I guess I got knocked out pretty early in the proceedings, and he decided slitting my throat like that was beneath his dignity. I don’t imagine my side were lining up to rescue me. Maybe I should feel insulted that I’m still alive. But try as I might, I just can’t.
However I got out of it, I don’t intend to put myself in that sort of danger again. I’ll stick to what I know. When it comes to manipulation, I’m strictly supply-side. And I may not have had a sword on the mountain, but I wasn’t too shabby at hunting with a bow. I can make my contribution that way.
Hector wouldn’t approve of course, but that’s the kind of attitude that got him killed about a week later. Better him than me. After what he talked me into, I may have been the only one in the city who never shed a tear for him. But the gods must be fans of irony, or perhaps it was my dry eyes that let me see clearly enough to avenge him. It wasn’t my best shot of all time, but with enough poison on the arrow, a hit in the foot is as deadly as anywhere else. That one lucky shot turned the tide, and in an instant I went from coward to bona fide war hero. However much they sneered at my methods, there’s no arguing with the results.
It’s possible that I may have won this war for our side. And with Crown Prince Hector mouldering in his grave, there’s a job opening for an heir apparent.
I just may end up with all the marbles after all.