In a bustling market street where pedestrians are crowded elbow-to-elbow a young woman in common clothing is negotiating with an older woman in a green robe with wave patterns. The younger woman is seeking employment. The two of them are interrupted by a beautiful man in red-trimmed bck robes carrying a thin sword longer than he is tall.

  The beautiful man makes his own offer of employment to the young woman. The older woman recognizes him and accuses him of having taken everything from her with that sword that is rightfully hers. She’s had to build herself up to where she is now from nothing and she’s still a far cry from what she once was.

  The young woman considers his offer, but is hesitant.

  Eventually the beautiful man grabs the young woman’s wrist and forcibly pces her hand next to his own on the sword’s hilt. Blinding waves of light begin flowing from the sword.

  The sorcerers hidden in the crowd take this moment of distraction to weave nets of magic to try to bind the beautiful man they’ve discreetly surrounded.

  In response the beautiful man rises into the air and with a fsh of steel every in the vicinity, sorcerer and passerby alike, falls to bloody pieces. A cart is cut in half. Of all those within reach of that long bde, only the young woman is spared.

  A now panicked crowd begins fleeing one way down the street while a line of armored soldiers arrive to block the other. They raise crossbows and let loose upon the beautiful man and the young woman. Against all odds, none of the bolts find their mark.

  The young woman picks up a crossbow from the dead around her and somehow loads half a dozen or more of the bolts that missed her at once. Her expression is uncharacteristically hard. She sys all the soldiers with a single shot.

  Later, the young woman and the beautiful man are atop a grassy hill beneath the flowering branches of a tree. She weeps and rails against him. He had promised her no one would get hurt.

  He gives an excuse that rings hollow and brings no comfort.