"Rewards?" Ratto asked, quite dazzled by the rare, open brightness illuminating the King's face.
But it made sense, after all he knew that for every ten lords currently pacing the marble halls outside, eleven of them would gladly slit his throat for the very opportunity Ratto was being given right now.
Still, a desperate hope fluttered in his chest, a hope that he remained sufficiently nestled in His Majesty's favor to ask for a boon of his own. A very specific and very important boon.
"It has been so grievous and bloody a campaign," Alpheo murmured, his fingers tracking the edge of his desk, "that it goes entirely without saying that magnificent rewards must be distributed. And the list of those who have earned a slice of the cake is long. Going from the lords who fought bravely at the Bastion all the way to the Ford, and perished somewhere on the way.''
