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To the wee Castella, with a title not yet earned,
I'm older than the tower ye sprang from, and one thing learned from the wisdom
of age is that it is a gift and a curse to live the long life of a hill dwarf.
The years grant me the dismay to witness the fleeting rise of mouthy creatures
like yerself, then the same grants me the pleasure to see such filth disappear,
forgotten, into the nether.
Mark this, though. When a fresh-faced miscreant beats her better in a fight
that should be decided the other way from every conceivable angle, the wiser
path is to hold yer tongue and enjoy the victory earned by chance or fate, lest
ye find advantage turns to handicap. Or, keep yer gob yappin', and see how
quickly fortune may turn its back.
Tor Alesbane (since we're makin' up grand titles for kittens)