Lord Blackwell was a man of relentless and fierce activity. When he could not move, he found himself shaken, almost disturbed. He was a creature that always wanted for something to do. The frown on his face that so sat there in recent years had likely come as a product of lacking in that regard.
True enough, the campaigns forced on him into those Verna lands had come with no shortage of difficulty and strife, especially for the continuation of his House, with all the threats that had been made against him, and yet, Blackwell was hardly discontent there. He was angry, frustrated, and at times even anxious as to what the future might hold, but it was hard to call him truly unhappy. For Lord Blackwell, true unhappiness was a lack of emotion. It was that which came when one could not move. It was empty, and void, and depressive – and only then did it invite in the anxiousness of fear and the like.
