but at 1/10 his promised price.

My father refused.

Without a word...

the six-fingered man slashed him through the heart.

I loved my father.

So naturally, I challenged his murderer to a duel.

I failed.

The six-fingered man leave me alive...

but he gave me this.

How old were you?

I was eleven years old.

They were both masters.

The loser ran off alone...

while the winner... followed those footprints toward Guilder.

Shall we track them both?

The loser is nothing.

Clearly, this was all planned by warriors of Guilder.

We must all be ready for whatever lies ahead.

Could this be a trap?

I always think everything could be a trap.