

Alfonso Scariot, captain of venture
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Alfonso Scariot, captain of venture
In the name of St. George
The repetitive sound of hooves tramping along the ancient road resonates throughout the length of the narrow valley. The green of the trees climbing up the steep slopes on either side of the bed of light green grass that makes up the bottom of the valley distinctly detaches the latter from the deep blue of the sky, stained white by the occasional clouds. The gentle, steady rustle of the only stream flowing through the heart of the valley, fed by waterfalls peeping through the dense forest vegetation, accompanies the song of the lone nightingale. A placid wind blows through the valley bringing fresh air from the snow-capped mountains to the plains.
"My dear Fener, we have the wind against us," says Scariot as he stretches to the leather saddle and extends his


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