I remember the first time I saw you, riding across the plain towards my castle walls. Your pennant flew behind you, a red phoenix on a black field, the matching crimson plume of your helm rippling in the wind.

Your armies gathered at your back.

Watching from the ramparts, I knew you were a foe to be reckoned with. I had heard tales, of course, but it was different seeing you with my own eyes: the easy way you sat your horse, the breadth of your shoulders in your black armor. Yet our walls had never been breached, and you—even you—would not succeed. I ordered the women and children inside the keep, but I kept my gaze trained on you just as yours was on me.