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. He even sat up. "Barryn Warrex."
"Is Warrex spelled with one 'r' or two?"
"Two."
"Fine. Now what do you have for me? Some tale, I bet,
of epic battles and falling castles, of heroic missions - "
"No," said the knight thoughtfully, again pulling on his
moustache, "no, I don't think so."
"Oh? Then perhaps a tale of minotaur slaying or a duel
with some fierce ogre - "
"No, no, not those either, though I've done both."
"Then, by all means, you must tell of them! People one
day will want to read such knightly adventures - "
"Please!" snapped Barryn Warrex, his old milky eyes
flashing in anger. "I have no patience for this unless you
will listen to the story that I WANT to tell!"
"Of course, of course," said Aril, closing his eyes in
contrition. "Forgive me. That is, of course, just what I want
you to do."
"To a Solamnic Knight - at least to this old Solmanic
Knight - there is one thing as important - more important -
than even bravery, duty, and honor."
"More important? My, and what would that be?"
"Love."
"A tale of love? Well, that's good, too," said Aril
Witherwind, nodding his approval and dipping his quill into
the inkwell. "A knight's tale of chivalry - "
"I did not say 'chivalry', " snarled Barryn Warrex
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