James had expected this reaction. How could he not? Lord Leon had been a source of hope for people who had none. At their darkest hour, when despair had nearly swallowed Shantel whole, he had appeared, unexpected, unwilling, yet resolute. He had taken up the mantle of Lord when he could have cast it aside without consequence. The people had clung to him like drowning men to driftwood, and now that driftwood had vanished, they felt the sea rising around them again.
James understood. He felt it too. The hollowness in his chest. The quiet terror whispering of collapse. But unlike the rest, he couldn't afford to let it consume him. 'I can't disappoint the Lord,' James thought, steadying his breath. 'Not after everything he has done for us. That would be an insult… no, worse, it would be weakness.'
Unknowingly, Leon's philosophies, his blunt strength, and refusal to bow to despair, had taken root in James.
