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

Where the royals seemed to flounder with each other and Nikolaos struggled with grief and guilt, Euryalos was thriving.

He had never been one for kings much anyway, and respected Andromache’s father only as Nikolaos’s friend. But every time he looked at him, all he could see was greed. It wasn’t his fault, or was it? Perhaps that was his only tripping point, that. Either way, he pushed past it. The harsh landscape was nothing he hadn’t survived before, and he could even do it in silence if he ranged far enough.

But, of course, this would come to an end at some point, and when he saw the little Roman boy in the distance and heard his howl, he internally groaned so long it actually morphed the stone of his face to something that seemed more petulant. The rock shifted though, and he was back to no expression beyond a hardening of his eyes.

Great. Time to get yapped at by a little man.

He would come stalking forward towards him, head lowered, one brow moving at glacier speed up towards his forehead.