Drianus's choice

He reached into his pocket, slowly wrapping his long fingers into a fist around the ring of his forefathers. Contemplating his options only revealed that, in the long run, he really had no choice. Sometimes, the words echoed in his mind as he forcefully ignored the memories of his surrogate father, sometimes, the only way to fight evil was to employ a greater evil whether one agreed  with it or not.  By the end of the day, only one thing would really matter: whether or not the throne remained in the family line.

If took a season of exile for people to realize just how corrupted things had become, so be it. He had seen exile, and very nearly raised his family within it's cool embrace. Drianus had spent many long agonizing hours turning things over in his mind, hoping to find another way for things to change, but found nothing. He would face battle tomorrow, leading the best of his men into the fray without a second thought. If giving his life in battle was required of him, it was a choice he was willing to make. The knowledge that his family would be torn apart, left to fend for themselves, was a necessary sacrifice if it mean the rebuilding of the reclaimed kingdom.