<div class="floatright"><div align="center">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/0a/44/73/0a447356828c3ab3ca0a98c48c7179a7.jpg)<br/>Sir Pelliton</div></div>Larissa's exit from the tavern was halted when she walked straight into a group of soldiers entering the Tavern. Four of them moved to block the entrance, while their leader, a broadly grinning man with a scar across his face pushed forward. Standing so close his breastplate was almost touching Larissa's, his dark eyes studied the young knight intently. The silence stretched out for a moment, and then the knight laughed—an odd, high-pitched giggling.<br/><br/>"My Lady," he said, another giggle creeping out. "Do stay. I think you'll want to hear this." Upon the knight's shield were five stars, arranged in a peculiar pattern like a constellation.<br/><br/>One of the soldiers stepped forward, pulling out a scroll and proclaiming to the gathered crowd: "Behold Sir Pelliton, Knight of Three Roses! The Star Knight bears a proclamation from your new lord: Valerie Greymantle, Baroness of Bedegar–"<br/><br/>A patron interjects, "That harlot? Baroness? Hah!" His laughter was cut short as the mailed fist of one of the soldiers collides with his face, sending him sprawling to the floor.<br/><br/>Continuing where he left off, the spokesman continues, "Your lord demands the head of Bonebreaker Dorokor and the White Tusk orcs, the lawless beasts that slaughtered the Baron of Bedegar and his family. The new baron promises the glory of a knighthood and five hundred gold marks to whosoever brings to him the head of the orcs’ bloodchief." The speech concluded, Sir Pelliton points to one wall of the taproom. The soldier hurries forward and nails the scroll to the wall, atop a pile of previous proclamations.<br/><br/>Pelliton smirks at Larissa. "Pardon me, Princess," he says, shouldering her aside to address the room. "Now that you have all been duly impressed, let me tell you dirt-eating, dung-bathing peasants one thing: None of you will be knighted and elevated to my station. I shall find these beasts and bring them to justice. I will be the one! And you will continue enjoying your joyless lives." He giggles again, before turning back to Larissa. "That goes for you too, Ruxvan," he growls, his voice suddenly altogether different, low and gravelly. "Then again, from what I've heard Ruxvan women are more likely to fuck an orc than fight 'em." Again he laughs, but not that high-pitched giggle. This time it rumbles like the panting of a feral beast.