John Forrester

“The Captain wouldn’t know donkeys from trained baboons. How can a sailor know of good breeding?” She narrowed her eyes and studied them again as if discovering something new this time. “But, then again, their posture is exceptional. They stare at me as if I were beneath them. But they’re filthy and smell like pigs. They need cleaning up, that’s for certain. A hot bath and scrubbed several times. Fresh clothes and clean hair… perhaps they might shape up into something presentable. You there.” She pointed at Rikar. “You look greatly displeased. Where are you from? Tell me your story.” Rikar raised his haughty eyes to the woman. “Who rules this place? We’re no slaves.“ The soldier cuffed Rikar. “Answer the lady!”  “None of that violence is needed. Get out of here, I can handle them. Go on, now.” She shooed the soldier away and turned back to Rikar as if measuring his worth. “A young prince? The lot of you from royalty… I can see it in your eyes. The arrogance and the irritation. No slave would ever dare hold such feelings. What are you doing here in”
― John Forrester, Fire Mage

“crack of lightning and the explosion of thunder struck the guardhouse, igniting a blaze that sent soldiers scurrying down. More bolts sizzled ahead on the wall, sending up clouds of smoke and rock dust.  When the dust had cleared, Talis could see a chunk of wall at the top had been blasted away. Quickening their pace, they soon reached the damaged section. The air smelled like smoke from a hot fire and sparks from a grinding wheel. But to his relief, he”
― John Forrester, Fire Mage