There are lots of ways to start a war, some more cruel than others, and the crueler the cause, the crueler the war. For example: a struggle for power will be less bloody than a war for life, and a war for life will be less bloody than a war over death, for nothing lends humans to more dangerous measures than the want of revenge. And, naturally, our war must be one of the bloodiest, for how else are good stories born. On a chilly fall day, sometime around September, though no one can remember exactly, our Lady Ryia passed away in her sleep. Well, maybe “passed away” isn’t the right term. Our Lady Ryia was murdered in her bedchamber late at night, some day in the early fall. By the time she was discovered, the killer was long gone, though the
