Sir Janus von Affeldt, First of his Name, stepped onto the field of the Grand Arena and spread his arms wide, spinning slowly to a smattering of quickly hushed jeering. “You can hate me now, it won’t matter,” he said under his breath. “You’ll shower me with adoration before the day is through.” Continue reading

Nine men, well-fed and armed to the teeth, against him, with only a couple of knives and a lousy human shield. Dun shrugged, and spat on the ground… Continue reading

Lord Alvonso Haversby viewed the storefront from across the narrow street, consuming the advertisements that lounged on cushions and couches behind the window in what he felt was a surreptitious manner… Continue reading

Dun chuckled to himself, recalling with a hint of bitterness how completely he’d bought into the rules of ‘proper’ fighting what now seemed a lifetime ago. He fingered the thick seam of scar tissue that ran from just under his left eye up through his temple to disappear under his hairline. How things do change. Continue reading