Role

Chapter 1

Back to the upbringing of Galtholnicus. The ruler whose son Galtholnicus had slain began to grow
frustrated. Galtholnicus was not yet dead, and it had been 12 years. Why had the other whelps who
subjected to daily punishment for each day that Galtholnicus lived not doing their job? The ruler
knew his reign was near an end, and he had sired no other son. His line would soon be
extinguished. It galled him. That this peasant boy had taken everything from him! He would
have his vengeance, even if it required him to hire mercenaries from the outside world to
exact it.

Drunken, brawling ruffians, the mercenaries came barging into the training center, demanding that
Galtholnicus be brought before them, that they might end his life and get on with their debauchery.
But they, and the ruler, had underestimated the Honor that the training instills. The other boys -
young men, really, at this point - brought forth Galtholnicus, but stood at his side. The young men
fought well, but the mercenaries had vastly superior numbers. His comrades dying around him,
surrounded by several mercenaries, Galtholnicus' eyes began to cloud over in a reddish haze of anger
and hatred. No longer consciously striking and blocking, he lashed out in a blind rage. When at last he
came to his senses, he stood in the middle of a heap of mercenary corpses, nearly dead himself. Around
him, a small number of his fellow villagers survived, badly wounded.

Realizing that the others would be marked for death by the ruler, Galtholnicus knew what must be done.
He left that hour, once he was sufficiently healed. And headed straight for the home of the ruler.

He sat, eating grapes(!) while waiting for news of the slaughter at the training center. He got
the news, all right. In the form of a knife, with a grape stuck on it, rammed down his throat.