“And then it was worse than everything being for nothing. The dying and the killing, it was for something. It was for John Lackland and for Ys. For money and for business done half a world away over artistically plated scallops and wine bought by the bottle. I think I would have rather had all the horrors of my life stem from primates fighting for hilltops than know it was all to make the same handful of people marginally wealthier, bit by bit. I would rather have Eliot’s death mean nothing than know that it was for sale to the highest bidder in an auction none of us knew we were in.”
