<span style="color: #00FF40">"A full suit of armor takes less time than this.."</span><br/><br/>"Yes Sire, and your valiance is noteworthy in both cases."<br/><br/>The young King lifted an eyebrow and his eyes met with kind old blue ones.  Both men laughed.   In the quiet dressing room stood Motto of Gilthlore, the massive Western nation of Aughtnia.  He was 27, the age of his coronation and wedlock to Faldothia.  The handsome ruler sighed and rested his hand on the servant's shoulder.<span style="color: #00FF40">"Give me a legion of men to fight Hector, a stampede of beasts.  Anything but marrying."  </span>Motto moved to the window and gazed out; his expression was one of annoyance.  Hector hadn't seen his Lord behave this way before and knew not whether to laugh or to comfort the youth.<br/><br/>"There could be worse things Sire....she might be hideous."<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">"She might as well be." </span>Motto retorted while maintaining his scowl.<span style="color: #00FF40"> "Ugh.  To be burdened with a damned woman!   I haven't the time or desire to ensure she knows her place, yet I must do so at the onset.  It the same with hunting dogs, Hector.  They require devotion.  How am I to establish the unity of two kingdoms while training some brat?"</span><br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="https://i.imgur.com/rDjoGMN.jpg">[ img ]</a>