![]() ![]() She was fair, and I was dark complexioned. Meryl understood me, although we were as different as could be. ![]() Bella, our governess, loved us in her way, but her way was to moralize and to scold. Our mother, Queen Daria, had succumbed to the Gray Death when I was two and Meryl was three. Meryl was my protector, as necessary to me as air and food. I quieted, soothed by Meryl’s voice and her warm breath on my ear. And then she crooned a stanza from Drualt. My sister, Meryl, ran to me and held me, her arms barely long enough to go around me. I shrieked, certain it was a gryphon or a dragon. Once, when I was four years old and playing in the castle courtyard, a shadow passed over me. The world was a perilous place, wrong for the likes of me. The dearest wishes of my heart were for safety and tranquility. ![]() The monsters were slaughtering hundreds of Bamarrians every year, and the Gray Death carried away even more. Today Bamarre needed a hero more than ever. Drualt fought Bamarre’s monsters-the ogres, gryphons, specters, and dragons that still plague us-and he helped his sovereign found our kingdom. SO BEGINS DRUALT, the epic poem of Bamarre’s greatest hero, our kingdom’s ideal. ![]()
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