is the great pains he took to describe the battles and the swordplay, and how he kept interrupting his own tale to assure you that this wasn’t a love story. That it was about camaraderie; that it was about a revolution; the important things. And to you, it seemed strange of him to bring any of this up. You never thought it was a love story, for in his story there was no love. There was only a long road of bodies.
