Princeling Galbrath ran through the undergrowth of the
Forest. He ran and ran and ran, until he could run no
further. He fell to his knees, panting like a dog, sweating
like a pig and groaning like the unfit person he was.
‘Blast!’ he yelled. Startled by the noise,
a flock of birds took to the air from one of the trees.
A small furry creature with round, watery eyes hopped
out from a nearby bush, its curiosity getting the better
of it. Galbrath backhanded it, sending it flying into
the trunk of a large tree.
‘Ow!’ whined the princeling, rubbing at his
hand, tears threatening his eyes. He felt like hitting
something again. He looked around, but if there were any
more small furry animals around, they were staying hidden.
He shouted instead. ‘Ahhh!’
He was furious! More furious than he had ever been in
his short but eventful life. His grandfather’s sword
o’ light was lost, before he could sell it. And
after all the trouble he had gone through to get it. He
had poisoned three siblings and a parent in order to inherit
that damn sword, and had been set to sell it for a king’s
ransom in gold – enough gold to buy him years in
Designers Paradise. He slammed his fist onto the grassy
‘Damn the Designers,’ he screamed, as tears
finally welled up in his eyes. Then in a quieter voice,
as the tears cascaded down, he sobbed, ‘Why is my
life always so difficult?’ He raised his face skywards.
‘Designers have pity on me. Give me some sign that
you have not forsaken me.’
And then he remembered! He remembered something important.
He had not lost everything, after all. Yes, his mage was
dead, his sword o’ light stolen, his soldiers and
retinue gone. But he still had something. He still had
the item that he had used the sword o’ light to