The maid of fallen nobility is not the bravest lass. Her convictions are weak, her strength of arms less than stellar. But for sake of family, she will press onwards. With the thought of Raven in her heart, there is no mountain high enough, no river harsh enough to bar her advance. She will cross the stars themselves to achieve these ends. But first, the mage, Keele. For a troubador like Priscilla, the strongest of his spells are as nothing. Of course, even without such an easy victory, Priscilla could not be deterred, for there is a great wind beneath her wings, urging her to soar and succeed.
