Lord Vetinari sighed again. He did not like to live in a world of heroes. You had civilisation, such as it was, and you had heroes.
“What exactly has Cohen the Barbarian done that is heroic?” he said. “I seek only to understand.”
“Well… you know … heroic deeds …”
“And they are … ?”
“Fighting monsters, defeating tyrants, stealing rare treasures, rescuing maidens… that sort of thing,” said Mr. Betteridge vaguely. “You know … heroic things.”
“And who, precisely, defines the monstrousness of the monsters and the tyranny of the tyrants?” said Lord Vetinari, his voice suddenly like a scalpel – not vicious like a sword, but probing its edge into vulnerable places.
Mr. Betteridge shifted uneasily. “Well… the hero, I suppose.”
“Ah. And the theft of these rare items … I think the word that interests me here is the term ”theft“, an activity frowned on by most of the world’s major religions, is it not? The feeling stealing over me is that all these terms are defined by the hero. You could say: I am a hero, so when I kill you that makes you, de facto, the kind of person suitable to be killed by a hero. You could say that a hero, in short, is someone who indulges every whim that, within the rule of law. would have him behind bars or swiftly dancing what I believe is known as the hemp fandango. The words we might use are: murder, pillage, theft and rape. Have I understood the situation?”
“Not rape. I believe,”said Mr. Betteridge, finding a rock on which he could stand. “Not in the case of Cohen the Barbarian. Ravishing, possibly.”
“There is a difference?”
“It’s more a matter of approach, I understand.” said the historian. “I don’t believe there were ever any actual complaints.”
Terry Pratchett, The Last Hero
Oltre Mare 