Ophelia stood there facing her father, head to toe in Fauthmhorian leathers the red crest seemed to glow on her chest, the beacon of betrayal as she knew her father would see it. His war tent seemed so much angier then she remembered, 6 months ago it was just another tent, boring and uneventful to her as she fluttered about the war camp, only meaning to visit her father for a few weeks but now her...

The snow crunched beneath her feet as she trudged through the dense forest. She had managed to slip past the sentries and was now a 45 minute walk past the gates of the war camp where she was visiting her father, King Amalaric, for the last 3 weeks. Her father had been gone from the castle for the last 3 months tending to his troops stationed along the border of the neighbouring country Fuathmhor....