Slade walks over to the guards waiting around by the carriage, handing them the parcels of food he had Barut make up for them. The men give him nods of thanks, and I’m struck by how different things are here. Midas would have never given his guards food. It wouldn’t have even crossed his mind. It didn’t matter if they’d been stuck outside in the horrible snow or waiting around for hours inside. And yet, he got the reputation of the Golden King, while Slade is nothing but rot and ruin.
