Theo stared out at the cold muddy floor and let out a low sigh.
�Theo?� Periolos asked.
�Oliver Peregrine,� Theo said dimly, as though pummeling a drum.
�Theo,� Periolos said, smiling. He tried to show his face to his friend as he came closer, as if hoping the smile could rub off on him.
�Not now,� Theo grumbled.
Periolos� eyes narrowed, �What?�
�What is the point?� Theo asked.
�Of what?�
�Of this? People are going to fight and bleed and die, and what for? For new people to be charge for a while. For new people to bicker and curse at one another until they die and leave it to their worthless children, that�s what. Them being no better than us.�
�That�s a grim picture of our future, Theo,� Periolos said, �I am grateful that this is not the future we�re headed towards.�
�But, Periolos, don�t you agree that we cannot always be revolting? Our oppressors, who are they? Who are they when we replace the old with new oppressors.�
Periolos sat down and thought about this and then he said, �Well, I guess that�s why God gave them you.�
Theo gave Periolos an uncertain expression, one that involved a little eyebrow and a lot of creasing about the nose.
�Don�t mistake me, Theo. There are plenty of great men who chase greatness, who turn their plows toward it, who mine it out of the dust, but some men are asked. Some men have greatness put before them, because it would not come to them any other way, and because the world needs them to take it up.�
�So, I�ve been given this. That�s why I�m doing it?� Theo said suspiciously, �I am not inspired, Periolos.�
�Then don�t be,� Periolos snorted, �But those people out there, they need Theo Harin, not some boy weeping in a tent.�
�But Theo Harin is the boy weeping in the tent,� Theo contested.
Periolos held his hand, �And now he need to be the man that comes out of it."

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