Ossinett

Ser Jorren looked over his shoulder as the Sprintfall knight emptied the purse into his gloved palm. Eight silver coins fell from the leather bag as Ser Don moved them around to budget for the weeks ahead - Six Silver Stars could buy them both salt meats and hardtack for the week, but forty eight could feed the wandering pair well. The young errant's mind drifted to coins of gold. he'd seen one once, a Golden Sun stamped with the dead King's image, it had been in a woodcutter

Bill watched as the Holden knight drove his horse forward, lowering the cinquefoil-tipped lance with expert precision. The purple fabric danced in the air as the knight rode, painting a trail of a twilight sky behind him as the steed thundered towards his opponent. When the lance struck its mark, Bill forgot entirely his training as a respectable lord of the realm - he burst from his seat with a cheer and a fist raised so high that his knuckles grazed the fabric of the Darlyn

When Romidor the Great first united the realm under one banner, he realized that many people in his new kingdom would not accept a ruler...