From Chapter Eleven: Peace at the Prospect of Fighting

The King reflected a moment and said, “I have a certain General.  He is a barbarian.  He and his men fight without mail or shirts even.  They foam at the mouth and cast off crippling blows with their sheer rage.  They even fight after they have been killed, for a brief time.  Many fear them.  I made this general a knight.  He is known as Sir Arbeckarc.  I gave him lands thick with forest and gloom, as he requested of me.  Now he stays there, even when called to fight.  Unless the battle be in the pitch black of night, neither he nor his men will come.  Do not harm him, do not kill him, but learn his secret.  Find out why he has turned his back on so many battles.  Will you do this?  He may attack you.  But I do not want you to go until spring.  Winter here as our guest.  You gold will purchase you much pleasure.  Turn me down if you wish.”

I knew that from such simple tasks there were often great perils.  I knew there were reasons the locals would not go.  I did not insult my host by asking him.  I merely nodded and said “Aye,” as if the challenge would purge me and redeem me as a failed man-at-arms.

“It is good!” cried the King, “Zombiac, be a guest here.  I will send you a guide in the spring.  now let us have drink and song!”

I sank back in my chair, calm and self aware.  I was finding more peace within me at each moment.

Peace at the prospect of fighting.