Fletcher sat, meditating on the dream that had woken him. It had… some disturbing connotations. The Elementals sought to use their might to bring to heel those who opposed their ways. Earth, Water, and Nature. At least air wan’t involved, but it was digging it’s tendrils into other stuff, if the situation at the dwarven stronghold was any sign.
So, the Elementals push their weight around, and us lowly mortals obey or die. He almost burst out laughing, even in the meditative state he was in. So, his old self had at least part of the answer right then, “Might makes right.” Morals, ethics, good and evil, that’s all for the weak to talk about, while obeying the strong. He felt in his very soul how wrong that state of things was, but… there’s no way to change it. The strong will always push their will on those bellow them, then the ones bellow have no choice but to obey, or struggle in futility. It can’t be changed really, even if those who believe in a different way rise up and overthrow their masters, they merely end up being the ones who use their might to push their beliefs on others. No surprise that Anamacarah finds such joy in following them. She always did enjoy pushing others around with threats and violence.
Then this is the absolute truth of the world, if you are strong, you do as you will, but in the end you always do first and foremost as those that are even stronger will. Even through the peace and tranquility brought on by meditation, he let loose a short bitter laugh. Here he sits, new soul and all, but the only real change is that he now knows how wrong it is when forced to do something as this, his very heart and soul rebelling at the idea, where before he would have simply done it out of due course, and not lost a moments sleep over it.
He took a deep breath, recentering himself. Nothing is gained by raging at inevitable futility. Slowly he cleaned his mind of negative thoughts, and let his new feeling for Charlotte flood in and fill him instead. Love and a center would serve him better then useless rage at what cannot be fought.