[ WP ] Once upon a time , in an age of enlightenment , the nobility were our leaders because they truly were more noble in thought and in deed .

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 `` What a load of nosehorn dung,'' Captain Samuel Hitch muttered, tossing the book into one of the darker corners of the room. 
 
 Whoever lived in the manor previously had been something of a idealist, their shelves filled with books on chivalry and romantic topics such as love at first sight and true love's kiss. The fool of a noble must have spent a fortune on them, each book having to be copied painstakingly by hand. If he was crazy enough to beggar himself with books, then he was likely mad enough to do something even more ridiculous like tilt at watermills. Poor fellow. 
 
 The manor had been mostly abandoned when Hitch and his free company came upon the village, their master gone on some fool's errand. Pleased to find that these armed soldiers did not come to pillage and loot their homes, the villagers welcomed them with open arms, slaughtering several beasts and diving into their wine stores in celebration. Already in the town square the sound of music and laughter could be heard, of castanets and guitar and tambourine. As a knight and officer Hitch was invited to stay in the villa, the few remaining servants tending to his clothes and mount. 
 
 Shaking his mind clear of cobwebs Hitch rose from the stuffed chair and walked over to the open balcony and to the sight below. Built into a small hill, the manor had a commanding view of the square, the main doors opening right into it as a matter of fact. His own soldiers drank and danced with the locals, camp followers and village merchants making a tidy profit from both groups. Women dressed in bright calico spun and twirled, the female camp followers wearing their cleanest change of clothes. The soldiers were more haphazardly dressed but even then they managed to seize a half-day for laundry, most of them shaven as well. 
 
 `` Don Samuel,'' a voice said behind him in Spañol. Hitch spoke Francés fluently, and passable Alemán. Theoretically he knew the common tongue of Neuvaropa. Lack of opportunity to practice made him clumsily slow. 
 
 `` Yes, Dona Maria. What may I do for you?'' 
 
 The old housekeeper gestured towards the open door. 
 
 `` You have a visitor. A rider of some kind. He says he must speak with you immediately.'' 
 
 Hitch paused for a moment, glancing back at the celebrations below. 
 
 `` Thank you. Please, take me to him.'' 
 
 As he left the room he picked up the book where he tossed it, brushing dust from it before setting it back on the chair. His eyes flickered over its owner's name on the cover page done in a shaky though elegant hand, 
 
 *Don Alfonso de Cervantes. *
