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Year 448 of the Emperor, Phoenix 00|03, first year.
I friends and allies, I bring tell of an act of such heroism and devotion as to be sung of by bards and spoken in legend for mercannum to come, for I have just now heard of this tale. It began in the depths of the netherworld, upon a line of cobblestone where, so I hear, blaze are oft found, when My Lord Scrios and the Lady Samaia were training in the fires of the nether.
Alas, though both skilled warriors, and experienced too, experience is no shield from danger, for it was here that a single blaze evades the duchess' attacks and smote her across the breast. Stunned, the duchess was overwhelmed with more blaze, the netherrack around her smoldering, the flames spread.
Indeed, she would have died there if not for the Lord Scrios himself, who ran into the inferno with no thought to his own safety, wielding potions of protection against flame, and with his mighty sword he slew fifty blazes before the rest fled from his form, though it should be said I heard the number from a boy who may have exaggerated his highness's prowess. He emerged from the fiery pits, supporting the duchess with one arm, the other still brandishing his blade, he beard singes at the tips.
I send word of this tale to all our allies and would have it known of my Lord Scrios' bravery this day. All hail his majesty King Scrios!
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Ainmire Sera-Blodh of House Flenadrison, second of his name, King in the South, Ruler of Carrickshire, and slayer of false Kings.
"The Crippled King"
"Flanders"
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