Lloyd sighed. The power and spirit behind those words still rang true, even to this day. Where every land was under its own governing directions, ruled by no central idea or council and indeed, being nothing more than a communal feudalism.
He continued to turn the pages of the great book, THE HISTORY OF NORTH AMERICA, and stared in amazement at its details, almost right up to the very day of the holocaust. That detail was mainly in the last few pages which appeared to have been put into the book, at a much later time. He saw that someone did not want a noble life, a great civilization, to die and be forgotten forever. How, to him, the book began to take-on an almost holy aura that drew him deeper and deeper into the words' strength, until a tear issued from his eye and slowly meandered down his fleshy cheek.
He wiped the tear from his cheek, in one motion of the back of his hand. Boyce rumbled into the den carrying a tray of food and drink, and quietly set it on the table by Lloyd.
"I have brought you food, my Lord!" informed the boy.
Lloyd looked up from the book and smiled as he thanked the boy and requested him to join in the eating. Hesitant, the boy suspiciously looked at Lloyd with questions in his eyes. He nodded and smiled, then boy finally moved to the corner and brought back a stool, and so sat by him.
Lloyd motioned to Boyce to take some food and not knowing what else to do in this circumstance, he took a piece of the roasted fowl and smiled before he bit into it.
"Thank-you, my Lord!" the boy exclaimed.
"You are welcome." returned Lloyd, and continued. "Say, Boy. You will call me Lloyd … I have had enough people call me sir and Lord!"
"Thank-you … Lloyd!" Boyce responded, startled by the show if friendship offered to him by the injured man that he helped to carry back to the Blue Mansion.
They ate the dinner.