He was born some thirty years ago, in some whorehouse down the Harbor Street, his mother one of the ladies, his father a sailor. Baker never met his mother after his first day.
Raised in an orphanage, more of a dormitory for the Robber Baron's present and future little workers.
He saw the Baron betraying his wife, the director laid down on her table. They saw him. Blake, the unfortunate, wrong place, wrong time, he didn't mean to pry.
The Baron was never liked, yet, nobody would rise against him.
"He's never gonna let us go!" they shout, the few of the kids who didn't lose their limbs. Blake was just passing by, he didn't mean to... Baker, the nosy.
All his life, Blake had been too much in the wrong places, at the exact wrong times. Yet, he was a good man. Frightened by his past yes, but a good man.
At 16, Blake Baker enlisted in the Holy Imperial Army. Baker, Officer.
Like all good man, he tried to run away from his "luck", never to stand up to what is right, until his last moment.
We had no choice, the one moment in his life when he chose not to run away, the moment he died. Baker, the good Officer.
No, he was never a "Smart man", just a good man.
A common man, with love and passion, wanting to lead a normal life, until the war came. Blake, the Dreamer.
A soldier wanting to live a normal life... Impossible dream? No. He was camped in a little town down south, a warm town, with good people.
"That's the problem with people", he thought in his last insightful moments, they are all good.
His last words were "You are a good man, Sam. I know."
I am not so sure I am, Mr. Baker. I betrayed the empire for my dreams, the dream of freedom, the same one you had when you were a child.
I never knew nearly as much of your story as I should. I'm Sorry it has been that way.
I write this letter not for you, but for me. We both know... You are now but a memory of a good man who lived in my home during the war.