The West Marches is a corrupt land ruled by immoral leaders. You are one of four Knights
with a lust for power. And in the pursuit of power, the end justifies the means.
The bloodiest battles yield the greatest spoils. Strategically extend your domain,
reduce your rivals' resources, and tighten your stranglehold on the peasants of the land.
The towns provide your power base. Manage them successfully and harvest the wealth
needed to buy, bribe and fight for ultimate power.
Develop a mastery of political subterfuge, gaining places for your Courtiers at the
palaces of the King and Bishop, ready for the coup which will make you the master of Betrayal.
Betrayal involves a long, hard, rutheless struggle, starting with the economic management
of your towns and cultivation of you lands, culminating in the honing of your military
strategy and execution of political subterfuge.
A new barrel of fine Welsh ale had just been broached. The royal palace's smoky dining
hall resounded to cheery voices. To one side of the top table a harpist and a minstrel were
struggling to be heard above the commotion caused by two dogs snarfing over a bone
in a corner.
Eating slowly, I leant forward to catch the breathless whisper of a rival knight.
They came in at a run, baying like wolves. Four wild - eyed barbarians ready to cut,
gouge, pulverise and kill anything that moved.
That news was indeed music to my ears. My forces attack on his wealthiest town had met with
success. Financially weakened, militarily broken and politically bankrupt, he could no
longer hold influence at Court.
So long as no evidence of my wrong doing remained. So long as the Gods blessed the crops
of my harvest. So long as the rumours of the capture of my brother were true.
The throne was mine.
I've cheated, lied, spied and slaughtered. The fruits of Betrayal are mine.
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