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Sir Raymond blew his hunting horn a solid, shuddering blast. In a land where everyone's hunting horn had a unique tune, his was notably wild and powerful and it had the desired effect. A guard showed his head over the rampart. "Who blows that he would blow down the gate?" he called angrily. Obviously, his later afternoon nap had been disturbed and the guard was more than a little irked. Sir Raymond was haughty. "Could my hunting horn blow down the gate, none of you would be standing before me now!" Raymond had a powerful and clarion bass voice, and it carried well, echoing around the valley and courtyard. "Well, what would you?" called down the guard. "I will speak with Lord Ottokar and none other!" "He'll not speak to the likes of you!" "It is an easy conversation!  Thurinian is not my first language, and I am a busy man. I have a proposal, and all he has to do is accept or deny it." "What name shall I give my master?" "Tell him a son of the friend of your captive's father has come to