He paused, then shook his head.
“For the moment, however, let’s consider this on a smaller scale. Think of a young man who trains himself so that he won’t be bullied by older, larger men. He lifts weights to develop his muscles, studies various forms of armed and unarmed combat, and practices long hard hours with one objective in mind: To harden himself to where he won’t have to knuckle under to anyone.”
The General smiled.
“What would you say, then, if that same young man subsequently let every pipsqueak and bravo shove him around because he was afraid he’d hurt them if he pushed back?”
“I’d say he was a bloody idiot.”
“Yes,” Badaxe nodded. “You are.”
“Me?”
“Certainly,” the General said, starting to look a little vexed. “Didn’t you recognize yourself in the picture I just described?”
“General,” I said, wearily, “I haven’t gotten much sleep for several days now. Forgive me if I’m not tracking at my normal speed, but you’re going to have to spell it out for me.”
“Very well. I spoke about a young man building himself up physically. Well, you, my young friend, are probably the most formidable man I know.”
“I am?”
“Beyond a doubt. What’s more, like the young man in my example, you’ve built yourself up over the years . . . even in the time I’ve known you. With your magikal skills and wealth, not to mention your allies, supporters, and contacts, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. What’s more, you’ve proved that time and time again against some very impressive opposition.”
He smiled and laid a surprisingly gentle hand on my shoulder.