Greylancer’s right arm traced a wicked arc.
It was easy enough to call it a sudden flash of steel. But the tip of the lance exceeded three meters and its grip easily five meters in length.
The blade stopped not on Lanok, who’d scrambled to his feet, but at the throat of his companion, who was left twitching helplessly on the ground.
The Noble cast a smile that might rightly be called benevolent.
With his eyes trained on the boy before him, Greylancer addressed the rebel leader. “Lanok, was it? As overseer, I have governed over this land by example. My regard for you humans is no different than that of other Nobles. But I will not promise your safety and leave you to fend for yourselves in a wasteland not even beasts or monsters dare inhabit. Nor will you be laid to slaughter for my gain. And in return my demand is this—absolute loyalty. It is easily given. Do not cross me, do not talk back in anger, and do not lie. And never raise a sword against me. They are the commandments I have passed down to you at my appointment and have repeated time and again. You have been allowed to live in peace ever since. A peaceful life. Is that not what you humans desire?”
“Ruled by the Nobility, surviving on what rations you toss our way—peaceful? Even if that were true, it’s no way to live. We live and breathe! As long as we are subjugated by your rule, we might as well be dead. What good is living in death? There are enough living dead already! Cursed vampires, cold-blooded bastards! This planet was born for us warm-blooded humans!”
Lanok shouted, “You will die proudly, Hendry!”