Of Lies and Legend"Why is she never the queen?"
The warrior sat quietly on the leaf-strewn ground. His front was illuminated by the fire, each part in turn lit and darkened again as the light played across his clothes. The most notable item was a dark tunic, tied at the neck and sleeves, its color no longer discernable after months of travel and war. Underneath was a mail shirt, dull and rusted in places. It was old, but after the castle had fallen, he no longer trusted himself without it. The lighter tunic the warrior wore beneath it to protect his skin had also long since lost its color, darkening from a crisp white to the shades of brown and black of mud and blood.
The tunics were cinched to his form by a leather belt, its length spotted with the various bags and pouches that held the warrior's few possessions. Brown trousers, crusted and stiff with dirt and sweat, were all the warrior wore beneath the waist until his boots. They were as old and broken as the rest of him, the brown leather caked in l