Dawn Treader Valley nobody move, there's blood on the floor

What did he seek?

The end of smart talking politicians and their swindling. For every king to look into the face of those he hurt, for every noble to spend a month in the shoes of a serf. For a spoilt little rich boy to taste the same blood a whipping boy did.

Euryalos’s eyes finally left the horizon to find the misbegotten whelp. He focused on him, head rising up above his shoulders, drawing him up to his full height. He would stare at him for a while, before sharply huffing.

I want nothing.

Nothing you can ever give.