When Allen saw Malherb again, he was genuinely shocked. He could hardly believe that the young man who, not long ago, had remained hopeful after five years of captivity and spoken with him so freely had become a haggard middle-aged man in such a short time.
Then Hollimion whispered in Allen's ear, "My lord, Malherb's father was killed by the Easterlings during the migration. Oh, and there's something else. His father broke both his brothers' legs because they were passing information to the Easterlings."
Only then did Allen understand. Put into the sort of story he knew, it was like fighting the invaders with all his heart, only to discover that his own brothers were collaborators, and then losing his father to the Little Japanese as well. Most people would probably struggle to accept something like that. Such a drastic change in his appearance over a short time was entirely possible.
Malherb, who now looked as though he had aged ten years, had learned of his father's death from several of his tribespeople. He also knew that his uncle Theodore had taken his two brothers to Dale. He would probably only see them a handful of times for the rest of his life.
These successive blows left Malherb, now utterly alone, grief-stricken. He could not understand why something that should have gone so smoothly had suffered so many unexpected setbacks.
Yet the circumstances gave Malherb no time to mourn, even though his father's body still lay somewhere out on the vast wilderness, with no word of its whereabouts.
He had to put aside his grief and begin learning how to manage his tribespeople, shouldering the burden of keeping more than two thousand people alive.
Malherb had indeed been preparing for this responsibility all along. He had hoped to inherit this