“Is…is that you, dearest Sharele?”

“THIS is the sword of the prophecy? This old thing half-eaten by rust?”

“Why are the graveyard gates open?”

“I wake up in the morning, fresh monsters lurking”

“What was THAT?” “The King’s campfire exploding.”

“Er, what COLOR flames?”

“It’s my crown, and I want it!”

“Oh? What sort of weapons, then?”