The continued adventures of not Vikings

[Zwiche]

Rob’s eyes fill with tears at the thought of Thistle’s poor village. He can almost picture it: surrounded by fields of mud in every direction, a few shanty mud houses built with mud bricks and roofs thatched with mud, mud covering the mud peasants as they walk in mud to harvest the muddy mud fields. He has seen their like dozens of times before, but always as a conqueror. He saw the villages as spoils to be taken, the people as heretics to be burned and cleansed of their sin.

Now, with Thistle in front of him, he can see how wrong he was. Themis will be a tool for peace, he thinks. Under her banner we shall unite the Blasted Lands and Acren. Of course, he realizes momentarily, perhaps some swords will be necessary. We must protect the Prophet from those who would harm her.

Looking into Thistle’s soon-to-be-well-protected eyes, Rob pulls himself out of his reverie.

“My lady,” he says, “It would be my honor to read to you from the stories of Themis.”

Sitting there in the gloom of the medical tent, Rob opens The Holy Writ and begins to read.