A corrupt King sits the throne. The last generation of heroes have gone extinct. The lands are as green and as promising as they ever were. The Gods watch with interest and they wait. As next the next uprising comes from the most unlikely of places. A slow burn novel.
Beam punched him in frustration, his fist making contact with the merchant's nose and sending him clattering into the wall. Judas hurried over to him in alarm, but Greeves held his hand up for him to stop, as he staggered back to his feet, clutching his battered face. But the anger had still not faded from his eyes.
"You don't get it boy," he said quietly, as Beam stood there, breathing heavily. "I'll tell you what I believe in – why I've killed as much as I have. I believe in me. ME! Fucking me. Yeah, you talk of slavery and that? Where do you think I crawled up from? Mm? You think you can stay a pure little uncut gem whilst going through that, eh? Naw. Naw. Fuck that. The weak get trampled on, that's just how it goes."
"I managed," Beam said. He already knew that Greeves had guessed he was a slave.