<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>(http://www.dfwd20.com/photopost/data/522/medium/Human_Fighter1.jpg)</td><td><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: edwardian;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 2.65em;">Alfreic Slate, Soldier</span></span><br/><em>Front Lawn of Avonleigh:  To Martin &amp; Viktor; re:  Shepherd Girl</em><br/></strong><hr/>Alfreic was overcome by a paroxysm of laughter, after witnessing such a scene.  Viktor and Martin were now in the business of buying shepherd girls?  Oh, and Alfreic thought that he had fallen.  Shaking his head from side to side, the beast of a man snatched his ornate saddle's pommel and lifted himself up into a comfortable seat, where he snickered and chuckled.  Much the same way as it is with other men of his type, his laughter didn't seem joyous, however;  it wasn't deriding or sarcastic.  Indeed, it sounded downright sinister, and that very tone shielded Viktor and Martin from his ire.<br/><br/>The soldier was too far removed from the situation, however, to appreciate the fact that the shepherd girl, to be sold to the loitering nobility, might perceive his booming chuckles as excitement for the fracturing of her pelvis later this eve.  In truth, Alfreic was much disinterested in these things, but he could be compelled, as all wicked persons, into unspeakable action.<br/><br/> "The bare-faced insolence," Alfreic said,  "for a mundane man to sell a noble gold when it is but a copper pence."  This was said more to himself, but evidently, it could be heard by all.<br/></td></tr></tbody></table>