The Last Light (The Wandering Inn, #5)

by Pirateaba

I look into his eyes and see little gratitude. It hurts too much for that. But neither do I see anger or hatred, either. “Not for us to say, my Emperor. We are yours. We gave all we had to you for our lives, and that of our families. We are sworn to you. Servants, subjects to a ruler. If we wished for freedom, we could only but rebel and break our oaths. We would be damned for that.” “Some oath. What do you get, then?” “You, lord.” I look at Prost. He reaches out. “You. We are yours and you are ours. So it is for every ruler and his people. They are his, or hers. And they belong to their people. One cannot live without the other. For better or worse, they are bound until one is gone.” “Is it a Skill? Part of my class?” For the first time in a long while, I see Prost smile. He shakes his head. “It is not just part of classes and levels. It is the bond we have made. You gave us hope and purpose. You gave us life when the snow buried our home and our families. You pulled us out with your bare hands. How could we not give you everything we have in return?”