving in Darmshall maybe a year or more ago now and trying his best to earn knighthood without it coming from his nobility. At the time his nobility was little more than a lingering title, his father’s lands and holdings long since sold off. Duke Caulwell had generously offered him an honor guard position, something to keep up appearances. But Lance had left to chase his ambition. Perhaps he’d been too ambitious.
He had believed that he could do so much. He had believed in the Divine Order once too. And then, trying to keep some of the ideals he believed in alive, he and others helped organize the last remnants of the old Order into the Shield of Dawn. As things came together there had been a time of energy. Others had returned, some he had not seen in over a year. Some joined him from other organizations or sought him out. He had, for a time, hope.
But hope, he realized now, is not the same as ability. Celeste had seen it first. Perhaps Matilda too. Despite the hope, despite the energy of others, he had also taken on too much. He had grown tired. Hope and celebration had turned into apathy and were rising towards bitterness.
He dug through the papers on his desk for one that had arrived a few days prior from Kelt. One of the Duke’s bannermen, Lord Eldric Gardford, Baron of Clear Creek, was dead. There were no direct heirs, but there were two nobles who could, through distant relations, claim the title. The duke was asking Lance to take it, through a claim on his mother’s side. The other claimant was pledged to another lord, an earl Lance had heard horrific tales of. Should the other take the holdings, Clear Creek would no longer be under the protection of Duke Caulwell, and, based on the stories Lance had heard of the earl, he imagined the people there would suffer considerably. Already, since Gardford’s death a suspicious amount of banditry had risen in the lands, rumors of the earl’s plots.
There was a lot of suffering on this continent too. But what had he accomplished? He had been the first of the old Order to gather all the information about the crystals, but it gave him no insight into fighting Azamul. And how many times had he gone with Vel and Rey into the Depths? Still Igneos raged on. Lance was genuinely not sure if his presence had changed much.
Would running a barony be less tiring? He’d have advisors to help with administration. He could focus on the things that mattered to him. Getting to know people, forming connections. But more importantly, his presence alone would make a difference.
He thought it over. The Shield had others who might be capable. Perhaps one of them may step up. And if not, they were still good people who would forge their own path. Besides, stepping down didn’t mean he was saying goodbye. People came and went to and from Kelt all the time. He could send advice. He and Celeste could maintain their house here and visit when they wanted or come back if sent for by a friend. And maybe, just maybe, when he visited and saw those friends, he could celebrate seeing them again.