Here is a place like me. Tall and tired but too stubborn to fall. I believe I have met my match when I see this place. But I am too smart to fall for it's subtle charm. They meet here, I know it and I hate the king as much as any. But there is something else praying upon my mind. The brokenness of this place, and the ghosts that seem to haunt it still draw me in. A rebel. The rebel, Tandem. I like the sound. Maybe I could work my way up to become the rebel leader. I can imagine that lust-filled king with his name on my lips, myself the leader, myself the fighter. But my days of rash actions are over. I learned that the day I was landed with the luggage I still carry in my barrel. And that luggage also means I can be no fighter. I am too heavy on my feet.