Excerpts

    Pulled forward by his own momentum, the Bauman could not evade Samuel's blow. The blade crunched into the base of the little man's neck and buried itself deep into the torso. Blood squirted everywhere.
Squealing with pain and surprise, the Bauman jumped backward. Grabbing at the wound, he fell to his knees.
Samuel quickly glanced down at his chest, expecting to see his insides and the like. To his relief, the armour had prevented the head of the spear from penetrating. ...

    Thomas began to protest.
Samuel cut him off. "Don't play innocent with me," he said. "I have heard of your kind. You frighten the poor into believing they'll go to hell unless they give generously to the Church. In reality, they're simply paying to keep you and your kind in the luxury to which you have become accustomed. Have a look around you."
Thomas grunted condescendingly. "That's not true and even if it was, it's precious coming from the son of a feudal lord," he said. "What do the nobility do? They sit in their castles, attend parties and play at being soldiers. Meanwhile the peasants kill themselves toiling over the land you own merely because of the family you were born into." ...

    To William's amazement, a large man engulfed in flames staggered into view. Instead of falling to the ground in an attempt to save himself, he stood and scattered burning oil from the clay pot in his shrivelling hands.
Soldiers and knights alike screamed as the deadly fire hit them. The assailant's burning limbs withered away with the flame. Even then he grappled a nearby Whitewall soldier to the ground and held him as they both burned to death. ...

    "It's because their lives are dreary, they work too hard for very little reward and their only relief from the depressing reality is to drink!"
"Yes, yes you've said it all before," Samuel said testily.
"I may have said it before but you obviously didn't listen," Scott said. "One day you'll leave commoners with little to lose."
Samuel laughed out loud. He then wondered if it was ever possible for nobles to push the commoners into revolting. ...

    In a panic, Samuel jerked himself into action, dropped his torch, raised the crossbow and fired.
At the same time, the man in the black habit overcame his surprise and extended his index finger to form the sign of the horn. "Mythras," he yelled. A flicker of light seemed to emanate from his fingers toward them.
The crossbow quarrel flew true and buried itself in the man's right eye with a sickening crack. He lurched back, clutching at the shaft, screaming. Pitching from one side of the corridor to the other, the man howled in pain. Eventually he slumped against the wall and slid to the floor, writhing. ...

    "Why do you insist on being paid immediately," he asked aggressively. "Don't you trust the word of a noble?"
Stewart looked surprised by Samuel's ignorance. He then frowned. "Because of the lack of contributions from some provinces, the Emperor has been forced to fund his war by minting more coins," he said sternly. "As a result, prices go up by the day."

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