As they walked home, Flavia told Dael a wonderful tale about an orphan boy raised in a forest like a half-wild animal who became a king after he was chosen by a magical gladius planted in a stone plinth. Just as Flavia was getting to the good part, where the boy’s former tormentors were forced to bow and confess him king, she paused.
“Dael,” she said, and she was still one of the few who could say his name right, bothered to say his name at all. “Will you help me?”
“With anything, my lady.”
“Please, call me Flavia.”
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