“My father trained me relentlessly. He claimed he was some great warrior back in the day and didn’t want it to all go to waste. When he was drunk,...he’d joke that on the day I was born, he forced a dagger into my hands and made me cut my own cord. He was killed by a sledgepaw this past winter.” “Ah, my condolences.” Her pause seemed sincere. “What was his name? Maybe I’ve heard of him?”“Steven the Bold. It’s the only name he ever gave, but I have yet to meet anyone who knew about his glory. She really wanted this job. Finally the time came to go and she got in her pickup and drove to the office of the company. It seemed so professional, the design of the building was quite sophisticate. As she went inside, she saw a desk at the center of the room and went to it. She told the attendant who she was and was informed to wait in the chair behind her. Lydia sat down nervously. There were magazines on the table next to her. Sports Illustrated, People, Redbook, and many other magazines. More

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