Spires, sweet spires, you who shine up in the sky,
who serve as the beacon to all of the world
to teach them of virtue, of the steady mind,
I beg that you share your sweet remembrance with me,
of the fair faced soldier, who won great acclaim
at the right hand of great Jekkex, doing great deeds,
when at lasthe  returned to the spires he loved.

When at long last Fafri laid down his spear,
and hung up his shield, when the city knew peace,
he was hailed as a hero, greeted quite gladly,
given great honours for the deeds he had done.
All wished to know him, to call him their friend.
They bade him come to their ballrooms, night after night
to be surrounded by music, to take part in the dance
with some great family's child with some great family's name
and no name of her own, whose deeds had won no acclaim.
There were dozens alike, he met them night after night,
and they all spoke alike when they twirled through the dance.
They spoke of love everlasting, of passions, of hearts,
of the unbreakable bond, which they called the greatest,
of love for another, of two souls becoming one.

He knew the truth of their words, he was no fool,
they wanted his glory, that they might gain their own
without their own virtue, without their own skill.
He could not say if they spoke with deceitful intent
in pursuit of that goal, or if they themselves thought
they were speaking the truth, that passion ruled them.
It made little difference, for he could not love them,
they who did nothing, who were without merit.
They lived in the ballroom, they did little work
and so he could not love them, he felt only disgust.
But it would not end, invitations still came
to those social affairs, which he could not decline
without causing offense, without disturbing the peace.

He quickly grew weary, he longed for cruel war
that he might do his duty again, that he might serve
in the blood-soaked field in defense of his home.
That was not to be, so he bore his fate well
though to live without serving caused him great pain
and to see all of the rest who lived useless lives,
who lived without service, but did so with joy
and called themselves righteous caused him even more pain.
After countless long nights spent in the grand ballrooms,
Fafri felt certain he had met all of the children
of all the old families who would attend such an affair,
those who would abandon their work to dance through the night.

But in the first moments of a ball he had dreaded,
he saw a new face that was not unlike his own
in the expression it wore, it was without joy.
He saw a young woman with no smile on her lips
and her eyes cast downwards, fixed on a book.
She had no great beauty, and the dress that she wore
was without lace, it bore no embroidered designs
or ornamentation, and she alone wore no jewels,
nor gold on her fingers, which were covered in burns.
This woman intrigued him, though they were not introduced.
She took no part in the dance, never stepped away from the wall
but read through the night, never speaking a word
until the whole affair ended, then she took her leave.

Fafri was tempted, that lady intrigued him,
who viewed the dance with the greatest disdain,
and he asked after her name, to learn of her ways
that he might judge his heart's first stirrings,
judge if they were quite proper, or if they were not
so he could choose either to let passions thrive
or to set them aside, to let his heart cool
for sweet virtue's sake, if it had to be so.

He first learned of her name, he did that with ease.
She was called Almay, and her name was well known,
for her unyielding efforts, for all she had done
in search of the truth, for the strength of her mind.
Fafri studied her deeds, learned all that he could
of what she had discovered in the course of her work.
When he saw all she had done, his heart beat faster
than it had before, a strange nervousness took him,
he who had bled without fear in many cruel wars.

He resolved then to meet her, to speak at some length
to win her affection, if such a thing could be done,
for he had to be wed, Fafri knew that full well
and he favoured a wife of well-proven virtue
one of great skill, who served Hallifax well
in some noble way, one who did worthy deeds,
whose skills reached beyond the ballroom's thick doors.

So Fafri set out to court her, sought a meeting
in some discreet place, where solitude could reign
that they might speak freely, and have no great regard
for social repute, free from the gentry's cold stares
of disdain, if they broke from the ballroom's customs.
He sought her in her study, that holiest place
of unending learning, but his wish was firmly denied.
It did not please her to meet him at that fine place,
interruptions were hateful, so she sent him away.

This did not displease him, but filled him with joy
for Fafri loved virtue, and she had done what was proper,
her caste's heavy duty, to put her studies first.
He sought her in the garden, when she was alone,
tending the plants which she raised with great care
and he knelt down beside her, he offered his aid
in even those tasks which best befit servants.

This she accepted, and she put him to work
pulling up weeds, and then bearing great loads
which he did in silence, without any complaint.
When at last they were finished he spoke his request.

"Almay, wise Almay, surely you know why I have come,
for my motive is clear, I have not disguised it.
I must be wed, for our customs demand it.
There must be heirs to serve well in the future
and the need is greater for us than all the rest,
for we have served well, and through our devotion
might raise children well, raise them to greatness.
The others displease me, for they do not work.
They are without learning, and their softened hands
have never created, nor have they borne the spear.
If you shall allow it, I shall devote myself to you
serve you with pleasure, and seek out your love."

She laughed at his words, and she shook her head
and spoke to him softly, with a slight frown.

"Fair Fafri, you who have been distinguished in war,
why should I love you, who speaks of sheer folly?
You shall never serve me, for that is disgraceful,
you who should serve Hallifax first, as should we all.
Would you shirk your duties for me, is that your aim?
To do so is treason, and I shall never demand it
and to desire such treason is still a worse crime.
Do you think I am wicked, to crave such a thing?"

Fafri spoke quickly, a smile gracing his lips.
"You speak rightly, of course, you speak the truth
as the learned caste must, as is your duty.
So I shall not serve you, I shall do what is proper
but I beg for a boon, if you are willing to grant it.
Tell me the way that your love might be earned.
How might I court you, I bid you tell me the way,
you who are virtuous, you who serve well."

She took his hand in hers, held it quite tightly,
stared into his eyes and she spoke out to him.
"You have served with distinction, you have served well
and you live with great virtue, you know the risk
of a decadent life, that slayer of virtue.
For the deeds you have done you have won my affection
and I may yet love you, if you swear to me now
that you shall love duty more than you love me,
that you shall serve Hallifax first, and if need presses
abandon me quickly, if the city requires it.
If you shall not love me so much that you flinch
away from risk on the blood-stained field of war,
if you can swear that, then I shall adore you."

Fafri nodded his head, made a demand of his own.
"I shall swear that, and I shall swear it with pride
if you in turn shall take that same noble oath
to love duty more, to place it first in your heart."

Both of them took the oath, and they were soon wed
with no witness at all, save the diligent scribe
who wrote out the contract. Thus were they wed.