Looking at her, down the blade of her sword, he saw
exactly what he had been running from for years. She was everything he detested. Noble born, heroic, beautiful, loved, successful, young. Things he was not, had never been, and may never be again. Against everything, she got her way in the end. He wondered if she knew it would end like this, but beholding her, he answered his own question. Of course she did. Staring
down her blade, he pictured Augustmire teetering precariously on the tip.
-TWaC I: The Backwater, Chapter 35
Book II, These Other Coasts, is coming soon! Editing is complete, and I'm just working on some supplementary materials like maps (I've heard your prayers, don't worry) to go along with it before publishing.