“And so now you see that brains and brawn are not at odds, that even a brutish man can stop to smell a rose, or write a sonnet to express his love f...r a woman?”“I suppose,” Iden admitted, a little more reluctantly this time. Isabelle laughed at his reaction, hopping deftly from her perch on the mountain of treasure and landing beside him on the sheets.“Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you write me a song. But if you wanted to learn about history or the arts, then I would be pleased to teach. There had been mysterious killings around his village the past few weeks. Men found bloodied, and broken in the streets. The weirdest thing about it is that they had a smile upon their faces, even in death they seemed happy. His small house, more of a shack, came into view, and his shoulders dropped some from relief. He opened the door, and shut it behind him. Finally feeling at ease he strips off his shirt and throws it in the corner, and sitting down at his table, rubbing his fingers. More

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