Starlion
Ever clever and resourceful, you gaze with satisfaction at the cover of clouds—because they will be eminently useful to you. It was as though all this—the invasion, the abduction, the blackmail—was scripted, and your surroundings were following some pre-written scene.
The Fates are surely with you this eve. All will go well tonight, and the hand of Baron Alistair must either renounce his favorite daughter, his heiress, and declare outright war; otherwise, he will have to submit to your terms and turn his province Starlion over to the province of Arolion upon his death—which would be soon. You, Nicanor, would ensure that.
With a smile you think over the past three years, all you’ve accomplished. A poor smith-boy from Aselford, you have risen from obscurity to become one of Arolion’s leading men. The baron of Arolion, Ellesmir, has charged you with stopping Alistair’s raids, which are penetrating closer and closer to the heart of Arolion. These are no random, pointless, unorganized raids, you’ve realized. Starlion is slowly wearing out Arolion, with each raid advancing a few miles closer to the capital.
You admire Alistair for his slow but sure method of attacking. You commend his cunning, but you are a man of action. Striking swiftly, silently, strongly, is the most effective way. Just think! You have only to accomplish this one, simple mission—kidnapping Alistair’s flighty, nitwit daughter—and the future will be simply laid in your lap. Well, more like into the lap of Ellesmir’s son… but you benefit from the situation in other ways.
However, you still need to figure out how to lay hands on the baron’s daughter. The Season’s commencement ball is tonight—there will be much turmoil and confusion about the castle. You’re still debating between:
The Fates are surely with you this eve. All will go well tonight, and the hand of Baron Alistair must either renounce his favorite daughter, his heiress, and declare outright war; otherwise, he will have to submit to your terms and turn his province Starlion over to the province of Arolion upon his death—which would be soon. You, Nicanor, would ensure that.
With a smile you think over the past three years, all you’ve accomplished. A poor smith-boy from Aselford, you have risen from obscurity to become one of Arolion’s leading men. The baron of Arolion, Ellesmir, has charged you with stopping Alistair’s raids, which are penetrating closer and closer to the heart of Arolion. These are no random, pointless, unorganized raids, you’ve realized. Starlion is slowly wearing out Arolion, with each raid advancing a few miles closer to the capital.
You admire Alistair for his slow but sure method of attacking. You commend his cunning, but you are a man of action. Striking swiftly, silently, strongly, is the most effective way. Just think! You have only to accomplish this one, simple mission—kidnapping Alistair’s flighty, nitwit daughter—and the future will be simply laid in your lap. Well, more like into the lap of Ellesmir’s son… but you benefit from the situation in other ways.
However, you still need to figure out how to lay hands on the baron’s daughter. The Season’s commencement ball is tonight—there will be much turmoil and confusion about the castle. You’re still debating between: