Jacob sat up on his bunk. He realised now that Roy had held him back for too many years. Jacob had worked too hard, for too long, to be cheated out of his rightful place. Even if he got better, how much longer would he have to remain second in command instead of first? How much longer would his father go on ruling the Kamari? Roy was already too old for the job. He was slow. His plans were convoluted and weighted too heavily towards diplomacy and building networks of connections. How many businessmen did they need on their side? How many influences did they need in Cinnamon City? When would the Kamari stand up and take what it wanted, rather than hoping that others would voluntarily provide it?
His father was a fool. The voice in his head had been right about that. With Jacob as its leader, the Kamari could achieve far more than it ever would under Roy, but he knew that his father would never step down. He could live for another twenty years, growing slower every year. He would drag the Kamari down into pointless political obscurity. By the time Jacob took over, the Kamari would be much weaker than it was now, and Central Command would be much stronger. Jacob would be older too. What if he became like his own father, forming weak plans, extending networks of connections, forging alliances and transforming day-by-day into a politician, a diplomat, a weak and pathetic man. No. Such a life was not for him. He could not afford to wait so long to take his rightful place. He would have to find another way to remove his father from power. Maybe the voice hadn't been so wrong after all.