When he was young, he dreamed. He dreamed that he would be able to fly, that nothing could bind him to this country he called home. Those were the days he could be found out on the grounds staring up at the sky wishing to become one with the clouds. If there was a higher entity out there, he would think, then surely they would allow one young boy this simple wish. No matter what he was doing, if there was a window near, his mind would drift to those fantasies of being free. In his imagination, he was unbound from his name, from responsibilities, and he could leave all of it behind with a simple thought.
He sighed quietly and tossed the now bloody rag to the floor near his boots. He sheathed his sword and stood, stretching slightly. It had been a long day with far too much bloodshed, even for him. He still had things to do. There were reports that had to be written, and he still hadn't packed for his trip to Yulia City. He shook his head to clear the memories of being free from his mind before heading towards the door.
When I was young, I was foolish, Asch thought.