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Dance of death
Seated atop his trusted narwain, King Johannus seemed invincible. He had always been a man of honor and so he felt it his duty to offer his opponent a chance to surrender. Though she was his enemy, it wasn’t his intention to kill her. There was already too much blood on his hands. Fixing his magnanimous gaze on Cecilia, he began in an almost fatherly tone, “You don’t need to do this. There is nothing that you need to prove. Prince Varius is just using you. Cecilia, I don’t want to paint my hands with your blood. Join hands with me and we can restore Valenwood to its former height of glory. There is still time to mend your ways. Together, we can help free the people of Valenwood from tyranny.” The King’s words, though kindly meant, seemed almost patronizing to her. What did she care about
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