Alcar stood in a clearing, a gentle sloping hill surrounded by trees, Oaks, Birch and a single Willow tree standing alone. Under the Willow was a fresh grave, he knew he’d been foolish to come here but this is where she’d wanted to be buried. He was surrounded by ten of the Kings best fighters, all stood ready to strike at his first sign of weakness. Some called him the best swordsman in the land, others the luckiest. All Alcar knew is that if he was to survive, he’d have to be both.