The Long Wait "Yes, it was foolish of you, but I would be the fool here if I did not let it go with your recent change of attitude. You are very young, and still learning. Do you want stories of old, Sir Nemean? I will make you earn them. Ride with me to the battle at the earliest chance we have and, if you make it through, I will honor you with a story. Do it again, and you shall receive a second one, and the same goes for the third. Prove to me that you live up to your family name, and together with my respect you will earn the right of asking me for tales of old."
And with that, the young man nodded solemnly. The task ahead was set. Blood would be the price for experience. As it so often was. With the Talon ordering the army from one front-line to the next, seemingly in circles aiming to avoid any battle, Nemean wondered how it would took before he heard his first story from the fabled old man.
While his spurs were yet to be replaced with gold and his belt was likewise unadorned, these things would change as the blades of the enemies would carve a new man out of the soft wood he was now.
