He now understood.
He understood his father. He saw the anxiety, the ancient fears, and the quiet, desperate hope that drove the man. Basil would not have expected to find trembling humanity inside the myth of the conqueror his father was known to be, and yet here Alpheo was.
He still recalled him gazing over like an unimpressed god at the long lines of men retreating from the bastion, as if they were beneath his notice.
In his heavy armor, Basil could no longer see the arrogance seeping from his father's gaze, all he saw was him looking longingly at the columns of desperate exiles. Only, they were no longer a column of slaves. They were... men, women, and children, waiting quietly for their first real peace.
