First Lord's Fury

There are some people who will never understand what loyalty means. They could tell you what it was, of course, but they will never know.They will never see it from the inside. They couldn't imagine a world where something like that was real.

Strength is the first virtue,” Alera said. “That is not a pleasant fact. Its distastefulness does not alter the truth that without strength to protect them, all other virtues are ephemeral, ultimately meaningless.

She put her hands on his face, and whispered "Death is nothing to me, chala. Not if we are together. Death is not to be feared." She leaned forward and kissed his mouth, very gently. Then she rested her forehead against his. "Being taken from one another. That terrifies me. It terrifies me. I will go to any wasted wilderness, to any horrible city, into any nightmare to keep you at my side, chala, and never flinch. I never have. But do not ask me to leave you.

This is what is going to happen, Aleran. You will no longer lie with me. You will treat me in exactly the fashion that you would any proper young lady of the Citizenry. You will court me, and do it well, or so help me I will strangle the life from you." "Um," Tavi said. "And," she said, a massively threatening quality in her tone, "you will court me properly after the ways of my people. You will do so with legendary skill and taste. And only when that is done will we share a bed once more.

I find it remarkable how often amateurs confuse courage with idiocy.

Intentions count for far less than the consequences of the actions born from them.

Life, Tavi reflected, seldom makes a gift of what one expects or plans for.

Not every man in the Senate is some kind of masterful schemer, exerting all his energies to acquire more power and influence at the expense of all others.” “No,” Isana agreed. “Some of them are incompetent schemers.

The Legions have a long tradition, boys. You march hard and fast and show up in places where no one expects you—and then you go to work.” He grinned. “And you do it all carrying a hundred pounds of gear made by whoever did it for the least coin—but every one of those slives gets paid better than you! It’s tradition!

What one deserves and what one experiences are seldom congruent.

Well,” Antillus Raucus said. “There it is.” “Brilliant last words,” Phrygius said beside him. “We’ll put them on your memorium. Right next to, ‘He died stating the obvious.’ ” “Ah,” Lord Placida said. “It begins.” “See?” Phrygius said. “Sandos knows how to go out with style.” “You want to go out with style, I’ll strangle you with your best silk tunic,” growled Antillus.

A good man, almost by definition, would seriously question any decisions he made that led to such terrible consequences for others. Especially if those others trusted him.

It was not until the original Primus threw down all who opposed him, carrying out brutal war in the name of establishing peace, that they began to come to their senses. To build something greater. To lay the foundations of the Realm as you know it today.'" She put a hand on his shoulder. "Laws. Justice. Art. The pursuit of knowledge. It all came from a single source." "The ability to kill," whispered Tavi. "Strength is the first virtue," Alera said. "That is not a pleasant fact. Its distastefulness does not alter the truth that without strength to protect them, all other virtues are ephemeral, ultimately meaningless.

What is the absolute worst place in this Valley one could go? The most insanely suicidal place to be found? The place where only a great fool would venture—and only an insane fool would follow?

The Queen closed her eye and nodded. She opened it again, and there was a tear tracking down her face. “I tried to be what I was meant to be, Father. It was never personal.

I tried to be what I was meant to be, Father. It was never personal.

That was the entire reason to have battle commanders in the first place—so that one man could balance the advantages of logic and reason against the emotional, insane demands of close battle.

Life is unfair, uncaring, and painful,

Sometimes, son,” Count Calderon said, “you have to acknowledge that your future is in someone else’s hands.

Death is certain, Aleran—for all of us. That being true, we know that all of those we love will either be torn away from us, or we will be torn away from them. It follows as naturally as the night after sundown.

There’s no way to be certain of things that never took place.

We are selfless when it suits our purposes, or when it is easy, or when the alternative would be worse. But no one truly wishes to be selfless. They simply desire the acclaim and goodwill that comes from being thought so.

Even perfectly simple tasks were sometimes difficult or impossible under the conditions of an actual life-threatening situation. It was why soldiers trained and drilled endlessly—so that when they were numb with terror, they could, nonetheless, do everything they needed to do.

Your folk and mine are the same, in the end. We survive, and we do so at the expense of others who seek nothing more than to do the same.

Terror had worn into worry, and worry was an old companion to any mother.

You idiot.” He blinked at her. “Are you only now realizing that forces greater than ourselves might tear us apart?” she asked, still smiling. “Well . . .” he began. “Well . . . well no, not exactly . . .” He trailed off weakly. “But that was always true, Aleran,” she said, “long before the vord threatened our peoples. If they had never done so, it would still be true.” “What do you mean?” She shrugged a shoulder. Then she took up his knife and fork and cut another slice of roast as she spoke. “Many things can end lives. Even the lives of Aleran Citizens. Disease. Fires. Accidents. And, in the end, age itself.” She fed him the piece of roast and watched him begin to chew before nodding approval and beginning to cut another. “Death is certain, Aleran—for all of us. That being true, we know that all of those we love will either be torn away from us, or we will be torn away from them. It follows as naturally as the night after sundown.

Varg got up and walked over to the book. Its leaves had opened, and some of the delicate pages had been harshly folded. Varg picked it up carefully, smoothed the pages, and considered the Aleran creation again. Like Tavar, he mused, it was apparently more dangerous than it appeared.

Can’t just tell a soul it is free, Tavar. Freedom must be done for oneself. Important that the slaves created their own freedom.

My father used to speak to me often of the nature of power," Veredis said. "One of the things he often lamented was that the only folk truly worthy to hold it were those who did not seek it.

Because someone without furycraft has been made a High Lord,” Tavi replied. “My heart bleeds for the poor lambs.