*posters are hanging in some mayor cities such as Britain and Trinsic. Written on it, you can read in beautiful penmanship: *

Hear ye! Hear ye!

I am looking for a wife with these qualities

She should have hair,
she should not be too smart,
she should enjoy the marriage bed duties,
she should be able to bear children,
she should have monks and priests in her ancestry,

Myself,
I am very patient,
I do not snore nor fart,
I do not have bad breath,
I am not fat, rather moderate towards lean.

If you are interested in marrying me, send a scribe with an answer to my beloved, wonderful sister Kaylee, so she may have a first look at you.

Cole Dunmoore

>No… she didn’t…< He thought, as his breath holded for a second, before it went into his chest in a sharp rush! He couldn’t believe, what he saw.
‘She should have hair… she should have monks and priests in her ancestry… I do not snore nor fart…’
His dark blue eyes changed into the colour of the sea, when a storm was building up above it. Dangerous, full of dark promises. Oh this young girl was in trouble now… She better shouldn’t cross his way in the next hours.
It had been a joke! A damn joke! He had teased her, as she had teased him… So he’d thought. His eyes were fixed on the words, while he pressed his lips into a harsh thin line. He remembered well, when she said, she should find him a wife – for he couldn’t protect her all his live… He’d found the thought amusing – of course he could! Now he was oh so not amused. Her question about the spirituality of his wife to be… He’d answered, that he didn’t wanna have a wife, who prayed so much, so he had to wait for her to come out of the church all day… He’d laughed, when she said, he needed a woman with very religious ancestry – for those didn’t like religion at all. When it came to him, she had written down some really odd stuff – things he actually never considered interesting. Making a joke, he’d said, if she shouldn’t add, that he still had all his teeth – in good condition – had no bad breath at all… And didn’t snore – well he had never heard any complaints about that. Things, women used to complain about… She had really added those good humoured comments of him. >Dear Gods…<
His eyes flicked to a sentence beneath this embarrassing description.
‘… scribe with an answer to my beloved, wonderful sister Kaylee…’
In a rush he snatched the notice off the Black Board, turning it furious into a tight ball of parchment. His beloved wonderful sister Kaylee would be dead in less than a minute, after he’d get a grip on her! Was her sense gone for good?! For this he would… >…beat some sense into her!< he thought darkly, as he paced to his horse, stiff with fine burning rage. And if he couldn’t beat sense into her, he would beat her senseless… Or maybe he just should drown her for good – her hands under water, so she couldn't burn him with her magic. !!!! her magic, he would drown her anyway, if her magic goes beserk or not. His horse shyed away from him, as he grabed the bridle roughly and jumped on the mare. His eyes burning with heat, he coaxed the horse to gallop trough the city, fast and furious. Library or this magician library. He would find her there. She said, she would be there. Oh yes, his sister was truly in big trouble.