The Cavalier

Translucent skin stretched thin across the back of his hand as he clutched the message. The paper was worn, but the seal had been unbroken; the letter had been cared for on its long journey. Steven stood slowly, his robes ghosting his frailty as he poured more wine. Rebellion had broken out in the Riftlands; the bulwark was in danger. There were few Cavaliers left. The last rift-war had been costly. Steven eyed the unadorned lever-action rifle, his eternal companion. He was a tired, pale reflection of the Hero of the Hinterlands, but there was no other Cavalier to go.