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The Greek story of Icarus, it was one everyone knew. A warning against hubris and ego, that flying too close to the sun will only lead to one’s downfall. To end up leading a life of regret and contemplation, what could have been done differently to change it? One could suppose that even rising to the top, that they wouldn’t even consider making the same mistakes as their predecessors before them.
As Empires rise, eventually as the Wheel turns, they will fall.
Oliver saw his own downfall coming. An agonizingly slow, painful fall from grace that he in the haughty pride of his youth naively believed that it would never happen. He had everything held so tightly in his grasp; Power, Wealth, the very World at his feet. Even though he knew, that his sun was setting, that only made the desire to hold on all that much greater.
That was until he lost America.
Such a blow was what led to the creeping domino effect, one thing only led to another. One by one, bit by bit everything that the Brit had worked so hard to achieve was crumbling right through his fingers. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did to stop it, the chips didn’t care. Little by little, they decayed and broke away.
He was becoming like Rome before him.
After each steady loss, Oliver grew more isolated. Kept to himself, remained in his home for days at a time. Broken porcelain laid untouched near the walls where they met their shattering, a glass resting on the living room table. Half-filled with amber liquid, and next to it a nearly empty decanter.
None of what was happening was his fault.
America was obstinate. Ungrateful. After everything he had done for him, and this was how he was repaid? Now, because of him, others began to follow his lead.
That bull-headed brat ruined everything.
Crash.
Another tea cup gone in a split second, Oliver at that moment didn’t even care. He would clean it up later, even if he didn’t, what did it matter anyhow? He had to do everything in his power to keep what he had left, no matter at what cost. Making plans was of the upmost importance, another war was on the horizon.
Oliver didn’t even realize that no matter what he did, he flew too high. It was too late to see the wax melting in his self-built wings, the feathers of his crumbling Empire scattering behind him. His pride would be what was to topple the tower that he had built for himself.
Soon. Both would be gone. Leaving him with nothing but lamentations, what could have done better; could have changed. Leading down to nothing more than a somber path of self-destruction.