Lost in translation

Basilisk smiled, though there was nothing mocking in it. He understood Wilder's confusion. “The slave rank was made by my grandfather, and the rules around it are to honour the past. He himself was born a slave, from a long line of slaves. The kingdom who owned him fell, and it's princess later became an empress in her own right. It was her who granted Sirius his freedom, feeling that he had earned it. He believed that slaves should have the right to earn their freedom, if they had the right mind for it. Those that don't will remain slaves for the rest of their lives. But the ones with initiative, they can carve a new path for themselves. I've honored this tradition.” He explained, giving Wilder some of the history of the original Warlord so he could grasp the reason properly. 


Wilder then thanked him, and explained that he in turn had been helping with the training of Oleander's slave. The Warlord smiled at his hunters' initiative. He liked to see it, to hear the man was putting in the work. “If she doesn't see the point, then she is likely one of the wolves who won't build their way into a new future, but I appreciate the effort you put in.”