Dawn Treader Valley Άσε για μια στιγμή να 'χουν τα χείλη άλλη επαφή για λίγο

Euryalos listened in silence. The girl had a mind, a heart, she could go far. But reality was not kind to the dreamer.

His eyes followed the pronghorn.

You knew my master. Or at least, of him. He rumbled out after a long stretch of silence, his eyes looking finally to Andromache.

When he found my mother, he promised her he would free her. He spun a tale so grand, that she allowed him into her bed. Her master wasn’t kind. All she got out of that was being sold at half price, “damaged merchandise”. And.. Here, his eyes sharpened.

She got me. He looked back to the pronghorn.

My Master, my father, the first time I ever referred to him as such, smacked me so hard I saw stars and had me beaten. He still wore those scars, beneath his thick coat.

So forgive me if I don’t trust your plan. Stronger willed rulers than you have been swayed by easy coin and easy trade. Always be willing to keep those promises, Princess. He moved to stand, his eye on the herd, and the calf stumbling along at the haunch of one of the mothers.

And always be willing to take into account what will happen if you break such a promise. Blood dripped along Euryalos’s conscious, the blood of a commoner, the blood of a noble, the blood of thousands, the blood of one. At the end of the day, it all ran red, then pink, then gone.

Once life left a body, they all left behind a corpse.