Sir Algrave Belethor sat upon horseback as he and his retinue circled an ancient graveyard, an immense array of cairns arranged in a constellation around a crumbling mausoleum in the Mariene countryside, the smell of the air before a thunderstorm hanging thickly around the site. An Eldritch Knight of some renown in Evadris and the first invited to Governor Brewell Algaren's court in their homeland, Belethor grappled with his thoughts on the quiet ride through the grasslands. At the most recent Founder's Day festival, marking the 15th year since the humans of Evadris had set foot on this new country, Belethor had been laid low for the first time in his life. Belethor prided himself on his dueling prowess, earning his titles in Evadris through a lifetime of training and contest, and while the games and battles of the event were all in good fun, he still worried that this first loss marked a turning point in his life. He could recall with bitter clarity the ribbing of his f...
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