His rhetoric was flawless, there was no denying it. Nobody could argue quite like Sandrec. He could bend others to his viewpoint with one sentence. Most times this would be along the lines of ‘this is the way of things now.’ We could never compare. The rest of us were amateurs to his silken tongue, his years of service plain for all to witness.
The time of conflict was over, and Sandrec’s service had ended the day his lord had fallen from his mount. That same mount had reared and roared, forelegs pawing at the air, before the fateful misjudged planting of its heavy shod foot crushed the rider’s sword arm in one swift maneuver.
conquistador 