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ELIZA (She lies awake in the spare room assigned to her. The building is overflowing with Paladins, Esquires, and Men-at-Arms gathered to combat the demon-led army. The forges ring with the sounds of hammers upon anvils, and the shadows dance at the flaring lights that come erratically through her windows, red, orange, yellow, and the occasional blue and purple. Men and women shout, laugh, and mutter. She is full of fear for herself and for Blandamour, so she tosses and turns, her sweat dampening the rough linen. I would not die again, she tells herself, for Hell is waiting for me. But, Sir Blandamour, so brave and selfless, what if he were killed and I fled, safe? Would not Heaven itself feel its gorge rise? Nay, I must hope, for only that way Salvation lies. Something must have had a shred of pity for me, or I would not have gotten this second chance. I must be brave and resolute, and prove myself worthy of ...whatever's...regard. Somewhat comforted by that, she drowses off, and sleeps soundly.
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