Derin's question echoed in the dusty hall of the City Lord's palace. It was the doubt of a man who had seen nothing but failure for decades, a man who had accepted his status as the shit of the province.
Rhys saw it clearly in the old soldier's weary eyes.
"But…" Derin raised his head, and the doubt in his eyes was suddenly challenged by a fierce determination. "We have numbers. After all, the province has more abandoned than blessed."
Rhys's expression remained unchanged, but a flicker of appreciation ignited in his pitch-black eyes.
Derin took a step forward, his voice growing stronger, more passionate.
"My Lord, you see Silverwood, and you see a dying town. But I see a beginning. For every so-called 'genius' born into the great families, there are a hundred others who are cast out for not meeting their impossible standards.
