I “S-Sire! You c-can’t be serious…!” A small, dirty elf pleaded before the feet of Lord Alwin Xilvyre, who poised in his chair as if it were a throne. “I-I only took a c-couple coppers off the girl, I s-swear!” Alwin glared down at the elf, remaining silent for several seconds that felt like ages to the beggar. Finally, he spoke in a cool, yet firm voice: “Thievery, assault, and an attempt to escape capture. All of these violations have consequences under this company’s roof. Unless you can cough up several dozen shillings, I’m afraid I have no choice but to force your hand into years of physical labor. Any attempt at resisting will grant you a swift execution.” “B-But sire,” the elf stammered, “we’re of the same blood. I’ve a family to return to. Please, s-spare me…!” Alwin stood up suddenly with...