The Lesser Devil (The Sun Eater, #1.5)

by Christopher Ruocchio

He could almost imagine his lost older brother answering with the priest as he said, “I was a stranger and you took me in. Our Lord asks us to care for those who need it. Quamdiu fecistis uni de his fratribus meis minimis mihi fecistis. What you do to the least of my brethren you do to me, He says.” “The least?” Crispin echoed. Father Laurent raised a defensive hand, “Even the least. Jean-Louis is a good man. His father taught him well. He would have helped you if you were a beggar or the Prince of Jadd.” His father . . . Crispin’s father had taught him to rule. To rule over his people, regardless of whether or not they wanted him or obeyed. What you do to the least of my brethren you do to me. Such a lord would have the love of his subjects, and they would serve him willingly. By the sound of it, these villagers yet served their Lord God twenty thousand years after his death on Old Earth. What reason other than love and devotion could there be for such a thing? “You’re only helping us because you think it’s the right thing to do?” Crispin said, unable to keep the edge from his voice. His lips curled. “You expect me to believe that?” The old priest only shrugged, “My beliefs do not require you to.”