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“My grandfather killed him the day my father tried to murder him,” he said. “The warlord Zonas simply wouldn’t die, but Harvin, my father, did. My father wanted to rule, but Zonas was still too powerful. I was ten when my father was set upon a funeral pyre, but I don’t have many fond memories of him.”

“So when Zonas died, you became the next warlord?” I didn’t really care, but it was better than sitting in awkward silence.

“After my grandfather died, I had to fight every Crypt Claw warrior over a year's time until they fell on their knees and swore fealty. The fights were to the death or total submission, and many times, I’d been brought back from the brink by healers. Still, I fought them all. Many died, preferring the grave to defeat.”

Polonius did not sound as prideful about winning those fights as I’d expected.

“How old were you?” I was growing more curious as his mood grew more somber.

“Seventeen,” he said quietly.

“So, if you’d had a friend…”

“I would have had to defeat him or k