They've left me. Why do they do that? Tristen, my son, with Ana my beautiful daughter. And now Elise as well. I gave them everything. They wanted for nothing. So why did they leave me? Am I that horrible? Of course I was stern with them. Children need a strong up bringing, especially in this world we live in. Spare the rod, spoil the child. My children were raised to be strong. They have to be. Pure bloods, all of them.

Really, I have been criticized over the years for my views on the pure blood and half breed issues. Do the new generations not see that our old ways and traditions are dying a slow, painful death? And the more lenient my generation becomes, the more we lose our identity. I cannot let this happen. I chose their mothers for a reason. They were beautiful, all of them, yes. And they, like me, were pure bloods as well. Now our children will be the foundation for a whole new generation of pure bloods.

Or so I had hoped.

I must find my son. Tristan is the key to everything. He will be my successor when I pass. And my time is coming, I know this. My scouts have been searching for him with no luck. My personal liason to the scouts and other militia tells me that no news is good news. Paul is a good man and I trust that he is right. I do not sense that my children are in any danger, so we do this the right way. First I must find them. One man knows where my son is. Dirk Stevens will be found and he will be brought to me, no matter what it takes.

My advisors inform me that Mr. Stevens is living in a well guarded estate somewhere in Massachusetts. State of the art equipment is used to watch the grounds. I suppose to keep them safe. But every security system has a fail point. Somewhere, somehow, my men will find it. Once that is done I will find Mr. Stevens' weakness. And then he'll come to me.

I must say that it has been quite the eventful week. The capture of Mr. Reynolds has yet to produce the results I had hoped for. It seems that he's a bit stronger than I originally gave him credit for. He's withstood the merciless beatings from Jean Philippe, and that is saying something. Jean Philippe has no qualms with using his fists to settle any kind of disagreement and he's quite good at what he does. I'm not even sure if Mr. Reynolds' own family would recognize him at this point. Yet, he still refuses to talk.

He was flogged, and I didn't stay for that bit of entertainment. I had a rather beautiful dinner guest and I did not want to spoil her dinner with such entertainment. Already she is proven that she will be the next mother to my next child. What happens to her after that, well that remains to be seen.

As it were, I've had enough of Mr. Reynolds' insubordination. I've called Setheus back so that he can exact his own form of persuasion on Mr. Reynolds. Setheus has his own unique way of loosening tongues and I am sure that Mr. Reynolds will give us the information that we require soon enough. After all, how much can a man take?

As of this writing, I am still rather shocked at the turn of events over the last few days. Everything had started simply enough. A group of friends pissing and moaning over tins of ale at a local pub about half breeds and their superior attitudes and how they were changing the old ways and traditions. All five of us made a pact to wipe out the halves as we called them. Perhaps I took it more seriously than the rest.

Since I started this quest, one by one those friends fell by the way side. Whether it was one thing or another, slowly they drifted from what we called the great cause. There were only two of us left that truly believed in it and were building an army of pure bloods to exact our plans. But now I, too, have given up the fight.

My children have left me. Tristan, Ana and Elise simply disappeared without a trace. I know they are still alive, they've been spotted here and there, but when we've made the move to retrieve them home, they disappear once more. I miss them terribly. One may not believe that, but a child is in a father's heart forever.

And then the ranks started to turn on me. I began to wonder, doubt myself and the cause really, when one of my most trusted advisers, Paul, turned his back on me. All I knew at that point was that I wanted revenge. His head on a spike and no less.

But now, as I sit in the Chateau d'Thierry, I sit and think of the evening before. I close my eyes and wish it were just a horrible nightmare. Setheus was my highest adviser, and more than that, my closest friend. And now he too has turned his back on me. He let me know, under no uncertain terms, that my methods were becoming too sadistic, too ruthless, and that he wanted no further part in the harming of innocents.

I've not had any sleep. I keep replaying my last discussion with Setheus over in my head. Am I truly that cruel, that cold and vengeful that even my dearest friend has turned his back on me? Am I truly a cold blooded and heartless old codger? Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I am.

I've written a letter to Tristan, sending it to the same place that Dirk Stevens last known residence was. I hope it gets to him. I've given up the fight. No more armies, no more wars or squabbles about half breeds and pure bloods. In my quest for what was right, I've done things all wrong. And now is the time to set things right again.

I can reach Setheus through our minds. I just hope he hasn't closed that door. I have to let him know that he was right.