Maitre was seated when an old man walked up to him.
“I saw you save that boy,” the old man said. Maitre looked up at him. He squinted, shielding his eyes from the sun.
“You are not the hero,” the old man stated.
“What?” Maitre asked.
“You burn houses and cause panic. You may not have killed anybody. That does not make you a hero,” the old man looked down at him.
Maitre got up, he towered over the old man.
“You do not scare me. I knew people like you in my days. People who gain pleasure by making the weak and innocent suffer,” the old man rumbled.
“Weak, innocent? I was once innocent and weak. The whole world watched as I suffered. Some revered my pain. Have you ever had to wait for months to heal?” Maitre asked as he walked toward the man.
The old man took a step back every time M
