A strange feeling went over Matheson as he ran, each time he passed a house, he saw some hopeful eyes gazing at him.

The people he considered peasants were looking at him as if they loved him, he had never felt such a strange feeling.

It was different from every other smile he had seen: the shit-eating grin of a political enemy, the proud smile of other nobles, the fake smile of people trying to please him, the disdainful smile of a manipulative friend, the mocking smiles of the guards, the demanding stares from his own father.