The Will of the Many

“You mourn your friend.” He cups my cheek in his hand. “But death is a doorway, Son. You will see him again. No one is ever truly lost.”

“Death is only meaningless if it does not change us, Vis.”

The decision may have been made by the few, Diago, but it’s the Will of the many that killed your family.

“You cannot be free if you are afraid to die.”

“But a broken blade can still cut, Diago.”

“That’s the power of the Hierarchy—we do, because there is no standing apart. You fight the tyranny of the many, or you are one of them.” He hangs his head again. Tired. “Silence is a statement, Diago. Inaction picks a side. And when those lead to personal benefit, they are complicity.”

The power to protect is the highest of responsibilities, Diago. When a man is given it, his duty is not only to the people he thinks are worthy.

“But I can hate without it coming to violence.”

“Hate is its own violence, my prince. Your only choice is whether to let it hurt them, or you.”

“My name is Caeror. I don’t know how much you know, but we have about two minutes to save you back in Res. So you need to trust me, and come out of there now.”

Just about right for a ten-year-old boy trying to impress his father.