I remember, a few weeks after the family celebrated the day of my birth, my cousin Hakan came running to the camp. I will never forget his face, we had rarely spoken before, he had little interest in the son of his cousin, and less interest in the half blood pretender to his familys heritage.
His face was like the moon, pale and wide, sweat dripped from his moustache giving it a bright shine, he screamed, green eyes, more jade and emerald then they had ever been. Pupils pin pricks against a circle of verdun.
He had no time to speak, or I simply remember nothing coming from his mouth as the sound of life was overwhelmed with the sound of hooves against soft peaty earth. Red banners few from pikes and a force of horsemen crested the ridge, it was initially, one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.
At the head of the force a man, with an angelic face sat atop his steed, "Vistani of Invidia, your days of undue, unearned, and unending influence and protection are over. . ."