“Wait!” Adal cried, then cried again as he was nearly pitched from the cart, “Not you, damnable horse! The thought is whom I ask not to flee! Stillow, what is the name of the largest dom in the immediate area?”

His companion, a man with pale blue eyes and short white hair, turned. He was clothed only in bedsheets, a pair of gloves, and a single shoe, “Ganter, I believe.”

“Aha! Thought that sounded familiar. Don’t you see Matthew?” Adal shook a red gloved finger at him, “Ganter contains Ganthiel’s former capital!”

Matthew wished he could stare at Adal in disbelief, but it was to be expected. After four years serving the man, Matthew was disciplined in the ways of madness, “Yes, I’ve been trying to ask you about it for some time.”

“Why didn’t you speak up sooner, lad? You could have saved us some time!” Adal leaned along the seat to smack his frail hand atop Matthew’s thick skull.

“Ow!” cried Adal, “Look what you made me do. The youth of today have no respect. Isn’t that right, Stillow?”

The philosopher raised a hand as if cupping a glass, “Such is the way of all youth in any time. They are uneducated, and therefore shallow.”

“Except for us, eh Stillow? We had the respect.”

Stillow nodded thoughtfully, “Aye, we knew what we know now then. And what we knew then now.”

“Speaking of the kingdom of Ganter,” Matthew interrupted, “I’d still like to ask my question.”

“Ask away lad!” Adal said generously, “Even if it is in the manner of the callow youth. You won’t learn if you always keep so quiet.”

“But you keep interrupting me—”

“Time’s up. Time is precious, that’s why old things are more valuable.”

“If age makes a thing worthwhile, the extrapolation of the value of youth is a simple task,” said Stillow.

“A task young Matthew seems unable to complete,” said Adal, “He doesn’t got the patience to learn.”

“Who’s in the right in a war?” Matthew blurted, seizing his moment, as Adal once again drew breath and Stillow turned to stare thoughtfully at a cow.

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Adal tapped his traveling case, “Well, if it is absolute truth you want, then you need look no further than the history books. They’ll have your answer.”

“I don’t think that’s a cow,” said Stillow

“And what do they say?”

“What do who say?” Stillow asked, sighing as the cow disappeared behind a hedge.

“What do the books say?”

Without turning his head, Stillow turned one eye to stare into Matthew’s own. It twinkled, “Ah lad, they say the greatest thing of all.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

“They say nothing on who’s right in a war?”

Adal chuckled, “You see lad, it depends on the victor.”

“Let’s say Ganter won the war,” said Matthew.

Stillow started upright, “They did? They haven’t faced me yet. Where are they? I will stand against them to the last man. I’ll stand till I’ve lost my last shoe, and then my feet will hurt, but I’ll start sitting against them, mark my word!”

“Then Ganter would be in the right,” said Adal. Matthew and Adal had learned long ago to ignore Stillow when his mouth was moving.

“What if they lost?”

“Then their foe would be in the right.”

“Haven’t you been paying attention, lad?” Stillow interrupted “Ganter isn’t at war, they wouldn’t dare. Not with me around.”

“They might as well be at war. Their borders are growing. Every month thousands fall under their dominion.”

Adal patted him on the back, “Fear not Matthew. War is a form of government. It’s a democracy. You cast your vote by joining one side or the other. Whoever gets the most votes gets the biggest army. That army may then conquer the others and the majority are happy.”

For some reason, Matthew was not reassured.

“What if the minority is still so large as to have meaningful needs?”

“The minority’s job is to adapt, as it has always been. Adapt and persevere, so, come the next war, they may cast their vote again. This is why the beliefs of your mother and father are far more important than your own. You are not voting, your oppressed ancestors from millennia past are. Isn’t that right Stillow?”

“Yep. I always send my ancestors to war instead of myself. It’s less violent that way. Imagine a world where everybody’s deceased with a grudge went to war instead of their descendants. Battlefields would be as full of corpses as always, but nobody would get hurt. Since the winner is the side with the least bodies on the field, the best way to win wars would be to not take up your shovel. Let the fools on the other side dig up their great grandaunt and lug her bones to battle. It is often my dream.”

“I dream of a moldering society with only the faintest of texts to piece it together.” Adal said, “Like King Otto of Ganter. He’s sending diplomats to every dom, bits of text to peace it together.” Adal chuckled, “Heh, still got a wit left after all these years in your company Stillow.”

Matthew stared at the horizon, “The other doms should stand against him.”

Adal shook his head, “Even if they were in bad enough mood to do so, they would need to unite to have a chance of fighting against King Otto’s superior might. Uniting doms doesn’t go over so well. I know only one ruler in the modern age who has attempted it.”

“Who?”

“King Otto, were you not listening? To stop King Otto you’d have to become a worse conqueror than he.”

“We could form alliance, damage him, stop his growth.”

“Go right ahead boy. Let me know when you command an army. I’d love to see the look on Stillow’s face.”