Though his intentions were good, he was likewise impulsive, and early in his rule had often acted without thinking matters through. Intending to make his mark on his kingdom, he dismissed his father's advisors and chose his own from among equally inexperienced friends. A series of disasters, both military and civil, had brought hardship to his land. The carnage of the battlefield and, worse, the sight of small children starving in their mothers' arms, made him realize the importance of prudence. Now, after a decade of seasoning, he eagerly consulted his father's advisors on all important matters, carefully choosing what was best for all his people.

When the civil war broke in Kislova, he'd put the welfare of his people first and remained carefully neutral. To enforce that position, he'd tripled the number of border guards, augmenting the foot patrols with mounted ones. It had been a fortunate decision, for he was certain that without warning of the invasion by the blind Kislovan rebel, his kingdom would have fallen. In the days since the man had been brought to him for careful questioning, he'd had little time to contemplate the whimsy of fortune.

But as he rode through the thick walls of Nimbus Castle with his sword held upright before him, he pictured for a moment his own stronghold, and Baron Janosk riding through its gates as victor. That was how fate would have gone if his men had not been in precisely the right place at the right time to save the rebel's life, or if the blind man had been less brave, or if the girl had been unwilling to accompany Dark on his quest.

The contemplation in this moment of victory made him merciful, as did the sight of a far different Baron Janosk than he remembered.

That man had been strong, powerful. This man looked old, his skin a sickly hue, his arms shaky. In spite of this, he walked unaided down the stairs and stood defenseless, with head uncovered before his enemy.