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[Ellesbeth]

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Ellesbeth sat on her bed holding the spurs she was given at the tavern tonight, looking at the intricate engraving of her name on them. She wondered about the man that had given them to her, thinking to herself, “Ishmael? I think that is was what he called himself.”

His story was a strange one. Someone who had admired her from the past, Oswald being his name, had given the spurs to Ishmael as he laid dying on the floor of a tavern, much like the one she was sitting in that night, and had asked him to find her and give them to her. He told her that Oswald died while defending her honor, fighting five or six men without even having a weapon on him. “How courageous,” she thought. “How is it that I never noticed this man while studying at the Holy Church of the Virtues? Ishmael said he was a stable hand. I don’t remember one, but perhaps there was a stable close by.” She shook her head in confusion.

“And Tai… what did he have to do with all of this? Ishmael said he must kill him. I must try to contact Tai and ask him if he remembers anything about this poor stable boy who was killed in a tavern brawl and why this Ishmael would want Tai dead.” Ellesbeth put the spurs in her dresser drawer, slipped under the covers of her bed, and went to sleep dreaming of an unrequited love she never knew.