King Jorus and his new bride, Queen Tyrae, had just finished their evening meal. As the staff was clearing the table, Jorus decided there was still enough daylight left for the two to have a walk amongst the grounds. “My Dear”, he began politely, “it’s been a lovely day thus far. Let’s go for a walk. I want to show you the grounds out back.” Tyrae mulled it over for a moment and agreed. Jorus smiled and walked over to her and escorted her from her seat. He placed her small, gentle hand into his and helped her up as they exited the large dining hall.
As the sun was setting, the two arrived at Jorus’ favorite spot, a small pond just beyond the garden and led his wife to a bench beneath an old oak tree. She took her seat next to him, curled up on the bench and placed her head on his broad shoulder. They watched the sun begin to disappear behind the horizon when she asked him something that had puzzled her since they reunited during the war. “Jorus”, she began. “If I may be so bold, why did you vehemently insist I marry you so when you passed through my village? I mean, we only knew each other briefly when we both labored at the forge several years ago, but we both had other lovers at the time. Why then?”