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[Lady LaBelle]

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The Regency assembly was farce. Astray from the formality which dictated admiration; it had become nothing more than a cavalcade with performers heralding the far Tokuno Islands to Kings of lands with fabled triangular edifices. The eyes of the noble paladin woman rotated within her skull. Her head whirled with the performance before her. Yet again the imbecile of a Sheriff, Spawn approached; his production too much for the lady's endurance. Lifting her skirt slightly above her ankles she departed, Regency and company.

Within the walls of the new Hall of Paladins, and her private suite, LaBelle slipped from her formal garments. Without foot covering, or band to her hair she sat within reach of the writing desk; so gifted from her sister Mia. For the day and the coming night, the paladin woman neither rose nor shifted within this seat until the parchments were filled. Tucking them discreetly as ever into the folds of her robe, she descended the stairs of the pristine Hall.

Submerging her hands within the cool barrel of water to the front stoop; she lifted her gaze to the rafters. Closing her eyes she released the softest of sighs, and carried on to the pasture her steed rest within. He grew old, her plight for replacement in Yew without fruition.

She greeted Sailong with the warmest of graces, and bid him farewell for the eve. She would be to the city in search of the scribe who might carry her scrolls city to city.


These scrolls slowly circulate, from city upon city until many have seen them; in the hands of laymen, on shelves of libraries, and in the desks of a few nobles can they be found.